#I think Mondo would like the white shirt itself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

creepercraftguy · 3 years

Text

My thoughts and feelings on the Danganronpa S Swimsuit Designs.

Recently the designs for everyone’s swimsuit sprites in Danganronpa S were leaked on a preorder website here: https://ebten.jp/spchun/p/7015021110403

There’s a lot I have to say about each of these designs, so I figured I’d make a decently long post ranking each of them.

These are all my opinions and my thoughts and feelings may be a little biased, but please hear me out and respect my opinions. Also, sorry for low quality images, since that was the most clear cut I could make them by zooming in on the sheets.

7/10:

It’s a fairly plain design, but honestly, I think that’s quite befitting of the first games plucky protagonist. One of Makoto’s main traits is that he’s nothing remotely that special, so his swimsuit shouldn’t really be anything major. I do like however, that it’s colours replicate the brighter aspects of his original design.

6/10:

Of all the characters in the game who could have been stuck with the speedo look, I’m glad it was Taka. Unfortunately, this also means that his design, other than the very befitting whistle around his neck, isn’t anything major.

8/10:

This is a really good look for Byakuya. It’s really fitting with his personality and status and he wears it well.

5/10:

Unfortunately, Mondo’s outfit is exactly what I expected it to be. It’s unfortunate because I was hoping the game would do more, given how extra his 10th anniversary do was, but I was left a little disappointed with this one. It’s not bad though and it does work with him.

6/10:

It’s a pretty plain and simple design with no real outstanding aspects, but it really fits Leon’s character and he does well with it.

7/10:

This is honestly hilarious, because this wasn’t what I expected from Hifumi. I was expecting him to have a shirt or something, but I’m glad he doesn’t because that can be considered fat-shaming in my eyes. The Pretty Pudgy Princess image on his shorts was, for whatever reason, NOT what I was expecting though, and I think it looks great.

8/10:

I’ve had my differences with Hiro, but I have to admit that this design really does suit him and his character. I really love the little alien pattern on his shorts.

10/10:

This has got to be my favourite design in the entire selection of these characters! The main reason is because it really suits Chihiro’s character. He’s sporting both some very boy-like shorts but also a very girl-like crop top. The design doesn’t prioritize masculinity or femininity, but instead creates a well done balance of the two. This was probably the best that they could have done for Chihiro and I’m so glad he got his justice in this game.

10/10:

I feel like Sayaka is so underappreciated and so berated that we fail to recognize just how beautiful she is. I mean LOOK at this! She’s so fucking gorgeous!

10/10:

Kyoko is among, if not the top of, the characters in this that can sport a really plain and slightly bare bones design, but look absolutely beautiful while doing it. The dark swimsuit clashing with her bright hair, and also not sporting anything too outstanding, just like her original design, makes her look absolutely ravishing.

10/10:

I know it seems like I’m just dishing out 10’s at this point, but the DR1 girls are just THAT amazing looking with their designs, and Hina in particular is really good. One of the things that I love about some of these swimsuit designs is the subversion of the colors that I’m used to the characters sporting. Hina for instance is usually associated with red or blue, but here she is wearing a deep yellow bikini and my god does she look amazing in it. Also, it’s hard to see, but she does have some slight abs, which is something I wish to see on most of these girls.

9/10:

We have to talk about these two at once because they kind of have the same swimsuit with just one difference, in that Toko wears the skirt, while Genocide Jill does not. This makes sense and it’s pretty clever in design, since Toko has usually always worn long dresses/skirts in her previous designs, to cover up the tally marks Jill engraved in her legs from her kills. Jill obviously wouldn’t care about that, so she feels no need to wear the skirt, and given that Jill is slightly more outgoing and sociable than Toko, she wouldn’t have as much of a problem showing off more skin. It really does make a lot of sense and the design itself is overall very solid.

6/10:

I wouldn’t go so far as to say this is bad, but this style and colour is not what I expected or would have liked to see on Sakura. She’s still pretty, but I just think there’s more potential here.

8/10:

In a sense, this is a very clever design of swimsuit, since it’s almost as if Celeste’s original dress was turned into a bikini, and it’s incredibly fitting as a result. Still, it’s not out of any expectation.

10/10:

This is probably the most ingenious design out of every swimsuit in this game, so hear me out. One of the things Junko is the most well known for in Danganronpa’s world is she always defies expectations, most of the time in ways that leave people dissatisfied or unhappy. What could be more dissatisfying to a regular hormonal teenager (which most of the DR cast are) on a summer trip than a busty beauty arriving to the beach wearing a cheap, one-piece school swimsuit with nothing remarkable about it. It’s so clever and such a smart move on the designers part that perfectly encapsulates Junko’s character.

9/10:

I love this swimsuit design, and I think Mukuro looks wonderful in it, but I still stand by my complaint that she deserves to be her own person in this game and not disguised as Junko.

5/10:

Monokuma looks less like a lifeguard in this design and more like a McDonald’s drive thru employee. Still, I didn’t expect Monokuma to get a swimsuit at all, and this does fit his character, so whatever.

9/10:

Like Makoto, this outfit is fairly simple. Unlike Makoto however, it doesn’t really replicate the coloration of the original design and instead provides Hajime with something more vibrant and original, and I think it looks pretty good on him.

10/10:

I just in general think this is a really solid look for Nagito. It’s a nice diversion from his original style, while also keeping some of the things that made his original design unique, namely the pattern on his hoodie is transitioned over, but in a new, quite dashing colour. I also like how he and Hajime have a contrasting blue/red dynamic with their designs.

7/10:

I mean, it obviously has to be the same as Byakuya’s design, but the colours of the hoodie are inverted. It makes sense, but I do believe the original Togami does it better in this case.

4/10:

Is this REALLY the best you could give Gundham? This is such a simple design for someone with Gundham’s personality, he deserves something far more impressive. Yeah, I get that Makoto has the same thing, shorts of a single colour with his symbol on it, but that makes sense for Makoto given that he’s naturally quite bare bones, whereas Gundham is much the opposite. Honestly, this is kind of a letdown.

8/10:

Can Kazuichi just naturally pull off any vibrant colour? First, in DR2, his outfit was a vibrant yellow, and then in DR3, he had a deep blue outfit. Now he’s sporting this Neon Green and it looks so good on him. Please tell me I’m not the only one who thinks that this is a really good way of transitioning his original design while also adding some originality?

7/10:

I don’t think it’s anything great, but I like the rose patterns and the clash of the dark shirt with the bright shorts. Honestly, this is a pretty good outfit sporting Teruteru’s moniker.

6/10:

Again, I kind of expected Nekomaru to wear the speedo, and I like the fact that he kept the chain on, but overall, the outfit doesn’t have an awful lot of uniqueness.

8/10:

There’s really not an awful lot to this design, but I think white shorts and a gold chain are a real good look for Fuyuhiko. He doesn’t really need anything more than this to look super good on the beach.

7/10:

We did see this outfit in DR2, but it was a CG and not a sprite, and at least she’s not covered in blood this time. The colours and patterns are a little plain for Akane, but she still looks pretty good in this outfit.

10/10:

This swimsuit already has a CG and sprites in the original DR2, but now we get to see more of them. And just as well because this plain white swimming outfit looks wonderful on Chiaki. She’s just super adorable like this and I can’t ask for anything more.

10/10:

I have to give Sonia the score she deserves here. While I am surprised she isn’t showing off nearly as much leg skin as I thought she would, I have no complaints to this. The colour is a good colour alongside her hair and the swimsuit itself looks splendid on her.

9/10:

I never thought in a million years that Hiyoko would look good in green, but I’ve never been more happy to be wrong. I’m also glad, and I can’t speak for everyone here, that she’s wearing a two-piece and not a school swimsuit like Junko, because she deserves more than that.

10/10:

I’m so tempted to sing the Bryan Highland song but change the yellow in the lyrics to blue. Words cannot describe just how much I love this simple patterns design on my all time best girl. Mahiru looks absolutely angelic with this outfit, and I’ve basically fallen for her all over again.

8/10:

All things considered, I’m really satisfied with this outfit. We all know what Spike Chunsoft and DR’s writers like to do to Mikan, so I was very concerned that whatever swimsuit she got, it was going to turn out to be really skimpy and barely cover anything. I am glad that this is a lot more modest than I thought it would be, and I thank the creators for giving her something more normal. However, it is still a string piece that has a likely chance of coming undone, so I am expecting a few wardrobe malfunctions in the game. Other than that, my only other real complaint is that I kind of want more than just a plain white design. I think a deep purple or even a deep red would work very well on her as opposed to this.

10/10:

This is the design I expected for Ibuki, and it works really well for her, so while my expectations weren’t defied, this is still among the better designs out of the selection we have.

10/10:

We all need to take a minute to appreciate just how gorgeous Peko looks in a plain black two-piece, because this lady looks absolutely exquisite. Even the most simple designs can bring out the best in characters, and while we did see this in DR2, we never got the sprite we needed. She just looks great like this, that’s all I can say.

5/10:

Izuru has a different swimsuit to Hajime for some reason, but I guess it does make sense since a bright, vibrant swimsuit like the one Hajime has wouldn’t work with him. Hajime’s is still better in my book though.

5/10:

Usami and Monomi have always had the adult/child dynamic in their designs. For example, in the regular designs, Usami has a skirt while Monomi wears a diaper, and that dynamic carries over in these designs too, which I really appreciate. Still, the outfits themselves aren’t anything outstanding.

10/10:

Is it just me, or is Komaru ever so slightly chubby in this? It’s the first time Komaru’s midriff has ever been shown in a sprite, so it’s the first time we’ve ever seen her bare belly like this. It’s not a complaint, if anything, I’ve been wanting to see some chub on the girls. Regardless, this is another example of a plain design pulled off extraordinarily well, since the plain yellow outfit makes Komaru look delightful.

6/10:

About what I expected from Masaru. Like Nagito, I like how he carries patterns from his og design into this one, but he doesn’t really do it as well. His design is kind of basic.

8/10:

I like this transition. The outfit and hoodie has originality, but it still bases itself off Jataro’s original design and I like how they do it.

10/10:

She’s just way too cute! This design is just super adorable and Kotoko pulls it off wonderfully. She was honestly one who I expected to wear a one-piece, so showing off this much skin is surprising given her backstory. It really does fit her though, and I wouldn’t think of changing it.

5/10:

Honestly, there’s not much to this. The colour and pattern fits Nagisa, totally, but I do wish there was a little bit more than just whatever this is. Nagisa’s a much deeper character than this outfit gives him credit for.

8/10:

It’s a really simple design with nothing outstanding besides the skirt, but Monaca looks really cute wearing this, and I think that that alone is enough. Besides, Junko had a fairly basic design too, so Monaca having one isn’t out of the question.

3/10:

I’ve always believed, as much as I really don’t like him and wish he wasn’t in this game, that Kurokuma has always had one of the best designs out of all the Monokuma’s. But as much as I believe that, and as much as I love the addition of the water gun in this design, this is honestly kind of lazy. The gun and the glasses don’t count as part of the swimsuit, they’re just accessories. In summary, literally all they did was give him orange trunks.

1/10:

THIS however is somehow even worse, because this straight up is NOT a swimsuit! Shirokuma is literally just wearing a hat and a floatie. This is probably my least favourite of all the designs in this.

9/10:

I have to add here that I’m rather disappointed that based on the scans, it seems unlikely that Yuta and Taichi from UDG are getting in the game, since I believe they both deserve some spotlight that they’re now giving Hiroko. I also don’t consider myself to be attracting to older women, but I am forced to admit that like with Mikan, I did expect something worse with Hiroko’s swimsuit, and this was a pleasant subversion of my expectations because I think she looks great.

10/10:

Maybe I’m being a but biased with my scoring here, but had Shuichi not been wearing the hoodie, I would have been a bit disappointed. Also, am I the only one who thinks that this is a surprisingly good look for Shuichi given that the colours aren’t his typical dark, emo style? I never thought Shuichi could rock a white hoodie and dark blue shorts, but here I am being proved wrong.

6/10:

Honestly, I did expect this of Kaito’s outfit, and I am a little let down that this is it really. Sure, it does look good, as he has the space pattern that he usually has on the inside of his coat, but speaking of his coat, one thing that I was expecting was that he, like Shuichi or Nagito, would have a hoodie in his design that he hung loosely around his shoulders like he does in his original design. C’est la vie…

7/10:

He literally looks like a tiny sailor! Like they straight up ripped him out of a Popeye cartoon or something! It looks really funny for some reason.

9/10:

Call me crazy, but I actually seriously love the colour of Rantaro’s shorts. The pink/red rose colour is a wonderful clash with his avocado green hair, and while the design is kind of simple, Rantaro has never been known to have the most over the top appearance. He’s kind of just a casual guy, so he deserves a casual attire.

4/10:

Oh Gonta, there’s nothing wrong with your swimsuit, but is this really the most justice they could do you? It looks so…I dunno…plain?

5/10:

Where’s his white coat go? Like, I love the shorts pattern, but is this really it? This is all we get out our clown prince of lies? It’s not totally disappointing like Gundham’s was, and thank god he doesn’t have abs anymore, but even still, is this the best they could do for Kokichi?

10/10:

Fuck yes! Why put Kiyo in shorts like the rest of them when we could give him this extremely fitting wetsuit! Like, seriously, how come I didn’t think this was a good idea? This is quite literally the perfect direction you could have gone in for Kiyo especially.

9/10:

Fucking…Keebo oh my god…Why did I expect any differently?

9/10:

Kirumi, Kyoko and Peko have exactly the same reason for getting their scores, and Peko and Kyoko only slightly pull it off better. My only complaint I have with Kirumi sporting this is that she doesn’t appear to have the spider pattern that she had on her dress before, which was one of her most notable features in her original design. Maybe it is there and I just can’t see it due to low res, but I’m fairly sure that this is all you need to make Kirumi look damn sexy during summertime.

6/10:

I know for a fact that Himiko doesn’t like the ocean, so maybe there’s a reason her swimwear looks like this. I don’t hate it, but I think Himiko might look better in a one piece, and maybe I’d like a bit more context as to why it looks like this of all things.

10/10:

Maki is so attractive in this outfit. It’s the perfect shade of red, and it’s everything she deserves. Honestly, while a lot of these girls look stunning in colours that I’m not used to seeing them in, had Maki had anything else than this red, I think I would have been a little disappointed.

7/10:

Pink was not what I expected on Tenko. I was honestly expecting something similar to Ibuki, but with light blue and green instea of blue and pink, and I’m honestly a little upset we didn’t get that. On top of that, she’s showing an awful lot of skin, maybe even more than Mikan, since that swimsuit looks like it doesn’t fit her, which I didn’t expect from her. Still, you won’t be hearing any major issues on my behalf, since I still like this design somewhat.

10/10:

Yes, yes, and more YES! I ADORE the yellow swimsuit with Tsumugi’s dark blue hair. I was expecting something plain and white like what Mikan got with Tsumugi, and I’m so glad we didn’t. Not even Team DR are willing to take their jokes that far. She looks so god damn sublime.

6/10:

I’m fairly sure that all they did for Angie’s appearance was take off her coat. I mean, she does kind of wear swimwear all the time, so I think that even though there’s no real uniqueness or originality to this one, it was the obvious direction to go in, so I have no real comment on it.

9/10:

Ok, this was a good one. I was really hoping that Miu in particular would fit her character to a tee, and if it didn’t I think I would have been rather let down. This is definitely satisfactory though, since leopard print absolutely works for her. Overall I think she looks superb.

10/10:

KAEDE PLEASE MARRY ME! She looks so fucking pulchritudinous! That’s not a word anyone knows, but that’s the extent of how enticing, foxy and sublime she looks! The sky blue is SO good on her, words can barely describe it! Kaede was one in particular who I set high expectations for, and I can gladly say that they were exceeded above and beyond!

