#Yes we know where where Jeanne is and he's supposed to be there

[mako-neexu]

カドぐだ | 相棒 (partner)

“So this is the rumored ‘Gil-fes’, huh?” Kaodc heaved a heavy sigh as he tugged at his black shirt before clutching at the strap of the backpack he had in hand. “Oi, Fujimaru, where’s the venue for this...tournament?”

According to the archives, someone hosts this... martial arts tournament for the Servants using a Holy Grail. And that someone was either Emperor Nero or King Gilgamesh himself... like last year, and the couple years before.

But who knows who was going to host next year’s event!? 

Wait. Why is he thinking about the possibilities of an event like this in the future!?

Gudako hummed as she finished in tying her unlaced boots, “Well, Gil said it’s going to be at Madison Square Garden like last year. But for the rooms we booked in the nearest hotels? We have yet to find out!”

Her arm looped around his own and before he could react to it, they were off on the streets with his ever-reckless kouhai hollering like a maniac.

Please. Someone help him.

--

They ended up farming again throughout the whole ordeal, collecting hotdogs and fries as currency to exchange with Ishtar’s-former-consort-now-turned....golden sheep, Dumuzid. 

And he thought Fujimaru was describing the god as someone humanoid! Jeez! Did he really interpret that wrong!?

Even with all the craziness he can’t quite get used to yet, it was actually fun.

 And it even felt... a little normal since it felt as if it was the current timeline’s New York, just with some more colorful additions- and okay, he nearly got his face bashed by Spartacus for just getting shoved in front of him before getting declared as an oppressor for “standing” in his way.

So, on second thought, he wasn’t going to get used to this.

--

“Making Doujins!?”

“Yup!”

“Just to retrieve the Holy Grail and stop this time loop we’re stuck in!?”

“Uh-huh! So you better get your butt back to the drawing board, Kadoc-kun.” The way Gudako teased him with the honorific, and he felt faint about the situation.

They spent most of the week chilling and spent the last few days procrastinating. And somehow they discover along the way that time is repeating itself, with the reset being the day of judging the most popular doujin contest.

From across him Hinak- Yu Mei-ren seethes while glaring at her tablet, the pen she had on hand nearly cracking in her grasp, “If I don’t get back to Xiang Yu-sama within the week, I’ll blow this island up.”

Help.

--

“Fujimaru.”

“Yes, Kadoc-kun?”

Kadoc looks at the gothic, medieval castle, before reclining his head up to the large, upside-down pyramid, and the Himeji castle sitting on that same pyramid itself.

Kadoc blinks, and turns to look at the Master beside him, smiling as if this was something that could normally be seen in everday life.

“You know what? Nevermind.”

They were promptly turned into a wageslaves by the Amazonesdotcom CEO after that.

--

“Was it fun?” 

Fujimaru asks him as she lightly kicks on the pool’s waters, watching it ebb and flow beneath them.

Kadoc sips on a cocktail Moriarty had given him, before pursing his lips shit, “What? The entire thing with Las Vegas? Jeanne d’Arc’s talking-shark? Wait, actually, that’s 42nd of the most weirdest things I’ve seen in my list.”

She rests her head on his shoulder, no doubt now sleepy as they spend the last few days of their vacation in the comfort of the hotel.

“...Something like that.” She says, after a few moments.

The question was...weird. Fun was a concept he was still becoming familiar with. After all, all he’s ever known was to become a mage to survive a world that could kill you at a moment’s notice.

Even with the near-death experiences, and things that could easily break a normal person’s mind (he had only gotten so far by being a mage who had a decent amount of spells with him that maintained his reason and sense of self. Fujimaru had none and yet she was still smiling despite the fuckery happening almost every moment of the day.), he supposes that...

“-I guess it was ugh, crazy...” Kadoc mutters under his breath, a dust of pink decorating his cheeks.

Some Servants didn’t trust him, others were the opposite, many varied in their opinions on him but at least, all of them no longer deemed him hostile. As evidence by how he’s somehow alive and breathing right now. 

Fujimaru stirs, and they meet each others’ gazes. Her own was reflecting the stars above, a ghost of a smile spread across her lips, “Good crazy?”

He avoids her gaze and downs the last of his drink.

Her response was a chuckle. “I’ll take it that you don’t like the times whenever we rode on Drake’s ship or anything that involved motion sickness.”

Kadoc flicked her forehead, and while she yelped, there was no helping himself in pinching her cheek, “No shit Sherlock.”

“I am right behind you, Mr. Zemlupus.” 

The heart attack he got simultaneously made him scream before pushing him and Fujimaru to the pool to drown.

When they surfaced, they both glared at the laughing detective relaxing on the pool chaise. 

And seeing Ritsuka smirk deviously with a plan to prank the Holmes? 

Kadoc was in.

#gudako #kadoc zemlupus #fgo #fate grand order #kadoguda #again bc skebfkajebfajl

[writingpaperghost]

Without You (Chapter 14)

Chapter 14: Rules Revised! The Power of Two!

Enter, Kamen Rider Revi and… Vice?

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43371954/chapters/123198331

“Oh Hana! I have a gift for you!” Sakura’s voice awakens Hana from her sleep. She still felt somewhat tired from the night before, but given Sakura wanted her attention, she supposed she’d have to give it to her. She pulls herself up, looking over at where Sakura stood, standing in front of the closest.

In Sakura hands is a lot of red fabric, some black in there, with some white fuzzy looking parts. “Sakura…? What’s that?”

Sakura still smiles, setting the clothing down on the end of the bed, “I figured, if you were going to be my queen proper, well, Aguilera should look it. I designed outfits for my brothers and I, so it’s only fair I did one for you too.”

“…Really?” Hana hadn’t expected something like that. She was no stranger to Sakura’s designs, but something like this.

“Yes, with some makeup I’m sure your own brothers will barely recognize you, if at all.” As Sakura speaks, Hana rubs the sleep from her eyes. To think, it was morning already.

“But Makoto and Tamaki already know I’m Aguilera.”

Nodding, Sakura agreed, “True, but according to Dai… well, good boy Tamaki kept that detail out of his report. As far as Fenix is concerned, I held you hostage and then Aguilera came to help me fight your brothers, and we took off with you.”

Why wouldn’t Tamaki tell Fenix she was Aguilera? Was he seriously trying to protect her from Fenix? Why didn’t Makoto say anything, surely he thought it was stupid? Well, maybe it was for the best. She didn’t want to hurt her parents or Hikaru more than necessary.

“Huh, well… I guess you want me to try it on.” She pulls the covers off, stretching. Sakura watched, still smiling. She was very happy today, it seemed.

“Well, there’s that, yes, but also… I was hoping to introduce the Deadmans to you properly, as my queen.” She explained.

“Introduce properly?” Hana echoed, “How so?”

Sakura helped her out of bed, then set about helping her change, even though Hana needed little help. Perhaps she’d need it for what Sakura had made, she’d know better than Hana. “A livestream, of course, for our followers to see. Or those who don’t follow us. I’m sure Fenix does their best to monitor our livestreams.”

The idea of being seen by all those people was a little frightening, but most of all, Hana found it exciting. Would they see her with even half the adoration that they saw Sakura and her brothers with? Would they view Aguilera as an outsider, or welcome her? Would being Jeanne’s queen be enough, or would she have to prove herself worthy of that title, in the eye of the followers?

---

“Makoto, look at this.” Tamaki shoved his phone towards Makoto that morning. Their parents were elsewhere, Genta trying to film some video or other, Yukimi cooking breakfast. On Tamaki’s phone stream appeared to be a Deadman livestream.

Makoto tilted his head, “So?”

“Just… I thought I saw back there-“

He’s interrupted by Jeanne’s voice coming out of the phone speaker. She sounded as confident as ever. “It’s good to see you all again, and my do I have a surprise for all of you. Someone very special I’d like to introduce.”

Then out comes Hana – it takes Makoto a minute to recognize her, she’s all dressed up. A red dress with short off the shoulder sleeves, something that closely resembled her fuzz connected to a transparent cape that looked like bee wings, flower hair clips in her hair, make up done up more than she would have normally done.

“This,” Jeanne continued, “is my lovely queen, Aguilera.” She pulled Hana closer, an arm around her waist. “I expect all of you to treat her with the same respect you do my brothers and I, or else there will be… consequences.” Hana casted a curious if a bit concerned glance at Jeanne, who seemed not to pay it any mind.

Frowning, Makoto said, “I guess she wants to show her off, now.”

“I hate it,” Tamaki said, scowling, clearly irritated. “She doesn’t have the right to do that, to parade Hana around like that.”

Shushing him, Makoto responded, “Quieter. But there’s not much we can do about it right now. Besides, it doesn’t look like she seems to mind much.”

Tamaki’s scowl didn’t fade, not in the slightest. The Deadmans’ livestream continued to play from his phone, until he closed it, a growl in his throat. He obviously wasn’t taking this all well, not that Makoto blamed him, or anyone else.

Hana was important to them, so having her taken by the Deadmans – having her fight against them – it hurt. And their parents had already lost three children, the possibility of losing another was not welcomed. Hikaru had no other friends and… Tamaki was, well, Tamaki. He’d always wanted to keep Hana safe.

They’d figure out how to bring Hana back. It would just take time. That’s what Makoto would keep telling himself. Even if it wasn’t true, lies would make him feel better.

He did worry about Tamaki, though. That anger… he didn’t want Tamaki doing something he’d regret because of it. Especially in a matter as delicate as what was going on with Hana – one wrong move and Fenix might figure out, or far worse, their parents learn. Nothing would hurt their parents more, save for Hana dying, probably. But beyond that… Tamaki obviously wasn’t thinking straight, and it could really cause trouble. Cause him to act more recklessly, possibly get him hurt.

All Makoto could do is try his damn hardest to keep his family in one peace.

---

There was… something about Aguilera that struck Hikaru as sickeningly familiar. He didn’t normally watch the livestreams, there was no reason to, but as he hid away in his room, it seemed like all he could do. The only way to search for some hint that Hana was okay, or maybe some clue as to where she’d been taken (unrealistic, but at this point, he couldn’t care).

Anything to soothe the aching in his chest, the horrible, empty cold that was left behind when Hana was taken. There were so many things he wished he’d done or said or anything to make it hurt less. He wished he could have protected her, he wished he could have just come clean about his feelings and told her the truth, even if she’d have rejected him. But he hadn’t, and now he was forced to sit here in a cruel facsimile of a home and watch a dumb Deadman livestream for some grain of hope.

And Aguilera, he found, felt strangely, horribly, familiar. Like cooking the same recipe as someone else, but you added something to make it taste different. It’s so similar to the recipe, to what the other person made, but still different, enough that it can be noticed but is still unmistakably the recipe you used. Aguilera was like that, like someone took something so familiar but changed it ever so slightly. Pulled back the hair some, covered the face it bold make up, dressed her in the clothes of a queen like Jeanne claimed her to be.

Aguilera was like some painful duplicate of Hana, but made to what Jeanne wanted in a queen. Made to be so much more pretty, made to be elegant and to be happy to hang off of Jeanne’s arm. She smiled and laughed and kept close to Jeanne, acting both coy and friendly and yet wasn’t really either.

Except, Hikaru knew that Aguilera had appeared, with one of Karizaki’s Driver and the Bee Vistamp, before this. Before Jeanne took Hana. So why did she look hauntingly like Hana?

Was it his own mind playing a trick on him? Wanting so desperately for Hana, for something to make him feel better, that it imagined the similarities between Aguilera and Hana? Or was it a coincidence? If it was a coincidence, why did Aguilera even act and sound so much like Hana, if admittedly a bit different?

Maybe it was all just a cruel joke. That’s what Hikaru’s life felt like, at this point, so who was to say that Aguilera wasn’t apart of that. Just another way to make him feel worse, to make him more miserable.

Despite that pain and confusion, Hikaru watches the livestream to its completion. The whole time, he couldn’t help but stare at Aguilera, like she might give some clue, something to ease his confused and aching heart. There was nothing, of course, and when it ended, he had more questions than he’d had at the start and no more answers than before.

Hikaru pulled himself from his tangle of blankets on his bed. He didn’t feel any better than he’d had when he’d first woke up, or even the day before, but as tempted as he was to stay in bed all day, he figured he should at least eat something when he at least thought he had the energy for it.

Catching his reflection in his mirror, he can’t help but think he looks terrible. Even though he’d slept plenty, he still looked tired, and his disheveled appearance combined with the fact he hadn’t changed clothes the night before made him look just… pathetic. Then again, he pretty much was, he didn’t even have something he could do to help Weekend, with Hana gone. Not that he really cared about Weekend.

Still, he forced himself to change and attempt to make his hair a bit less of a mess. Then he trudged out of his room, finding the house unsurprisingly empty. Most likely, his parents weren’t really gone, just in the basement – Weekend’s base. Hikaru never really understood why it was there, of all places. Why make the main entrance in just… some random house? Sure, it was probably good for security but… it still seemed strange.

Not that Hikaru’s opinion mattered, nor would he likely ever get any real answer.

He pulled some lunch meat from the fridge and got some bread, making himself a sandwich. It was thoroughly unappealing, but he forced himself to eat it. If Hana found out he wasn’t eating and especially if the reason was in anyway connected to her, she’d be pissed. So he’d eat, even if he really, really didn’t care to.

With food begrudgingly eaten, though, Hikaru was left unsure of what to do next. He could go back to his room and be miserable, that was entirely an option. Or… he could go out. Try to walk or something and see if the fresh air might help him get his mind off things.

Before he can give it much more thought, he’s pulling his shoes on and out the door. He allows his feet to take him wherever they decided best, quickly finding a familiar path. Soon enough, he arrives in front at a flower shop Hana always liked to go to, mostly to see the flowers and to get an idea of what she wanted to add to her flowerbox at home – speaking of, he hoped someone would water her flowers for her, she’d be upset to come home to find them dead.

He looks at the flowers. They remind him of her. She always had the urge to stick her face in them, and Hikaru always had to stop her. He’d always wondered if whoever named her was prophetic, or if it was just a coincidence that she would love flowers so much. Some of it had certainly come from the fact that she was, at times, so bee-like.

Standing in front of iris flowers, Hikaru recalled clearly that Hana had, more than once, declared these flowers her favorite. He always thought that, if he were to ever confess to her and take her out on a date, he’d get her some. It was far too late for that, now. Still, they reminded him of her the most, and since he was here…

His room could use some life.

Alongside the irises, he gets some daffodils, zinnias, and carnations, he thinks that they’ll go nice together, though he has nothing more to base that on than his own intuition. At the very least, they’ll be something nice for his bedroom.

Hana had given him flowers before, but these were different. He was getting these because they were the only flowers he could have, until Hana came home. They’d have to hold him over until then.

---

It was Revi again – Makoto hadn’t even really recovered from the fight with Hana the day before, he doubted that Tamaki had recovered from fighting Jeanne, so having Revi show up was… not ideal. But they had no choice but to try and fight him. Hopefully, since they’d have Mr. Kadota’s help this time, they would at least stand a chance. At least Revi wasn’t likely to hit any sore spots regarding Hana, which meant he wasn’t likely to set Tamaki off. Or at least, not more than he was already likely to be set off given his obvious simmering displeasure at recent events.

Revi was waiting for them, looking uneasy. There was a worried frown on his face, and he shifted, visibly wary and uncomfortable. Makoto wondered if this would go like last time, if Aguilera or someone else would swoop in to stop the fight.

They had better odds, this time, at least. Three on one, Makoto figured they might actually be able to defeat Revi, or at least come close.

Mr. Kadota takes the lead, Makoto and Tamaki standing behind and to the side of him. He called to Revi, “We’re here, I assume you were waiting on us.”

His words snap Revi out of his thoughts, who gives an awkward nod, “You know, I always wonder why they never send you more help. It wouldn’t do much but… it’s weird, you know? I guess it doesn’t matter.” He produced what appeared to be a Driver from his jacket pocket – Makoto recognized it as the one that Karizaki always had locked away. With a solemn expression, he said, “Today, I’m you’re opponent, and not as a monster.”

Placing the Driver on his waist, Revi activated the T-Rex Vistamp, his expression unchanging. He pressed the Vistamp against the Driver, then turned it to the side. Something resembling a phone appeared behind him, presenting a conversation in the form of text messages.

Let’s see how this goes…

It’ll be great! We’ll be so much stronger!

