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scorchieart · 5 months

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Double Deflection

Genre: Slice of Life, Comedy

Characters: Maron, White Horse, Licht Klein, Chevalier Michel

Wordcount: ~6400

Prompts: Blue: Loyalty, Yellow: Friendship

Summary: A late-night chat between horses and humans. Each has the potential to offer something, but gestures and facial expressions and mind reading aren't enough to tell when someone is asking for help.

A/N: My entry for the Wish Upon an Aide CC hosted by @lorei-writes and @wordycheeseblob. This story may borderline crack with its execution, but I hope it's an enjoyable read regardless.

If you were to ask Maron what he most wanted in the entire world he might respond with an enthused neigh, throwing back his mane, and a clop clop from his front-right hoof. If Maron could speak, he could say it was to eat carrots fresh from harvest, or to race through the fields outside the palace with the other horses, or to snooze indoors on a rainy afternoon while his rider Licht sang him a lullaby. Or something along those lines. In truth, it is difficult to say. The intricacies of horse communication cannot be covered comprehensively through text alone—tail swishing and muzzle twitching can easily get lost in translation, you see—but an attempt will be made to relay the events of this particular evening from both the equine and human perspectives to most accurately depict the story from all participating views.

Now, as we were saying, Maron, much like yourself and I, often finds it difficult to express his desires when asked on the spot. Any manner of things could affect the answer, from the place to the weather to even the time of day. Indeed, a much simpler question to ask (man and horse) is what he dislikes the most. And in the palace stables on that muggy summer’s eve, Maron was confident he was experiencing the absolute most dislikable thing imaginable.

“By the way, the kitchens were out of carrots.”

Licht ducked his head in time before Maron whipped his tail.

“There’s no use taking it out on me,” Licht said, straightening up and resuming brushing Maron’s flank. “Believe me, you do me a favor eating them. But I swear this time they were gone before I could get to them.”

Maron snorted once and rubbed at his muzzle in what one would believe to be a contradictory manner.

“I doubt it. You should’ve seen the way Yves’s eyes lit up when he read about that new carrot cake recipe from Jade. He ordered double the monthly stock of carrots. And Leon approved it without even batting an eye.” At this, Licht covered his mouth and let out a small groan that on the surface appeared as though he was repressing a gag. Maron wiggled his nose in circular motions in response, which I am told is the horse-equivalent of scoffing and rolling one’s eyes.

“Don’t give me that. I said I’m fine,” said Licht, but both he and Maron knew he wasn’t.

It is at this point I must confess that while I myself am not proficient at human-horse translations, my ineptitude is not a universal ailment. If you were so far unaware, there exist in our world a gifted few interspecial interpreters across the ages. Perhaps you have seen a dog warmly protecting a flock of chicks while the hen takes a bath? Or maybe you witnessed a squirrel rushing to call a goose to save a kitten from drowning in a lake? Sometimes this communication is as implicitly universal as a mother cares for her young, while in more curious cases gesture and sound bind common souls together. On exceedingly rare occasions, such a bond can manifest from one source to multiple different species with zero previous contact, as is the case with the Eighth Prince of Rhodolite. But just as special can be the connection built upon years of collaboration and struggle and trust, and Licht and Maron checked all these boxes multiple times over. Why, when Licht wraps the reins twice around his hands, Maron understands to hurry home because Yves is baking something special. And when Maron bonks his jaw against Licht’s head, Licht knows he’s being chastised. And whenever Licht says “I’m fine,” Maron learned it always to be a lie.

“Really, I am,” insisted Licht. “Let’s go for a ride in the morning. You’ll see.”

Not in the mood for an argument (they always ended up with them going in circles), Maron turned to look out the window and the two resumed their brushing routine without communication. The dewy night air hung thick and silent around them, and several times more Licht had to cover his mouth and cough as he worked. Maron’s ears twitched at the sound, but he never commented further.

Just allergies, Licht told himself. Horse doesn’t know what he’s thinking.