#danganronpa survivor #danganronpa #danganronpa 1 #dr1 #danganronpa 2 #dr2 #danganronpa another episode #danganronpa ultra despair girls #drudg #drae #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #danganronpa s: ultimate summer camp #danganronpa s #drs

33 notes · View notes

ko-fanatic · 3 years

Text

Blood, Guts and Chocolate Cake (Part 3)

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Danganronpa

Pairings: IshiMondo

Summary: Breakfast before the show, and Mondo realising he loves Taka's music if it's live. Still, there's something too close to a disturbing premonition burning under Mondo's skin, and the idol's comments, actions and frame just make it worse. Something's going on with him...

TW: Alcohol, and eating disorders (both restrictive behaviours and B/P), mentions of disability, underage sex/sexualisation, drugs

Other parts: Part one | Part two

Kiyotaka did not, in fact, get to finish his allotted miles.

Mondo, in his defense, had attempted to continue, but after another mile his lungs had given up on him. Taka was so concerned, hearing his wheezing breaths, that he’d gotten him to spill about being asthmatic. The idol then promptly freaked out, calling a taxi to take them back to the hotel and insisting that he’ll keep his workouts to a gym setting in future.

He could tell Taka was upset - he might be callous, but he wasn’t stupid. Still, the kid said he was just antsy, nothing to worry about. Excess energy he hadn’t had the chance to burn off.

After a while of sitting on the couch, watching the TV that was way bigger than it had any right to be, he wasn’t actively dying anymore. Therefore, Taka saw it fit to leave him for a bit as he pottered around, doing idol things. He could hear Taka practising one of his songs in the bathroom as he performed his ludicrously long skin care routine.

Honestly, he was more focussed on Taka’s singing than the shitty sitcom on TV. He’d heard the polished, studio versions - who hadn’t? - but this was something else. Fuck autotune, for sure; Taka’s voice was beautiful, crisp as a bell and perfectly trained. But rather than the polished version, Taka added more vocal tricks and a generally interesting style to the song that he’d never heard before.

If there was more of that in his official audios, Mondo would’ve been an avid fan by now.

“And if you got a little more time, baby let me hold your hand in mine,” The idol sang as he strolled into the kitchenette, opening the fridge and retrieving an apple, “Drink you up like the finest wine, lick you off my lips before showtime -”

“Whoa,” He whistled lowly, unable to help himself, “Those lyrics aren’t very ‘sweet boy next door’.”

“Oh,” Taka blinked, seemingly just remembering he wasn’t the only one in the room, “That was actually my original version, before it was reviewed. Too lewd for the image, I guess.”

“Or they didn’t want a bunch of tweens bustin’ their first nut in public,” He chuckled, Taka’s nose scrunching in disgust.

“Ew,” He huffed, retrieving an apple from the fridge and starting to cut it up, “I’d rather not think about that.”

He just smirked, not bothering to turn back to the mindless crap on TV, just watching as Taka prepared his breakfast. He was about as meticulous about cutting up that apple as he was his choreography; while anyone would cut an apple into segments (barring bento making), Taka halved and cored it before cubing the frankly pathetic slivers of fruit he was left with.

The cubes were small, almost diced, and quickly scraped into a bowl like they'd burn Taka if they so much as brushed the pale, thin skin of his hands. Then, a bottle of lemon juice was procured, sprinkled on the un-diced half of the apple before it was wrapped in cellophane and sealed in a Tupperware box. Just watching the methodical, practiced actions had Mondo raising an eyebrow; Taka sealed that half apple away like some corny Hollywood curse. Like it would come back for one final scare if he didn't get rid of it.

He expected another fruit to be taken from the fridge, making up a small fruit salad, or for bread to be put in the toaster. Hell, he'd be cool with the promise of Starbucks or McDonald's on the way to the venue, but no.

Taka sat next to him on the sofa, chopsticks in hand as he daintily picked at the meagre portion he'd given himself. His frown only deepened when he saw just how little it amounted to, barely obstructing the bottom of the bowl from view. It hardly counted as an apple, looking far more like peelings you’d throw in the garbage than an actual meal.

“That it?” He asked, gesturing to the ‘meal’ as Taka placed a particularly small cube into his mouth.

“What do you mean?” The idol asked, raising an eyebrow, “It’s my breakfast.”

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock,” He grumbled, “I mean, ‘wow, kid, you eat less than a fuckin’ bird, go get some more’.”

“Half an apple is perfectly fine,” Taka defended, putting down his chopsticks to properly argue with him. It made a pang go off in Mondo’s chest, especially as his eye was drawn to the small bowl, resting on Taka’s thin thigh.

Most people’s thighs pool when sitting; flesh, whether be muscle or fat, generally molds under pressure. However, there was still that oh-so-lauded gap between the boy’s thighs, hardly more than bone. It made him… uncomfortable. Like seeing a cancer patient on their final days; only Taka wasn’t dying, ashen complexion notwithstanding.

“Yeah, no, it’s not,” He spoke bluntly, no preamble, “You did a three mile run, and you’ll be in rehearsals all day. Half an apple’s not going to keep you going.”

The idol rolled his eyes, muttering something about how his run should have been five miles, and picked up the chopsticks once more. He seemed to just push the fruit around his plate, however, instead of bringing piece after piece to his lips like he had before.

“What -?”

“Lost my appetite,” Taka shrugged, standing on those tiny, boney legs once more, “I’ll have something later.”

Mondo didn’t comment, not wanting to upset Taka more than he, apparently, already had. He simply watched as the peelings got scraped into the bin with the rest of the apple, hardly eaten. Maybe the equivalent of a couple bites.

He didn’t say anything, considering he’d already put the kid off his food. He’d make a note of it, but he mainly put it up to nerves for tonight; big venue, and didn’t they say that stage fright was an important part of this shit?

“Looking forward to the show?” Taka asked as he washed up his bowl, chopsticks and knife.

“Honestly, yeah,” He nodded, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, lounging around like he owned the place, “I’m not a huge fan of pop, but what you were singing now was cool. Guess I like live music better than studio versions.”

“Honestly, that’s completely valid,” Taka smiled, “I prefer doing my own thing, with no editing to slow me down…”

---

Mondo was having the time of his fucking life! Taka wasn’t kidding about editing slowing him down, the guy was a beast on stage.

The stage lighting pounded down on the idol, refracting off the metallic accents of his costume and catching the beads of sweat at his temple. Two hours of jumping around, dancing, singing, and playing his guitar, and he showed no signs of slowing. The adrenalin was high, and it vibrated through Taka, the crowds, the stadium itself and straight through Mondo himself.

If he was a cheesier person, he’d say it was like he could feel Taka’s own heartbeat through the music, resting in his chest next to his own. But he wasn’t that sappy. Nope. Not at all.

He certainly wasn’t prepared for Taka to remove the prince-like, white jacket to reveal the costume underneath. A crisp button-up was par for the course, but the leather harness buckled around his torso made the simple look jaw dropping. Finale outfit, he’d heard one of the costumers mention, but he hadn’t been paying attention at the time.

The leather looked so perfect wrapped around his thin body, and Mondo was screaming. Internally, thankfully, but this was going to be his end.

The song wasn’t long at all, maybe a couple minutes. Like a vast majority of Taka’s “approved” songs, it was about love; albeit darker. A couple heavily veiled allusions to bondage, both in the fun and not-so-fun senses, a feeling of wanting to pull away but being far too in love to do what was healthy.

The crowd just ate it up, even if it gave Mondo an odd feeling… Foreboding, perhaps? Some sort of anxious buzzing under his skin, like a premonition, but no basis in anything he could actually pinpoint. It wasn’t like he could see Taka’s eyes, or anything like that. Maybe a slight tremor in the voice, but fuck, the kid had literally been singing for hours.

After the final guitar riff, and a couple breaths, Taka grabbed one of his water bottles off the front of the stage, not even hesitating to dump it all over his head. The screaming from the crowd managed to increase tenfold, and he was pretty sure the whole stadium was enjoying the view of that white shirt turning translucent and clinging so enticingly.

“Thank you and goodnight!” He cheered, stage lights going out and allowing Taka to walk off stage with minimal awkwardness.

“That…” Mondo began, Taka holding up a finger as they disconnected his mic, making sure none of the sounds backstage got broadcasted and ruined any spell the audience was under.

“Sorry I had to interrupt you,” Taka apologised, so sweetly sincere, “You were saying?”

“Just… That was incredible…” He breathed, still slack jawed from the rush of the concert, “You… I…”

“Articulate,” Taka smirked, hand on hip as he sauntered off to get changed, before he would exit and be swarmed with both eager fans and paparazzi alike.

Mondo was smiling, heart still hammering, until his attention was brought to what was visible beneath the sodden fabric.

Ribs.

#danganronpa #dr talentswap #idol!ishimaru #bodyguard!mondo #ishimondo #Kiyotaka Ishimaru #mondo oowada #blood guts and chocolate cake series

12 notes · View notes

bradleywebb · 3 years

Text

Contest is open to legal residents of Canada. Entrants must be over the age of majority in zapatillas de tacos futbol their province or territory.

Survivors: Mother, and brother, James J. Yesterday announced it has signed a licensing agreement with an Italian designer to market and manufacture several lines of men's tailored clothing. Under an agreement with Mondo Inc. I personally am an IZOD fan. I find them to be great quality without being too expensive. While most of my IZOD shirts are in my signature color, I also have some in other colors as well. The following are some of the side effects that are known to be associated with this medicine. Just because a side effect is stated here, it does not mean that all people using this medicine will experience that or any side effect. For more information about any other possible risks associated with this medicine, please read the information provided with the medicine or consult your doctor or pharmacist.. Would you believe a price tag of $600? Prada's new red, white and black zigzag polo is for the man who is taking this whole neo preppy thing very, very seriously. In some circles, he'd even be slumming. Versace's long sleeved pink and orange striped polo checks in at a mind boggling $1,400.. They may also be interested in The Nike Store, Boston Traders, Laura Ashley, Dexter Shoe Factory Outlet, London Fog Factory Store and The Patagonia Outlet. Box 6677, Wyomissing, Pa. 19610; (800) 443 6610) The town of Reading calls itself ''The Outlet Capital of the World'' with more than 300 outlets spread across six different area malls drawing about 8 million visitors a year.. Environmental matters dominated the attention of the Anne Arundel County Council this week, as members voted to add restrictions on development in the county's so called "critical zapatillas de tacos futbol area" near tidal waters of the Chesapeake Bay and hosted a spirited public debate on the question of imposing countywide storm water management fees. By a 5 2 vote at their Feb. 19 meeting, council members approved the first measure, which supporters said brings the county's critical area code in line with amended state regulations.. No purchase necessary. Contest is open to legal residents of Canada. Entrants must be over the age of majority in zapatillas de tacos futbol their province or territory. Highlights the cost effectiveness of transformative transportation projects like these. City with a downtown network of protected bike lanes major boost to the nation second largest bike share system, Divvy. Further, many of Chicago existing bollard protected bike lanes are currently being rebuilt with concrete curbs. I recently read an article that quoted Philip Hochstein, the president of the Independent Contractors and Businesses Association. When asked to comment on Adrian Dix's speech to the Vancouver Board of Trade, Hochstein says, "I understand how he is going to regulate it and increase the regulatory burden. I understand he's going to tax it, to increase corporate taxes. For example a borrower may potentially be able to obtain a loan at a 10% interest rate yet the broker will only offer an 11% interest rate in order to receive two extra back end points from the lender. Home equity line of credits are adjustable rate loans. Most lease to own agreements are done with homeowners can't sell their home at the asking price or when the drk gumicsizma sütétkék housing market is a buyer's market.[16] The true financially conservative air max 90 ultra se option is to make a small down payment. In terms of specs, the Moto C gets a 1.1GHz quad core MediaTek processor and 1GB of RAM, plus 16GB of memory and a pair of basic cameras (5 megapixel and 2 megapixel). The Moto C Plus has a HD display, 2GB of RAM and an 8 megapixel main camera. Motorola also announces up to 30 hours of battery life for the Moto C Plus.. "While we chanel ágynemű have enjoyed a winning relationship with Ryan for over nike black tn 001 a decade and he has been an important member of the Speedo team, we cannot condone behavior that is counter to the values this brand has long stood for," the prominent swimsuit company said. Team at the opening and closing ceremonies, said it would not be renewing the contract that provided Lochte with financial support leading up to nike air max 102 essential white Rio. The statement from airweave said it had a similar arrangement ikea molnig csillár with the swimmer. "When you have a strong female role model who doesn't believe in or even acknowledge barriers, it establishes a high standard for what you expect from yourself and what you believe is possible. My mom definitely shaped me but I've learned a great deal from my father as well. Anyone who works with him will tell you that my dad Gary is a very hardworking and well respected man of great character. Joaquin "El Chapo" Guzman Loera is the definition of narco style and fashion today. According to public registries of the Mexican Institute of Intellectual Property (IMPI), in the last years there are some 10 . In front of El Altiplano prison on Feb. It's a good thing Jack isn't here. If he had a cupcake or even a croissant, there's no way he'd share it. Nope, if he knew you wanted it, he'd eat it right in baby nike trainers front of you. "With more than 10,000 lakes, thousands of miles of rivers and streams, and many thousands of acres of wetlands, it might be natural to think that our water is essentially unlimited," said DNR Commissioner Tom Landwehr. "But in some bdsm puma parts of the state, the unseen, underground aquifers that make up our groundwater resources are under pressure to meet growing needs for domestic water supplies, irrigation, industrial and other uses. These groundwater resources also are interconnected with lakes, streams and wetlands that we value for commerce, recreation, and water supplies.

1 note · View note

countingwithturkeys · 4 years

Text

Contest Winner Fic!

Hi guys! Quite a long time ago (I know, I know, I suck sometimes) I had a contest, wherein the winner would get a request fic. The winner, @azkadelia-the-werewolf, made a very interesting selection: something fluffy for Tyrant and Bonnie. This proved an interesting challenge, not because Tyrant is no longer with us except in the most literal sense, but because by her very nature the Baddie lacks free will, and thus it’s arguable as to whether or not she’s even capable of genuine love, let alone to the one she’s in service to. Although I wrote and rewrote this story almost a dozen times since that choice was made it just never really felt right, so I had to put it aside until an opportunity presented itself, rather than present something I wasn’t proud of. An opportunity presented itself! Ultimately, I do personally consider this story to be canon to the Symphony Universe, but it did not flow where it should logically go within the story. As such, the chapter count for OA will be going up, and the last chapter will be this story as bonus content. It might be slightly edited in the meantime, but as my tumblr followers (and the contest winner especially!) have been waiting a long time for this story I wanted you guys to have it first. It’s possible I may do another contest in the future when we reach the next milestone (I’m thinking when I hit 125 followers?), because despite the fact that this thing took a billion years for me to finish I think it made me think more in-depthly about my own story, and it’s ultimately added a new layer I otherwise would never have thought of without being prodded to. In short, it was a challenge, and the challenge made me a better creative thinker. What do you guys think? Would you be interested in another contest? Have fun, and I (sincerely) hope it was worth it! Oh, slight content warning: Starts off with some feels, mentions of past character death, and hints of future lady-adult situations.

Where am I?

Wherever Bonnibel was it had a heavy atmosphere, oppressive and hazy, somewhere she vaguely remembered. Somewhere familiar, and not for positive reasons, somewhere she had been once before that she never hoped to return to. Recognition flickered across her consciousness, not enough to be useful but more than enough to frustrate her. What was worse was that while she may not have been aware of where she was logically the atmosphere couldn’t have cared less; somewhere in her, somewhere deep inside, something instinctual, recognized her location.

It hated it.

Her stomach soured, bile was in her throat. Rancid. Bonnibel reflexively closed her eyes before cursing her own absurdity, forcing them open, ignoring the mounting anxiety. Everything felt too surreal, and instead she focused on that. It was absurd, it was choking, but it was something grounding that she could tease reason out of. Yes, this was familiar as well. In fact it was a feeling she had felt somewhere before. And recently. Focus, Bubblegum. Figure out where you are. She started by glancing at her hands, feeling her fingers curl into lazy fists, then relax. Well, at least I’m in control of myself. Belatedly, the princess found that oddly reassuring and wasn’t sure why. Somehow that made everything even more uncomfortable.