I guess you would be excited about that. It is what it is.

Cheer up! No need to be so glum.

You and I both know I don’t want to do this.

…

From his feet, that demon, Vice, emerged like a shadow, hovering into the sky and holding a stamp. He brings it down around Revi, and armor appears. It, like the Driver he had, was light pink and blue, the helmet having sharp teeth. Beside him, the demon lands, gaining armor too, in the in the form of primarily a chest piece and a hood around his head.

That was a surprise – and judging by Revi and Vice’s reactions, they hadn’t been expecting that either. Revi peered curiously over to Vice, for a moment, before sighing. “Let’s get on with this.”

Vice cheered, “Two on three, that’s a lot better odds for us, right?” He cheekily elbows Revi, “Not that we need better odds. We’re the strongest buddies!”

Revi stepped towards the three, “Speak for yourself.” Then he ran at them.

Mr. Kadota is quick to transform, Makoto and Tamaki following suit. Though Mr. Kadota managed to block Revi’s attack, it was obvious that Revi was stronger now, by how it seemed to push back on him.

“Don’t forget about me!” Vice ran towards them, Makoto blocking his attack with his weapon.

“With how noisy it is, it would be hard to.” Now was not the time for that thought, Makoto shoves it to the side without a second thought. He had to focus on the fight.

A punch to Revi sends him back, enough to give Mr. Kadota the opportunity to call out, “You two deal with the demon, I’ll handle Revi.”

Tamaki took that as his cue to launch himself at Vice, punching him. Makoto disagreed with Mr. Kadota’s decision – whatever assessment he made, if it made him think he could take on Revi on his own, especially now that Revi had the power of being a Rider on his side, then it was sorely wrong. Unless, of course, he was trying to protect the two of them by keeping them from fighting Revi, who certainly seemed to be more of a threat than Vice.

As a matter of fact, Makoto thinks that Tamaki can handle Vice perfectly well on his own. And it was already evident that Mr. Kadota was outmatched against Revi. “Stupid self-sacrificing dumbass…” In that moment, Makoto made a decision that Mr. Kadota would probably not be the most pleased with, though he frankly didn’t care. Pivoting, Makoto lunged towards Revi, swinging his weapon with such force he’d fully thrown himself off balance.

Despite crashing to the ground, he did hit Revi and it was enough to stun him, for a moment, which was enough for Makoto to get to his feet again. The action had been split second and not thought out nearly as well as Makoto would have liked, but in a fight he found he didn’t usually have that kind of time.

“Makoto! What are you doing?” Mr. Kadota took a place beside him, but it was obvious in his tone he didn’t like that Makoto had gone and joined the fight against Revi.

Huffing, already out of breath, Makoto replied through gritted teeth, “I’m helping.” He was holding back his real thoughts on Mr. Kadota’s initial plans, on the grounds of it being a bit more rude than he was willing to be to someone who was so nice to Tamaki. At the moment, at least.

“I told you and Tamaki to fight Vice together.”

A glance over at Tamaki and Vice shows that Tamaki is faring perfectly well against Vice. “He doesn’t need the help.” Makoto responded blankly, “But you probably do. So I’m helping.” The ‘suck it up and deal with it’ was left fully unsaid, as again, that was more rude than Makoto was willing to be at this exact moment. Although he was approaching that threshold.

He expected Mr. Kadota to argue more, but instead he sighs, “Fine, just be careful.”

“Of course,” There was no need to tell him twice.

Two on one, they stood better odds to be able to at least fight Revi off, even with Makoto still recovering from fighting Hana the day before. Certainly, though, Makoto would believe Revi to be the oldest of the Deadmans’ leaders. He certainly fought like he had more experience, though Makoto’s own experience in such matters was severely lacking.

Still, between him and Mr. Kadota, they might have a chance, and at this point, all they could really hope to do in most fights was chase Revi, or whoever they were fighting, off. They still didn’t stand much chance at actually defeating Revi, Evil, Jeanne, or Aguilera, but chasing them off and keeping them from causing anymore trouble was good enough. Though…

Usually, they never targeted anyone other than Fenix or a Rider. Only when a demon was present – a demon other than Vice, it seemed – did they have to worry about civilians. For one reason or another… they didn’t want anyone else getting hurt, and Makoto was still trying very hard to wrap his head around that.

For the leaders of a group that wanted to wake up a slumbering demon, it was very strange that they tried so hard to keep people from getting hurt. Chances were, when Giff woke up, it wouldn’t matter much, so why bother trying at all?

---

It was pure luck that Hikaru was anywhere near where Revi appeared. And it wasn’t even in an empty area. The moment anyone realized who he was, everyone hurried to run away, to get somewhere safe. Hikaru knew, thanks to Weekend, that it was unlikely Revi would attack anyone, and there didn’t appear to be a demon present to worry about actually attacking people.

Still, it was understandable people would run, and it would certainly be better not to have anyone around when Fenix’s Riders inevitably arrived and fought Revi. Especially if that demon that was sometimes with him showed up. So people ran, and Hikaru watched, unsure just what he wanted to do.

There were so many people who became fearful in these moments, who wanted nothing more than to be safe. To not be caught up in a fight, to not be injured, or worse, killed. Weekend, of course, did little in the moment to prevent such things. They left it to Fenix, who often just… didn’t do enough, and they knew it.

No, Weekend only ever swooped in after the tragedy had struck, to try to pick up the pieces, even if the pieces weren’t theirs to pick up.

Mommy and daddy were bleeding. Hikaru didn’t think that they were supposed to be bleeding that much, that must be bad. The concrete was supposed to be light grey; he’d seen the same concrete many times before. But underneath mommy and daddy, the concrete was dark, there was too much red. There was a monster, the monster hurt them.

He'd hid, like mommy and daddy had said to, and now with the monster gone, he wanted to find them. And they were bleeding and that was bad. He hurried over, shaking.

“Mommy? Daddy?” He doesn’t think when he goes to shake them, doesn’t understand why they don’t quite feel right, why they won’t wake up. “M-mommy? D-daddy? I- I want to go h-home…”

His parents became blurry, his eyes welling up with tears. They wouldn’t wake up. His parents wouldn’t wake up and that was bad. He was powerless to make them wake up.

They weren’t breathing.

Hikaru’s parents were dead.

And then there were these other people. The rest was a blur, but they were… strange. He didn’t understand what the weekend had to do with anything, or where they were taking him, but they promised he’d be safe, and they’d take care of him. His parents were dead. He didn’t know what else to do but follow along.

Now he had new parents, but he might as well have had none still.

The thing Hikaru hated most about Weekend, was that they acted like coming in late was them being saviors. Like they’d saved Hikaru. But in his eyes, all they’d done was doomed him to being just a cog in their machine, one that he didn’t even know the grander machinations of.

Maybe some of it was his fault, for going along with it all. At the end of the day, though, it didn’t change that they never saved anyone. They always came in after the damage was done.

There was a child, he spies, and they’re alone, crying.

Hikaru decided, then, that he wouldn’t just be apart of Weekend’s grand plan – at the very least, he wasn’t going to stand around when people might be in danger. He’d make sure people were safe, even if it meant putting himself in danger. And maybe, just maybe, he could make himself into a better person for when Hana returned.

Mind made up, Hikaru dashed to the child, determined to find their parents and make sure they stay safe.

---

As soon as Revi and Vice left, Makoto was overcome with relief. Thank goodness, a moment of respite, before he’d have to go back to Happy Spa and everything there. Of course, the fight being over also meant he was left to deal with Mr. Kadota, who he suspected wasn’t entirely pleased about him joining in fighting Revi.

“Makoto,” Sure enough, Mr. Kadota began by saying his name with just a hint of irritation. “I told you to fight Vice with Tamaki.”

Makoto let out quite the sigh, before turning towards Mr. Kadota. “Sorry, I’m not one of your soldiers,” he said, “and I’ve never been very good at group projects.”

“This hadn’t been a problem before.”

“Well before, you…” Makoto searched for the politest way to phrase his thoughts. He figured ‘hadn’t done something incredibly dumb and reckless’ wasn’t the best way of saying it. “hadn’t decided you could totally fight someone you definitely couldn’t fight on your own.” That would have to be good enough.

Tamaki, judging by his expression, clearly did not want to weigh in on this debate, but Makoto suspected that he felt similarly. He certainly didn’t protest Makoto’s actions and had very much been able to handle Vice on his own, even still somewhat beat up from fighting Jeanne the day before.

Mr. Kadota still had something of a displeased expression, regardless of Makoto’s reasoning. Thus, it was Makoto’s turn to sigh, “Mr. Kadota, I do think you need to have more faith in Tamaki and I’s capabilities. Or Tamaki’s, at least.” Especially since Hiromi had a hand in Tamaki’s training himself. “I can understand why you may be hesitant about mine.”

With a sigh, Mr. Kadota conceded, “I will keep that in mind in the future.”

“Wonderful. I’m going home, now, I am frankly exhausted. Tamaki, I will likely be asleep when you get home, and I will strangle you if you wake me up.”

Tamaki seemed a bit put off by that comment, but shrugged it off, “Right, right. I won’t wake you up.”

#my writing #kamen rider #kamen rider revice #without you

[ramblesinshamblesgreenbus]

Et thinks his soulmate is this woman, 17 years older than him and married - Jeanne. I read him the part of my bad hetalia fanfic where France is talking towards the sky, looking for God, mourning Joan of Arc - it’s stupid, I excused it after. Relatable, he called it.

he’s too much like Macron isn’t he. so progressive, though - proudly calls his persona “fuckboy” and keeps up with texts from like a dozen girls. when do you know you’re in a relationship, i asked him. like, a monogamous one. “i renounce myself for us”.

that’s what i wanted to do, i say. not wanted to, i guess. felt like i had to want to. convoluted, but he got it. i like when people get it. i’d like to get back to the point of my life when i could tell ppl i loved them without any of us finding it romantic - not even loved them, but loved something they did. i love how you understand me. i love that you try to.

anyway, he said - you felt like you had to want to renounce yourself for him. i would have renounced myself for us - me and Jeanne. that was a really subtle way of saying things were unilateral, and i complimented as much. “Choupette needs her iddah” - I asked him if i resemble Lagerfeld’s cat that much. escaped me that choupette just means sweetie.

i asked him if i should get my instagram back, he just laughed. “i hate when MEUFS go through breakups and need to act like they’re fine - they’re radio silent when they heal”. i want to be radio silent. i want to heal. i want to be heard - you are. “the person you want to hear you does not want to listen, so maybe stop shouting”.

i told him, i think you were groomed. i think that middle-aged woman is not your soulmate. he said “the only people that leave a lasting impact are those we deem better than us - someone can’t be my age and better than me”. bit pedantic, but it stuck with me. he said he reduced what he feels in relation to her to a simple word i seem to find comfort in. i said, it brings more pain than comfort - it’ll bring comfort again. he thinks soulmates are in an everchanging state, that relationships can’t fulfill you forever, that you just grow out of people and that’s the moment when you’re supposed to say bye and look for someone to suit the new you. i asked him if there aren’t exceptions - i must have looked pretty down in the dumps because he gave me a shaky smile - it’s always weird to see people react to my feelings, make me feel so real. anyway. exceptions. he said there must be some, but not this one.

i wasn’t referring to this one when i asked him, i don’t think. it just sounded like such a bleak conclusion for my hopeless romantic self. there are exceptions, he said again, and i started crying.

G told me something once, before the violence started, and i shooed it away back then but i circle back to it now - i liked you so much that i tried to be the right fit for you. it invariably got exhausting.

i told Et about it, tried not to make it sound like humble bragging - do you think that’s valid. he said yes, it is. a lot of people play the part, and apparently i have something that makes people think it’s worth it to try their hands at acting.

i want someone not pretending. or at least someone that’s really bad at it, so i can see past. didn’t cry today (there’s still time but i’m not trying to shoot myself in the foot).

[mijiplays]

【Red Jeanne unit [Fleeting Happiness] 】 Special story translations

Keep in mind that these translations are not official since I’ve relied on various translation machines and tried my bestest to make it understandable as possible. If there are any concerns or mistakes anyone would like for me to go back and correct/edit, please kindly let me know so I can fix them!

Part 1 Synopsis

This is the memory of an unknown world hidden in the Great Spirits

Jeanne: "Shamash, our God of Justice"

Jeanne: "Let this sinful man be brought to justice"

The kind hearted Saint, children and woman, who prays for the sinner's salvation

Jeanne: "The people passing by in the city are smiling and happy, aren't they?"

Lyserg: "Yes. These smiles will never be taken away from us again"

Unsullied saints and sisters, we wish peace to the world

May the pure souls of the lost and afflicted rest in peace

_________________________________________

Part 2 Brief Happiness

Robber: "Haa, haa, haaa... I've finally managed to escape"

Lyserg: "Found you, you're coming with me"

Robber: "Shit... Okay okay I get it! I'll do as you say..."

Lyserg: "Ggh!"

Robber: "Ehehehe, bye bye!"

Marco: "Wait right there, where do you think you're going?"

Robber: "Dammit, get out of my way!"

Jeanne: "To trick the kind hearted Lyserg with violence..."

Jeanne: "It seems I must judge and punish you myself in person"

Jeanne: "Shamash our God of Justice"

Jeanne: "Bring this sinful man to Justice"

Jeanne: 'Oh no, I overslept! I have to hurry...!’

Jeanne: "What? Why am I saying I'm in a hurry... What was I in a hurry for?"

Jeanne: 'And this town is Mont Saint Michel...Isn't it?'

Jeanne: 'What is going on...?'

Lyserg and Marco: "Maiden-Sama!"

Jeanne: "There you two are, just in time! I have a question for you......"

Jeanne: "Why am I back home...?"

Lyserg and Marco: "Hm?"

Jeanne: "Because right now we are currently in the middle of the Shaman fight"

Lyserg and Marco: "Haha..."

Jeanne: "What's so funny?"

Lyserg: "I'm sorry but I'm afraid what Maiden-sama has already said was too late..."

Marco: "She has already defeated the evil Hao with her own hands and brought peace to the world!"

Jeanne: "What I, Hao? I, um......"

Woman: "Oh my, isn't that Maiden-Sama! It's a pleasure to finally meet you"

Woman: "I can't thank you enough for the peace you have brought into our lives"

Baby: "Kyaha!"

Jeanne: "Oh my, what an adorable baby"

Woman: "Thank you so much, it's my newborn treasure I just had!"

Jeanne: "He truly does have beautiful eyes that looks like treasures--"

Robber: "Dammit, get out of my way!"

Jeanne: "Bring this sinful man to Justice"

Jeanne: "... Eh?"

Jeanne: 'Don't tell me, he's the reincarnation of that man...?'

Jeanne: 'No, that's not... Why would I do that...'

Marco: "Yes that's right. That man washed away his sins and has been reborn this way"

Jeanne: "!"

Lyserg: "I'm sure this child will live a good and happy life"

Jeanne: "...Yes, I suppose so"

Jeanne: '...Oh, I see, This is a dream I'm having isn't it'

Jeanne: 'My weakness shows me a brief moment of happiness'

Jeanne: "The people passing by in the city are smiling and happy, aren't they?"

Lyserg: "Yes. These smiles will never be taken away from us again"

Marco: "We the X-LAWS, will continue to support our holy girl Maiden-sama"

Marco: "We are determined to make this precious peace eternal"

Jeanne: "Yes... That's right"

Jeanne: "......"