And the night would have continued on unyieldingly so, as it always did when they disagreed in private, were it not for an unexpected development. The hairs on their limbs shot straight up as a cold, prickly sensation overtook the summer warmth, and Licht and Maron spun their heads towards each other in unison. Someone was entering the stables.

Stubbornness forgotten, Maron slowly lifted his head and peered over the high walls. His stall was located in the back corner of the stable, but even through the darkness he could make out the tall cloaked figure leading a horse by hand through the entryway.

Licht tapped his knuckles against Maron’s neck. What do you see?

Maron raised a hoof up and down twice. One human and one horse. Both look male.

Got it. Stay low. Licht quietly reached for the sword he lay on the ground beside Maron’s grooming tools. A prince wouldn’t be so foolish as to wander the palace unarmed, and Licht knew better than most how easy it was to sneak past the grounds undetected through the stables.

Be careful. Maron gently rubbed his muzzle against Licht’s back and ducked low behind the wall. What was meant to be encouragement consequently had the opposite effect on Licht. Maron, like all who lived at the palace, knew of his rider’s unparalleled mastery of the sword. It is said that his skills were only rivaled by two, but Prince Leon was presently knocked out on his couch after a full day tidying up the faction office, and to even consider Prince Chevalier to sneak around at night like some common hoodlum was simply unthinkable. So Maron’s warning made Licht grip his sword more forcefully as he took a defensive stance by the door.

What need would a talented fighter have to visit the stables at this hour? Licht pondered the question as the foot-and-hoofsteps steadily approached their stall. Was it a spy fleeing into the night to relay royal secrets back to his master? A horse appraiser here to kidnap (horsenap) a prized palace stallion to sell off for exuberant riches? An enemy of the royal family who knew the swordsman Sixth Prince was an equine enthusiast and would therefore hesitate to fight back with a defenseless horse on the battlefield?

The truth, as I am sure you have already deduced, was none of the above. Unfortunately, the only living thing in the vicinity that could steer Licht’s thoughts away from the bizarre was currently pondering whether he could fight with a flat brush between his teeth if things became too dicey. And with the intruders now only a couple of stalls away, Licht did not have the agency to think rationally and burst out from his stall ready to swing.

What followed was a short, anticlimactic confrontation that I am sure Licht would prefer never to see the light of day. Unfortunately for him, Maron found the whole affair rather amusing, so I shall provide an abridged account.

No sooner than Licht exited the stall did an overwhelming cough threaten to overtake him. Midway through winding his arm for an attack, he had few options to steady himself from the conflicting forces of his limbs propelling him forward and his lungs pushing him back, and in the heat of the moment he elected to toss his sword upward into the air and simultaneously tackle the mystery man. He had hoped the shock of it all would stun his opponent long enough for him to recover and strike again, but this plan came to an early stop when his midsection was caught by a pair of taut arms and he found himself flipped, lifted, and staring upward into the displeased face of Prince Chevalier.

If you have ever been caught by your elders for sneaking out of your room past your bedtime, you would understand only a fraction of the dread coursing through Licht’s nerves in that moment. Aside from the obvious fact that he ambushed (with the intent to at the very least incapacitate) the Second Prince of Rhodolite, Licht was physically in a state he would best describe as Yves’s Fashion Nightmare™. His eyes were redder and less alert than usual, his frown curved down farther than it had in years, and his typical restless bedhead stuck out at wild angles, not in the least bit aided by the fact that he was currently suspended upside down. But oh, the worst offense of it all was his wardrobe! When the coughing fits had extinguished any hope of getting sleep, Licht slipped into the muckiest boots in his closet, tossed on a tattered old coat from his teenage years, picked up his sword, and headed straight for the stables. He could only pray Chevalier was too distracted by his annoyance to notice the wrinkly, hay-infested, cough-stained mess of his nightclothes.

Chevalier’s stern gaze followed Licht’s to his outfit. Whoops… I forgot to mention Chevalier could read minds as well as narrations.

“Please put me down,” said Licht, his voice barely masking: and spare me some dignity. Behind them Maron let out a sound almost like a chuckle, and Licht shot him a warning look he was sure lost all credibility of appearing threatening.