What was worse was the outfit she was wearing. She wouldn’t have caught it had she not been so hypervigilant, so acutely aware of her surroundings in a comical and naive attempt to make sense of everything. Instead of answer she found that she was wearing the jacket, the same varsity letterman jacket Tyrant had given her just before she die- No. Before I killed her. Admit it, Bubblegum. Admit what you did, her thoughts hissed, malice bleeding through in the form of fine tremor in her hands. It was degrading, but then so were the tears stringing her eyes, tears which were expertly pushed back under the guise of clinical detachment. Yes, she was wearing the same jacket, the same sneakers, the same deep purple pants she had worn during her twisted and deranged adventure. But that wasn’t all that was the same.

Now she knew where she was. The yellowed and dead grass beneath her feet. The sky of dust above her head. The putrid lake littered with refuse from a deranged and shattered mind, rubbish that washed up on the shore only to be left to rot. There, over her shoulder, the approximation of the cabin she grew up in, before she was even a princess. It was intact, immaculate even. Well, except for the windows, covered in thick metal plates, bolted in snugly with screws thicker than her arm. That had been Usurper’s doing, Bonnibel remembered that as well. It had been before that awful day, when the deranged vampire had been eagerly awaiting her arrival and needed something to do with that pent up energy. Something besides planning her once-lover’s demise. Oh yes, Bonnibel knew exactly where she was now.

She was exactly where Tyrant had died.

But why? That was the real question, now wasn’t it? A quick survey of her surroundings confirmed for the young scientist that she was alone. No Finn, no Jake, no Marceline or any piece of her. It was just as quiet as she remembered, just as haunting. Was she actually back? How did she get here? Where was everyone? Was this some sort of punishment? Had she been killed in some laboratory accident and dropped in the deepest pit of Dead World and forced to relive her trauma as penance for her sins-

“Hey Bonnibel.”

The candy golem startled, glancing up at the voice, overwhelmed with the desire to find the source and confirm that she wasn’t imagining it. Where…? Bonnibel wasn’t looking for long, didn’t have to look far. There, on the cabin’s porch, hidden by the shadow of Usurper's handiwork. Bonnibel exhaled; exhaled the tension, exhaled the tremor, exhaled the apprehension. An unfamiliar serenity replaced it all and despite the surreal situation and the suffocating atmosphere new tears, happy tears, began to emerge and this time the princess didn’t try to stop them. She covered her mouth in disbelief, trembling anew at the unexpected visitor. At the familiar face. At the warm, understanding smile.

Tyrant?

The vampire was apparently as surprised to see the candy golem as the candy golem was to see her. Surprised, but repressing her own sheepish smile. She rubbed the back of her neck nervously, not meeting her favorite piercing green eyes as she smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I know you hate when I sneak up on you like that… but you were definitely doing that thing you’ve been doing since you bailed us out of here where you let your mondo mega brain destroy itself ‘cause it gets overactive and turns on you. Can’t let that happen, you know? It’s like… literally my job not to let that happen.” She stopped. Dropped her hand. Frowned. “Figuratively? Still no idea how that works.”

Yes, only Tyrant would have that self-deprecating glint in her eyes, only she would have been that concerned over something the pink-haired woman could never admit to anyone, least of all herself. It was strange, though, Bonnibel pondered. The musician was clothed in simple black shorts and a white tanktop, hair still shaven in a slight mohawk. Had that been what she was wearing when she died? Why can’t I remember? Why can I remember what I was wearing but not what you were? Oh, but she remembered that collar alright. That soft pink collar that declared the vampire her property, an accessory with no beginning or end, and no visible way to remove it. Even now, it seemed, that part of Marceline considered herself owned.

That bile again.

Only now, with their adventure over- is it over? -did Bonnibel truly appraise the woman before her, that submissive portion of her lover chewing nervously on her lip with just enough restraint not to piece the soft flesh. After all, I have rules, the princess bitterly mused. But she wasn’t responding, and she realized almost too late that not responding was what Princess Bubblegum did when she was displeased with the half-demon’s antics. When Tyrant released her lip and prepared to speak a brief spark of panic shot through the scientist where she knew her heart was meant to be, because if tradition held true-

“...Should I go? Sorry.”

It was a whisper, and only now, with their adventure over - if it was indeed over - did Bonnibel truly get a good luck at the Baddie, at one of the three strongest chunks of her mate’s psyche. Marceline had always been a master of disguise and stealth but she had never learned to prevent her eyes from betraying her feelings, and clearly the older woman knew it if how hard she was trying not to look at her was any indicator. Tyrant was powerful, just as strong as Usurper and Lady Evil, but Bonnibel was all-too aware now that she herself was the Baddie’s greatest weakness, that she was just as in love with the scientist as she was afraid of her.

Even now, her shirt was torn just above her heart. Exactly where the wretched silver dagger had found its mark and ended her Unlife.

She ran. Not away from the cabin or her crimes, but to her favorite person in the world, the one she loved above any and all others and else. The embrace was tight and warm and readily returned, Bonnibel’s fingers digging into the half-demon’s shoulder possessively knowing now just how fleeting their time together truly was, what she had to lose if she let go just a moment too soon. The noise she made into that shoulder was wordless, an expression of some emotion that had no name, and Tyrant held her, the dark wings of her void form coming to wrap around both immortal women. Bonnibel pressed herself against the older woman, a cool hand rubbing soothing circles against her back.

It worked. It always worked. Marceline just knew her too well.

“Sorry, Marcy,” Bonnibel began gently once her breath came under control and her dignity was restored. The wings retracted and the queen withdrew, just enough to give her princess space. Belatedly, the scientist realized that were she dealing with Marceline, Whole Marceline, the vampire would undoubtedly have already fled, too afraid of making some implied situation worse. But Tyrant would never flee because she was incapable of disobeying. And Princess Bubblegum had rules against Marceline interpreting her will for her. Every word will have to be chosen carefully. “I was just… surprised to see you.” Surprised, and so hap-

“‘Cause I got ganked?” A wry smile.

“Yes.” No sense beating around the bush. “Because I lost you,” Bonnibel clarified. That was important, emphasizing that Tyrant had been lost and hadn’t failed her princess. When her warm, pink hand came to rest on the other woman’s cool cheek Bonnibel couldn’t help but smile. How could she? Not when her lover relaxed, not when her head tilted into the touch, not when her eyes were sliding shut at such a simple gesture. It was just so endearing, and what remained of that fear, that anxiety that had taken up valuable real estate in her heart edged out to make room for the warm fuzzies only Marceline could inspire. “There. It’s alright, Marcy. I’m not mad,” she promised. “I’m happy to see you.” And she was, more than Tyrant could understand.

“...You are?”

She sounded so bewildered it hurt. Is this what I did to you, Marcy? True, the vampire had been her normal snarky self with Finn and Jake, but Marceline’s defenses were always lowered around her best friend. No. They’re all Marcy. You’re just the part I twisted most to suit my needs. Despite the stab of guilt Bonnibel gave the musician a soft smile, watching as her garnet eyes slid open again at the confession. Just like that, the stab of guilt gave way to something warmer, the princess’s self-pity no match for how beautiful that spark in her mate’s eyes was. I have so much to tell you. For now, it would have to not matter exactly where the pair were or how they ended up there, it would have to be enough that they were together. “Come here, Marcy.” The pink hand lowered, taking the calloused grey one. Tyrant didn’t resist.

When was the last time the duo sat on those steps and had a conversation as deep as the one they were about to? I suppose… when I abdicated my throne and you helped me with my varmint problem. How long ago had that been? How many lifetimes? How many failures? Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Bonnibel lowered herself onto the cabin’s stoop, pulling her queen with her. Her queen who, though noticeably calmer, was just as skeptical, clearly uncertain of what was happening or what to believe. Of course, I did kill you. I wouldn’t trust me either. Green eyes briefly flickered to the torn shirt. There was a faded stain of maroon blood but no sign of an open wound and before Bonnibel could reconsider she was reaching out, touching the outline.

Tyrant tilted her head but didn’t flinch. “It doesn’t hurt.”

The candy woman gave her her own wry smile. Of course you would be able to predict my thoughts. You’ve always known me better than I know myself. Still, Bonnibel didn’t recall her hand, needing to know for herself if anything remained of her treachery. A scar, a scab, a pus-filled wound, anything. She traced the shirt’s torn fabric and over the vampire’s chest, but there wasn’t so much as a scratch or a wince. “...I’m sorry, Marcy,” she whispered. Even when she was satisfied that nothing remained of the dagger, Bonnibel kept her hand in position, too reluctant to break physical contact with the half-demon.

Tyrant scooted closer, closing her own hand around the candy golem’s for reassurance. “It’s alright, Bonnibel. You had to, remember? We had to go back-”

Now the bile was solidifying, mixing with its owner’s thoughts. “That’s not what I mean.” Her eyes closed as she took a deep, steadying breath, but when her eyes opened Tyrant seemed only quizzicle, absolutely nonplussed.

“...I don’t get it.”

No, you wouldn’t. You can’t. It’s not in your nature. “I was always the cruelest to you. You and Navigator. You’re the part of my Marceline that’s the most loyal and devoted. You trusted me, and look what I did to you.”

“Aw, Bonnibel…” The princess didn’t resist when the older woman pulled her back into her arms, letting her rest against her shoulder. “Don’t be like that,” she murmured against her lover’s pink temple as she kissed it. Against her better wishes the scientist smiled at the oddly tender gesture. “You know I accept you exactly like you are, right?”

Exactly. Therein lies the issue. Tread carefully, Bubblegum. “But… that’s the problem, Marcy,” Bonnibel whispered. “I took advantage of that. You began life as the whole’s sense of loyalty and devotion and I manipulated you. I turned you against yourself because it suited me. At my worst I practically controlled you, and at my best I was barely passable as a mate. I took loyalty and devotion… and I corrupted both into submission.”

“Mm.”

Bonnibel didn’t object when Tyrant pulled her closer. Did she deserve the embrace, that oddly tender affection? No. But the Baddie undoubtedly needed it, needed the younger woman’s warmth. Even in their brief time together, before her untimely death, the princess had realized that much. How could she deny the vampire now? How could she stand to be so cruel? No. Not now. Never again.

“But… you’ve always been the dominant one between us.”

Bonnibel laughed humorlessly, almost argued the point before her Common Sense stopped her from making a dreadful mistake. Ask. Don’t tell. “Do you prefer it that way, Marcy?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t the answer that stunned Bonnibel. It was how quickly it was offered, how very certain Tyrant sounded. There was no hesitation, no reluctance, it simply Was. “It’s… better this way, Bonnibel.”

For you or for me? A fair enough question. “For you or for me?” The candy golem kept her tone conversational, centuries of experience in controlling her emotions around foreign and potentially hostile dignitaries suddenly invaluable. Tyrant more than any other part of her Marceline was attuned to the younger woman’s body language, her tone of voice, all of her little tells. Any lie, any omission and Tyrant would see right through it, and unable to flee to protect her own sanity, if she sensed something amiss, if she even thought for a moment that she was causing the young scientist distress, she would run the risk of self-destructing. Bonnibel Bubblegum knew all about self-destructing.

“Both?”

Bonnibel laughed, this time affectionate humor creeping in. Tyrant just sounded so adorably bewildered, as if she had not never truly thought of the implications of her assertion that this arrangement was in their mutual best interest. With a kiss to her cold cheek the younger monarch pulled away, letting her hand rest on the vampire’s. “Are you asking or are you telling?” It was risky, she knew, to tease this particular Marceline- but maybe the semblance of normalcy will be good for her, reassuring even.

Tyrant blushed slightly, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand. It was the second time she had expressed her nervousness with that gesture. “...Both?,” she repeated.

Now Bonnibel’s smile was genuine, and not purely for the Baddie’s benefit. Perhaps she sensed it, because the sight eased some of the tension away from both the musician and the tension between the two immortal women. Yes. I can work with this. You might be corrupted by my own hand, but you’re still Marcy. “You wouldn’t feel comfortable otherwise, would you?”

“Not really.” Nervousness passed, Tyrant dropped her hand. “I guess it’s kind of a security thing? I’ve never really thought about it, to be honest,” she shrugged.

Interesting… Although Bonnibel had long suspected that was the case it was a different matter entirely to hear confirmation from the one part of her lover incapable of lying to her. It does make sense, though. Even whole she’s unable to harm me. I suppose when you’re terrified of what you’re capable of it’s reassuring to know you can be stopped. When she squeezed Tyrant’s hand Tyrant squeezed back. If she can say it, so can you. “I… know what you mean, Marcy,” she whispered. “We’ve always relied on one another for accountability. If it came down to it…”

She trailed off, closing her eyes as a new onslaught of unpleasant memories commenced. Tyrant made a noise of understanding, of concern, of recognition, before pulling her princess back into her arms. “...Guess I’m not the only one who’s had those thoughts, huh?,” she murmured as the younger woman settled her head back ontp her shoulder.

Bonnibel shook her head, arms snaking their way around her vampire’s waist. “...No,” she admitted. “I know what I’m capable of, Marcy,” she muttered around a blush triggered not by embarrassment, but by shame. “I’ve… become much more introspective since bringing you home. I’ve had to be, in order to improve myself and be worthy of my status as your mate.” She sighed, head turning so she could bury her face in Tyrant’s chest. “How did you put up with me? With what I put you through?”

Even muffled, the Baddie could hear the heartbreaking sound of her lover’s voice cracking, and she kissed the shell of her ear to stop whatever track the princess’s train of thoughts found itself on. “You know the answer to that, Bonnibel. Besides, there’s always been good stuff too, you know? I know Nav told you all about it.”

The inconsistency prompted the death spiral that was Bonnibel’s sense of self-worth to halt, at least for the moment. Though she didn’t pull away she did turn her head, glancing up to catch the singer’s eye. It was true that Navigator had gone well out of her way, moments before her death, to reassure her best friend that everything would be alright. However- “Yes, that’s true… but that conversation happened in Lady Evil’s Citadel, shortly before her death. You were already…” Pause. Unpause. “You weren’t around to hear it. How did you know?”

“Mm.” Tyrant pulled back slightly, not enough to break the embrace but enough to lift her left arm. “Same way I have this.”

Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Bonnibel shifted her position, turning to see what it was that apparently gave the Baddie insight into events that happened after her demise. What she saw caught the breath in her throat and threatened not to give it back. She opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her and instead she settled for reaching out, hand shaking. How did I miss…? But there it was, and the princess would know the sight of it anywhere, the feel of it anywhere. “...My offering..?” she asked in quiet awe.

Tyrant chuckled. Now it was her turn to wiggle, to give the younger woman the opportunity to confirm that she was indeed seeing what she thought she was seeing because there it was, hugging the fallen Baddie’s arm: sheer black with gold streaks of demonic text, impossibly strong, warm to the touch, and crowned with a piece of Bonnibel’s very soul, embedded in the royal gem that had once been her own. Unable, or perhaps simply unwilling, to do otherwise she consented to the younger immortal turning her arm this way and that, finding her perplexity rather adorable all things considered. “Yeah. Remember? The forest where we found The Morrow’s Egg? You gave it to me? It was kind of a big deal.”

Bonnibel laughed. She couldn’t help it. There was just something about Marceline’s lop-sided smirk, about the mischievous glint in her eyes, that made any awful feeling fleeting. Instead it was replaced with a foreign but welcomed warmth blossoming in the candy golem’s chest, something that drowned out her self-doubt and chased away her melancholy. She couldn’t help it. Marceline simply had that effect on her. “You’re such a butt,” she mumbled playfully, smile growing when Tyrant snickered her agreement with the assessment. “Am I to presume I’m dreaming, then?” Although that made the most logical sense Bonnibel found herself hoping she was wrong. If it is, then I still can’t apolog-

“Eh… kinda?”