Jeanne: "We must defeat the sinful Hao as soon as possible and make our dream a reality"

#special character story translations #translations #fan translations #funkuro #skfc #jeanne #xlaws

[galahdanblade]

She was still learning her place in the hierarchy here and Jeanne wasn't exactly sure she should be in her without a senior hunter, but the heat outside beneath the unyielding midday Leide sun was unbearable. So the newbie busied herself with the monster-tracker that had a note saying 'do not touch!' and smiled happily to herself when it began making knocking noises; it was like a larger version so the so-called knock-box she had seen her uncles and cousins use to detect coeurls around Taelpar where she hailed from. The closer the best, the faster the beat of the knocking sounds. All it took was fixing the wire to the short-distance radar and the tracker was back in working order. "There we go," she smiled happily and dusted off her hands on her faded jeans, turning when she heard boot-steps on the dry and cracked floor. It was Dave's right-hand man, the guy from Galahd that all the female hunters swooned for. Jeanne was counting herself among those women; the dude was ridiculously charismatic. "I ... uhhh, if I wasn't supposed to touch it, sorry."

he’d given up hope on getting that scanner to work months ago. kaleb could vaguely recall it working maybe a handful of times since he’d arrived on the mainland. most of the time though, the thing seemed to give hunters more of a pain in the head than any modicum of help.

he vividly recalled dave turning the air of the barn blue a few weeks back when he’d completely stripped the cumbersome unit apart and reassembled it, only for it to give up working after a few minutes. it had been then that the temperamental scanner had had that note stuck to one of its dials.

and all along they’d had an ace in their back pockets with the newest recruits?

shoulder perched against the door-frame, kaleb folded his arms across his chest and watched the woman tinker away at the battered scanner, clearly engrossed in what she was doing and evidently knowing what she was doing because the machine wasn’t making any weird noises and the needles of the dials weren’t pivoting up and down. it was actually working.

brows lifting in mild surprise as the machine behaved itself, kaleb moved so he wasn’t blocking the doorway fully, ‘ no apology needed. ’ canting his head, he nodded towards the scanner, a part of him still dubious and expecting it to misbehave at any given moment,

‘ — you seemed to know what you were doing with that thing. you’ve seen those type of scanners before? ’

because if the answer was yes and the scanner she’d been tinkering with stayed working, then there was a whole array of them throughout the mainland that needed fixing, including smaller ones stowed away in cotton alley caches throughout the outposts.

#replied

[alexiethymia]

A Case Study on Vanitas’ Character: On Vanitas’ Two Conditions

Since they’re animating the What is Love? episode next (episode 7), I couldn’t help but want to talk about that chapter. [spoilers for anime-only watchers!]

Vanitas has two conditions for Jeanne: 

1) She mustn’t drink blood from anyone else but him.

I admit that like Jeanne, it’s easy for me to fall into the trap of thinking Vanitas is a better guy than he is because of certain biases. Let’s admit it, this part was plain blackmail, and yet for some reason, with what we know of Vanitas now, there are also different ways of seeing this scene. 

Vanitas is ‘blackmailing’ Jeanne, but at the same time that blackmail is actually him also offering a solution to Jeanne’s problem. AND YET, HE DOES IT IN SUCH A WAY SO THAT JEANNE NEVER HAS TO FEEL LIKE SHE OWES HIM. More to the point, he does it in such a way to ensure that Jeanne continues hating him. In other words he, in his own twisted way, is doing a nice thing for Jeanne, while ensuring that she never likes him for it. Now I’m not saying it’s a purely altruistic thing, but I still think that Vanitas is drawn to Jeanne because she reminds him of himself back then. If so he knows precisely how to get her to receive help albeit through manipulative means. 

It’s not a purely altruistic thing. He states it so himself, what he gets out of it is the ‘divine feeling’ Jeanne sucking his blood gives to him again purposefully painting himself as a pervert so that Jeanne wouldn’t like him for helping her. But if we are to believe some theories that it’s not actually as enjoyable as he himself paints it out to be (I digress, but I think he’s being honest here. He strikes me as having a bit of a masochistic streak in him) (I digress from my digression, but theory time, what’s his bases of comparison?? Who besides Luna and Jeanne have drunk from him??), then there’s another dimension to his condition of ‘you must drink blood, only from me’. If he’s just in this for the feeling it gives him, then why word the condition that way? He’s never stricken me as possessive of Jeanne despite his words of ‘I want to possess all of you’, and as he’s stated, he doesn’t want Jeanne to love him back. I think this is just another case of his ‘use me’ mindset rearing its head again. He’s said it to Count Orlock, and we know that it started since his time with Dr. Moreau. It is definitely, definitely, unhealthy, and I believe it’s also coupled with his slight suicidal tendencies. If worst comes to worst and Jeanne ends up going out of control and killing him, he seems not to care. 

Going off tangent here, but another one of his contradictions is how ruthless he is at surviving and yet how careless he is with his life, especially when it comes to people caring for him. He’d rather be left in the snow than have Jeanne take care of him as repayment for him protecting her, or when he got angry at Noe for protecting him from Ruthven.

But at his core and as Luna stated, Vanitas is a kind child. It’s developed in an unhealthy way, but he’s quite self-sacrificial. It’s fine for Jeanne to use him so that Jeanne has a focus or outlet. At least when the craving for blood gets to be too much, Jeanne knows there’s someone she can drink from, which helps her so that she doesn’t lose control and lash out against Luca for example. And on Vanitas’ side, it seems like it’s fine for him to be put at risk so other people don’t have to be, and on Jeanne’s part too, it also helps her from further hating herself if she ends up hurting other people. 

In other words, his condition is both a selfish and selfless one, yet he paints it to be blackmail. It’s not an entirely good thing for him to do, because there’s definitely power play involved, but it’s also not as scummy as it is initially presented out to be with what we now know of his past. 

2) For Jeanne to call him by ‘name’. 

There are so many things going on here that I just can’t help but ramble about it. Firstly, I’m really interested in how this’ll be translated in the anime. Did Vanitas say call me by ‘Vanitas’, or call me by ‘my name’? Because if it’s the latter, then couldn’t Vanitas also mean (although not fully consciously) that he wants someone to call him by his true name like Luna did before he inherited the name ‘Vanitas’? (And I will just die if in a future chapter, Jeanne and Noe do end up getting to call him by his original name).  

Second, there are slight parallels and contrasts with this arrangement he has with Jeanne and with the one he had back then with Moreau. Obviously Moreau is trash and took full advantage of ‘No. 69′. He exercised all the power. In this case, Jeanne is hesitant about hurting Vanitas despite how aggravating he is towards her. She doesn’t want to drink his blood at all. Moreau was a human. Jeanne is a vampire, and despite physically being superior towards Vanitas she changes her demand into a plea or request for Vanitas to keep her secret. (And whelp that’s when she sealed her fate, because she apparently triggered Vanitas. Don’t worry though Jeanne, you’ll get your payback soon enough). Vanitas was completely without power before, so faced with a similar situation this time around, I think part of him let the power get to his head, causing him to partly take advantage of Jeanne (he’s a complete sadist AND a masochist). He has complete agency this time around. Sure he’s once again offering himself with the expectation of pain and at the risk of his life, and he’s also doing this for another person, like with Misha, but unlike with Dr. Moreau, the power is on his side this time around. 

Going off tangent, that’s one thing that Vanitas and Jeanne have to work on. Balancing power and agency. I get where Vanitas is coming from, surrounded by vampires as he is, and with his past too, but he has to realize that caring about and loving someone isn’t a matter of power. You don’t lose when you love and care. You don’t surrender power. You don’t have to take away someone’s agency or exercise your own power for you to manage to do good things for the people you care about. He has to manage that balance - likewise with Jeanne, Noe, and Domi as well. 

Going back. Since he has full agency in this case, it’s his decision to offer himself to Jeanne in this way, he doesn’t want to be dehumanized while doing so. He’s had enough trauma about that already. Despite how he words it, it’s actually a somewhat equivalent exchange between Vanitas and Jeanne. He offers her blood as a way for her to keep her sanity, but she can’t be removed from it, she has to look at him properly and consider him a person with full agency and choices, and not just as ‘that human’. 

And looking at their faces - Jeanne’s is an incredulous one as if to say, ‘that’s it?’ It’s both an easy and difficult thing for her to do. Meanwhile, for Vanitas, I’d expected him to look goading, but he just looks patient and soft. At least in this instance, I don’t see it as him forcing Jeanne to do something she doesn’t want to do - just an unexpected moment of wanting to be known and treated as himself. 

LISTEN HE IS FULL OF CONTRADICTIONS OK. We’re led to believe that all of his interactions with Jeanne until the moment he realized he fell in love with her was just him teasing her, but I believe he was already in the process of falling in love with her slowly. I’ll go so far as to say that he was the one who fell in love first, but he just interpreted it as his being ‘excited’ by her. In other words, the words he said (’I love you’) which we thought was a lie was actually the truth, albeit a truth he didn’t realize much later. 

Why do I think so? It’s because he revealed certain moments of vulnerability or sincerity with her or about her without any of the teasing, as represented by the italicized dialogue. It’s the same case for when he said he didn’t want to trod on her foot with Noe, or when he happily grinned and he said forthright Jeanne was the side of her he liked best (or when he promised he’d kill her). 

This is just an example of his contradiction. He never wanted or expected Jeanne to fall in love with him, and sure this could just be his wanting to push boundaries or test limits, being the chaotic person that he is, and yet, wanting to be called by name is a desire to form a genuine connection. 

He could have just remained as ‘that human’ to Jeanne while interacting with her. After all, what could stop him? He also had the first condition in place to make sure they’d continue to interact. And yet, he refused (like how Noe refuses to be ‘that vampire’ to him). 

Like Luna said, as long as he didn’t close his heart, he wouldn’t be alone. Even if Vanitas thinks it burdensome or wants to be ‘free’, it seems that he still does long for connection - romantic, platonic, or otherwise. 

And this is why I ship them, even in this instance so early on in the manga when arguably the dynamic wasn’t at its healthiest. It’s because of their background that draws them to each other and allows them an understanding of one another. It’s because of that desire to know more about each other. It’s because of that genuine care and wanting to form a connection with each other, despite part of them rejecting it because of their issues.

Do I think they’re good for each other? Yes. Admittedly, they have so much to work on, but I believe that they push (Vanitas with regards to Jeanne’s blood addiction, and Jeanne with Vanitas in his moment of vulnerability) because the both of them tend to be self-destructive if left to their own devices. It’s just that their version of care for each other is aggressive. They’ll have to find that balance though eventually. On Vanitas’ part he also has to be inspired by Noe that the kind of salvation a person wants may not be the best possible outcome, especially for those left behind. I’m not sure what Mochizuki sensei’s end message is suppose to be, but death I don’t believe is salvation.   

tldr: Vanitas is a self-sacrificial idiot who longs for connections under layers of self-loathing (but he’s still an asshole), and VaniJeanne is a good ship which had the foundations laid down from the beginning. 

#vanitas #vanitas no carte #vnc #vanijeanne #vanitas x jeanne #vnc jeanne #this is so long #but I had to get out there #mode: composing pages of essays analyzing your favorite characters #I'm excited for the next ep #all the shippers will win #vanijeanne vannoe dominoe domijeanne #aptly titled #the love episode #bastard child characters are so fun to analyze #I also just really love jeanne #vanitas is a contradiction #I just know I'm gonna end up rambling about this series so much #like noragami jshk and tokyo ghoul #vanitas theories #ramblings about vnc #vnc spoilers #vanitas no carte spoilers #ships

[bluemoonvanitas-talk]

55 raws

...

We finally see teacher’s face! Looks young.

And he has heterochromia. 

“I suppose it is first time meeting you in this shape“ (to Vanitas and Jeanne)

Guess we have another hint that one of his shapes might be Murr

Jeanne is freaking out because this dude is something else. Really scary vampire.

Noe tho gets straight to the point:

“Teacher, are you the “kind person“ Michail was talking about?“

“And did you tell him (Michail) there is a way to revive the Vampire of the Blue Moon?“

“Yes, I did.“

Then Vanitas interferes

“You said it is first time meeting in this shape! Where, shapeless one, did you meet me?!“

“Count Saint Germain”

“I am going by this name now. From now on make sure you call me correctly“

[I reblogged translation of dreamland and we’ll meet again part]

Jeanne notices “His left eye...same as Vanitas’s“

Then Teacher is off with Michail and Noe tries to stop him, but gets knocked out

And we see small Noe again meeting teacher

-----

I wonder if we’ll get Noe flashbacks now. Like complete version of them?

You know, I wonder if Murr is a red herring in a way we will think now he met Vanitas and Jeanne as Murr, but there probably were other shapes...

Dude is really creepy. Only Noe seems to not be freaking out.

What is dreamland? And who exactly is supposed to wake up and see the truth? Seemed like he was referring to Noe.

And what happened for him to call VOTBM “the most beautiful creature in the world”.

Btw Noe was missing left eye when he met teacher...

And VOTBM was covering the left eye...

And teacher has left blue eye...

I mean, he got eye from VOTBM probably

But I wonder what “blueness” is he taking about and if it is only smth Vanitas has inherited

#vnc #the case study of vanitas #vanitas no carte #vanitas no shuki #vnc talk

[diaperedhumiliation]

A story submittal I received, reposting.

Wife diapers me and cuckifies me

When i got out of the bathroom, Jeanne was waiting for me in our room, sitting on the bed, in a black babydoll underlining every detail of her figure instead of hiding them. She smiled to me, and, slowly, took her hand from beind her back. She was holding a Tykables Unicorns diaper, and waving it in front of me. 

- Lie on the bed. 

I shivered. I had confessed my diaper’s interest to Jeanne and, in the beginning, she let me use them alone, without judging. But she soon ended up participating, first with a few strokes, and then being willing to change me and add diapers to our sexual games. Thereby, i wasn’t surprised and just lied silently on the bed. She started by strapping my hands to the head of then bed, and then my feets to it’s bottom, slightly spread appart. Again, I was used to that and, if I seemed to resist, I was only pretending. Once I was bounded and unable to move, she got me to raise my hips and put a diaper under my bum. Then the game began. She languidly licked my torso, going from my chest to my lower belly. From there, she slided her tongue on my perfectly shaved thighs. Got me to languish was a pleasure she would never deprieve herself of, and I felt my sex grow hard while her strokes were getting closer to it. When I was fully erected, she went to the kitchen and came back with a bowl of icecube that she sucked. Once her lips, her tongue and her mouth were cold, she fiercly licked my penis, getting it to shrink. Soon, my dick between my legs was nother more thant a small bit of flesh, and, proud of her work, she whispered in my ear : 

- Here, that’s more fitting for a baby. 

Then, she applied a protective cream on every part of my body that would be covered by the diaper : my butt, my penis and the top of my thighs. When she was done, finaly, she folded the dipaer over me, trapping my sex into a soft and crinkly prison. She took her time to be certain that the diaper fit snuggly fitted, and when she was done, I genuenly felt like a baby. I could feel the pressure of the staps against my hips, the bulge of the diaper between my legs, and the warmth that was slowly rising in my crotch. More importantly, rising my head to watch my lower belly, I could only shiver at the sight of, instead of my penis, a plane area, covered with pink and childish patterns. 

Jeanne then went and pulled something out from under the bed : a segufix belt, in thick leather. 

- What is this ?  

I felt my breath accelerate when, without any answer, she strapped me to the bed, making any move impossible. Having my wrists and ankles boud was somehting, but, with this belt, I was  loosing any control over my body. I was pinned to the bed, fully powerless, and unable to move a inch. 

- I wanted to had some spice, Jeanne whispered. 

Then she sat on my legs, and started to lick my diaper. That was her favorite game. I felt her long hair slip over my belly bottom and brush my skin. I felt the stroke of her hands over my thighs, the weight of  her plump butt on my knees, and I could very well saw her tongue moving were my sexe was supposed to be. But, between it and her tongue, there was a thick layer of plastic that deprived me of any feeling. Excited and humiliated, I felt my penis trying to swell inside of the diaper, it’s bulk making it impossible and leaving me unable to get hard while my wife was licking my crotch. 

I was starting to moan under the excitement at the time when the bell ringed. Jeanne, hearing it, was quickly on her feets and laughed : 

- The spice has come.

She got out of the room and i feld cold sweat rushing on every part of my body. Being seen in diaper by my wife and being treated that way was something I had made peace with. It was a secret that we shared, as humiliating as harmless. But I was not even close to be willing for it the be revealed, and what was happening down there was terrifying me. Unable to move, I was nonetheless unable to do anything than wait, powerless, for what seemed to me ages. 

Finally, Jeane came back, followed by a man, around or age, probably 30, that couldn’t help but giggle seeing me. I was staring at this stranger that was trying not to laugh, in my room, and I couldn’t find the words. It was then Jeanne that broke the silence. 

- Paul, here is James. Since, you obviously - she stared at my diaper - can’t take care of me, I asked him to help me with it. I hope you don’t mind ? 

I was about to answer but she waved at me.  

- No need to answer. Let me explain you the rule for today. It’s my night, so you can’t talk. At all. No matter the reason. Understood ?  