“What purpose have you here at this hour?” asked Chevalier, still holding on. It took a great deal of fortitude for Licht to not give in to his embarrassment and wiggle his way out of Chevalier’s clutches like a worm, but in the end he swallowed his discomfort and strained his neck to look back up.

“I could ask you the same,” Licht replied, and instantly regretted it. The blood flow to his brain must already be making him hysterical. Is that how blood worked? How long was he upside down for, anyway?

Chevalier’s expression twisted into a deeper frown that easily topped any of Licht’s personal records. “Employ deflection at your own risk, mime,” he warned. But just as Licht was calculating the combined punishment for assaulting and backtalking Chevalier, a sudden gallop echoed across the hall, the pressure on his stomach lifted, and Licht fell head-first onto the mucky stable floor.

Once the pain and shame faded enough, Licht opened his eyes and sat up expecting to find Chevalier towering over him. When all he saw was Maron merrily rolling on the floor whinnying, apparently now fully recovered from the intruder fiasco, Licht wondered if it was all just a sick-induced hallucination. The figures cloaked in night, the galloping, this headache; surely it was all in his mind and he merely tripped and fell from exhaustion. Bothered and bitter, he buttoned his coat and rubbed his bruising head, wondering if anything like this had happened recently, when Chevalier appeared once more in the entryway patiently guiding White Horse back inside.

“You frightened him,” he said when they reached the back stall.

“Me?” said Licht, forgetting his headache and rising to face the pair. In all the years he’d known him, White Horse proved a stallion who did not know fear. Chevalier selected him to be his trusted steed from among all the foals—even passing up baby Maron and his adorable wobbly knees—because he was the first to fully stand on his own and the quickest to wean off from his mother. As the years passed, he only grew more magnificent and intimidating among his peers, heading fleets into battle like the gleaming helmet of the army. White Horse admitting he was afraid seemed the equivalent of Chevalier admitting defeat.

“Indeed. He was shocked to see you bursting out of the stall like a lunatic,” said Chevalier.

Licht felt his eye twitch, and not from the returning pain. “He’s a war horse. He’s seen far worse than that,” he said.

“True,” said Chevalier, “but you have never appeared before him looking so disheveled.”

A knot swelled in Licht’s throat. Was Maron right? Surely he hadn’t neglected his condition so carelessly that he let his appearance grow abominable enough to scare White Horse of all creatures. Yves, perhaps, but that was exactly why Licht had been avoiding his brother like the plague.

“You do have some manner of plague,” said Chevalier.

“It’s only allergies,” Licht countered, muffling a cough into his arm.

“Strange how the clown never developed the same.”

It was only then that Licht noticed Chevalier carried a bag across his shoulders when he pulled something out and tossed it. Licht caught it and looked it over; it was a newly washed towel, like the type soldiers used during training, but the stench it gave off was far more repugnant than even a shirtless, sweaty Prince Jin in the height of July. An earthy smell that lay buried deep in the back of his mind, but Chevalier was not intent on giving him the time to dig it out.

“Clean your face, it is offensive,” he said, then moved past Licht to look in the stall. Maron instantly sobered and stood. “And you, get out.”

“What for?” Licht asked. He held his breath and quickly wiped the sweat and grime from his face.

“This is White Horse’s preferred stall.”

“We were here first.”

“And I asked you first what you were doing here, and you have yet to answer me,” snapped Chevalier. “Our needs supersede yours unless you can prove otherwise.”

Licht and Maron each glared back at him, simmering in place. It wasn’t as though they didn’t have their reasons for choosing that particular stall; Maron enjoyed the bit of extra leg room the corner stall provided while Licht favored it for its distance from the entrance and ease to hide away in. But the other corner stall on the opposite side of the hall provided the same advantages, and Licht and Maron wondered why Chevalier and White Horse couldn’t simply occupy that one.

Normally, Licht would either frame his suggestion of the other corner this way or simply agree to move out to avoid confrontation, but he was ill-feeling courteous tonight after Chevalier banged his head like a boiled egg.