“Kind of?” She settled back in her lover’s arms for what she hoped would be a good or at least entertaining excuse. It didn’t escape Bonnibel’s notice that when Tyrant held her once again she wrapped her right arm around the younger woman, but allowed her left arm - vambracer included and especially - to be held against the candy scientist’s chest, directly over her heart. Tyrant was quiet, but Bonnibel knew better than to press her question, both because she knew it logically impossible for the Baddie to disobey or ignore her, and because the older woman finally seemed at ease. What right do I have to rob her of that sense of peace merely because I’m impatient? Even the thought caused her nose to wrinkle in disgust, but she kept the sentiment to herself. They were having a nice time. Why ruin it?

When Tyrant did finally answer her voice seemed far away, not from melancholy or detachment, but as if she were reliving some fond memory. “I had something like it happen too, way back in the ol’ days when my soul first chose yours. I dreamt about you.”

“What did you dream about?”

A wince, but it quickly settled, too swiftly for Bonnibel to draw attention to. “I was bloodlusting. It was like some mondo-weird out of body experience. Like… I could feel all the rage and anxiety and stuff, could feel junk breaking in a bajillion pieces in my claws, could feel how good it felt to gank things and rip heads off, but I couldn’t stop it. I mean I can’t really stop it anyway, but this was super not being able to stop it.”

“Like you were stuck?”

Tyrant nodded, tensing at the memory of her dream, but one kiss to her cheek and she relaxed once more. “Yeah, that’s a pretty grock word for it. I was just stuck in ‘wreck everything up’ mode. Then… you were there. And I kinda freaked out, ‘cause you’ve seen me bloodlust. You know what I’m like. It was a dream, though, so I didn’t know if I’d be able to keep my prom about not hurting you if I was stuck like that. So… I was pretty scared, you know?”

Bonnibel nodded. She may not be a demon, but she had seen her paramour in that state of mind before, had even held her, whispering soft reassurances of love and support as she tore herself apart in contrition for those she harmed without intending to. “I know, Marcy.”

“You… weren’t afraid, though. You just went right up to me and hugged me. Held me? You told me to relax, and… I did. It was like a switch. I was back in my body, I was calm. Like nothing had happened. It was freaky, but in a good way. I felt like me again. Wasn’t even bloody anymore, it was all just… gone.”

Just like that? “What else did I do? Anything?”

“You told me that it was time to go home.” Tyrant shook her head to clear whatever emotion was starting to make itself known and Bonnibel held the arm against her chest tighter. “So I woke up and I felt… pretty rockin’ actually.”

Bonnibel allowed herself to indulge in a smile. “Is that when you knew? That your soul had chosen mine?”

“Yeah,” Tyrant sighed, not uncomfortably. “I knew. I could like… feel my soul looking for yours? Kinda hard to explain, sorry.” She offered a sheepish grin. Bonnibel returned the gesture with a kiss.

“Perhaps, but I understand,” she started gently. “I suppose it was your mind making logical sense of what happened with your soul.”

“I guess. You’re the brainlord, Bonnibel.” An affectionate tease. Yes, Bonnibel could definitely get used to that from her Tyrant. “Not sure why I dreamed about that, though. Mondo weirdness.”

Now the train of thought was on a better track. “Mm. Perhaps not,” she mused. “Perhaps it was the manifestation of one of your greatest fears.”

“...Bloodlusting? ‘Cause that actually feels pretty good.”

Bonnibel chuckled, both at the statement and the confusion inherent within it. “No, silly. You’ve always been terrified that you’ll hurt me.”

A sharp intake of breath. “Oh. Yeah. That,” Tyrant muttered. “I mean… I can’t, but…”

“But whole you theoretically could.” The embrace tightened, becoming a mixture of affectionate and protective. Perhaps enjoyable from Marceline as a whole, but from this one in particular? A slippery slope. “Shh…” Bonnibel stroked over the fingers held against her chest, reminding their owner through her warmth that she was alive and unharmed. I’m safe. See? “You’ve never harmed me, Marcy. You’ve always taken your vow with deadly seriousness. You’re the reason I’m here still, and I mean that quite literally.”

“I guess…”

So you say, but you sound uncertain. You’re not even aware of it, or you wouldn’t be able to- The pieces clicked. “I think, Marcy… that your dream was a way of reassuring you that everything is alright. You’ve always been afraid of what’s inside of you, but I’m not.”

“...Yeah. I know.” The protective edge to the hold abated, leaving only the original affection. “You rock.”

Debatable. But not a debate worth having. Not now, not with Tyrant, not here. “I suppose this must be a similar situation for me. You, the Whole you, accepted my offering this evening. I may not be a demon, but I devised a method for my soul to artificially choose yours. I don’t believe it to be a coincidence that I’m facing my demons - no offense intended, Marcy, please don’t look at me like that - when you faced your own after your soul chose mine.”

Tyrant tilted her head. “So… what are you facing?”

You. But that wasn’t entirely accurate. It wasn’t Tyrant herself that Bonnibel feared. How could she? How could she ever fear any part of her queen, the woman who loved her unconditionally, who had stood by her through everything, who had accepted her exactly as she was? Even Usurper defined me as her mate in the present tense, and psychological torture not withstanding she never harmed me directly. Even she was bound by the promise. No, it wasn’t Marceline Bonnibel feared above all else. It was- “Myself, Marcy.”

“...Bonnibel?”

The candy golem turned, letting the arm she was using as a security blanket return to its owner. Instead she caught Tyrant’s gaze, needing her to see the sincerity and understand why Bonnibel was there. Now is the time for me to confront my demons. This may be a dreamscape, but my emotions are real. You taught me that. “We share many things in common, Marcy, but one thing we never intended on sharing was our mutual fear of hurting the other. I never realized how destructive a force I was in your life until I acted as the catalyst to your mind shattering.”

Tyrant frowned. “But… I mean, like I just said, Bonnibel, you’re the reason that I’m… you know. Trying and junk.”

Bonnibel gave her a soft smile, cupping her cheek. “I know, Marcy. I ground you. But you also ground me. I hold you when you inevitably fall apart, but you protect me from myself… and I never realized that until I-” say it say it say it “-killed you.”

“But… you had to. To bring us back.”

“Yes. That doesn’t make it any less… traumatic.” Now it was time for their positions to reverse, for Bonnibel to pull Tyrant against her and allow her to listen to her favorite sound in the world: her princess’s steady heartbeat. It elicited a soft purr from the Baddie. That and the fingers stroking down her mohawk. “You made me realize what I had turned into, and what I had sacrificed to do so. For the privilege of being the most powerful monarch in Ooo I sacrificed my best friend. I know better now, but…” A humorless chuckle, but it didn’t get far: Tyrant pressed herself closer. That was a much better feeling. “...I’ve been using your death to torture myself. I’ve always been so focused on punishing unconscionable failure that I never really considered that… how do I put it...”

“...I don’t want you to?”

Bonnibel laced their fingers, curling her hand around the cool thumb stroking her palm reassuringly. “Yes. You’ve only wanted to build up, whereas I’ve been focused on being punished for my crimes.”

“...Think that’s why you dreamed of me? Like, specifically?”

The candy golem settled her cheek on the demon’s forehead. “Yes. You were - are - such a large part of Marceline. You’re self-deprecation, you’re submission… but you’re loyalty, too. You’re still so loyal, even now, and I think…,” she took a deep breath, exhaling her reluctance and trepidation, “...I think that the best way I can move forward with you is to let go and stop beating myself up for who I was. I need to respect that you wouldn’t want me to suffer, let alone inflict it upon myself. Indeed, that would go against everything you’ve ever strived for, both individually and as a whole. It would be an insult to what happened here, at this cabin, for me to look at this opportunity and see only a way to harm myself with it.”

Tyrant chuckled, holding up her left arm. “This isn’t meant to be a cage, you know?”

Bonnibel took the Baddie’s hand with her free one, kissing the knuckles. “Yes. It’s freeing in a way I never imagined it could be. Now I can grow into a better person. A better ruler, perhaps, but… first and foremost, a better person.” The hand was released so that she could tilt the vampire’s chin up so that their eyes met. “You taught me that. You showed me how. Thank you,” she emphasized wholeheartedly. “I understand now. I was a monster, that is inarguable, but I’m not that person anymore.”

“Except to peeps all up in your biz?”

Bonnibel pressed her mouth into a thin line and Tyrant snickered. “...I amend my statement. I was a monster, but I’m not that person anymore. To you.”

“Just to the lessers?”

“Precisely.”

Now the snicker was actual laughter, which in turn became a devilish grin. “Rock. I’m proud of you, Bonnibel.”

For some reason, that made the candy golem blush. Instead of confronting that bundle of curious emotions she instead reached up, tapping the soft pink collar. “Do you want me to leave this on?,” she asked one last time.

“Yeah.” No hesitation, no nervousness. It still Just was.

Bonnibel gave her a soft kiss, letting her fingers trail from her cheek to her neck, resting over the collar. “Very well, Marcy. If you feel better not altering our dynamic, I can certainly respect that desire.” It wasn’t like she disagreed with it, after all, and with one last reassuring tug her hand, and the matter, were dropped.

“Thanks, Bonnibel. I gotta ask, though. What are you gonna do when you wake up? This is nice, don’t get me wrong… but you gotta wake up sometime.”

That was an interesting question. The princess hummed in thought, resting her hand over the vambracer. It’s so warm. Her expression brightened into a devious smile. “I think, Marceline, that you and I have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

Tyrant grinned. She’d know that smile anywhere. “Cool. I’m sure I’ll love rebuilding my trophy collection.”

“Mm. And do you plan on healing them this time?”

“Eh. See how the day goes. Why rush art?” Bonnibel chortled, finally breaking the embrace to stand. When she offered her hand, Tyrant gladly took it. As the Baddie rose to her full height the cabin door slid open, and both royals glanced over it. “Pretty sure that’s your cue that you’re waking up, Bonnibel.” Despite everything, there was still a twinge in the candy monarch’s chest at the idea of leaving Tyrant behind. It must have read quite easily, because the half-demon squeezed the hand that lay so comfortably in her own. “It’s alright, Bonnibel. I’m not gone. Remember? Still me. And when you wake up next to me? Still me, too.”

Bonnibel breathed a sigh, perhaps of relief, perhaps of hesitation. In the end, though- “Yes. You’re right, Marcy. Walk me out?” Tyrant nodded, leading the way.

“Come on, Bonnibel,” she smiled. “Let’s go home.”

14 notes · View notes

silenthillmutual · 5 years

Text

if the heavens ever did speak

we were born sick, you heard them say it.

writing exercise thing, warning for some pretty bad feelings under the cut y’all

his life has always been a kind of race of one life-ruining decision after another, so his death is - more or less - to be expected. it’s the kind of thing he could have approached nonchalantly, if taka would just realize he wasn’t worth the arguments and let things be. but even after he’s shown his cards, admitted his guilt, lined up for the firing squad, he is still knee-deep in denial.

there is no part of this mondo enjoys. there is no quantifiable “hardest” or “worst” part about it, because every single second feels just as terrifying as the next. he acts out of impulse and a lack of self-control and he doesn’t sleep and he more or less just waits around for them to find him, and he thinks, to himself, ‘the worst part is that i have killed a living being again’. and then once that’s sunk in and he’s started to feel so terrible that everything is numb, he thinks, ‘the worst part is now ishimaru will hate me’.

about the last part, he’s wrong.

the worst part is that he doesn’t. the worst part is that he beats down every accusation until he’s almost physically falling apart from the strain of it all. the worst part is that even when he’s accepted what mondo’s done he doesn’t even hate him for it. the worst part is watching makoto try to hold him back from doing something dumber. the worst part is hearing that he voted for himself. and again, all of that absolutely pales in comparison to the absolute pinnacle of worst parts, which is the fact that the last thing he ever hears is kiyotaka ishimaru screaming for him as he’s dying.

dying, itself, isn’t that bad.

there’s a pretty big disparity between what mondo thinks he knows, and what he realizes he actually knows when he wakes up. it’s like when your alarm clock goes off, but you don’t wake up, you just hear the buzzing in your dreams. that’s what taka’s screaming sounds like, and he is trying so desperately to think and he can’t over the sound. and then, it’s cut off, abrupt, and he knows that it’s because taka has run out of voice. and somehow, that’s just worse.

that’s it. it only ever gets worse.

he doesn’t have that moment where he thinks he’s alive and the slow, horrifying memory that he is, in fact, dead that he’s read about so much in fiction. he knows that he’s dead. it just doesn’t help matters much. he thinks he’s stuck where he is, facing white walls and monochrome tile and somehow it all looks more bleak than it did this morning.

he’s wrong, but what else is new? he can move, just not like he did before. he can’t move on his own terms.

if he thinks it was bad before, it is absolutely nothing. not even death is a reprieve from the consequences of his actions.

it’s funny, how daiya used to say that when people died, they went to sleep and never woke up. it’s more like being awakened, and never being allowed to go back to sleep. here’s a fun fact: kiyotaka doesn’t either.

his body (or what passes for it now) is tethered to every minute movement kiyotaka makes, and it’s like being a partner in a dance but you are blindfolded and also deaf and mute and in fact you do not exist at all. everything is one long stretch of silence punctuated by jerks. which should be kind of funny, because every memory he has of taka makes him seem so practiced.

speaking of memory. he has so many.

they don’t “flood”. that’s another thing he’s seen - that when you get temporary amnesia, it will all come back to you in chronological order. it’s kind of gross for him to think about every memory montage that ends with some guy running to some girl and kissing her at the end because when he follows that train of thought to the last stop he certainly has a lot of memories and they involve running and they involve kissing and they involve kiyotaka and he is aware that he didn’t have any of these until he woke up and saw white. they are both new information and old.

worse. worse, worse, worse. it’s worse that for the past however many days they’ve been here he’s acted like such a tool. lining up for his execution he thought about how taka blamed himself for mondo’s actions and mondo thought about how funny-but-not-funny-haha it was that if he had actually let kiyotaka into his life earlier he might have learned something about self-control. not that it was taka’s job to teach him things he should have learned long ago, learned from his first five hundred mistakes, but it couldn’t have hurt to know.

he feels something crawling on his back, like when people make spiders of their hands to tickle and scare you. he never liked it at age 13, and he doesn’t like it any more now that he’s dead.

there’s something in his head about kiyotaka running his hands through his hair because he’d let it stay down out of the shower, and taka told him it suited him and he told taka he’d better not tell anyone else about it. and then he’d laughed, a lot different from how he laughs now, because only mondo could hear him.

right now, the real kiyotaka, the alive kiyotaka who doesn’t remember the things he does, is looking at his hands.

he’s not sitting on the bed, or anything. he’s standing by it, like a toy put up on a shelf so that he can’t be brought down and played with in the middle of the night. just standing there, still in his boots, staring at his hands that are shaking.

mondo kind of wants to blow him over. he kind of wants to say hey, do you remember the first time we held hands, and you apologized because hands were sweaty and you didn’t know how to do it properly, so you kept letting go and trying again and saying it was for ‘practice’ and i pretended to be embarrassed about it?

but it’s kind of hard to say any of it without a mouth.

taka opens his own mouth, but no sound comes out.

makoto is probably trying to help. it’s hard to really tell anything when he has to see it all from over taka’s shoulder, but his consciousness swings around wildly and he doesn’t get to direct where it’s aimed. he wants to get a good look at taka’s face, but at the same time he’s afraid to. everyone who catches a glimpse of it looks away in guilt, and if mondo could still talk he’d call them cowards.

no one but makoto actually makes an effort.

all in all, mondo feels something like blurred surprise that taka even bothered to leave his room. hours passed with him just breathing, not making a noise or even crying. he moved, eventually, from standing by his bed to sitting next to it, never on it. to mondo’s knowledge, he never slept, just stared at the walls in grief until it was time to meet everyone for breakfast.

he didn’t change his clothes, and he doesn’t eat. mondo remembers it with flashbacks to pets he’s loved that slunk away to a corner and starved themselves at the end of their life. and it’s getting worse still that he can see what ishimaru is doing, but a, no one else seems to care, and b, there is not a damn thing he can do now to stop it.

the whole class is gone for about fifteen minutes when he stands up and walks back to his room, his boots making echoes of the floor.