Too stunned to understand what was happening, I signed yes with my head, and she kissed me, before going back to James. They started, on the bed, right next to me, even touching me sometimes, passionate foreplays that Jeanne punctuated with strokes on my diapers. When they were fully naked, James kneeled on the bed, his dick fully erected right over my diaper and, under my eyes, on all fours, Jeanne started to lick it. I couldn’t help but that stare at this sexe, that in my room, on my bed, over mine that was traped in a white a soft cage, my wife was fiercely sucking, her mouth doing energetic back and forth, and tongue sliding over the testicules that she would swallow looking at me. In my diaper, I felt my sexe trying to inflate as much as my plastic’s jail would allow, et, unable to only shake my hips to alleviate the pressure, I felt overtaken by a violent despair. 

After that, Jeanne took from beneath the bed one of those erotic swing that she suspended at beam at the ceiling. She adjusted it, and sat into it, the cruelty of the situation suddenly striking me. She had fixed the swing just over my diaper, and adjusted it so, once she sited, her butt would be less than a inch over the bulge between my legs. Lying rover me, she started to get penetrated by James, and, I started to see her swing under the blow of his hips, right on top of my trapped sex.  It lasted for a while, and as I couldn’t hold it anymore and was about to scream in disbelief, I felt a warm liquid invade my crotch. The diuretic that Jeanne gave me was working wonder, and, while a man was making her love over me, I was peeing myself, flowing my diaper with a hot stream I was unable to stop. I thought that was the most humiliated I could get, but the worse was still ahead. Soaked with my own piss, the diaper and swollen, and had gain just enough inch for me to now feel, at every back and forth, the butt of my wife against my diaper. And for her to feel the plastic against her skin. And so I saw her face brighten : 

- Did baby wet his diapee ?

-No way he did that !  It was James’ voice, where I could here mixed disgust and contempt. 

- There his a reason for him to wear diapers, you know, answered my wife. 

The kept on for a moment, and, with each rubbing, I could feel frustration rising into me, without being able to do anything about it. The friction was too light for me to hope feeling anything through my piss’s swelled diaper. But it was strong enough for me feel a slight shift that was enough to turn me crazy. 

Soon, they swapped position and unhanged the swing so James could take Jeanne doggystyle. She settled over me, and, while James was penetrating her, put her head on my chest and hold tight to me. The man was energetic with his hips’ blow, shaking Jeanne’s whole body, and, as she was lying over me, his back and forth were shaking me aswell. He was having sex with her, over my diaper, and I could feel every of his moves just like he was making love to me. My hips were moving at the pace he was printing out to Jeanne’s one. As for her, I could hear her moan on my chest, her mouth half-opened with the pleasure an other man was giving her, while I was myself unable to be even erected, my penis trapped in a soaked diaper. Panting, she started to lick my armpits, then my neck, and then under the pressure of her own pleasure, she stroked my diaper, her hand firmly pressing over the thick and squashy underwear. It took me less than a minute to cum from this stroke, in a grunting of pleasure. Very well aware of what happened, Jeanne whispered to my hears, her voice jerky from James’ hips’ blow : 

- That’s why he’s fucking me and you’re not. He’s been making love to me for fifteen minutes and still he hasn’t came. you ?  You do a cummy in your diapee, your pathetic dick not even erected, and it takes you a few second, and I don’t even need to touch you. I really don’t see any reason for me to let you cum any other why. Turning toward James, she added, laughing : 

- He just came ! 

- No way ?

- Yes !  He’s so premature that even if he wasn’t peeing himself I would have to keep him in diapers so he wouldn’t cum everywhere. 

They bursted in laugher and started rght back where they stopped, until James, in a manly grunting came in Jeanne, arched while screaming when I gave her a last and powerful blow. At the same time, I felt the enema doing it’s job, and, while, half lying over me, my wife had what looked as the strongest orgasm of her life, I felt my diaper fill once more, now with a warmth and mushy mess that soon covered my butt, and I felt tears rushing to my eyes. But I couldn’t cry. As soon as she orgasmed, Jeanne sticked her vagina to my face, and, sitting over me, forced me to give her a cunnilingus. It lasted for a while, and when I felt her contract, it was immediatly followed by a stream, thick and  sticky, that slided into my throat :  James’s sperm. 

- You gotta swallow it all. It’s your punishment for that, said Jeanne as she patted my bum, her stroke spreading the mess a bit more. 

It was much more than what I could handle, and much worse than what I had dreamed of. It was a feeling of full powerlessness that genuinely made me a baby, bounded into my diaper soiled with pee and poo. Until then, our games only gave me the illusion of submission, but, fur the first time, I really belonged to Jeanne. She had broken my dignity, not in our games, but in front of a man whose I was now feeling the salty taste of his sperm down my throat. 

The worse was that I felt, in my diaper, my penis as hard as possible. Of course, the thick absorbing matter was preventing me to have a full erection, but I knew very well that, without it, it would have been the hard I would ever have got. I never had been that excited, and Jeanne knew it very well. 

 - Look, she said to James. He’s so excited by what you just done to me. Now you can tell how much I need you. Play a bit with his diaper if you want. 

She covered my eyes with her hand, and I heard a sound i recognize quickly, the buzzing of a magic wand that we were using from time to time. She gave it to James, and he put it on my diaper, it’s buzzing shaking the thick mattress fill with piss. It took me less than 20 second to have a violent orgasm, the second of the day, that jolted my stomac. I came again, unable to hide the pleasure that twisted my brain, and James watched me do so, my moaning of pleasure making him laugh. 

- Did he came again ? No way ! I never saw that ! 

Jeanne stroked my face were tears of powerlessness were rushing. 

- Just image how fast he came when we were having sex. It was … Infuriating. Then she turned toward him and said :  Look, baby his crying, I think he misses his pacifier. 

Understanding the message, the man put his knees around my head, and, without letting me the time to react, he slide his still erected cock into my mouth while I was feeling, at the same time, Jeanne pressing on my diaper whithout being able to say if it was with her hands or another part of her body. 

In my mouth, Jame’s dick had Jeanne’s taste, and he force to me lick me over and over, grunting with pleasure : 

- I might not be a good fuck, but he’s hell of a good sucker. 

He took his time, doing deep and long back and forht into my throat, and, while I felt like I was about to puke, a feeling of warmth invade my crotch. I was peeing myself once more. My diaper was now as full as possible, and I could felt my pee and my poo that each of James’s hips’ blow was mixing together a bit more. Aroudn the same time i finally stopped peeing, he had a new orgasm, and holding my hair, cumed into my mouth and forced me to swallow. 

When he stood up, I was in another dimension. I had no more strengh to scream, and on my face were rushing silent tears. I lowered my eyes to my crotch, and found myself staring at a sight that would have desperate anybody but that got mo rock-hard. Or, more exactly, I was trying to get rock-hard, my filled-with-piss’s diaper repressing painfully my erection. Instead of my sex, where the was an immaculate and barely bulging diaper there was now a large yellow stain and a thick bulge of swollen and crincly plastic. Between my thighs, it wasn’t the lower belly of a man. It was the soiled one of a baby unable to control his body. And, realising my own and miserable state, I came a third time, wihthout anybody stimulating me. this time, my stream of sperm was accompanied by a genuine scream of pleasure, and it was the most powerful orgasm I ever had. Two minutes after it, as I was still shivering, James was laughing out at me. Next to him, Jeanne leaned over me : 

- I was willing to unbound you and let you make me love baby, as you really were pathetic and painful to watch. I thought that after two orgasms you’d last a bit longer but … Looks like not. So you’re in for a night in your diapees. Actually, for every nights. I hope you remember your tiny, tiny penis, because you’ll never see it again sweat hearth. 

Saying so, she kissed me before adding in a whisper : “ I love you though. But you make me wayyy more happier like that than when you pretend to be a big-boy.” 

While James was dressing, Jeanne took somehting else from beneath the bed. This time, it was a diaper even bigger and thicker than the one I was already wearing, a Tykables Camelot. With it, she was holding pink clothes, a pink Rearz Onesie with ruffles, the “princess” one and a diaper cover, pink aswell. She also had a satin dress from the same brand. She started to put me in the new diaper, that she pinned over my already used one, piercing small holes so pee could flow from one to another. She added a boosted pad a a drop a fragrance that would cover the smell of poope, and a powerful and small vibrator. She closed the diaper, and then covered with the diaper cover. She did it tenderly, just like if she was putting me in sexy lingerie, slowly letting me feel the satin against my skin. The second diaper between my legs was so thick that she had to refasten my legs to make room for it. From now on, even if i was let free, I wouldn’t be able to walk without waddling, and crawling would be much easier. 

Then she unfastened my arms one by one and, asking James to hold me tighth, she put on the onesie on me. Soft, it sticked to every inch of my skin perfectly, covering my body in a thin layer of pick fabric covered with princess patterns. When she snapped it behind my crotch, it molded my body perfectly, sticking to my belly and my back, and covering me with a second skin, pink and tight. More importantly, it was pressing my overfilled diaper against me, splattering and spreading my mess into my sowft jail. 

Finally, she put the dress on me, took a picture, and refastened the segufix harness, then showed it to me. With my swollen crortch,  the pink jail that was trapping my body, and the leather bound at my wrists and ankles, I looked exactly like in my fantasies. Except that a stranger was watching me over, just after he had sex with my wife. That turned it into a nightmare, that three back to back orgasm, making my want to wear diapers disappears made properly unbearable. And then there was what the pictures wasn’t showing :  the smell in the room, mix of sweat, poo, pee and baby lotion. This, and the inside of the diaper, sticky with my mess, my sweat and my sperm. 

One year had passed, and Jeanne didn’t lie. She had thrown away all my under wears, and forbidden me to take care of my diaper myself. Every time she would change me, she would hide my eyes, and, after a few month, I forgot what my penis looked like. I was not even sure I had one anymore. Between my legs, there was only a triangle of soft and thick plastic, pink or white depending the day, and always covered with childish patterns. Waht was behind was a distant memory. I also gave up any hope to cum another way than in my diaper. The mere idea of masturbating seemed silly to me. To masturbate, you needed a penis, you needed to be a man. Same if you wanted to make love to Jeanne. As for me, I had only a diaper between my les, and if I wanted to cum, I just needed to rub it agains’t anything. After a few strokes, the pleasure would come. Why and thanks to what, it didn’t matter anymore. I was cuming thanks to the diaper, and the diaper had became my sexual organ. 

In the exact same way, i would not know anymore if my diaper was dry or wet. Sometimes it was thick, sometimes it was thin. Sometime, when i was sitting, I felt it stick to my bum. That was it, and if Jeanne or the men that came to her house to make love to her were to forget to change me, I would soon have ended up in a leaking diaper without noticing it. 

I was now only wearing onesies, footed jammies, short and pink dress, satin stockings, diaper cover with cute patterns and others childish clothes. All of them, in any case, allowed for a quick and easy check up, that Jeanne never deprived herself of. 

My favorite activity had became my baby bouncer were Jeanne hanged me for whole afternoons, lettting me wave my legs and shake myself, elastics around my waist making me gently bounce in a movement that, no matter what, would leave me shaking with pleasure. In those moments, my brain seemed to turn-off, and if it wasn’t for my bib, Jeanne would found me drawling, my dress or my onesie covered in drool, unable to talk nor walk. 

Besides, I hadn’t walked for months. With the thick diapers I was wearing and the spreader pants that sometimes recovered them, it was much easier for me to crawl. And, just llike that, I didn’t talked anymore, picking words being too much of an effort for me. In any case, screams and tear were enough for Jeanne to understand me. 

I had became fully dependent, stranger to shame, and, sometimes, when men came to make her love, I would crawl to their bedroom to watch. A sudent impulse would drive me to scratch my head against those men thanks to whom I had nothing to do anymore and that were taking care of my wife for me. And, every time, the disdain in their look would make me emptied myself in my diaper, that I’d first fill with pee and poo under their look.  And then boucing in my soiled diaper, at the bed’s foot, I would cum, orgasmn after orgasmn, while they were making love to my wife whose hand gently patted my head. 

#submitted story

[hasspartacusdoneanythingwrong]

The Century War of Wyverns: Prologue

God, it's been a while since we actually did longer writing on this blog, huh? Yeah, we're finally back, going through the old singularities. Don't expect much different in this part, since it's before we even get to France, but we hope you'll enjoy it anyway.

We'll have to set right what once went wrong, but first, things have to go pretty freaking wrong for it to count as a singularity. How wrong, you may ask? Let's find out!

Also, CWs: Religious Themes, Blood, Death

(The next part is here)

Footsteps rang down the corridor, the clatter of metal on stone. A grim young woman, dressed in chains and blackened armor, strode towards the central chamber of the castle. A spear was thrown casually over her shoulder. The screams had long since died down, but the metallic stench of blood still permeated the building. A fitting place for the beginning of the end, she supposed.

She entered the ritual room and was greeted by a scrawny man cloaked in dark robes. She sneered at him as he gave a report on the ritual. The sycophant was infuriating, but useful.

For now though, the ritual was ready: she had more important things to worry about. The man led her to the appropriate spot in the twisted mass of sigils and equations marked upon the floor. He then moved to his own position and began chanting. The woman invoked the incantation, as practiced.

“Heed my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny. If you heed the Grail’s call, and obey my will and reason, then answer me.”

A bright white light seeped out of the golden chalice in the center of the magic circle, tracing the lines drawn on the ground. As the light grew more intense, a wind picked up, pushing everything in the room away from its center. Everything but the cup and the woman.

“I hereby swear. That I shall defeat all evil in the world. But let thine eyes be clouded with the fog of turmoil and chaos. Thou art trapped in a cage of madness, and I the summoner who holds thy chains.”

The light suddenly shifted to crimson red, and the wind picked up speed. The woman had to shout the final lines of incantation to be heard over the gale.

“Seventh heaven clad in the great words of power! Come forth from the circle of binding, Guardian of the Scales!”

The tangle of light coalesced into seven points, fading into seven human figures. She addressed each of them in turn.

“Berserk Saber,” A young woman dressed in a pastel suit with a flowing white cape. She brandished a fencing rapier, giving it a few experimental swings.

“Berserk Archer,” Another woman, dressed in green. Her ears and tail twitched with discomfort as she glared at the rest of the assembly. Her longbow scraped the paneling of the floor beneath her feet.

“Berserk Lancer,” A pale man dressed in rich furs. He let a silver spear rest upon the ground as he looked around him, unimpressed.

“Berserk Rider,” A purple haired woman dressed in a veil and chainmail. She fidgeted with her staff as the black armored woman turned to her, struggling with herself.

“Berserk Caster,” A slight man in a black suit. He would be rather handsome, if not for the mask covering half his face.

“Berserk Assassin,” An older woman, wearing a mask and a fine red dress. She was surrounded by chains and spiked metal. She could barely contain herself at the sight of Saber, Archer, and Rider.

“And True Berserker.” A white-haired man in executioner’s garb. He polished his sword at a feverish pace.

“Thank you for coming, my fellow servants. I am your master. You know why you were summoned, yes?”

She looked around at the assembly.

“Destruction and slaughter, those are your orders. If a city is reveling in spring, destroy it. If a town is celebrating the new year, devastate it. No matter how evil or cruel, God will forgive your every transgression. Should He mete out punishment, that is fine in its own way. For this is no more than a means of proving God’s existence and His love.”

“Now, Gilles, bring him here.”

The man in black robes -Gilles- bowed. “Of course, my saint!” He ran out of the room. He returned shortly with another old man in tow, this one wearing extravagant white and red robes.

Gilles giggled as he pulled the man forward. “What do you wish done with this one, my saint? If I may be so bold, I do have a few suggestions.”

The woman in black sighed. “Please, Gilles, you’re ruining the moment.” With the source of her aggravation silenced, she took a split second to compose herself.

“Bishop Pierre Cauchon!” The woman in black armor greeted the new arrival. “It’s only been three days, but I can promise you not a second went by where I did not think of you! How has France been in my absence?”

The man simply stood there, wide-eyed and slicked in a sheen of sweat. He gave a few stutters, but coherence simply refused to leave his mouth.

Undeterred, the woman in black continued to taunt him. “Ah non, your excellency! This simply won’t do! Are you telling me you have already forgotten the face of Jeanne d’Arc?”

The bishop’s voice finally found him, and he screamed, “No, that’s impossible, she’s dead! This- This can’t be happening! It has to be a dream….”

Jeanne’s face fell. “Gilles, please make sure our guest doesn’t leave reality entirely, would you?”