“What’s so special about this one that the others don’t have?” Licht asked. If by now you’re thinking Licht was playing his luck talking back yet again to Chevalier, you’d be right. But ever the megalomaniac (as Prince Clavis would insist), Chevalier acknowledged an informative rebuttal to his authority as a worthy challenge and allowed the conversation to continue for just a little longer.

Chevalier rolled his eyes at this insinuation. “The window,” he responded.

“They all have windows,” said Licht.

“This one provides the best view of town,” said Chevalier, then he huffed. “I grow tired of this chatter. Vacate yourselves before I do it myself.”

Licht was not satisfied, but he knew better than to argue with Chevalier once a discussion was deemed concluded. Though Maron would take some more convincing to leave. They were still midway through grooming and all the tools were laid out and ready after all, but to Licht’s surprise the horse walked out without any prompting, passed Chevalier, and lowered his head to sniff the towel in Licht’s hand.

“Don’t lick that, Maron. It’s dirty,” said Licht, pushing him away. But Maron pressed his nose to the towel and began chewing at its edge. “It’s not food. Stop!” Licht grabbed the other end and pulled and pulled, but Maron’s chomp was firm and refusing to yield.

“Haybrain,” Licht said, tugging harder. “You’d think you were munching on a bunch of—” And then the pain in his head nearly completely vanished as a wave of realization surged through him. Sometimes it takes a little longer for Maron’s messages to reach Licht.

Still maintaining his grip, Licht steadied his stance and asked, “Prince Chevalier, what else is in your bag?”

Chevalier, who had been leading White Horse into the newly emptied stall and therefore took little notice of the tug-of-war behind him, curled his hand around the straps on his shoulder at the sound of his name. “Has your condition also turned you excessively chatty?” he said. “Perhaps some rest will restore your quietude, mime.”

Licht and Maron exchanged a glance across the towel and nodded. “Employ deflection at your own risk. Now!” yelled Licht, and the two charged towards the stall.

If you have been at all paying attention to this unwieldy tale, you may recall the last time Licht attempted to ambush Chevalier earned him an unsavory bump on both his pride and his forehead, and you are probably wondering what on Earth would lead him to believe a second attempt would fare any better. You may also remember in that little skirmish Licht threw his sword up in the air and have probably been questioning this story for the past few pages about where it landed. Rest assured, these inconsistencies shall be answered in due course. But first we must discuss strategy.

In addition to being a gifted swordsman, Licht was also a budding tactician. And while his brothers agreed his open-fighting battleplans leaned excessively self-destructive, no one could deny Licht’s acumen for sneak attacks. Even Maron trusted Licht on this front, which is why he made sure to match Licht’s speed in their charge even though his trajectory would knock him into White Horse. As soon as Chevalier noticed their approach, he whipped around, grabbed the towel with both hands, and ripped the fabric in midair.

The force of the rip wobbled the two off guard, and while Maron quickly managed to steady himself to a reasonable halt before colliding with White Horse, Licht surged forward and knocked his side into a pillar separating two adjacent stalls. But before his fall, he made sure to wrap his remaining half of the towel around Chevalier’s wrist and drag the man down with him. The impact of the hit shook the entire building, causing a certain misplaced sword that was previously precariously balanced just above the princes to slip out of its place and fall. Chevalier, still stuck in the hand trap, roughly shoved his and Licht’s bodies out of the line of descent and replaced them with his bag. The bag cushioned the fall and prevented the sword from ricocheting into anyone, but not without sacrificing itself to the cause as the blade cleanly cut through the linen and deposited the contents within. Dozens of bright orange carrots, of different sizes and thicknesses by the bushel, spilled out from the tear and rolled across the stable floor.

This narrator now takes this chance to inform the audience (and Prince Chevalier) that Licht is also very skilled in deflection. And in humility.

“I’ll keep my mouth shut if you do,” Licht offered once the two managed to pry as many carrots as they could away from the hungry horses’ mouths. They piled the saved carrots into the bag and lifted it together to keep them out of the horses’ reach and from spilling again.