“i wish you’d talk to me”.

it’s the first thing taka says in more than 48 hours. there is elation somewhere beneath the surface where he still has experiences he can’t physically interact with. his voice is strained and thick from overuse and tears. mondo was such an idiot to ever think he’d want him to stop talking. it’s karma.

if he really tries, he can move his point of view enough to see taka’s face. his eyes are pointed at his lap, his knees drawn up to his head and his arms on his legs. it’s not a comfortable position. he can’t remember what it feels like to wear the same set of clothes for two days straight but he knows it can’t possibly feel good.

“i know you’re there.”

worse and worse and worse. is any part of this what mondo wanted? had he wanted to stick around and watch over taka, like he could keep him out of trouble?

bringing pain to people, even in death. yeah, that sounds like him.

he feels like he’s sliding off to the left and tries to hold himself in place so he can watch as taka pulls his head slowly, eyes staring at nothing.

the hands on his back start to take shape, from restless blobs into restless fingers.

when taka hears about alter ego, mondo can practically feel the manic energy vibrating off of him.

there’s a kind of danger in the false hope. he’d like to think that taka doesn’t know it’s there. he’s so cautious in everything he does, in the way mondo remembers him buttoning up his jacket every morning, and rebuttoning it every time he stood up, folding out the creases from sitting or laying down. every habit he’d instilled had been an effort of manual programming.

mondo remembers hating it the same way he remembers loving it: small moments, built up over time. and it takes a good deal of time to establish standards, but not much time at all to burn them to the ground.

he thinks and he shouts with as much force as he can, don’t go. and for now, taka listens.

there is something rotten in the state of denmark.

mondo remembers reading hamlet. a play about a teenage boy who has seen so much tragedy that he starts to slip. attempts are made on his life, even by his friends. he sees ghosts everywhere. his personality fractures into something barely resembling the person he used to be. in short, he doesn’t cope.

what mondo remembers most is discussing this play first year and ishimaru being very loud in his opinions. the question had only been, were the ghosts real? toko said it didn’t matter, taka said it did. she said they only existed as a rule of symbolism. taka said denmark needed better mental health services.

that was like him. that was like him then. but he knows ghosts are real now.

he gets another note under his door, slipped in the middle of the night when he has, for once, taken at least his shirt off. he hasn’t eaten in at least four days, and it’s starting to show.

“i think i’m starting to remember something,” he says to the ceiling.

the note passes under at some point in time he thinks is after midnight. and he reads that too-good handwriting and mondo knows that it’s hiro’s, but he also knows from over two years with the guy that he has never figured out a damn thing in his life and he never will. this is a trap, and he whispers to taka because he figures it doesn’t need to be said, don’t go.

and taka, this time, doesn’t listen.

when things flood, and they do this time, it’s like everything just behind where his ears should be is screaming. he’s known that he can’t stop this, and has felt fists grabbing full hold of his back and tugging. but his grip on ishimaru is other-worldly. he wouldn’t stay here for anything else, and he’s not leaving until he absolutely must.

what is forming into his head as he’s standing half-there between ‘existing’ and ‘not’ a pounding that just goes worse, worse, worse. he can hear it, now, clocks ticking and footsteps and when he tries to grab ishimaru’s hand to make him look at what’s coming for him he hears that same wheezing out-of-breath laughter no one else but him ever has, or ever will, get to know.

he wouldn’t tell anyone if they asked, but: kiyotaka ishimaru goes out with a smile.

#nori talks #nori writes #death cw #ishimondo #(sorta?)#anyway. not sure what prompted me to take a smaller whack (haha) at this.#icarus.docx #mine

35 notes · View notes

deadmandairyland · 6 years

Note

Chihiro Fujisaki for the ask~

Thanks for the ask! I probably put way too many words in this. I hope you like reading!

002 | Give me a character & I will tell you

How I feel about this character:

Chihiro is probably my favorite character in Danganronpa. I think there was a time where I would have said he definitely was my favorite, but I have to give credit where credit is due because most of the characters in this series are amazing and uniquely and creatively designed. But Chihiro will always be near the top of my favorites if he somehow isn’t in first place. He is an unsung hero of the series. Without him the survivors of DR1 would have never escaped the school. He is at least in part responsible for the creation of the Neo World Program, which is a key part of the Hope’s Peak Academy arc’s lore. Supplementary materials often show Chihiro being at least somewhat involved in the backstory of the series. As I mentioned back when Absolute Despair Girls came out, Chihiro was basically the Adventure Time snail of the series for a time, showing up in or being mentioned in about as many installments and spin-offs of the series as Junko Enoshima. I’m pretty sure Chihiro has made more appearances in one way, shape, or form than friggin’ Komaeda, and everyone loves Komaeda. (Though screentime, on the other hand, is another story. I think it’s safe to say Junko and Komaeda won out on that end)

All in all, I feel that this is a character who deserves better–not just because he died such a tragic death, but in a meta sense as well. I feel like the series, after building up Chihiro in flavor text for so many installments, decided to backpedal a bit and make him more of a footnote than anyone important. This is especially disappointing considering that when most people talk about Chihiro, most of the time it’s in reference to the gender controversy, rather than his accomplishments in the series. Granted, this is a very important aspect of Chihiro’s character as well, and I’m not going to go out of my way to be a dick to people who say they saw something different in Chihiro than what I saw, but whenever I go through the tags it does seem like Chihiro seems to be one-note to a lot of people, and I feel it is a shame because there is a lot going on there. Themes of inner strength and resurrection and how destructive enforced gender roles and bullying in Japanese high schools can get when taken to the logical extreme. A lot of this seems to be ignored. I mean we all joke about how Chihiro’s birthday is Pi Day, but how many people also realize it’s White Day, the day when boys are expected to give gifts back to girls in response to being given chocolates on Valentine’s Day? Thinking about it that way, it makes you wonder what Chihiro’s birthdays were actually like. With all the talk surrounding Chihiro’s gender, I’m surprised that I’ve never seen anyone speculate on this. Might make for an interesting fanfiction prompt too, regardless of how you view Chihiro’s gender identity.

This got awfully wordy and more political than I expected it to get and I apologize. Though, to be fair, Danganronpa is a very political series… usually. Still, this is just a fun little meme, and I don’t intend to dive head first off a cliff into the sea and jagged rocks of fandom discourse, so let me end this segment by briefly saying another thing I like about Chihiro that will hopefully lift all of our spirits before we move on:

Chihiro is a sweet and adorable cinnamon roll that we do not deserve.

Just look at his smiling face!

No matter how sad I am, that smile will always make me feel a little better, if not outright happy.

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

Well, I could look over the charts I’ve made and find probably a million Chihiro ships (okay that’s a bit of an exaggeration; it’s probably more like twenty, which is still about fifteen too many), so I’m just going to stick with the big ones.

Naegi, Asahina, Sakura, and Ishimaru.

…Maybe Mondo. Maybe Leon. Maybe Mukuro. Maybe real world Chiaki. Maybe Kuzuryu. Maybe that Yukimaru guy who we sadly never get to see. Maybe Miaya… who we sadly never get to see. Maybe a crap ton of others…

But mostly the first four I listed.

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

All of the “maybes” in the previous section.

Am I cheating at this? Yes.

…

My unpopular opinion about this character:

Don’t worry. I won’t be going for the obvious joke. (I mean I better not, especially after that first segment. It would defeat the purpose of that giant wall of text I made you sit through)

Instead I’m just going to remind anyone who thinks Chihiro is overrated and wasn’t an important character that Chihiro vicariously saved Naegi’s life and therefore the other survivors’ lives as well and y’all can suck it.

Also there’s that thing I made a thing in my DR3 fic that I still haven’t finished yet or even updated since November (oh my god it’s May already) where Chihiro is a fan of professional wrestling and that’s now a headcanon of mine that I’m sure very few people have or would agree with.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

This might seem like a cop-out, since this is Danganronpa and all, but I wish Chihiro survived.

To be fair it wouldn’t make sense from a narrative standpoint. Alter Ego is essentially a replacement/doppelganger for Chihiro, so having them co-exist in the story would be jarring. Also Chihiro plays the part of sacrificial lamb perfectly, and the foreshadowing leading to Chihiro’s death is written remarkably well. (Even as far back as the very beginning of chapter two, which occurs immediately after Leon’s execution, Chihiro is distraught over having sent Leon to his death, and Chihiro even says that he would rather die than do that again)

But that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it, damn it.

#LetChihiroLive2018

my OTP:

Naegi x Chihiro. Two adorable cinnamon rolls with heartwarming and occasionally sad Free Time Events that actually tie into the plot in such a way that they actually feel 100% canon. There is also that punch to the gut that happens at the end of Chihiro’s FTEs if you manage to get them all. Naegi’s reactions to Chihiro being gone are also heartbreaking, especially in the anime adaptation which includes this response to Alter Ego being crushed into a ball that I admit there is a possibility I could be taking out of context here but it’s worth mentioning.

“We lost him again.”

And of course, as I mentioned before, Alter Ego saves Naegi’s life later, which means Chihiro saves Naegi’s life, which means Chihiro effectively saves all of the DR1 survivors. Important character is important.

Oh, and also Naegi can give Chihiro a thong for a present, which is still hilarious to me. I mean I know Chihiro isn’t the only character who likes the thong, but even Togami liking the gift isn’t as funny to me as Chihiro liking it. And Togami alone liking it is straight-up absurd. It’s a thong. That you can give as a gift to other people. During a game where people are forced to kill each other in order to escape what is essentially a prison. A thong. The only thing that would make it funnier is if it changed the outcome of School Mode. “Hey, remember this thong you gifted me? I’d like to return it, because it just occurred to me that this is a really weird gift. Why, Naegi? Why did you give me a thong for a gift? You could have given me perfume, or a Kirlian camera, or a portable video game console, or a punk rock T-shirt, but no. You gave me a thong. Why?”

But for the most part, it’s their interactions. FTEs included, I love all of the interactions between these two, both one-and-one and with the group. It always seems like they have each other’s backs and care about each other’s well-being. Chihiro even foreshadows the memory wipe very early on in the game in a way that makes me wonder how close they might have been before the memory wipe.

Also, they’re just sweet to each other and it’s adorable and heartwarming and, y’know, goals. But if you prefer your ships to be more interesting, these two do have that potential what with their baggage and all–Chihiro for obvious reasons and Naegi being just some guy in a relationship with someone who is far smarter, nicer, and more talented than him. So if conflict (though it’d likely be more along the lines of inner conflict, or conflict dealing with others outside the relationship) is what you’re looking for, there is potential for that too, even if we don’t see it very often.

(Honestly I think that’s why there isn’t a whole lot of content of this ship, at least nowadays. It seems like a lot of people ship it, but no one really writes for it much or draws much of it beyond fluff. The ship itself, I think, is seen as too fluffy for engaging storytelling… if you’re not thinking outside the box, anyway)

my cross over ship:

Pick a programmer, a hacker, or an intentionally gender-ambiguous or “otokonoko” type character who is roughly within Chihiro’s not-fully-established age range from any work that I’ve personally seen or played and I’ve probably considered shipping Chihiro with them at least once. Honorable mention goes to Pidge and Saika Totsuka, whom I’m pretty sure I’ve at least talked about and compared Chihiro to on this blog.

a headcanon fact

Remember when I said that the series seems to be backpedaling a bit after making Chihiro have an ungodly amount of behind-the-scenes importance? Well screw that. I mentioned it here a couple years back (and I have since mellowed out on the whole “If Chihiro isn’t important in DR3 we riot” thing so don’t worry about that), but I’ll mention it again. IF said that Chihiro recognized Monokoma’s programming as something he worked on. His FTEs say that he was working on an AI project for some company. And Usami looks way too much like Monokuma to be a coincidence.

So screw any potential retcons that may come out of Monaca Towa being the mass producer of Monokuma units, because I believe that the company Chihiro was making the AI for was Towa, and Monaca modified the AI to fit Junko’s needs, which would tie everything together into a neat little bow.

But sadly, this is still only a headcanon. But it’s one that I feel has a lot of weight to it, and that the series has yet to make impossible. So I’m clinging onto it like a friggin’ koala.

Holy crap, this was long! And yet I feel like I haven’t said much of anything. It’s tough to bring my thoughts into words sometimes. But I think it’s plain to see (damn it, Tsumugi, get out of here, we’re not paying your VA double for this post) that I love Chihiro, and he’s definitely one of my favorite DR characters if not my top favorite.

Thanks again for the ask!

#dangan ronpa #chihiro fujisaki #makoto naegi #naehiro #chi-the-hero

25 notes · View notes

derpyflowergarden · 7 years

Text

Comfort In Weird Ways

Crossposted on AO3 This was self indulgent nonsense I wrote a long time ago. I mean, I wrote Mondo in a skirt, so why not a bra?

((CUT FOR LENGTH))

It was supposed to be a secret. No one was ever supposed to find out, but of course lady luck had never been on Mondo’s side. He should've known he was going to get caught sooner or later, he'd just been hoping it could've been later than now.

If anyone asked, he could lie and say it was mostly the fault of his classmates or even Fujisaki alone, but he knows deep down he only has himself to blame. He just wishes it hadn't been Ishimaru who found out.

It had started a few weeks prior when some of the class had been hanging out in the cafeteria. Classes were finished and it was the weekend, and the few who were still at the school instead of heading home all hung out together playing games and just enjoying each other’s company. That night it was Mondo, Chihiro, Leon, Asahina, Oogami, Hifumi, Enoshima and Ikusaba. At the moment, a game of truth or dare had been going. So far, Leon had to drink a mixture of coffee and Sprite, Hifumi had admitted that he enjoyed watching My Little Pony (of course he did) and Enoshima had to attempt eating a huge chili pepper that had gotten from the kitchen.

“Now let's see, who shall my victim be?” Enoshima said in a cutesy voice, eyeing her classmates before finally setting her sights on the biker. “Alright Oowada, truth or dare?” Mondo cursed internally. As fun as truth or dare was, Enoshima was known for her crazy dares and pinpointing truth questions. But he'd could totally handle whatever the fashionista threw at him.

“Gimme whatever dare ya got.” And this is what started everything. Enoshima sat back and through for a moment, bringing her finger up to her lips as she pondered what she could make Mondo do, before a sadistic grin spread across her pretty features.

“I know exactly what I'm going to dare you to do! I'll be right back!” With that, the Ultimate Fashionista stood up and ran towards the dormitories. Mondo tried to hold back the shiver that his body was threatening to release.

“Aw man, this should be good.” Leon laughed, and Mondo went to swat at him.

“Should we continue...or do we wait for Junko to come back?” Asahina asked, and the class agreed to continue their game. It had been two more rounds before Junko returned, and she was actually skipping, a bag held in her hands.

“Alright Oowada, here's my dare for you!” Junko said, and she thrust the bag into a confused Mondo’s lap. “I just knew this would come in handy! The company I ordered that from sent me the wrong size, and let me keep it after I sent them a glowing complaint as compensation!” Junko chirped. Mondo opened the bag and looked inside, and immediately after he shut it and his face went scarlet.

“What's in it?”

“Is it a frilly maid outfit?”

“Was it something dirty?”

“Enoshima what the fuck?!” Mondo growled over the chorus of exclamations.

“Your dare is that you have to wear that all day on Monday, and you can't cop out and just stay in your room! Also make sure your shirt is white, I wanna make sure you're wearing it!” Junko grinned, and Mondo cringed as he looked down at the bag in his lap. Suddenly it was gone and Mondo looked up in time to see Leon pull out the articles of clothing (or lack of) from the bag. Some of girls giggled and some gasps were heard, while Leon wolf whistled.

“Damn, this is sexy! Too bad it's getting wasted on Mondo!” Leon laughed and held up the lace lined black bra. It was much too large for Junko’s body, but it looked large enough for Mondo to wear somewhat comfortably. Mondo snatched the bra out of Leon’s hands and flung it back in the bag. “Fuck you Leon! I'll fucking rock this damn bra!” Mondo growled at the red head, glaring daggers until Junko declared that she couldn't wait to see the look on the rest of the classes faces.