Gilles brought his hand up to the bishop’s face. His sleeve fell away, revealing a twisted piece of metal wrapped around his wrist. He brushed it against the bishop’s face, leaving scratches that quickly began to bleed. The old man certainly didn’t calm down, but the feeling of his own blood dripping into his hands forced him to face the reality of the situation.

Jeanne smiled as the bishop’s situation sank into his expression. “Now that you are back with us, your excellency, it is time for your test. Here you stand at the gates of hell,” she gestured to the servants encircling them, “surrounded by demons, no less! Fortunately for you, I am nothing if not a devout follower of His word, so I offer you this one chance: pray to Him. For if He is to stay our hand, if He has judged this France worthy of existence, He must do so now.”

The bishop immediately fell to his knees, letting out wracking sobs. “P-please…”

“Hmm?” Jeanne d’Arc eyed him expectantly.

“Please, spare me!” He cried as he crawled towards Jeanne, snot-nosed and openly weeping. “Please! I’ll do whatever it is you wish; I beg of you! Please!”

Jeanne d’Arc kicked him away. He landed heavily a few feet back, still sobbing. “So, you pray to Jeanne d’Arc before you pray to God? Unfortunately for you, I am not a merciful god, nor do I accept indulgences. You beg for the aid of a heathen, and that makes you a heathen as well.”

A sickening smile crawled its way across Jeanne’s lips. “And you know very well the punishment for such a crime, don’t you?”

Somehow, the bishop’s face grew even paler as he scrambled to escape the room. Before he could even get to his feet, Jeanne d’Arc slammed the butt of her spear against the ground. Immediately, dozens of identical spears burst from the ground around the bishop, all set to skewer him. At the same time, a gout of fire rose from the ground, enveloping him completely. He was less than ash before a single spear pierced him.

Jeanne scowled. “That was disappointing. You all know your orders, it is time to spread this despair to the rest of France.”

“My saint-“ Gilles stepped in, “What shall I do with the other members of the clergy?”

“Let them go, Gilles.”

Gilles balked. “You can’t be serious!” he spluttered. “They are the ones who sent you to die! What about their punishment!” He whined like an impetuous child.

Jeanne gave a mirthless grin. “Oh, I never said anything about letting them live. I simply want to see how well our new servants hunt.”

Gilles immediately lit up. “Haha! Of course, my saint! I shall see to it at once!” He cackled as he ran out of the room, eager to fulfill her orders.

Jeanne addressed her servants once again. “Go on, make a show of it. And save room for the main course.”

Screams of all kinds filled the castle as its grounds turned into a slaughterhouse once again. The mad servants easily cornered the terrified clergy, and-

Then we woke up.

#fgo #fate grand order #singularity 1 #fanfic

[sky-writes-daydreams]

Fictober Day 24

Prompt number: #24

Fandom: Bayonetta

Rating: G

The gates of Hell. A small Bar whose location moved on the whims of its owner. Thankfully Rodin had a habit of sending portals to where Cereza was when she was working. She killed angels to fill a contract and he took the leftover halos in exchange for goods. It was a nice setup between the two of them.

Only rarely did he reach out to her when she wasn’t working. Just like today. An unknown number called her phone and left a message of where to meet him.

Walking down the old steps into what looked like an abandoned building’s basement, she could already hear his favorite slow jazz playing before she even opened the door. Smiling, She pushed the door open. It slid without a creak or groan showing off the interior of the Bar. walking in admiring some of the new art he had recently gotten, he came out of the back with a box in his hands.

“Was hoping you’d get my message.”

“Couldn’t resist seeing what new toys you’ve gotten. Jeanne says hello by the way. She had to leave for work.”

“Ah. Still teaching the brats?”

“For now. They keep testing her and she’s considering retiring.” Cereza sat at the Bar smiling then.

“So what’s going on?”

“This.” He tapped the box with a smile.

“Fresh out of hell.”

“Hm.” She nodded before tapping the box with her knuckles.

“Is this supposed to impress me? I’m afraid Jeanne has bigger packages in her closet.” Rodin stopped then as Cereza smirked, stealing a sucker from behind the bar. He always kept a few of her favorites back there.

Then he pulled them out. Scarlet guns. Much like her favorite pair that she kept by the bed at all times.

“Made these beauties from a very pissed off Demon. Trying to invade your girl’s realm in fact.”

“Bloody hell…”

“Wait till you fire them off. You won’t be wearing these on your boots for sure.”

“...Do you still have the range in the back?”

“Are you still a witch?” He smiled then lifting the divider for her.

“Get on back here.” Cereza ran back there making sure to grab the new guns along the way. She honestly loved testing out weapons for him. He had yet to disappoint honestly.

The Targets were always live angels he lured in as well with their own Hymns. She hummed happily around her sucker seeing a few of the bigger ones in there.

“What are you playing to get this many?”

“Just my jazz. Apparently they like Ella Fitzgerald.”

“Oh Damn good taste there.” She held the guns steady as she could, noticing they were a bit heavier than usual aiming right for one of the bigger ones.

The first trigger pull knocked her off her feet. She stumbled back completely stunned before looking up.

“...Oh Hell Yes!!” Setting down the other one she quickly fired again taking out the rest of the angels before laughing.

“I love them!!!”

“Hm. A lot more Firepower than usual So you might only need one.”

“Agreed… I'll have to see if Jeanne likes the other one.”

“Please do. I know you girls could use the extra power. Especially against some of those bigger angels they like to send.”

“I won’t argue there… Is this Gold Inlay?”

“Yep. All together these babies are worth more than either of our souls.” She nodded, waiting to hear the price. She’s more than willing to put in some overtime for these.

“That’s why I’m giving them to you.” Cereza stopped looking at Rodin. He was smiling leaning on the wall covered in weapons.

“You keep me in business. Never fail that if you need something you come straight to me. Same for Jeanne. So consider this a gesture of good faith. You take my babies and in turn… keep coming by.”

“Well who else could we go to? But I understand.” She smiled then.

“It’ll be a worthy investment for sure. These puppies will help us both get plenty of Halos.”

“Now that’s the kind of Talk I like. So Why don’t I drop some Hot leads on you over a few drinks?”

“Sounds like a plan to me. I’ve got a few hours before she’s home.”

#Fictober21 #bayonetta #Sky writes

[kenkamishiro]

Jack Jeanne Playthrough Part 3 (April 5)

1 month later. April 5th in the VN. Kisa is at Univeil and excited she passed the entrance exam. She runs into her childhood friend Yonaga who's also been accepted. He's shocked that Kisa is attending too, but before she can explain Suzu joins them, introduces one each other.

Quartz's theme is "transparency" where many inexperienced performers who haven't specialized yet tend to go.

Onyx = Jacks whose forte is in dance.

Rhodonite = Jeannes who specialize in song.

Amber is where talented and unique students gather.

Suzu theorizes Kisa would be in Rhodonite because of her appearance, himself in Onyx because his physical abilities make him more suitable for dancing than singing or acting. Yonaga would like to be in Quartz.

Yonaga: Quartz...would be nice.

Suzu: I get what you mean!

Yonaga: Huh?

Suzu: Tbh I enrolled in Univeil cause I really admire Tachibana Tsuki, the legendary Jackace of Quartz!

Kisa: ...!

Suzu: That's why I wanna be in the same class as Tachibana Tsuki...come to think of it, your last names are the same.

Kisa: (If people find out I'm related to Tsuki-nii, it might make it even easier for them to discover my identity...! But it might be better than lying poorly...)

Kisa: It's true. It's the same (nonchalantly)

Yonaga: ......

Suzu: Maybe you guys are distant relatives!

Kisa: *nervous laughter*

Yonaga cuts in and says they should go check which class they're in. Kisa thanks Yonaga for the save. Their year is the 78th class of Univeil. All 3 are in Quartz.

Kisa gets called to the headmaster's office.

Chuuza congratulates her and informs her about her admission. The only ones who know that Kisa is a girl is him, Quartz's homeroom teacher Enishi Rokurou, and now Yonaga, Kisa's childhood friend. Chuuza is surprised that someone who knew about Kisa enrolled in the school.

But if anyone else finds out that she's a girl, expulsion. But since a lot of students are feminine, she won't have to go out of her way to act and dress like a boy. He reminds her to build trust with the rest of the students, and aim to become a lead and aim for the top.

Kisa arrives to Quartz's homeroom late.

??: Yes, yes, come right in.

Kisa: (The teacher...? But he's in a student uniform.)

??: You were called in quite loudly during the school announcements. Did you run into any issues on the first day? Theft, robbery, manslaughter, extortion, coercion, or a bank robbery, perhaps...?

(Please watch the clip of this scene. Can you tell he and Furuta share the same VA? 😄)

Fumi: No one like that would be in our school, Kuro.

??: But wouldn't be great to have such a plucky 1st year around, Fuumin! All the world's a stage!

Fumi: And, if the cops came?

??: I concede! Law is what keeps society together.

Kai: ...you two are bothering the 1st years.

Kisa finds a seat by Suzu and Yonaga.

Neji Kokuto (3rd year, 76th class of Univeil) welcomes the 1st year students to Univeil and Quartz. Class leader-slash-scriptwriter-slash-director-slash...all kinds of other things! He provides an info-dump about Univeil for us.

5 performances in total: Rookie, Summer, Fall, Winter, and Univeil Exhibitions. The Rookie Exhibition is where the 1st years take the lead roles, which is going to be held May 30th. Today is April 5th, so less than 2 months remain. Most viewers will watch over them warmly,  but others will be more strict, like journal reporters, critics and avid Univeil fans. Neji will write a script to allow even novices like them to shine on stage. Casting will be announced mid-April. Upper years are also participating and support the 1st years.

Neji: If you have any questions, all you need is to ask. I'm sure all our seniors here will be more than happy to help you.

??: What, no way.

Neji: With some exceptions of course! Mwahaha. Mikki's a 2nd year now, you can be a little nice to your juniors, hm?

??: ...

Kisa notes he looks cute like a doll. Shirota Mitsuki, noted for his singing. He catches Kisa staring at him, and she apologizes.

Neji asks if anyone has any questions. You're given 3 options: 1) How casting is determined, 2) Type of training to be done, 3) No questions.

Casting is based on Neji's subjective judgment. Everything from how they're doing in lessons, campus life, the way they walk, talk, physique, voice, facial expressions. Essentially based on his intuition, which he uses to find gemstones in the rough.

Training I'll explain later, there's gameplay related to it.

Neji finishes his spiel and passes it on to Quartz's homeroom teacher, Enishi. Pretty low energy. Lessons start tomorrow. Class is dismissed.

Suzu meets Kisa outside the Quartz dorms and asks if she's ready to introduce herself to the other students. He notes it's hard to find people since Univeil is so large. They chat for a bit, Suzu asks Kisa to call him by his first name, so Suzu-kun it is.

Inside Yonaga's dorm. He's finished unpacking, though he's still yet to put away his books (on theatre). He asks how Kisa got into Univeil, and she explains what happened. Yonaga says he'll help Kisa to make sure she stays at Univeil. He's glad that Kisa is here with him.

Yonaga: Kisa-chan, about Tsuki-kun...

Kisa: I can't get in touch with Tsuki-nii, but I'm sure he's doing fine wherever he is. 

Yonaga: I see. Yeah, I'm sure he is.

(Isn't that sketchy? Maybe he turned into that weasel with the moon on its belly lol)

Kisa begins her search for the Quartz students. At the Univeil courtyard, Kisa hears Mitsuki singing.

"Within this chest of mine I dance, the rhythm of possibilities"

Kisa: (I'd heard he was lauded for his singing, but he really has a beautiful voice...the lyrics paint the scene in my head.)

Mitsuki: ...could you not stare at me like that? It's uncomfortable.

Kisa: Oh, I'm sorry!

Mitsuki: Oh, you again. The 1st year who came in late.

Kisa: Yes. My name is Tachibana Kisa. It's a pleasure to meet you.

Mitsuki: Huh...you've got a face like a girl.

Kisa: Eh? Y-yes, I suppose so.

Mitsuki: A high-pitch voice. A delicate figure. And a Jeanne at that. At least be aware of your own features.

Kisa: I-I'm sorry.

He sighs and introduces himself. 2nd year, 77th class of Univeil. A Jeanne and a tresor (songstress/diva) of Quartz. VA is Kajiwara Gakuto (Asta). Kisa compliments him on his singing.

Mitsuki: So you were eavesdropping.

Kisa: I-I'm sorry.

Mitsuki: Well, not like I care either way. Later.

Kisa: He left...I guess he doesn't really like interacting with people. But his voice really was beautiful.

(If I had to describe Mitsuki's tone, it would be similar to Kenma, but a bit more antisocial lol)

Kisa finds Kai in the forest, seemingly concentrating on something. She decides to come back later, but Kai notices her.

Kai: ...? Quartz's 1st year?

Kisa: Yes! I'm Tachibana Kisa.

Kai: I see, you're...

Kisa: Yes!

(awkward silence between the two)

Kai: Mutsumi Kai, 76th class of Univeil. I'm a 3rd year.

Kisa: So I should call you Mutsumi-senpai!

Kai: Kai is fine. You can call me that around other people too.

Kisa: But...

Kai: ...

Kisa: ...(agrees)

Kai: ...

Kisa: T-then, I'll call you Kai-san!

Kai: Okay.

Kisa notes Kai is the Jackace of Quartz. And since Tsuki was also the Jackace, that means he must be talented too.

Kai: I'm a vessel meant to garnish the Aljeanne. Nothing more, nothing less.

Kisa is confused by his statement. Convo ends.

Kisa runs into Neji next in the hallways. He enters a room then promptly comes back out.

Neji: Welcome!

Kisa: Ah!

Neji: What're you doing in a place like this?

Kisa: I'm going around introducing myself to everyone in Quartz.

Neji invites her into his workroom where he writes his scripts and plans his staging. But he also performs on stage, any male or female role, from a shining prince/princess to old grannies/gramps.

He's currently working on the script for Quartz, but he won't reveal it just yet. Kisa asks if the other class leaders write the scripts like he does, but Neji is a special case, who screenwrites, directs and performs.

Neji: Once you get carried away, you can't see what's going on around you. What we do has no end to it. Acting, dancing, singing, they're fields that you can pursue for a lifetime. You could reach the stars, or merely end up as a master of none. No matter how much time,  it will never be enough. It's a terrifying world out there. That's why it's so engrossing. The stage is a colossal device. The Jacks and Jeannes make up the gears, and I am the craftsman who pieces them together. Let's create a fantastic stage together, Tachibana-kun!

Neji must continue writing, and wishes Kisa the best for the Rookie Exhibition. (Neji definitely talks the most out of the main cast lol. And fast too, talks a mile a minute and tone varies hugely)

Kisa finds Fumi standing languidly in the middle of the dance room, taking deep breaths before beginning to dance. A Japanese-style dance where his movements are gentle, beautiful and brilliant. He comments on Kisa staring intently at him, just like during the entrance exam.

Kisa is surprised that Fumi remembered, despite the number of applicants.

Fumi: I remember you and the red-haired guy well cause you two danced so terribly.

Kisa: Oh...

Fumi: I'm just kidding. Though the red-haired guy really did suck.

Kisa introduces herself, and Fumi pauses at hearing the name Tachibana. 3rd year Takashina Sarafumi, 76th class of Univeil, but he prefers being called Fumi, no senpai honorific attached. Kisa ends up calling him Fumi-san.

Fumi: Let's have fun, Kisa. (leaves)

Kisa: It's overwhelming seeing him up close. So that's the power of an Aljeanne.

Kisa goes to her room excited for her new life at Univeil and retires for the night for her 1st day of classes tomorrow.

＊＊＊

previous || next (to be updated)

#Jack Jeanne #Ishida Sui #JJ playthrough

[northstarfan]

Alpha Flight #42 - (Bill Mantlo and David Ross, January 1987)

So we get two terrible bits of writing this time around, one in full bloom and one just seeded.

Let’s start with the immediate bullshit, Heather’s response to Northstar after he manages to shake off Kara’s conditioning again. 

So, as I’ve noted before, most of the early indications we have of Northstar’s sexuality are varying degrees of snark and homophobia from his teammates. And that’s a whole lot of not great. But this one is really beyond the pale. Northstar was kidnapped and sexually assaulted by the person they’re debating letting onto the team, and Heather completely dismisses it as a joke. Not only that, she does so even as she acknowledges that it would have been worse for Northstar because Kara was a woman - an indication that she knows that the assault would potentially be more traumatic for him as a gay man. And she just doesn’t care.