“The information I have on your condition is far more significant than a simple carrot heist,” said Chevalier, unperturbed by the turn of events.

It was the truth. Licht nabbed carrots from the kitchens loads of times before, and the response from the cooks never extended beyond an angry rant to the domestic faction office about coordinating supply every few months or so. Jin always claimed it was probably a herd of hungry rabbits sneaking into the kitchens at night, and that was enough to placate the masses. Missing carrots didn’t spell the end of the world, after all. Surely they would treat this incident in the same way. On the other hand, Chevalier still lorded Licht’s illness over his head like a carrot on a stick (which in Licht’s circumstance meant the exact opposite of that saying). Any moment now he could decide to leave the stables and tell Sariel about Licht’s total lack of self-care. Or worse, he could tell Yves.

No, Licht had to gain some leverage over Chevalier right there and now. If only he could figure out why he was there in the first place.

The bag seemed to increase in weight with each passing moment, and the orange poking out from the rip goaded Licht like a heckler in the audience. He shut his eyes and breathed through his mouth to stave them off. Just their presence muddied his mind—why did there have to be so many carrots?

The best he could do for now was to keep up the deflecting. Even if that meant he had to keep up the talking.

“If White Horse eats this many, he’ll have an upset stomach in the morning,” he said.

“They were not all meant for him, obviously,” Chevalier explained. “When dealing with animals, extra precautions must be taken to guarantee a successful transaction should any anomalies arise.”

Licht pondered over those words. Couldn’t Chevalier ever say what he meant directly? (“No,” said Chevalier.)

“You’re saying you needed hush money—er, food in case other horses saw you two? Were you expecting to wake up the entire herd?” asked Licht.

“Precautions taken for the worst-case scenario naturally account for any hypothetical.”

“Except for my being here, apparently.”

“No, I had accounted for this as well. Though I had expected you to have fled from the vicinity of all these carrots by now.”

The tear gaped slightly as Licht’s hold tensed. Did Chevalier view him as a child who still couldn’t look foods he disliked straight on? Was Chevalier basing his reactions on tests he performed on Nokto, he wondered? He recalled a time years ago when Nokto returned from a diplomatic trip to Benitoite complaining about how their boasting of their recent super successful carrot harvest forced him to cut the trip short. It was the first time in ages Licht felt so strong an urge to console his twin when he heard the news, but what if Chevalier had a different reaction? Something seemed off about it all.

He decided to test his theory. “You’d need a boat-load of carrots to do that. And strand me on a deserted island first,” he said.

“I shall keep that in mind for the next order and charter a vessel from the Jangler,” said Chevalier.

“Nokto already asked us to halt carrot orders to the palace once. Leon told him to submit a lengthy request form with evidence and justifications and we still voted against it, three-to-one. Unfortunately.”

“My word supersedes the clown’s, as well as it does yours.”

“I wasn’t implying otherwise. Only that palace supply orders are under our faction’s scope, not yours,” said Licht. This time the rip tore larger from Chevalier’s end.

Licht really was only speaking fluff at first, but now he felt he was on the verge of uncovering something scandalous.

“In fact, food orders are specifically handled by one of us four princes to prevent showing favoritism to any one noble or grower. And we keep the records of all orders locked in our office,” he continued. “Strange how you were able to run your worst-case scenario calculations when supply was different this month. Was it just a happy coincidence?”

“Enough stalling,” said Chevalier. “Speak your mind directly.”

“Prince Chevalier.” Licht paused and inhaled. “Have you been illicitly influencing the domestic faction’s operations behind the scenes?”

The stables went eerily quiet. Even the horses, who stopped following the conversation ever since the carrots came into view, could tell an intense weight had dropped, and this time Chevalier was on the receiving end. Maron silently cheered for Licht, while White Horse ground his teeth impatiently.