Fast forward to that Monday, the day where it actually began. Mondo had woken up extra early in order to prepare himself, hell it had taken him all of Sunday to get ready, but now he stood in front of his mirror, holding the...article...at arms length in front of him. He wasn’t going to lie, but he had originally thought if he were ever going to hold a bra this close to him, it would be taking it of a girl, not putting it on his body. But that idea had also flew out the window when he realized he wasn’t really into girls, but no one needed to know that.

But that was besides the point. Right now, Mondo looked down at the bra once more, thinking maybe he if stared at it long enough maybe it’ll poof itself out of existence. When that hadn’t happened, the biker groaned before slipping the garment on. He had already wasted enough time as it was, and he knew if he didn’t show up for the first class, Enoshima would make him do something worse than this.

Get a grip! His mind screamed at him. It’s just a piece of clothing! What are ya getting so freaked out about?! Yeah, it was just a piece of clothing. No big deal. Mondo struggled a bit as he fumbled trying to reach the clasp on his back (thank God Chihiro was able to show him how to put it on one Saturday, as he almost ripped the garment in half in frustration), but eventually it was strapped on and

Holy shit.

This was weird! What the hell! Why the hell did this feel so...so…

Nice?

No seriously, this wasn’t supposed to feel comfy, it wasn’t supposed to feel cool against his skin and...supportive? It actually fit him, it was kinda snug on the sides but it fit. The only weird issue he had was the fact it cupped out in the front and made his pecs look like actual boobs, but only slightly since the bra stretched more sideways and Chi had taken out the wires. Why did this feel so nice?!

His phone buzzing signaled that he was going to be late(r than usual) and Mondo had threw the rest of his clothes on and headed to class. It was awkward having the feeling of pressure on his shoulders from the straps, but he didn’t mind it all too much. ‘This is gonna be easy!’ Mondo thought, as he strode towards the classroom

It was when he walked inside the room when his peers all locked their eyes onto him that Mondo realized that it was not, in fact, going to be easy.

“Hey, there’s the man of the hour!” Leon called out, and everyone turned to look towards the doorway. Mondo froze, and he felt his face flush slightly, not expecting to get so much attention.

“Kyoudai, you’re 8 minutes la…” Kiyotaka had started to scold him, but trailed off as he looked at him. Mondo saw his eyes zero in on his chest, and he had to keep himself from turning tail and taking the bra off.

“Aw, you actually showed up, and here I was ready to give you such a great punishment.” Enoshima pouted, but she smirked at Mondo’s growing discomfort, watching his face grow darker by the second.

Mondo ground his teeth and quickly stormed over to his desk, sitting down heavily, glaring at the dark spruce wood desk. He refused to acknowledge the giggles and whispers of his classmates. Nope. He was not going to give them the satisfaction. He can do this.

“Mondo...why...er...why are you…” Kiyotaka started, but trailed off, and Mondo fought the urge to bang his head on his desk.

“I dared him to do it on Friday! He has to wear that all day or else I give him a worse punishment!” Junko exclaimed, and a mixture of nods and understanding murmurs spread, and Mondo groaned. Thankfully, the teacher had shown up then, and began the lesson, but not before giving him a funny look. Mondo slipped down in his seat and pretended he was not in class.

It wasn’t until after the humiliation he had gotten during class was over did things look better, and Mondo pretty much was alright during the rest of the day, except for the awkward atmosphere he’d have while with Kiyotaka, although he couldn’t tell if it was because he was wearing a bra or not.

Mondo thought that after that day, that would be the end of it. He dealt with wearing a bra for a day, and he no longer had to think about the lacy black comfy bra he wore.

() () () () ()

“You want me to do what?” Chihiro had asked him in surprise, and Mondo fought the urge to flee.

“I want ya to help me buy another bra.” Mondo repeated. “I know this is fuckin’ weird Chi, but yer the only one I can ask. I mean, I figured you’d be able ta help me cause you’ve bought girly clothes before and I thought “bra’s are girl clothes” and yeah it’s not exactly the same thing but-” Mondo rambled, his voice growing louder and his body starting to shake.

“Mondo!” Chihiro cut him off. Once Mondo was quiet, Chihiro walked over to their computer and began typing something, before gesturing the nervous biker over. Chihiro had pulled up a frilly looking website.

“I use this to order my clothes. I don’t like the pressure I feel when I order clothes in the store, so I order my clothes here. They even have a section for lingerie for men.” Chihiro said, and Mondo felt his jaw drop. Chihiro giggled at his expression. “Don’t look like that. You’re the one who said you wanted another bra. Besides, it’ll be nice knowing there’s someone else who’s like me.” Mondo shook his head, before smiling and ruffling Chihiro’s hair.

So after a week, Mondo had not one, but three new bras. They had a special sale of three for 20$, and considering the normal prices were ridiculous, the pair had jumped on the chance. After the difficulty of getting the correct sizes for Mondo (“Wait there are numbers involved in bra sizes? I thought it was letters?”), they had ordered a white, nude, and gray bra for him.

“All I ask is you tell me how they feel after you wear one for the first time. I’m curious how it goes.” Chihiro had said. “Also, make sure when you wear them, don’t wear white like the first time.”

It had taken another few days until Mondo finally managed to put on one of the new bras. Again, he felt a surge of...something when he put it on, and it actually fit correctly without causing a weird lump in his shirt like the black bra. It wasn’t even noticeable in the mirror! Yet he had still felt some apprehension for when he walked into the classroom, but no one said anything, and he Mondo felt relief wash over him. After that, he was able to get away with wearing a bra about once or twice a week without getting any weird looks or comments from his classmates. Besides Chihiro, everyone was none the wiser.

Until now.

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, and it was one of the weekends that Kiyotaka was staying at the school grounds. So the two of them had decided to go out and get lunch together, have a bro day. It had been crowded around the area, so Mondo had to park farther down from their destination, but that had been no problem to the two, the weather was nice and it gave them a chance to walk off the food. The two had been enjoying their meal, laughing and joking as always, until Kiyotaka noticed that they sky was growing darker.

“Perhaps we should get back, it looks like it will rain soon.” Kiyotaka said, and Mondo agreed. Neither of them had brought an umbrella, and they had taken Mondo’s bike to get here. Kiyotaka was nervous on Mondo’s motorcycle as it was, in the rain it’d be impossible.

They had gotten about a third of the way to where they had parked when it the rain started. It was a total downpour, and the two of them rushed under a bus stop.

“Damn, it really coming down.” Mondo commented once they were safe from the rain. They were on a small side street, and besides an occasional car or rushing passerby getting out of the rain, it was pretty much quiet. “Ya think it’ll let up soon?”

“I hope so, I wouldn’t want to stay here all day.” Kiyotaka had replied, looking up at the sky. Mondo tried not to stare at his friend, but it was kind of hard not to. Kiyotaka’s hair had slicked back from the rain, the lighting from the sky making his face look sharper, more angular, and his shirt was clinging to him, showing off the muscles that were normally hidden. In short, Kiyotaka look extremely attractive, more so than usual. Suddenly, Kiyotaka was looking over at him, and Mondo gave him a sheepish smile. When Kiyotaka didn’t return it, Mondo began to panic.

Shit! He probably noticed him staring. Had he been making a weird face? Did he look creepy? Mondo saw Kiyotaka’s face grow red, and he was sure that Kiyotaka was going to call him out on being a creepy asshole when:

“Mondo...are you wearing what I think you’re wearing?” Kiyotaka asked, and Mondo paused in confusion.

“Huh? What are ya talking about, I’m not wearing anythin-” Mondo looked down at his clothes and

Oh.

AHHH HE FORGOT HE HAD PUT A BRA ON TODAY! Fuck! He had totally forgotten he put the skin toned one on when he grabbed it while looking for his socks. Now because of the storm, just like his Kyoudai, his clothes had also started clinging to his body, and it had made the bra stand out.

Shit Shit Shit!

“I...it’s uh…” Mondo tried to form an excuse, but he couldn’t think of any. It’s not like he could say it was on a dare, the only believable culprits were at home, and it’s not like he could say it was a lump on his body.

“Mondo, I-” Kiyotaka began, and that was all it took before Mondo began his nervous babble. “Alright look it’s just a bra I didn’t get dared or anything it’s mine I bought it it feels nice and I like how they look and I swear Kiyotaka if you say anything I’ll-”

“Can I see it?”

The pounding rain sounded so distant, and the two boys stared at each other. What?

“...What?” Mondo asked, and Kiyotaka slapped his hand over his mouth. Kiyotaka’s face looked as red as Mondo’s felt.

“I-I didn’t say that! Forget I said that!” Kiyotaka exclaimed, his hands rushing to this motions of his ‘Forget Beam’ before he quickly turned away.

“Hell no, did you just ask if you can see my bra?!” Mondo asked, grabbing Kiyotaka’s shoulder and forcing him back around.

“Ngh! It was a slip, I didn’t mean to ask that.” Kiyotaka said, guilt written across his wet face. “I just...thought it looked good on you the first time you wore one, or what I could see from it. I had been wondering what it looked like without...err…” Mondo was floored. He thought Kiyotaka had felt embarrassed by him that day, not flustered!

“Wait, you ain’t grossed out by this?” Mondo asked, and Kiyotaka shook his head.

“No, of course not! If you wish to wear this, then I will support you! If I were disguisted by this, then how could I face Fujisaki? I have no problem with you wearing a b-bra at all.” Kiyotaka said, and Mondo felt relief wash over him, however it didn’t last long.

“So...you like seeing me in this?”

“Yes!...er...yes, it's very...appealing?” Kiyotaka glanced away again, and Mondo had an idea. There was a chance he’d say no, but he had to risk it...

“Taka, if ya really want, I’ll let ya see it when we get back…” Mondo began, and Kiyotaka perked up and looked over at Mondo once more. “...only if ya answer me one thing.” Kiyotaka nodded, and Mondo took a deep breath before asking:

“Would you wanna go out with me sometime?”

“...Aren’t we already out together?”

“...I meant more like a date…”

“Oh!”

More rain, and a siren was heard in the distance.

“Yes.” Mondo felt his eyes widen.

“Y-ya mean it?” Kiyotaka laughed lightly, going to take the hand on his shoulder and lacing their fingers together.

“Yes, Mondo, I would be more than happy to go on a date with you!” Kiyotaka said, and Mondo smiled before pulling Kiyotaka into a hug.

“Besides, I think it’d be better if only your boyfriend got to see your undergarments, yes?” Kiyotaka asked confidently, and Mondo stiffened, before burying his face into Kiyotaka’s shoulder. Leave it to Taka to make things extra embarrassing, but it was worth it.

#ishimondo #Kiyotaka Ishimaru #mondo oowada #chihiro fujisaki #junko enoshima #My DerpyFlowerFics #danganronpa #I updated some things so it should read a little better #but I had to do this quickly

19 notes · View notes

spectrumscribe · 7 years

Text

a solo act is good, too.

a Humanverse general TMNT universe fic, mostly using 2012 versions and borrowing from IDW here and there. i’ve always headcanoned 2012 Mikey as an aro/ace, so on the free day of the lgbtmntweek i decided to finally write a fic up for the hc.

(not @ them bc of a slight NSFW situation involved. nothing graphic, it barely lasts more than five sentences.)

“So Mikey, when’d you and Angel start dating?”

Mikey, age nine and a half, hits pause on his current model building project to give a blank stare to his friend across the table. Mondo keeps staring back, expectant.

“What??” Mikey asks.

“Everyone’s saying you’re girlfriend and boyfriend!” Mondo exclaims. He shoves aside his own Lego to lean forwards, whispering fervently, “You know girls have cooties, right?”

“Uh, yeah? Duh,” Mikey says, then remembers that his cousin Karai and friend April will beat him up for saying that, and diverts the subject. “But we’re not dating! Angel just likes Bionicle, that’s all. She’s fun, and we live really close.”

“Girls don’t like Bionicle,” Mondo says. “My sister hates it. She’s gotta be faking it so you guys can date.”

Mikey feels confused. He thought they were just friends who liked the same toys and TV show. And Angel never said so, so they aren’t dating. “But we’re not-!”

“You totally are!”

“Are not!”

“Are too!”

“Boys, settle down,” A passing TA says, and both boys quiet down.

There’s a moment of silence, and Mondo whispers, “Totally dating.”

And Mikey sticks out his tongue, not listening to another word his friend says all through free time. He’ll just ask Angel later, when they walk home from school together.

“My friends were saying the same thing, actually,” Angel says later, when they’re weaving through the streets back to their shared neighborhood.

Mikey scrunches his nose. “What? Why?”

Angel shrugs, reaching up and twisting one of her long dark strands around her finger. “They said we hang out a lot, so we gotta be dating.”

“That’s dumb. Donnie and April hang out a lot and they’re not dating.”

“I said that too, but everyone else thinks they’re dating anyways.”

Mikey groans. “So dumb.”

Angel shrugs again. “It’s not super dumb. I think dating sounds kinda fun.”

“Ew, no.”

“What, you wouldn’t date me?”

“You’re my friend.”

“So?”

“Friends don’t date, they do- friend stuff!”

“My big brother says that dating starts with friendship, though.”

Mikey thinks about that for a moment. “Really? People on TV just kiss a bunch, though.”

“Keno doesn’t kiss his girlfriend too much, they mostly just sit around and talk a lot,” Angel explains. “Or play music in his room, sometimes. So kinda what we do, but I guess big kid stuff instead.”

“So… are we dating, then?” Mikey asks tentatively.

Angel looks at him, contemplative as she examines Mikey’s baggy orange shirt, his cargo shorts, and wildly tangled brown hair. “Maybe? Do you wanna be dating?”

“Uh, we’d still do friend stuff, right?” Mikey doesn’t think kissing part sounds too bad. But only if it’s in little amounts.

“Well duh, we gotta finish Bionicle, right?”

“Oh totally.”

They keep walking for a minute, and Mikey remembers something that people who date are supposed to do. “I think we hold hands now.”

“Oh, right.”

Angel sticks out her hand, and Mikey takes it. They keep walking, go to his house where his brothers are already hanging around in, and they watch Bionicle season 2’s fifth episode together.

They end up kissing possibly three times over the course of the rest of the week, barely pecks on the lips, before Angel says they should probably break up.

“There’s no spark,” She says very seriously. “It’s not you, Mikey, it’s the spark.”

Mikey is hurt for about two seconds, and then shrugs. He’d only really been doing it because people said he’s supposed to. “Okay. You still wanna sleep over?”

It makes a lot more sense, around fourteen, why Angel hadn’t felt any spark for the brief relationship or Mikey. Mostly having to do with her dyeing her hair purple, getting a pink shaded button for her bag, and going steady with Alopex from her apartment building. Mikey isn’t really surprised- Karai had had the same kind of look Angel grew into at the exact same age, and his cousin had been dating girls since she figured out how to bleach her hair.

Mikey, by fourteen, has had exactly one relationship, three first kisses, and lacks motivation to seek out another situation to build those counts. He’s moved on from his Bioncle years- though he keeps some toys, for the sake of nostalgia- and dived headfirst into the Marvel comic’s universe.

The school library has an excellent selection, and at the beginning of his fourteenth year he meets a girl buried up to her ears in that section. Renet and Mikey hit it off immediately, swapping knowledge and recommendations and favorites and strong opinions about individual universes.

“Who’s your friend?” Leo asks after one evening, when Mikey had spent about an hour and a half debating heatedly on the phone. Guardians of the Galaxy verses the Avengers- who did more on the grand scale of things for the earth and its wellbeing? Mikey voted the Guardians, but Renet had fought back valiantly that ground troops frequently made more differences than long-range artillery support.

“Renet! She just moved here like, three weeks ago or something,” Mikey says, hanging up the phone. The debate would have to be continued at school, next lunchtime. He turns to his sixteen year old brother, grinning. “Can she come over for dinner sometime? You guys’ll love her, I swear.”