That’s not just “quit the team” territory, that’s “quit the team and put your leader’s head through the wall on the way out”. Scenes like this are one more reason why I maintain that anyone who gives Northstar shit about his attitude toward Alpha Flight has never actually read Alpha Flight.

Then there’s the more infamous element - the cough that marks the start of the aborted storyline that was supposed to culminate in Northstar dying of AIDS. For the sake of redundancy, I’m not going to cover every panel that had Northstar sniffle, cough, and stagger his way to Alpha Flight #50, but since this is the issue where it first rears its head, I am going to give a general overview.

So this goes all the way back to Bill Mantlo taking over the title. Mantlo, who was on The Incredible Hulk at the time, was enthusiastic about taking over the book when John Byrne offered to swap titles. As Mantlo told Amazing Heroes: “I was bowled over [when Byrne called], because this was John’s creation and I’ve had nothing but admiration for the way he’s been handling it. So I said ‘My God, yes!’ And that’s how we decided to switch.” (Amazing Heroes #76, 1985). This enthusiasm also seemed to include a plan to out Northstar. As John Byrne put it in that same interview: “[Bill] is going to try and say the unsayable about Northstar in no uncertain terms; I wish him luck.” 

Outside of that particular point, however, Mantlo seemed to have little interest in the Beaubier twins and had no real direction for them outside of Aurora’s fluctuating powers. From AH #76: 

“So far the least interesting to me are Aurora and Northstar. John played them up the most, and really went heavily into their origins, but he made so many changes to them that it’s almost impossible for me to say what the norm is any more. I’m just giving them a chance to relax and recuperate while I concentrate on the others.” 

Ultimately, Mantlo’s plans to out Northstar were blocked by editorial, and he found writing Jean-Paul under the same limitations Byrne had dealt with to be quite frustrating:

“I always felt Northstar had possibilities if his background could be developed as a logical extension of his character. But I was prevented from doing that because of creative restrictions. Therefore, I had to look at the character as a viable superhero with the reality of his gayness kept largely in the dark. And as a character, his flying and running fast just didn’t make him and integral part of the team without his uniqueness - being gay.” (The Advocate #479, 1987)

 This lead to Mantlo’s decision to reveal Northstar as HIV+ and kill him off. From the same interview: 

“Northstar… could have been made to just vanish or even quit the team, but Mantlo wanted to be true to the character’s integrity. He decided, instead, that Northstar would die of AIDS. It seemed, [Mantlo] says, plausible given the fact that there had been allusions to numerous relationships during his years in the book. ‘It would give me the opportunity to deal with a frightening, sad, controversial topic in a comic book - which I had always understood Marvel was all about,’ he adds.”

Alpha Flight’s editor, Carl Potts, was not on board with this. From the same interview with The Advocate: “We had never openly declared that Northstar was gay. Now we had the only fairly popular Marvel character generally acknowledged as being gay and he was dying of AIDS. You shouldn’t equate one with the other.”

The two came to a compromise on the storyline, wherein Alpha Flight’s foe, Pestilence, would sicken Northstar by quickening the “corruption” in his body, with the disease remaining unnamed and the intent being that Northstar would never realize he had contracted HIV, even as his illness progressed.

Said Mantlo: “It was really AIDS in another guise, and there were still complaints about it being too similar.”

The storyline was ultimately resolved by Mantlo having Loki tell the Beaubier twins that their respective ailments (Jean-Paul’s wasting disease and Jeanne-Marie’s increasing mental instability) were the result of them being half-elves unsuited to life in the mortal realm. Jeanne-Marie used her powers to heal her brother, Jean-Paul got sent off to Asgard to live with the elves, and both were written out of the series for about two years worth of issues. (The twins were eventually brought back by other writers via the expedient explanation of Loki being a lying liar who lies.)

Mantlo was displeased with the compromised ending:

“It’s really a fallback position, since we were precluded from doing anything else… Quite honestly, I think it’s hypocritical and pointless, but that’s comics. You can’t do anything controversial, even if it has integrity, even if it’s honest, even if it’s an attempt to deal with a serious issue affecting thousands of people and likely to affect millions more.” (The Advocate #479, 1987)

Though there were apparently plans to revisit the twins at some point, Mantlo left Alpha Flight before this came about.

So, there’s a bit to unpack here, the biggest point being Mantlo’s reasoning behind trying to kill Northstar off. This was a writer who was plainly frustrated by the limitations being imposed on him, but, at the same time, he also sounds very much like he’d limited himself by reducing Northstar’s character to the sum of his sexuality. Aside from a brief aside in Marvel Fanfare #28, it seemed Northstar’s jam-packed past of childhood trauma, circus life, professional disgrace, and political terrorism held no interest for Mantlo as something that could be used to open the character to wider exploration, nor did even his own ideas for Northstar and Aurora’s otherworldly origins. No, if Northstar couldn’t be outed, he had to die. And if he couldn’t die, he still had to leave the book.

I’ve said before that I admire Mantlo’s integrity in not dropping the subtext related to Northstar’s sexuality, and I hold to that. As a writer, he could have saved himself a massive headache by simply making Northstar straight or immediately dropping him from the roster. So I do believe that Mantlo was in some part sincere in his desire to do something authentic and emotional with his planned storyline for Northstar; he’d stated that Jean-Paul’s sexuality was a unique quality in the comics landscape and seemed to want to make that an open part of the book by whatever means he could. There’s even a case to be made that, for better or for worse, linking Northstar to AIDS and the scrutiny that storyline brought made it that much more difficult to downplay the queer subtext surrounding the character, in turn making it easier for a later writer to make a case for making his homosexuality canon.

However, I have a real hard time scraping up much patience for a straight writer who decided that portraying a semi-closeted character was just too hard, when that very life experience would have been authentic to any number of queer readers, particularly in the middle of the AIDS crisis. I’ve even less patience with the apparent conclusion that the way to remedy that frustration was to kill Northstar instead of finding more subtle ways to advance the character, as Byrne had managed, or even just having him leave the team. The notion that it would have been out of character for Northstar to leave Alpha Flight is absolutely absurd; this is a character who only ever stayed with the team for the sake of his sister. All that would have been required for Jean-Paul to plausibly leave would have been for the writer to stop torturing Jeanne-Marie for an issue or two, or to have her take a bad enough turn that he took her off the team for her own safety and that of others.

Finally, I can’t say I have much faith that Mantlo would have been able to execute his plotline at all well, particularly given how little sympathy he seems to have had for Northstar as a character or how little interest he had in him beyond the controversy of his sexuality. Whatever Mantlo’s intent, it’s hard to believe that we’d have gotten any deathbed emotion that rang true to Northstar as a character or was particularly honest as commentary on society’s treatment of AIDS victims from the same writer who had Northstar’s teammates blow off sexual assault as delivery for a truly nasty homophobic joke and who thought a gay character possibly having had two romantic relationships in his life (I’m assuming this was in reference to Raymonde and Maurice) made him so promiscuous that it was plausible he’d have AIDS. And on top of that, regardless of other motivation, the decision to get rid of Northstar seems to have come as much from Mantlo’s frustration with his editors as any desire for meaningful character development. 

In conclusion, for whatever good I might be able to say about Mantlo, I’m not the least bit sorry that his plans were derailed. He seems to have been, at best, a writer with better intentions than capability when it came to the sensitive subject matter he’d decided to tackle, and it seems for the best that other writers were able to give Northstar the development he couldn’t.

Next Time: The Man You Were

Previous installments of the series can be found here and at AO3.

#northstar #jean paul beaubier #alpha flight #x factor #homophobia #northstar's gayest hits

[a-hundred-jewels]

what, you egg? - chapter 1

Ao3

Fandom: The Penderwicks Series - Jeanne Birdsall

Words: 1408

Tags: Transgender, Coming of Age, (i guess??), Vingettes, Series of Moments, kind of in a similar vein to "Sparkle and Fade", which is that really good penderwicks fic about skye by spark writer on ff.net, the title is a multilayered joke that im very proud of, i see all you trans shakespeare enthusiasts and i love you

Summary:

Rosalind Penderwick has known that she is a girl for as long as she can remember. It's just the rest of the world that needs to catch up.

Or: The childhood of Rosalind Penderwick told in a series of vingettes and short stories as she navigates choosing her name, dealing with her mother's death, and being true to herself.

Fic under the cut (or on Ao3)

chapter 1: names and pizza

The notes were scratchy, drifting through the walkman on the grass. Pressing the headphones closer to her small ears, Leonarda--

“Nope.” She sat up abruptly, and the headphones fell onto the grass. “Nope, nope, nope.”

“Which one was that?” Her sister, Skye, with blond hair and long, lanky limbs, sat up next to her, grass stains smudged on her cheek like face paint.

“Leonarda.”

“Oh. That’s one of the ones Jane picked, right?”

“Yeah.” She flopped back down to the grass and sighed.

“I can tell her.” Skye hugged her knees to her chest. She was six, but tall for her age, almost as tall as her older sister.

“Thanks.” It wasn’t that Leonarda wasn’t a good name. It just wasn’t right. Jane would understand.

Headphones in again, Fleetwood Mac drifted into the girl’s ears and she shut her eyes.

___

“Jane?” On hurried footsteps, the girl ran down the stairs. “Jane, what’s that smell?” No answer. She sped down the hall to the kitchen.

Jane was sitting cross legged on the kitchen table with her nose buried in a book, apparently oblivious to the awful smell surrounding her. She looked up at the sound of feet. “What about Lucy Pevensie?” she said, her eyes shiny like they were still seeing the sparkling snow of Narnia, instead of her older sister standing at the kitchen door.

“What? No, I don’t think I can name myself Lucy Pevensie. Jane, what happened to the pizza? And where’s Skye?”

“What about Susan Pevensie?”

“Jane!” Jane sighed and closed her book with small hands. Patiently, as though she was being asked a very silly question, she said, “Daddy is on the phone because Mommy called from the hospital.”

“Yes, I know that part. You and Skye were supposed to finish making the pizza and wait for Daddy to put it in the oven. Where’s Skye?”

“She’s washing the cheese off her soccer keets.” Jane smoothed her purple skirt over her lap and reached for her book again, but her sister stopped her.

“Jane, why is the oven on at four-hundred degrees--oh my god!” She turned the oven off and yanked its door open. Smoke poured out, and the smoke alarm shrieked in protest. Behind her, Jane started to cry, partly out of her fear of the smoke alarm and partly, the girl suspected, from the shame of being caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. Before anything else could be done, Skye ran in from the bathroom.

“I’m coming Jane! Oh god, please don’t cry! Uh, I can turn the thingy off! Whatever you do, just don’t get--oh.” Skye stopped in her tracks at the sight of her oldest sister. In her arms, Skye was carrying sopping wet soccer cleats and there was guilt written all over her face.

“Girls? What’s going on?” Their father entered the kitchen.

It was one of their father’s greatest features, the sisters thought, that upon entering a putrid-smelling kitchen with the smoke alarm blaring, Jane crying on the table, Skye hugging mysteriously wet soccer cleats to her chest, and the oldest sister standing at a smoking oven, that he knew exactly what to do. In the next couple of minutes, Skye’s cleats were laid across a towel on a radiator and Jane brought to the living room and given some cheese sticks. The father pulled the burning mess out of the oven, with his eldest two daughters watching intently.

“We thought it would just cook, Daddy,” Skye said, biting her fingernails. “We figured that we’ve seen you and Mommy do it so many times that we’d know what to do.”

“I know, honey. Just don’t use the oven again without me around.”

“Or Mommy, right?” Skye looked up at her father.

“Of course,” their father said, his face unreadable. “I know my girls are all very smart, but the oven gets so hot and I don’t want any of you to get burned, or for, uh, this to happen.”

“Okay,” Skye nodded. Her older sister was still looking at the charred pizza on the stove, though.

“I don’t understand why it smelled so bad,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“The smell. We’ve burnt pizza before, when we’re cooking with Mommy, and I don’t think it’s ever smelled that bad.”

Their father frowned. “Good observation, my dear. Skye, what cheese did you use?”

Skye’s small fae scrunched up as she thought. “I don’t know,” she said. “Jane did the cheese.”

Her sister sighed and went through to the living room, where Jane was peeling her string cheese and draping it across her book. She didn’t look up when her sister walked in but said, in a sing-songy voice, “Hello, Susan Pevensie!”

“Not Susan Pevensie, and are you actually going to eat any of that?”

“Maybe,” Jane said. She dropped a strand in her mouth.

Her sister sighed. “Jane, Skye says you put the cheese on the pizza.”

“Uh huh. I did the cheese and Skye did the sauce.” Jane began dropping the rest of her cheese strings into her mouth.

“What kind of cheese did you use?”

“The tiny cheese.”

“The grated cheese in the blue bag that Daddy left on the table for you?”

Jane shook her head. “I don’t like the tiny cheese in the blue bag. I got the red bag out of the fridge.”

Her sister frowned. “We don’t have any more of the red bag. Daddy and I finished it yesterday when we made macaroni.”

“It was really far back.”

The girl bit the inside of her cheek. “Um, Jane, what did the cheese look like?”

Jane thought hard, then swallowed her cheese strips and proceeded to peel more. “Tiny,” she said.

“Was it a funny color?” The girl tried to keep the desperation out of her voice.

“It was speckly.”

The girl sighed. “Jane, why did you use speckly cheese?”

Jane’s lower lip began to wobble. “I thought it would be like how big cheese with holes in it is better than big cheese without holes in it. Tiny cheese in the red bag is the best kind, but speckled tiny cheese in the red bag is even better!” Little tears were rolling down Jane’s cheeks and she started to chew on her hair.

Her sister took her hand and led her into the kitchen to see their father peeling an apple into a long spiral.

“Daddy I put the speckled cheese in the red bag onto the pizza and now everything smells icky!” Jane wailed, running for the comfort of her father. He picked her up and held her close to his chest, her small arms wrapped tight around his neck as she cried into his shoulder.

“Daughter of mine, could you open the windows?” Mr. Penderwick laid his hand on the girls head, her messy curls poking up between his fingers. That’s what he’d taken to calling her -- “daughter of mine.” He’d smiled when she told him that she didn’t have a name yet, but she didn’t want to use her old one, and said that he was sure whatever she thought of would be perfect. He’d also lent her the book of baby names that he and her mother had used to name her and her sisters, years and years ago. The girl treasured it -- but only the first half, which she looked through whenever she felt brave enough. She never looked at the boy’s names, though, not wanting to see her old name -- her first name -- circled in black pen by her mother from all those years ago. And anyway, there were plenty of beautiful names in the girls section. The boy’s section didn’t need to matter.

She opened the kitchen window and leaned as far out as she could, enjoying the cool breeze on her face, and a smell other than burnt, moldy cheese.

In the end, the Penderwicks did have pizza that night. Soon after disposing of the mess Skye and Jane had tried to make, Mr. Penderwick ordered from Antonio’s pizza, letting Skye do the talking the way she liked to.

By the time the order came (one large cheese pizza and one medium pepper and mushroom pizza), the nights events were almost forgotten. The girl sat down at the kitchen table next to Jane and took the blue plate her father passed her with two pieces of cheese pizza on it.

Despite everything, it was a happy evening on Gardam street.

#cameron writes #the penderwicks #penderwicks #rosalind penderwick

[teamseaslug]

My review of Vanitas episode three (and a blurb about episode two) under the cut.

I didn’t write a proper review for episode two as I had found it a bit underwhelming with not much to comment on. The combining of the chapters didn’t bother me too much as I didn’t think too much significant was cut out, but I did have a few pointers that I had typed out after watching the second episode. They were as follows:

-the Louis scene felt completely off. The tone was different, and I think Noé's expression was off entirely and it felt not at all the same. It was also WAY too long. They cut small details out of this episode but made this scene unbelievably long. -They cut out Luca implying that Vanitas is being controlled by the book, which I think was strange. I know it's fluff but I think there might be a nugget of significance in that later. - why was Riche just STANDING THERE!!!!!!! I know I complained about characters not fucking moving with the first episode but it’s going to drive me insane. -They removed Riche’s dialogue :( -Jeanne was lovely. I understand them cutting out the scene with the muggers, that’s not important at all, but I always thought it was a cool scene. I’m content to part with it, though. -Noé nonchalantly knocking Vanitas back when Jeanne was attacking fucking killed both my SO and I, I wasn't expecting that at all and my SO seems to like watching Vanitas ragdoll -SLOW MOVEMENT STRIKES AGAIN the scene of Vanitas flinging open the doors and then being threatened. He literally stood there for 2 seconds before they attacked. Why was there a pause. Please. -They also cut out Vanitas using the flashbang that the Paladins use which, of all of my “they cut this out” nickpicks this is probably the most important, as this hints at the past of Vanitas- and is relevant if this anime will go to the Catacombs arc.