“Her?” Raph asks loudly from the living room. “Holy shit, did you finally get a girlfriend?”

Mikey frowns. “Uh. No? She’s just my comics buddy.”

“Who you’re inviting for dinner,” Leo says pointedly. “Who you just spent like, two whole hours talking to, instead of texting.”

“Hey Donnie, Mike’s finally got a crush on someone!” Raph hollers. Crashing follows and Donnie skids down the steps of their second story in all his fifteen year old lanky glory. He nearly wipes out on the pile of laundry by the steps.

“Did we get blackmail yet?” Donnie asks immediately, hardly taking the time to steady himself.

“Working on it,” Leo replies.

Mikey slaps his hands over his eyes, groaning. “Guyyys! Shut up! That’s not how this is! She’s just- really cool, okay? And knows about superhero shit!”

He hears his older brothers make disbelieving sounds, and Mikey ignores them all. Maybe he deserves a little teasing- he’d done so to all of them about their crushes- but it’s! Not! Like that!

And then the first school dance of the year rolls around, and Mikey is faced yet again by social pressure to be dating someone. He has limited options for a dance date: his cousin, who scares everyone and is probably too busy to come. His best friend, who has two dates already (Mikey doesn’t know how Mondo managed that or how he’s going to keep that a secret from both dates, but he promises his friend the funeral will be a nice one). His other best friend, but LH is twenty-something and would really scare everybody, even though he’s just a big softie who likes leather too much. None of those dates are acceptable, in hindsight.

Or there’s Renet.

Mikey wants to go to the dance, because dancing is great and he loves social events in general, so he agonizes a bit and finally asks Renet to go with him.

She turns bright pink when he does, and fumbles her hold on issue four of Wolverine and the X-men. “O-oh, Mikey. I didn’t know you, um, felt that way about me?”

Mikey rushes to abolish that idea. “No! I mean- I like you, but not like that! It’s just a stupid dance, okay? I just want to dress up nice and go dancing, I swear.”

Renet sighs in relief. “Okay, good. I’m not really supposed to date until I’m older anyways. I’m glad we don’t have to have such a totally uncomfortable convo.”

Mikey slumps in his chair, huffing. “You and me both. So will you?”

“Be your date?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure! I love dances, they’re totally bodacious,” Renet giggles, and Mikey grins in return. His friend’s outdated slang has to be one of his favorite things about her. He kind of wonders why isn’t crushing on her- Renet is curvy and cute and knows a ton about comics- but she’s just his friend.

Mikey puts that thought aside, and asks Renet what the hell a corsage is.

When the night rolls around, she shows up in a dress and hijab that’s color coordinated and he puts on actual dress pants for once. He wears his favorite flannel and a bowtie borrowed off Donnie- and grins and bears it as his father, brothers, and their friends all snap pictures of him and Renet.

“You two are so cute,” April comments, taking a picture as Mikey sticks his tongue out at her.

“I hate all of you,” He grouches, but smiles again so Renet’s parents will have good photos. At least he gets to have revenge, snatching up a camera and getting all the angles possible of Leo, Donnie, April, Casey, and Raph in their outfits. The five of them are going stag together- for reasons Mikey is Highly Suspicious of, regarding Donnie, Casey, April, and Leo in particular- and he’s only a little mad they didn’t tell him going stag was an option.

The dance itself goes great- good music, good mood, mediocre refreshments and minimal buzzkill from teachers supervising. Mikey sees and meets his family throughout the evening, throwing down on the dancefloor with Renet and their classmates. He sees Leo making his Nervous But Trying Not To Be face as he talks to a couple of his classmates, mostly towards one Asian guy with dyed white hair. Mikey also sees Raph drifting from the group with his friends and twin, towards the punch table and snacks, which leaves Donnie, Casey, and April shimmying in a circle and looking really awkward, and why can’t they just figure themselves out already, jeeze.

Mikey focuses mostly on twirling Renet around, and having fun with that. Mondo, who is soaked in punch from his dates dumping him and going off together, gives Mikey meaningful looks directed towards Renet.

Mikey ignores his friend and highly awkward family members, and just enjoys dancing with his comics buddy. Renet, at the end of the night, is flushed and grinning and Mikey really does wonder why he doesn’t feel the need to kiss her. She is awfully cute.

When the drop her off at home, all they say to each other is a reminder that comic swap is this Thursday and to remember to bring the ones they’d borrow from one another. And then Renet leaves, shutting the door and shutting Mikey inside a van with his stupid nosy family.

“So,” Leo says, and Mikey doesn’t have to look towards the driver seat to hear that grin.

“You two crazy kids kiss tonight?” Casey finishes, poking the back of Mikey’s head. Mikey swats the hand and tells them all to piss off. His family does not in fact piss off and pokes for juicy details for at least another few blocks.

There’s no ‘juicy details’ to tell, even after he and Renet meet up the rest of the week and keep meeting up. They swap comics and have debates and just hang out, still just friends and unchanged from the dance date. Mikey wonders on and off why he doesn’t have a crush on Renet- or anyone, really- but brushes it off in favor of the new Superior Ironman series coming out soon.

It stays that way, through years fifteen and sixteen- while Leo finally works up the courage to admit out loud he likes guys and ask Usagi out, Donnie and Casey and April keep making circles around each other and the elephant in the room, and Raph starts making eyes at a cadet in training he’s met at the gym. Even Renet starts going steady with a boy her family approves of, and she approves of even more so, and Mondo goes through about five more relationships, all ending in various states of chaotic mutuality.

Mikey watches his family and friends all be in love or at least interested in other people, and Mikey just keeps feeling more interested in his comics and skating.

“Maybe you’re gay, like me,” Angel suggests at one point, while they’re sitting at her kitchen table and cramming for a bio test.

“I dunno, maybe?” Mikey answers, and doesn’t feel against dating a guy, but feels about as enthused as he would dating a girl. Or anyone in between, honestly.

“You already tried girls, give some guys a shot. More for me.”

“You thinking of cheating on Alo?”

Angel flicks an eraser at Mikey. It lodges in his coils and he doesn’t even bother getting it out.

“Hell no, and if you say anything like that to her I’ll bust your kneecaps.”

“Noted.”

Mikey actually gives it a shot, dating guys. Dating in general. Keno introduces Mikey to a delivery boy his age at a local pizzeria, and Woody’s not bad to hang out with. He’s got curly hair to Mikey’s coily, freckles except in red, and skates most weekends. And he likes comics, albeit indie ones, and they find a bit of common ground by breaking in each other for new fields of reading.

It goes great, chaste kisses and holding hands and having coffee dates to skate parks- up until Woody asks to take it a step further. And Mikey doesn’t… want to.

“Is it your first time or something?” His boyfriend asks, and Mikey nods. “Then we’ll… wait, I guess. Until you’re comfortable.”

“Thanks,” Mikey says, and tries to not feel guilty for not being ready right now. He knows for a fact Mondo lost his virginity ages ago, described in detail that Mikey had to make his friend shut up about, that Angel lost hers a while ago, told in much less detail, and that most of their classmates have. He also knows that his brothers had at least tried things at this point, and Mikey hasn’t.

He feels a little left behind and frustrated about it.

He tells his buddy, Linnorm Hirutarum, named after a dragon because his parents had been awesome, all about it as LH tends to the vegetable patch behind his tiny house. Mikey flops all over the grass by it, grumbling and sighing, and snitching lettuce when he pretends LH isn’t looking.

“If you are not ready, then you are not ready,” LH says sensibly in his usual growling tone. Which is default for him and basically his version of a warm-fuzzy tone anyways.

“But I should be!” Mikey exclaims. “Everyone else was. Is. Augh.”

“Have you talked about this with Woody?”

“I… I don’t want him thinking it’s about him. Because it’s not! It’s just stupid whatever stuff for me and I need to get over it.”

LH’s shadow falls over him, and Mikey waits for his huge friend to gently lower himself onto the grass. LH’s wide scars move with him as he does, displayed by a sleeveless shirt only in the safety of the hedge protected backyard. His hand comes down on Mikey’s veritable afro, and pats Mikey’s head as he keeps talking.

“I know people who have made rash decisions about these sorts of things,” LH says seriously. “If you are not ready, then do not force yourself to. Respect your own boundaries.”

Mikey sighs, but agrees to respect himself. It’s easy to agree in that moment, with only LH’s non-judgemental presence near him, but it’s harder when he’s with Woody again and trying to explain himself without being rude.

He gives it a try, the whole sex thing. LH said to respect his boundaries, but Mikey thinks he can do it if he just figures out how it goes. Everyone else likes it, so shouldn’t he?

They talk about it, set up a date, and Mikey gets ready to experience the… experience.

It ends up being an unexciting, uncomfortable half hour of sloppy kisses and bumping parts. Mikey tries his best, but can’t figure out why anyone works so hard to experience this.

When it’s all over, Mikey hasn’t felt anything remotely close to pleasure, and actually feels a little over touched. Woody is a bit flushed, breathing fast by Mikey’s ear, but doesn’t seem super pleased either.

“…you didn’t enjoy it, did you?” He asks.

Mikey covers his eyes, and sighs. “No. Sorry.”

“Yeah, I thought you didn’t. Sorry, Mikey.”

“It’s not your fault,” Mikey says, taking his arms away and staring at the ceiling of Woody’s room. “I’m pretty sure this one’s all on me.”

They sit in stiff silence for a moment, before Woody asks if Mikey wants to stay for dinner. Mikey declines as gracefully as he can, and goes home instead. Slogging upstairs and heading into the shower to wash off.

He’s pretty sure he shouldn’t feel so much better, alone in his bedroom and freshly cleaned of the lingering smell of body fluids. His brothers find him there later, in a bathrobe and watching the original Twin Peaks on his laptop, and they ask him why he washed so early.

Mikey debates for a moment, and decides they’ll find out somehow anyways. “I had sex.” He’s unsurprised to hear Leo choke on his own spit, and Raph and Donnie make twin sounds of shock and disbelief. “Yup. Popped the cherry but good. You guys can stop teasing me about it, now.”

Does he sound a little bitter? Mikey thinks he does. From the way his brothers hover awkwardly in the doorway, they heard the bitterness, too.

“…you okay, Mikey?” Leo asks, genuinely concerned.

Mikey shrugs. “I’m fine. It just went awful, that’s all.”

Raph pats Leo on the shoulder, simultaneous with Donnie, as they both silently nominate the eldest to deal with the situation. Leo shoots them both an abandoned look, but steps into Mikey’s room to come sit on his bed. Mikey doesn’t pause his video, using it as a distraction from his prickling shame.

Leo watches him for a moment, before asking, “You used protection, right?” and Mikey groans, covering his face.

“It wasn’t that kind of sex, okay?”

“Oh. Um. Good?”

“Smooth,” Raph comments from the doorway, audibly swatted at by Donnie.

“Anyways,” Leo recovers. “You were both… you talked about it beforehand, right? You both wanted it?”

“Yeah,” Mikey says miserably into his sleeve.

“…you know first times are always bad, right, Mikey? It takes- um- practice-”

“It wasn’t because of that, Leo. You can stop.”

“Thank you,” Leo says gratefully. Donnie and Raph snicker from the doorway. “So… what was it because?”

“I can’t believe this is a conversation we’re having.”

“Shh!”

“If it’s somethin’ that kid did-”

“Raph we talked about that contingency already: only if Mikey says so-”

“It wasn’t Woody,” Mikey says, before death threats start getting thrown around. “It was me, okay? I made it suck.” He takes his arms off his face, shooting a look at all three of his siblings. “And before you say it- no it wasn’t just because it was my first time. It sucked ‘cause I suck and I couldn’t figure out how to enjoy sex, okay?”

A beat of silence, all three of his brothers staring at him, and then Leo breaks the lull.

“Mikey… you don’t ‘figure out’ how to enjoy sex. You just- enjoy it. It happens naturally.”

Mikey’s cheeks burn and he scowls. “Well apparently not with me.”

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right person yet?” Raph suggests. “I mean, you know me and how things go with that.”

Mikey shakes his head. “I kinda doubt it; I’ve tried to get crushes on like, ten different kids at school and nada. Zip.”

Donnie tilts his head, long hair following the movement. “Maybe when you’re older you’ll be more interested?”

Mikey sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe. I hope so. But it’s been like- never a thing, okay? I should’ve had feelings or whatever at some point, at least once, right?”

A collective “uhhhh” from his brothers and Mikey turns over into his pillow to suffocate himself. Leo pats his back comfortingly, saying Mikey should just give himself more time, keep an open mind to chances in the future- and Mikey makes a wordless complaining sound into his pillow for it.

He and Woody break it off a few weeks later. His friend tried, and Mikey recognizes that, but Woody needs a relationship that involves stuff Mikey just… can’t figure out how to give. He tries only two more times before they just call it quits. It’s not working, and trying to make it work is just frustrating for them both.

They keep being friends afterwards, and that’s actually better in the long run. It’s everything Mikey really wanted out of the relationship anyways, so he doesn’t feel like he’s lost anything.

He feels shitty for not being able to put out like he wanted to, though. And that drives him nuts for the rest of the year, until he’s seventeen and graduating finally, and gearing up to follow his siblings to local universities. Donnie graduated ages ago, but stayed local because of their family and he, April, and Casey’s really obvious secret relationship. Casey is in mechanics, and April in general sciences; Donnie is in both and more, because he’s insane. Leo is already a few years into his share of university courses, a hopeful nurse in the future, and Raph is neck deep in his art courses.

Mikey doesn’t know what he’s going to go for, and signs up for a random collection of electives to start with. Social sciences and psychology looks sort of fun, and so do dance courses. But those are months away, and before then is summer, family time, and June’s Pride Parade.

They’ve gone a couple times, when everyone has the day off from work or classes, and this year Mikey doesn’t have a shift at his outreach program scheduled on the parade’s date. So he, his family and friends, all end up watching the parade go by in a loosely connected group.

The standard drag queens, sponsor programs, and generally proud and loud folks roll by, music and cheer its usual levels of boisterousness. Mikey snags a couple plastic necklaces that are being given out, and just enjoys hanging out with his family. He waves to Angel and Alopex as they march by, part of the local lesbian representatives, watching the familiar pink and red flags flutter as they do, but pauses as the next group follows them.

It’s just a handful of people, walking with grey, white, purple, and black flags, mixed with ones very similar but instead of purple, they have green. There’s some polite clapping as they go past, and Mikey nudges Donnie beside him. “Hey, Donnie, what’re those flags for?”

“I… don’t actually know?” His phone is out within seconds, reflexes of a true technology addict. “Let’s see what our almighty lord and savior google has to say about it.” Mikey pushes close, reading as much as he can as Donnie flicks through the search faster than he can take it. “They’re- huh. They’re for ‘asexuality’ and... ‘aromantics’? I don’t even know what the second one is, and I’ve never heard about that first one being applied to anything other than asexual reproduction.”

“More explanation, please?” Mikey asks impatiently.

“It’s says- don’t push, I’m trying to scroll- it says it’s for individuals with little or no sexual drive, or little to no interest in romance. Actually that sounds contradictive, why are they listed together…”

Mikey’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

“Well, that’s a gross oversimplification of everything here. There’s a spectrum for it, and apparently different categories? This is actually pretty interesting. I wonder why I’ve never read about it before.”

Mikey snags the phone from his brother, scrolling back to the top and rereading the first few paragraphs. He ignores Donnie’s grabby hands and keeps reading, feeling a twisty hopeful emotion build in his chest.

“Here,” He says, tossing the phone back at his brother. “hold my spot.” And he takes off at a jog to catch up with the parade members. They’re not too far ahead, and Mikey just has to avoid slipping on stray necklaces as he runs over to them.

“Hey- hey!” He shouts, catching up with the first person he can. The woman turns questioningly towards him, and Mikey blurts, “When did you- did you first know?”

She blinks at him, adjusting her hold on the big flag pole on her shoulder. “Excuse me?”