Those were my notes of the second episode, everything else will be about the third.

The third episode by far has been my least favorite episode, and let me initiate this by saying I *do* like Vanitas as a series and I’m not just here whining about it not being absolutely perfect. However, I am still going to engage with the adaptation of something that I like with a critical viewpoint that isn’t “well it’s better than the ph anime”. I should also mention that I watched this with my SO who has never read Vanitas and is sort of acting as a fresh take on things, an outsiders opinion.

The episode was about three chapters long and it noticeably felt a little choppy, as even the person I was watching the episode with mentioned that if there were just more details it could have been two episodes instead of one. It feels like the anime is rushing a bit, while at the same time the animation for the fight scenes or physicality is incredibly lacking and really distracting.

Jeanne, by far, was my favorite part. I think she was done pretty well and I don’t have much else to comment on it. Her voice acting was good, she looks good, I like the gauntlet. The scene between her and Vanitas gave me the same reaction as when I read the manga, which was the intent. I liked that they didn’t change the tone of that scene too much.

I had felt that in the manga Amelia felt more like a plot device and less like a character and in the anime it feels like she has that stamped all over her. She has no sort of individuality to her and might as well not exist, and I felt that way even more so when watching the charlatan scene.

The charlatan scene I think was probably the biggest disappointment, I was not fond of how it was handled at all. It was very lame, not at all creepy or eerie, and I think that adding to it more or making the animation more fluid instead of just a flat scene would’ve really heightened the experience because this is the first time the main character comes into some contact with one of the most important antagonists currently. I felt like more of an effort could have been made to make it feel impactful but it came across as still and flat, like the Junji Ito anthology adaptation anime. Yes it’s *correct* to the manga, but it’s not good to look at in an anime.

That’s one of my biggest complaints- it feels like the anime is trying to be almost too accurate to certain scenes but it isn’t utilizing any tools that make anime adaptations good and thus comes across as incredibly flat and still. It’s focusing so much on getting it frame perfect but it loses all of the charm and fun.

Dominique is another disappointment that I am hoping very desperately gets fixed. I’m obviously not the first person to point out that she looks very low quality. I had joked before that “Domi in the anime feels like she was made by people who don’t like Domi” but that almost feels true here. She was completely rushed, chopped up, never shown with any amount of detail despite being a frequent character. The :3 face she made was cute but they cut out her flirting, any of her charm seemed to be washed away.

I’m not gonna whine about how the women should be cuter in the anime but I do think they should be more charming? Domi is a flirt who flirts with women but that wasn’t included, Amelia’s cleavage was removed in ep1, Jeanne’s appearance is inconsistent with the manga in ep2, but we get plenty of shots of Vanitas looking cool or whatever and Noé being a bit sexualized. I’m not saying go full ecchi with fucking panty shots or whatever but it feels weirdly sexless in a way that’s completely lopsided, no girls allowed. The two male characters can be as much eyecandy as they want but by GOD none of the women. I like women! Are you going to cut out Naenia kissing Chloe, too?

At the rate this is going I’m concerned the entire masquerade will be a single episode, lmao.

I enjoyed the scene of Noé submerging to read Amelia’s thoughts, though the blood splatter was.... weird. Where did it go? Where was it... supposed to be?

The music still holds up, Altus looked good. I liked the detail of all of the bats. I was massively disappointed of Domi’s “I came because I was worried about you” was just an aside piece of dialogue but again, that can go with my complaint about how Dominique was handled. The anime took Vanitas’ “you’re just a convenient female” to heart, it feels like....

Also, the OP is now on Spotify and I like listening to it still. My SO, as a newcomer to the series, pointed out the pacing felt a bit rushed, all scenes with Murr were VERY cute, the gauntlet was incredibly cool, and they enjoyed the scene of Noé going into Amelia’s memories. They reacted with pretty big disgust to Vanitas which was expected in this episode and called him a bastard. It’s nice that’s still the same lmao

#the case study of vanitas #long post #sydney talking

[lady-plantagenet]

A Bygone Era - Chapter 11

This is the newest chapter of a long-term fictional project of mine. It is a story centering around the lives of Lady Isabel Neville, George of Clarence and Richard Neville 16th Earl of Warwick (heavily also featuring Anne Beauchamp 16th Countess of Warwick and Anne Neville). It is told alternating between their POVs, occasionally dipping into that of others from the outside eg Cecily Neville, Margaret of Anjou’s. It is based on history, as opposed to TWQ series!

Points of views so far include: Anne Beauchamp Countess of Warwick, Lady Anne Neville, George Duke of Clarence, Lady Isabel Neville, Richard Neville Earl of Warwick,Cecily Neville, Dowager Duchess of York and Margaret of Anjou

This chapter is through Margaret of Anjou’s POV:

[Text]:

10th July 1470

Among roses red and white presided the daisy - or so she had taken to inwardly correcting herself when whispers of her unenglishness would close around her like mocking rattles shook by the fauntkins that once haunted her nights. And then Edouard was finally born to her and those nightmares were assuaged only to be replaced by newer, more detestable faces: York, Warwick, Salisbury. And so the rattling returned after eight years, but it was that of armour.

At Angers she was now Marguerite again, although every time she would look back to her hands, she could believe it less. The long, white fingers that had once flashed brilliantly over parchments, whether it was a charter she penned or a match she wove for whichever gentlewoman of hers was yearning that week, would never straighten out as they once did. At times when she held her reins, she would cringe for their finery. Ma mère Isabelle, sage Yolande, to which end will your memory guide me when not even you have known exertions such as these?

But before her stood only her father, René with as many chins as he had titles. It was only in his presence that she would even dare examine her wrists or roll a fallen hair into her lap, checking how it greyed. Behind him the ‘Mary in The Burning Bush’ sizzled with the draft, bellowing forever through those red halls of her childhood. Even after the longest absence, she could still point to curls of orange paint and placings of ultramarine which Froment let the Duke of Anjou add by his own hand. Beauty in devotional dialogues as in verses he exchanged with the renowned Charles D’Orléans, the sarcenets and masks whirling in every colourful performance of the Passion of Angers, would there ever again be a place for her there? She would sometimes wonder - if, for all the families with men riding out, grizzling in battle squalor so to keep the brute from their ladies’ doors, whether god had played a twisted experiment on the men and women of her house. Twisted still, how the contrary courted every generation.

He was now looking at her, crossing his fleshy arms in a manner so familiar that she anticipated his tact from a league away ‘When I rode at Jeanne D’Arc’s side in the crusade of Orleans, she- ‘ strange of him to resurrect La Pucelle like this, helped to the flames by the Earl of Warwick’s very own father-in-law. She lifted her hand. Those same granddaughters of Warwick would come in her presence with their ancestor’s banners mingling in their skirts as in their overmighty subject blood and pack into her own robes as their grandmother of Salisbury had done some March procession ago. May they burst like the blistering skin of a snake. ‘Whither you come again father to sacrifice your own daughter in the interests of the country, only now this is to be made my own doing?’

Réné’s hands fell to the side, the sound broke her thoughts. Velvet was not supposed to make that sound when it met, she looked back and saw the black had faded from the fabric, not unlike the scarlet sunsetting the halls - at least now that she chanced another look. Mary in the Burning Bush, her father’s gaze followed hers to the painting. She burns but is not consumed, La Pucelle...

Her father’s rings were boring (digging/gripping could work) into her shoulders, however they did not dig much. Gentle impoverished man, I see I shall fight for you too. ‘The divine mystery’ he whispered behind her as if he himself beheld it now ‘jesu, her only son, ma fille, likewise as he, our only light. Marian’s sacrifice’

‘Sometimes, I think my king husband is much like the spirit of Most High’ she murmured not unkindly, for Henry’s was not the beacon laying the flame that would make ashes of the heart. Longing, in the end, had but one care, to cocoon, stifle and transform that which was unruly. Not yearning, the yearning that brought with it no peace; the gaudling of her London court for which the fashionable youth adored her, daughters of Chaucer down to her gilded ladies would forsake the altars for their Guinevere. Had the Yorkists only the craft to have seen that tale through complete materiality... She gave out an unbalanced sigh, while her mind addled on whether monsieur Warwick’s imagination coming to them would leave the brutes with naught else but smashing the cocoon, however snuggly lain in its stony bower.

July beams lingered, heat shattered off the floors, and so she tried to pull at the linen that clung to her wrist, more that it was unfashionable it was a grey that summer suns liked to singe ‘Have my thoughts wound about your tongue, mon père? you do not appear to have any words for response’

‘Ah?’ He turned her towards him raising an eyebrow ‘I was not aware you sook any, was there are question I did not note?’

‘Yes’

His amusement faltered when he saw her unamused ‘Ah, yes, your sacrifice. It was ever your way Margaret, though whether it is for France or your son I do not know’

Her robe drew their shadows when she fell back, black thistles on grey from the gallery’s corners. ‘I’ she shook a crooked finger ‘you ask me this? I who- have you any idea why it is that the English so hate me father? It is not for I traded tin and wool; it is not for my founding of colleges...’

Now it was he who raised the hand ‘Indeed ma marguerite, your kingly husband rules over a nation of merchants huddled in village kingdoms. They who would cast the white of a lady’s hand anywhere but in council. The jealousy of the English is legendary, I know’.

‘Not that either’ her voice was terse while she took her seat on the stone bench. It was much more worn than she had found it years ago, if rock would splinter rather than burn. ‘It is because they think like you and my cousin le roi. Henry and Edouard’s people, once they were also mine - descendants of Charlemagne as are we? They have never forgotten how I had Maine and Anjou surrendered, all for you et comme ça I became France’s agent. Not a queen for England was I: mercantile where their English roses are industrious, that was, before I was the wastrel of a lavish court where their ladies stayed stately patrons steeped in pious splendour... and yet the Yorks are not England, not more than Pembroke, Somerset, Suffolk, Exeter’

Réné stepped back and huffed a laugh, the way his lips sat after, thin and waved would have looked shrewd in other men’s faces, never in his, sat among his folds of pink and white skin ‘But the Monsieur le Warwick is’. He shuffled next to her, the pale blue of his eyes renarrowing as he concentrated on setting down his fleshiness on the little space, she could concede him on the bench ‘Not as us, ma marguerite, kings of Jerusalem, rulers of Majorcas and Minorcas...

‘Must he too make them different’ she realised she sounded like Henry, looking up with eyes rounded and rimmed so darkly by unsleep that she did not notice the footsteps approaching ‘Can crowns and people be so? The English and the French? Ah to stoop l’Agneau into an alliance with a subject, to have my posterity sat on thrones built on concessions, to they themselves be so as well?’

‘And so, you helped them to it when you gave Berwick back to the Scots. An act singing of the auld alliance’ Father and daughter looked up, it was something said with all the bitterness of an erstwhile groom of such a match. ‘I cannot say I minded that much’ Louis XI of France had just returned from mass, crossed himself and twitching his long Valois nose, Margaret was reminded how this was a man who went to prayer mechanically as in all manner of things; mimicking other’s gestures with the mind’s thoughts separate. Perchance all ceremony was indeed same to him, the prie-dieu of vespers though softer than the stone under his breaches and spurs when he had knelt with his Stuart dauphine at an alter times passed. She had died and he had burned all her poetry Margaret was horrified ill-befallen queen to be.

He was prudent, like Salisbury’s prudence but York was now a house of alchemists. Why have at Boccacio’s matter when bare re-anatomization could make for Lydgate’s fall of princes? Sometimes not even names need be changed. Her wandered to Queen’s College with a sigh; she could be angry no more.

He did not walk as much as swept with the blue heaviness of his robes as they cooled the sun off the flagstones, atop his head comically lay only a black skull cap which made his face smaller, less discernable.

‘and Carlisle’ she feigning her approval ‘France never breathed while England was strong’ behind Louis, Réné stood up shooting her bewildered looks. Just as nor would my son buttressed in from the North and South. But sectioned up part and parcel from within?

‘You now speak like a prince madame. A prince of France’ he spoke barely moving a lip ‘good did it you this spell at Angers, I see we are past ravings for vengeance’ he stayed the way he also did but now swung his eyes from one side to the other like a pendulum ‘I always know when to come, as does Warwick it seems. Two days ride they tell me’

‘Him? He’ she grabbed at the column grilling the window behind her as though she meant to wield it ‘here?’

Her father shrank away and Louis’ voice curled in amusement as he flicked a speck of dust from his collar ‘St Mary would do well, resplendent enough for an oath, the floors need no bending from our treasury without offending Monsieur’s apparent newly exalted tastes’

His confusion at her silence could almost have been taken for indignance, he now turned to her father with the same look. ‘I told her, nephew, we are agreed, Fortescue would not write to you without her consent you know that. She noticed how he hated being called that. ‘Marguerite-‘

‘That was in May’ she gathered her thumbs in an inward gesture and under her chin ‘before I knew they made a mockery of our assistance; all he did these months was spend all that Bourrée had given him and without profit. A lord without profit, think sire think.’

‘Leave the costs of their presences to me’ he retorted ‘all his sailors and had they ten children each are the poor’s bread sat next to you and yours all these years’

‘Maine and Anjou were scores that’ Margaret hissed ‘and you forget that by even deigning to compare your obligation to us as that towards Warwick. Edouard is a prince of France too - remember that.’

He huffed laying both hands on the counter-table. His sleeve’s fleur de lis pattern dragged to clarity when he stretching, lit the three candles that lay atop although it was daylight. The servants were sent away, he seems a very practiced man in these respects. ‘So I hope that you remember that when you prevail over that idiote de York’

‘Believe you in the right of Lancaster then?’ she heard an ounce of hope in her father’s voice ‘That Lancaster is good for the country? Warwick is either to be turned water crossing to his ruin or turn for my grandson? Advising a York had always been futile’. Had he not heard what had just been said?

‘Yes -oncle’ he narrowed his eyes, chaffed his heel while he spoke ‘rather... good for the world as well I think’

Margaret approached him, catching his sleeve when he tried slightly turning his back ‘it is good you see, for Pembroke will be governing besides your friend Warwick and we can insure an even goodlier reign over England under an even redder rose’. He looked over his shoulder with features pointed in irritation, The King of France was but around her age, yet he looked as those old English bankers that bit their coins and and found they were not gold.

Nearly two years ago, Jasper’s enterprises had cost Louis much, but now he had come back with only little accounts of assizes and short-lived sieges. Inwardly, Margaret felt pleasant. Apart from her, no one angered them as he did, he was now to Champagne, on his continuous quest. With every return she felt she could reclaim new pieces of her old court, and unknowingly his gallantry rebuilt her court of chivalry, regarbing her a Guinevere when he knelt. Regarbed, for the love they both bore Henry was second only to that for Edouard. As did Catherine de Valois, faithfully, as her welsh suitor longed, yearned and served. Wedded and then to die for his step-son’s cause. She once wondered whether such a musing could ever cross a busy mind like his, the welsh do have their romances, as do the French. But even though England pools them all to herself in the end, lovely waters of red and blue they stay.

‘It is good of you’ Réné said, patting his gut in a manner going with his satisfaction ‘that you also hold that an alliance between these two kingdoms is an ideal. You may yet grow to be known as the Europe’s bringer of perpetual peace, le prudent est la meilleure que l’universelle aragne, non?

‘Oncle...’ his dark eyes dropped to his simper and Margaret was beginning to realize was something Louis used to mock, ‘yes, yes. I also happen to know men like the Monsieurs Warwick and Clarence and they do not fall easily and will always know where to find me at every exile, especially now that Edward will never allow them to the force of Calais again. Though I had their wives housed with my Queen and gave the princeling a bolt of pretty green silk to appease him, one month since landing at Normandy they have caused me nothing but trouble. They did not spend all the coin Bourrée gave to them to affront you but to bade me recognize them, and loudly enough to bring Burgundy in his throes of idiocy, to tell me how I am breaking our treaty of Péronne by not attacking them for what they did to his ships. Attack? Ack all these men think about is hitting one another with their sticks of steel - dense as their skulls’

She raised an eyebrow Craven ‘Then you would not object to having Warwick kneel during the audience. He who bespoiled us, your treasury and my virtue- ’Many hard hours had been wasted like this. she felt herself being grabbed by the shoulders to which she responded by looking back at him in confusion, he proceeded to slip down and now she felt more shocked. ‘Marguerite, belle cousine, I beseech you. We need Warwick to invade and you need him most. France will not bear war with Burgundy, think on your hatred for those carver princes of your kingdom, just so is my wrath for Charles le Temerraire, he is like your York for me. The father and son merged in an even greater traitor. England has not razed to the ground, but if France falls, I split, just as my father had when he betrayed the maid of Orléans to them - the English and the Burgundians. Marguerite, I am not my fool father, I will not betray you and so you will not betray me. Do not trifle, dissimulate instead, I urge you as one sovereign to another. Take this as my kneeling in lieu of Warwick, as repayment for my father’s debt towards the maid’ And an England divided would suit you just as well, if not better than an alliance. Far less costly. His words sounded well-chewed, but such thoughts were overborne and unheard, thoughts paling to those for spirit of the Maid ‘who had raised Charles to throne’ and how it had ‘renewed in the Queen’. You who once followed a peasant girl follow now a queen, soft sprang the echoes, Captain Margaret.

‘Maman!’ her son came bounding in like a sprig, a tall, stately boy whose features were never left by the serious air that his childhood hung about them. His father’s blue eyes were squarely cut in his face and shone whenever in the presence of men with whom he could prove his mettle - he had the leanness of someone who never grew too easy. Just so, upon sight of Louis his tone dropped and he pecked her on the lips before sitting himself at the edge of the stone bench. ‘Comme les anglais’ her father joked and even the king managed a small smile ‘like the English princes’. She knew well that they were too old for this custom, but how many mothers so raised their sons so alone and unattended by others, the lord’s manger had straw for warmth where St Michel only stones.

‘I met the lady Anne’ started Louis ‘a vivacious girl, t’was her proud sister’s wedding festivities, but she did not strike neither me nor my brother le duc as one much saddened by much’

Your beloved Monsieur must be ever in god’s gratitudes to have found in you the wedding land for all his daughters and woes. And so now Margaret would lean onto his marital prowess as he unto her martial, for she knew Warwick had no third daughter, no alter avenues for alliance.

‘It is a shame cousin’ she said stroking her son’s cheek, faced away she could still feel some disaffection forming itself in that proud head ‘how you let harbour the joining of Isabelle to that shaking boy’ at that Edouard removed his cap while his mouth twisted in a callous smirk, the fringes of his yellow hair, had long been growing over his face and the concealment was timed perfectly for Louis not to see. The universal spider hated recall for parts in webs he left to the wind for miscalculated threads layed and they both knew that well.

‘Yes, Clarence still shakes but for quite something else, but that blunder is of no account, for remember - the sisters are co-heiresses one is as good as the other, the stately Isabelle may be marble, but Anne is the clay, with perceptive eyes, childhood and better French’ his face softened while he paused, as if readying for the next persuasion. ‘Do you know? She had approached us at the second day festivities, coyly to ask us if now that her sister is married and her English suitor had forsaken the match, if we now had a French prince for her, so that she may honour her sister, and remain apace. Her father had laughed, and not long after her mother - it was that which rather shocked me’

It was a little girl’s boldness that Louis would not know to invent. Margaret smiled, close-lipped but slipping involuntarily like a streak from the fireplace strays to a nearby pot, leaving in its wake a black but warm smudge as its patronage. If god have given her all her father’s spirit, we may harness her boldness to ours.

‘Perceptive?’ Edouard peaked one eye as he slipped back his blue skull cap. He could not image what would have to twist in a fourteen-year-old girl’s eye for anyone to see such moods. In hers he had only known the same that dwelled in all other men’s eyes. It is he who is most like la pucelle Margaret thought a little tinged with guilt.

She approached Edward in his bright brocades with the shift of her faded ones, she cringed at the sound as she regathered her skirts over to her knees, waiting for the dust to settle ‘So what say you my son?’ From the corner of her eyes Louis raised an eyebrow to her father’s fidgeting.

He held them all paused a minute, and then scrounged up his nose. ‘One may be good enough for a pretender’s traitor brother but not for us’ he raised his chin in a way that never before so struck the image of a Henry looking up at mass, and proclaimed ‘we will not be compromised, concede to servants who so tear our country asunder, those who injure our person so with illicit raisings of arms and slander’. My son, our son.

Réné had long slipped off from their side, so he made his way forward to finally speak ‘mais petit-fils, can you not see how Warwick’s acceptance of this marriage would be the strongest declaration to the world that he retracts his statements?’ Such was ever his wont- playing bubbling grandfather, but while gently nodding his head with her son, blue eyes smiling on blue, Margaret wondered if there was another tact she had not quite noticed before.

Edouard slipped away with disappointment and suspicion forming into one of his pouts, little matter as they were all rosebuds to Margaret. His look to her was unshaped and she knew the thought that what stood behind those heavy-lidded eyes remained unsure ‘Édouard, if I may brook those insults levered at me, then you must learn to as well. Your justice must bend to compromise’ perhaps you may transfer some of this Marian devotion to your wife, lose some for me if you will. When she store at the painting again, the flames no longer appeared to flicker, nothing moved but an orange light, muting all with the mark of the day’s descent. She wondered if this new girl’s hair hued the same, held any of the colour’s warmth, would at least for Edouard.

Louis lifted one finger and thrumping it on Edouard’s shoulder, the youth looked up ‘do know something else, you may have an annulment should the union outstretch its use. Without consummation there can be no bind, papal dispensation notwithstanding’

‘She is all but fourteen, it is true’ her father murmured ‘Monsieur appears to have a woman’s heart when it comes to his children. Or so that is the impression you have given me’

Louis nodded ‘I know better than to presume to know his mind, but he readily shows himself willing for a delay. Of what cause I do not know’

‘Ah now the dog insults us!’ Edouard blurted

‘Hushhh’ Margaret did not hide her grimace ‘he is now to be your father-in-law, lay him before you as a shield, for soon we may have no more swords’

Find the rest of the story on AO3… (link in the reblog)

#margaret of anjou #richard neville 16th earl of warwick #anne neville #louis xi #edward of lancaster #edward of westminster #rene of naples #a bygone era #i wrote this #r&r please xxx #i would appreciate it so much! #whether here or on #ao3 #the white queen #the wars of the roses

[sixx02]

One More

“Arc… Arc… vs Arc… and Nikos… ugh… why are there three of you?”  The combat professor scratched his head as he stared at the names on the board.  “Whatever…”  

Jaune did not like where this was going, they had only been here for a few weeks but he’d seen just how good Pyrrha was.  Okay, well he could tell right away after her first fight with Nora.  He just kind of hoped they’d be together… ‘Not together together!  Just on the same team… right that’s what I meant!’  Yep he definitely didn’t think she was super darn awesome, or really pretty, or super badass or anything like that!  He also didn’t notice her well toned arms and legs when they were training, nope!  He’d never pay attention to things like that.

Of course… he couldn’t help but pass glances to her now and again, she was really awesome.  Though… he doubted he’d have a chance, and honestly he needed to concentrate on himself… right… he didn’t want a repeat of before.  Turning towards the professor he waited for the actual teams. 

“Ugh, whatever, boys versus girls.”

Both Lie and him stopped, “Uh… sir, could we uh… could you reconsider?”  

“No!  Now get your stuff and get up there!”  

Both boys turned towards one another, “Oh no.”  

Lie and him weren’t terrible by any means, heck they were in the upper half of the class!  But, well… Nora and Pyrrha were at the very top constantly competing for first place.  And there was talk about Pyrrha actually competing in the upcoming tournaments!  The trio had opted out of it, they didn’t really want the attention and honestly speaking they didn’t want to be in front of a crowd.  

“Hurry up!”  Both boys sighed, relenting to their future domination. That was till they were both pulled into a powerful hug.

“Yes!  I can’t wait to fight!  It’s going to be a ton of fun!”  

Jaune loved Nora, she was his wonderful sister after all.  But, well… he wasn’t sure he could agree with that last bit.  Though he didn’t really have the heart to deny her answer as she continued to squeeze the two boys together.  

“Nora I think they get the point.”  Pyrrha’s gentle tone caught his ears.

“Okie dokie!”  Nora let them go at the behest of her, in her own words, besty better than the resty forever!  Honestly despite his obvious… not so obvious, crush on her, he was just happy that she got along with Nora.  Like he said he loved Nora, but she had a lot of energy, a lot of energy that caused a lot of people to think she was stupid or dumb, well they always got what was coming to them.  

“Still, this should be a grand fight!”  

“Right right!  Grand.”  

“Yes… Grand.”  Lie’s response was far less enthusiastic than his own.  Both boys however gave way, once they gathered their things adjourning at the arena.  The girls had already been prepared, Pyrrha had her own specially made weapon.  “It seems they’re taking us seriously.”

“Yep… I wish they wouldn’t!”  Jaune didn’t like where this was going!  He had seriously thought about how they’d handle the dynamic duo, but every single idea and thought was always just crushed by overwhelming prowess and might.  “Well nothing left but to do it then ya?”  

Lie simply nodded, they would have to take this one step at a time after all.  

The moment they lined up with the girls the professor started the count down.  

“Alright!  3...2...1… GO!”  

Hopefully this wouldn’t be too terrible.

“This is terrible…”  

A week earlier.

Charles couldn’t believe what they’d run into, he was starting to truly and fully believe that him and his wife were harbingers of doom… or at the very least ones that came in the aftermath of great destruction.

“Who would do this?  This wasn’t a grimm attack… they don’t just set fires to homes!”  Jeanne didn’t like this, not at all… they’d been on a mission when they’d seen the smoke rise into the air.  When they got to the small farm they’d found the home razed to the ground, if only they’d gotten here sooner!  She clenched her fist as the air around her began to warp, her aura flared wildly, the ground cracking beneath her feet.  

“WAAAAAAAAAH!”  

In an instant she cooled off, “Did you hear that?!”  

“Yes!”  Both husband and wife turned towards one another, in an instant they were off, the ground cracking beneath their feet as they made their way towards the sound. 

In an instant they found themselves in front of a Cellar, wasting no time they dug through the debris blocking their way.  

“What…”  Once they’d opened the doors they’d found a young boy who appeared to be the same age as their twins.  “Oh god…”  Jeanne winced at the terrible wounds on his chest rising up to his neck.  

“No… not again.  What do we do?”  Her husband’s words sunk in.

“We...  we have to take him… see if he has family?  Find out who he is…”  

“P...please… help him…”  Their eyes snapped towards a younger woman.  They hadn’t noticed her before, but… but she wasn’t going to make it.  The clear indications of severe wounds present on her body, scars and gnashes… the seasoned hunters almost looked away.  “Please… he has… no one else…”  

“Hold on don’t ta…”  Charles stopped as he drew closer, “...She’s dead.”  

Once more they let the silence seep in, “We… we have to take him.”

Her husband stood there for a moment, “Alright…”  

They would bury the woman, and they would take the young boy home with them.  The young man who they would later learn the name as Oscar Pines, the young man that would later be known as Oscar Pines Arc.

Jaune had been wrong, he had been terribly terribly wrong!  This was worse than terrible!  This had gone downright ugly!  

His legs buckled at Nora’s powerful swing, the arena beneath his feet cracked.  “SERIOUSLY?!”  He knew that these things were supposed to be made of sturdier stuff, and he knew that if he hadn’t been pumping aura into this metal sheet of a shield it would have caved right in.  

“AHAHAHAH!”  Her body was surging with dangerously high levels of electricity.

“Your semblance is so unfair!”  

“Says the walking living aura generator!  Now on your knees my favorite minion!”  

“NOPE NOPE NOPE!  LIE!”  In an instant Lie pulled himself away from trying to defend from Pyrrha, pumping his aura into his legs he dashed over towards his manic sister, his palm colliding with her waist sending her flying.  Unfortunately she was able to stop herself from getting ringed out by smashing her hammer into the ground beneath them.

Jaune’s hand swiped past Lie as he continued after Nora, in a single burst he’d filled his brother’s Aura up once more.  WIth a burst of strength his own Aura began to refill, only to stop a Pyrrha peppered him with dust rounds.  

“Really Pyrrha?!”  

“Sorry!  But I can’t let you do that!”  She was ever the fighter after all, so he knew she wouldn’t just let him recharge.  

“Fine!”  Putting up his shield he dashed forward, allowing the bullets to graze past it or hit less important targets, like not his head.  

Upon reaching her, he did what he did best, he attempted to ram his shield into her face.  Only for her to deftly avoid him, his shield flashed black as she attempted to nudge it away.  

Ever since her fight with Nora, she’d apparently been using her semblance a lot more, taking the time to really practice with it.  Or at least that’s what she’d told them anyways.  Which was great and everything!  But it made her really frustrating to fight, so he did what he knew he could.  Pumping more aura into the shield he was able to overpower her attempt at control.

“You really do have a lot of aura!”  He would have blushed at the comment if not for her shield attempting to ram him into the face.  

He didn’t have many options, he couldn’t really avoid it, he wasn’t exactly the fastest person, so once more he did what he thought he could.  “ACHA!”  With a might slam he hit her shield straight on with his empowered forehead causing her to pull back in surprise.

“Jaune!?”  Her worried tone was apparently warranted as that blow nearly knocked his lights out.  Aura could do a lot of things, but when he messed up, well sometimes his brain couldn’t really handle the rumbling.

“I’m okay!”  Straightening himself he attempted to swipe at her midsection, only for her to parry the blow using her blade.  

“Good!”  In that moment he felt her aura wrap around his blade disarming him as her knee hit him straight in the gut.  Thankfully his Aura protected him, but that hadn’t been her goal.  In the moment that he instinctively buckled over she’d applied her aura instantly onto his shield and pushed him straight out of the ring.  “Sorry!”  

To his surprise Lie had already been there waiting for him.  “Did she golf swing you?”

“She golf swung me…”  

“Nikos and Arc win!”  

The boys could hear the cheering from the crowd, their own egos slightly wounded as no one really had expected them to win, not even themselves!  

But, well that didn’t matter in the end, “YOU GUYS DID AMAZING!”  

Pink and Sapphire eyes glanced upwards, meeting emerald and turquoise.  

“She’s right you know.  You had gotten our aura’s rather low.”  

Both boys turned towards the monitor at the same time, they’d managed to get both Pyrrha and Nora down to about 60 percent.  That may have seemed like nothing, but well, when most people couldn’t drop them even a single percent?  It wasn’t a bad thing.  “Huh!  Hey look at that, we got you guys down another 2 percent this time.”  A part of him did want to have a little snark though.

“That we did.”

“Yeah!  You guys are improving!”  Nora pulled everyone into a tight hug, her arms wrapped affectionately around her family, Pyrrha included.

“I agree you’re both improving at a remarkable rate.”

Neither of the boys could really deny it, while it felt bad to lose, well… well at least they knew they were getting better and that wasn’t a bad thing.

“Alright… well how bout… we go get cleaned up and then we can go to Saph’s house.  We could have a sleep over?”  He turned towards Pyrrha, “If you can come of course!”

“Oh!  Yes, my parents should be fine with it.  They quite like your sister.”  Pyrrha’s warm smile caused his chest to feel oddly pained.  Right, gotta concentrate on getting better.  

Pyrrha parted ways with them wanting to get ready and prepared for the oncoming sleepover.

Once they’d gotten home after getting ready, they’d noticed extra sounds coming from the living room.  “Saph?”

“MY BABIES!”  In an instant the three Arc siblings were pulled into one powerful hug.

“MOM!”  Nora was the only one to return the powerful hug meeting one with equal strength.

“Hey kids… we got something to tell you.”  As their mom dropped them they eyed a small figure behind them.  “Meet Oscar… Oscar Pine Arc, he’s your new little brother.”

#Jaune Arc #Nora Valkyrie #Pyrrha Nikos #Lie Ren #JNPR #Team JNPR #RWBY #Oscar Pine #Lil JNPR