“That you’re asexual,” Mikey asks, heart tempo speeding up. “How’d you know?”

She stares at him a second longer, and then grins. “Around the time I had my first girlfriend, and I looked back at the times with my other partners and figured out I was always more interested in watching the movie than I was in making out.”

Mikey grins back. “Yo- same hat!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Totally! My ex always wanted to make out during Luke Cage and I was always like- dude no there’s good stuff happening. That’s. Wow.” Mikey feels a little breathless. “So that’s what it is? It’s not like- just a me thing?”

He barely hears the crowd around them, his focus tunneled around the conversation and the woman holding the flag. Mikey waits for a denial or an okay, a little scared while he’s so excited.

The woman smiles kindly. “No, that’s not just a you thing. We’re not a huge community, but there’s aces out there. Do you think you’re one of us?”

“I don’t know, I’m- I’m hoping so?” Mikey’s heart does a little twist. “I mean. My bro just pulled up the google explanation, and it sounds really, really. Um. Like me?”

The woman reaches up to the front of her jean jacket, and reaches into a pocket. When she pulls out her hand, she holds something out to Mikey.

“Look into it a little more, but if you think asexuality fits you- then welcome to the club, kid.”

Mikey takes the little button, grinning ear to ear. He thinks he’s shaking he’s so ecstatic. “Hey, would it be cool if I hugged you right now? I think you just solved like half my life problems.”

The woman laughs, and holds her arm out. It’s an awkward hug, because they’re both still walking and she’s carrying a flag, but Mikey appreciates it wholly.

When he comes back to his family, he’s got a new pin stuck to his shirt and an elated, hopeful feeling in his chest behind it.

“Hey guys, guess what?”

Turns out, not really feeling like dating people is fine all on its own.

So while Leo and Usagi go through the ups and downs of long-standing relationships, Donnie, Casey, and April all share their usual collective awkwardness and romantic overtures, Raph finally lands a date with the cadet Y’Gythgba he’s been following around for ages, and Karai and Shinigami disappear over the eastern horizon to share their seventh anniversary-

Mikey cracks a fresh pile of comics in his bedroom, turns up his music, and calls Renet on Skype to have a comparison hangout of their latest picks. He hangs out with Mondo and Woody around the skate park before that, and rolls by Angel’s place to say hi to his friend and her family on the way back. He pops in at LH’s place, trading half the casserole Angel’s mom gave to him for fresh veggies, chatting about his day so far and plans for a comic binge later. He sees his friends, does what he always does with them, and departs from them all one after another.

When he goes home, enjoying the summer heat all on his own and excited to video call his best girl who-is-his-friend and nothing more- he doesn’t feel even the slightest bit lonely as he walks. Like he always has.

#My writing #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt IDW #michelangelo #asexuality #what a great kid #i really enjoy relating to him on this subject #as well as sliding a few good pairings along the sidelines mhm #and fyi y'gythgba eventually joins the paratroopers and is raph's really cool and buff gf #and shinigami has her nickname in here because of her status as a veritable reaper in the online games she plays #And yes #the capritello trio do eventually figure themselves out and establish a relationship officially #all good things

58 notes · View notes

dawnajaynes32 · 7 years

Text

The Vacvvm: An International “Cult” of Illustrators & Poster Designers

[Call for Entries: The International Design Awards]

Meet The Vacvvm, a creative “cult” that empowers like-minded illustrators from around the world.

On Oct. 10, 2014, a new page appeared on Facebook, attributed to illustrator Aaron Horkey and creative director Mitch Putnam. The first post was a sketch of distinctly Horkey-an creation—an ink drawing of a building, organic sacs clinging to Ionic columns. Etched in the marble frontispiece was a single word: VACVVM.

A day later, there was a rumbling in the niche world of poster collectors. Horkey had started an Instagram account. With a career cloaked in radio silence, his fans’ surprise was palpable. His first post was a pencil and gouache piece titled “Osprey #1.” It was hashtagged #itsme #aaronhorkey. “I don’t possess the desire to bask in the spotlight or be the center of attention,” Horkey says. “When Mitch suggested having a dedicated online outlet for my work, I thought I’d rather build a team with my friends than go it alone.”

The lone bit of information the mysterious Minneapolis-based illustration group known as The Vacvvm offers about itself on its social media platforms simply reads: “An international illustration cult. Co-founded by Aaron Horkey and Mitch Putnam.” It’s an altogether vague explanation if you are not aware of either of those names, and the “illustration cult” descriptor does nothing to clarify its purpose or goal. But for fans who follow the group’s work on its website and social media accounts—including an Instagram following of 45,000 and counting—The Vacvvm acts as a brand, creating and selling limited-edition art prints and goods from top-tier illustrators and artists. In Putnam and Horkey combined, the art collectibles world has its own Steve Jobs—a name that guarantees a preeminent level of quality control. Many devotees preorder limited-edition prints they’ve never seen, in full confidence they will not be disappointed.

[Related: 20 Beautifully Illustrated Alternative Movie Posters | 7 Video Tutorials and Exercises for Poster Designers]

As a concept, The Vacvvm is an attempt to turn the inherent solitude of the artist and illustrator into a group effort—creative motivation found beneath a common banner. The group takes the role of the isolated illustrator and places it in the context of a team. The Vacvvm is cult-building, a brand applying the existing tools of spectator sports to the craft of art creation. Horkey explains: “Growing up I was obsessed with underground comix and skateboarding. The mythos of the Zap artists in the late ’60s/early ’70s and the assembling of the Bones Brigade and, later, the formation of the initial Plan B team in the early ’90s, were serious inspirational touchstones for putting together The Vacvvm.”

The Vacvvm is comprised of illustrators who work in the world of gig posters, editorial illustration, book and package design, as well as personally commissioned work. Through his role as creative director at Mondo, the boutique poster gallery and art department of the Alamo Drafthouse, Putnam is constantly working with illustrators and printmakers on pop culture–based posters and other collectibles. With Horkey at his side, they set out to take those creatives and, as Putnam puts it, “create an environment conducive to the creation of personal, exploratory work.”

Randy Ortiz

The roster of The Vacvvm is an international collection of like-minded illustrators including Randy Ortiz (Canada), João Ruas (Brazil), Nicolas Delort (France), Ken Taylor (Australia), Vania Zouravliov (Russia), Vanessa Foley (England), as well as U.S.–based artists Mike Sutfin, Brandon Holt, Teagan White and Jes Seamans. The number of members continues to grow as Putnam and Horkey discover new artists that fit within the aesthetic of their vision for the team.

The makeup of the group began with Horkey and Putnam’s own tastes. Each artist invited to join was seen through a lens of kinship. These are artists Horkey and Putnam admired and felt deserved more attention than they were receiving. “We also tried to keep the domestic artists rooted in some way to the Midwest,” Putnam says. “We are headquartered in Minneapolis, and the five American members are either living in Minnesota, or are close to the area. The other six are international, which we felt was important, as they often face the biggest challenges with print publishing, selling and shipping.” The concept is as practical as it is altruistic.

“Hibernal Solstice,” Teagan White

Mike Sutfin

Winnipeg, Canada–based member Randy Ortiz echoes Putnam’s sentiment. “I think The Vacvvm has exposed (I know this a trigger word for most professional artists, but stick with me here) me to a wider audience,” he says. “I know when they post some of my work on their Instagram, I get a ton of new followers and eyes on my work. But aside from that, it’s also a great way to sell my prints. I don’t think I’d get half as many prints sold on my own. Plus, Mitch does all the fancy packaging and shipping stuff that I passionately hate doing myself. It might seem minor, but it really helps free up my time to just keep making more art.”

In Putnam, each member has an outlet for turning their personal work into something tangible—a poster, a T-shirt, a pin, button or patch. Once the art is final, Putnam takes over and makes it a reality, handling all aspects of the production, marketing and shipping. As Australian member Ken Taylor puts it, “Being part of The Vacvvm enables me to have the confidence to be able to release something purely based on the idea of doing something I love, with no real regard to commercial confines. Releasing a piece through The Vacvvm ensures that all the right eyes will see the work and more often than not appreciate it accordingly.”

Vania Zouravliov

“Black Lake,” Aaron Horkey

“The Snare,” Aaron Horkey

For the first year of its existence, The Vacvvm was purely a digital endeavor. The artists joined together via the group’s website and communications with Putnam. There were no set release dates and no deadlines for any of the members. The group was there to act as a catalyst for the creation of personal work in between paying gigs. “Going into this, I knew that each member would have varied output,” explains Putnam. “Plus many of them work very slowly. I do my best to work around everyone’s schedule while also suggesting projects that will advance the presence of the group.”

The first release, “Black Lake,” was a timed edition by Horkey. The art was from a gig poster Horkey had done for the Portland-based metal band Agalloch, for a leg of performances in 2011. At the end of the 24-hour purchase window, the one-color letterpress print ended as an edition of 442. With no marketing outside of a Facebook post, The Vacvvm was an immediate success.

Art is Not Made in a Vacuum

“A lot of good and regular art gets made because of who you talk to. No one is immune to human contact and art is not made in a vacuum.” This quote, attributed to the artist R.B. Kitaj, has been used in art history texts as a way to explain the phenomenon of iterations of ideas.

For Horkey and his illustration cult, the name of the group can be seen as acceptance of this fact. The Vacvvm’s artists carry with them the wealth of experience, both shared and in solitude, that has formed their visual styles. Art is not made in a vacuum, but is an active dialogue between yesterday and today, the internal and the external. In the illustrations of Brandon Holt and Nicolas Delort, you see the influence of the classic engravings of Gustave Doré—an ongoing conversation across history.

The name and logo are Horkey creations, ones he chose for their design quality. “A big consideration was how the word would appear visually, and having all those zigzag lines broken up by a single curve of the ‘C’ was very appealing.”

The constricted band of inverted lines has been used on a body of merchandise that is integral to The Vacvvm. Putnam clarifies the role of these branded items: “I think part of the idea was always to put more branded projects out there. We like to refer to The Vacvvm as a cult, and we’re constantly trying to expand the cult. It is my job to make sure that as many people know these artists as possible, and every time someone sees a shirt or a pin on a friend, the message spreads. So even though merch isn’t a big profit center, it is our chosen form of advertising, while also putting small, affordable pieces of art into the world.”

The logo, printed across various products in a bevy of styles, applies the brand-awareness tools of a company like Nike or Adidas to a crew of reclusive illustrators. It serves as a step toward making art as vital to everyday life as more accessible forms of entertainment from the worlds of sports, music and film.

A Move Toward the Physical

The Northrup King Building in northeast Minneapolis sits alongside two sets of train tracks, an optimal location for its first use when it was built in 1917, to store and ship seeds across the country. The building now hosts more than 180 tenants, most of whom are artists. This is the home of The Vacvvm.

Putnam relocated his family from Sioux City, IA, to Minneapolis with the intention of moving his inventory of posters and other merchandise out of his house and into a proper space. With members Mike Sutfin, Holt, Horkey and Teagan White calling Minneapolis home, the space also acts as a workshop. “Spending time together definitely leads to more camaraderie, and the conversations naturally gravitate toward future projects.” This is how Putnam describes the beginning of a new endeavor for The Vacvvm: “gallery events.”

“Occultation,” Vanessa Foley

“Masque,” Ken Taylor

“Silent Aviary,” the first exhibit from The Vacvvm, combined the talents of White and the group’s newest member, the England-based Vanessa Foley. Together, they have a shared love of flora and fauna, the wilderness and the creatures that mill about the forest terrain. “The theme for the show was native Minnesotan birds—again, Mitch’s idea—but after that each artist had free reign as to how that was interpreted,” Foley explains. Each member of The Vacvvm (minus Zouravliov) contributed a piece, as did a host of outside illustrators and fine artists.

The majority of Foley’s work is for American galleries, which she rarely gets to visit. She was flown out to attend the opening of “Silent Aviary,” a chance to meet and shake hands and put faces to names. Providing this opportunity is essential to The Vacvvm and Putnam’s other projects.

They are attempts at creating connections and community, building something beyond an email list, and putting artists in the same room to see what happens—“Magic, for lack of a better descriptor,” Horkey says. He puts this above all else in his vision for the group. “It’s more than just raw talent, which everyone in the crew has in spades. All the members of The Vacvvm produce work which excites me to no end, and they all do so with an unnervingly natural ease; nothing is forced or contrived. For instance, when you watch Brandon [Holt] summon a drawing, there’s no hesitation involved. The piece is just lying beneath the surface, and he’s excavating it—pure alchemy. I also wanted to build a squad of not only the finest draughtsmen, but of honest, stand-up humans, and that’s precisely what we ended up with.”

Nicolas Delort

Brandon Holt

Jes Seamans

‘Machine Hat’ by João Ruas for The Vacvvm’s MondoCon 2015 release

In late 2016, Delort arrived in Austin, TX, from Paris to attend MondoCon, a poster and collectibles convention where The Vacvvm had a booth. For Delort, it was a chance to meet collectors, fans and others that had supported his career throughout the years. Putnam brought out fellow members Taylor from Australia and João Ruas from Brazil to simply be there and be seen. Taylor spent the weekend painting a mural and signing posters for fans while Ruas and Delort sketched at the booth alongside Sutfin and Holt.

Each member had a new print released at the event, but what the group’s attendance gave the spectators falls in line with Horkey’s initial inspiration for the group: “I think of The Vacvvm more as a skateboard team than an art collective; we have a team manager, an insane roster of pros, a few amateurs working their way through the ranks, and some younger folks on flow. Most of us travel together and just shred.”

Brand Building 101: How to Build, Manage and Market a Brand

The post The Vacvvm: An International “Cult” of Illustrators & Poster Designers appeared first on HOW Design.

The Vacvvm: An International “Cult” of Illustrators & Poster Designers syndicated post

0 notes

dawnajaynes32 · 7 years

Text

The Vacvvm: An International “Cult” of Illustrators & Poster Designers

[Call for Entries: The International Design Awards]

Meet The Vacvvm, a creative “cult” that empowers like-minded illustrators from around the world.

[Related: 20 Beautifully Illustrated Alternative Movie Posters | 7 Video Tutorials and Exercises for Poster Designers]

Randy Ortiz

“Hibernal Solstice,” Teagan White

Mike Sutfin

Vania Zouravliov

“Black Lake,” Aaron Horkey

“The Snare,” Aaron Horkey

Art is Not Made in a Vacuum

A Move Toward the Physical

“Occultation,” Vanessa Foley

“Masque,” Ken Taylor

Nicolas Delort

Brandon Holt

Jes Seamans

‘Machine Hat’ by João Ruas for The Vacvvm’s MondoCon 2015 release

Brand Building 101: How to Build, Manage and Market a Brand

The post The Vacvvm: An International “Cult” of Illustrators & Poster Designers appeared first on HOW Design.

The Vacvvm: An International “Cult” of Illustrators & Poster Designers syndicated post

0 notes

dawnajaynes32 · 7 years

Text

The Vacvvm: An International “Cult” of Illustrators & Poster Designers

[Call for Entries: The International Design Awards]

Meet The Vacvvm, a creative “cult” that empowers like-minded illustrators from around the world.

[Related: 20 Beautifully Illustrated Alternative Movie Posters | 7 Video Tutorials and Exercises for Poster Designers]

Randy Ortiz

“Hibernal Solstice,” Teagan White

Mike Sutfin

Vania Zouravliov

“Black Lake,” Aaron Horkey

“The Snare,” Aaron Horkey

Art is Not Made in a Vacuum

A Move Toward the Physical

“Occultation,” Vanessa Foley

“Masque,” Ken Taylor

Nicolas Delort

Brandon Holt

Jes Seamans

‘Machine Hat’ by João Ruas for The Vacvvm’s MondoCon 2015 release

Brand Building 101: How to Build, Manage and Market a Brand

The post The Vacvvm: An International “Cult” of Illustrators & Poster Designers appeared first on HOW Design.

The Vacvvm: An International “Cult” of Illustrators & Poster Designers syndicated post

0 notes