Slowly, purposefully, Chevalier’s mouth widened to a grin. One that simultaneously filled Licht with a sense of victory and unease. “You speak it as though it was a laborious effort, when in truth it does not take much to influence you buffoons. A cursory inspection of your office is proof enough of your dullwittedness, which made it exceedingly simple to send the clown over on his futile carrot prohibition request to peer pressure your lot into establishing a cleaning routine. Even simpler was it to determine which days were Black’s, considering he wakes with an obvious imprint of his couch’s pillow embroidery plastered across his cheek. But simplest of all was slipping the latest edition of Jade’s Renowned Recipes onto the showoff’s desk the morning after one of Black’s cleaning days.”

The only thing preventing Licht from completely tearing up the bag was the understanding that it would drown him in those awful carrots, and that would only make him more upset. “There’s no way Nokto would agree to that,” he said to release some of the anger. “Your plan ended up with double the order of carrots in the end.”

“I never deigned to have co-conspirators,” said Chevalier.

It didn’t make sense, and yet with Chevalier it could. But it took such precise managing and calculating of everyone’s opinions and behaviors to have carried out so perfectly.

“But… but you still miscalculated,” Licht said in a small voice. “With me.”

“An unfortunate side effect of your seclusiveness. Lack of data points skews the probability of success. But this defect is of little consequence in the grand scheme of things,” said Chevalier, dropping his face to a frown once more. “Very well, we shall agree to never speak of this encounter beyond this night.”

A victory? Against Chevalier? On a mental battlefield? By all accounts, Licht should have been thrilled, even if this arrangement meant no one would ever know of his triumph. But a hollowness still dominated inside, different from the betrayal he felt from Chevalier’s reveal. He looked to Maron for support, and even his horsey smile wasn’t enough to satisfy his troubled thoughts.

“You still admitted political subterfuge, even if this is an admittedly minor instance of it. How can we guarantee you haven’t done it in the past, or won’t do it again?” asked Licht.

“You have my word that I have not nor shall I ever plot such an endeavor again without the knowledge and approval of the eight,” said Chevalier.

That should have sufficed, but Licht shook his head. “I’ll need some collateral to prove your sincerity.”

Chevalier narrowed his eyes. “What do you require?”

“Half your remaining carrots,” he said. “And tell me why you did it.” Maron perked up and licked his lips greedily while White Horse snorted and rushed beside Chevalier.

“White Horse says one-fourth and no more,” said Chevalier.

“Half,” Licht demanded. “Yves never would have put the double order if he wasn’t so intent on baking the carrot cake for me.”

Chevalier and White Horse stared intently at each other. You may have guessed correctly that these two make up another human-horse bonded pair, but unlike Licht and Maron, they mainly communicated through staring contests to determine the other’s thoughts and feelings. To the onlooker it is a curious sight, and Licht and Maron watched the pair mentally debate like statues for several awkward minutes until at last they broke apart.

“Agreed. But tonight you must vacate this stall and share your grooming tools,” said Chevalier.

“Fine, you can use them after we finish our routine,” said Licht, and the princes set out dividing the carrots equally among themselves and leading their respective horses into opposite stalls. Maron happily gobbled up his share before Licht could finish setting his tools up again in the new stall, and White Horse solemnly poked his head out of the window as Chevalier passed him carrots at regular intervals. A complacent tranquility settled in as the sounds of horse munching, hair brushing, and the late night summer breeze whooshed through the stables, calming its occupants and warming their hearts. While these two princes were inclined to introversion, the silent acknowledgement of horse care they shared bonded them on that night closer than they ever knew in the past.

Once the grooming session was completed, Maron shook his head satisfied as Licht patted his neck. Licht packed his tools neatly in their kit and crossed over to the other stall, ready to hear Chevalier’s story, when he saw his brother holding two long strips of ribbon, one bright yellow and the other bright blue, up to White Horse’s pearly mane.

“They’d both look nice on him,” Licht said as he entered the stall. He extracted a fine brush from the kit and began working out the knots in White Horse’s mane.

Chevalier watched intently, holding the ribbons closer so Licht could see. “But which will look nicer?” he asked.

Another ripple of warmth began to swell in Licht's cheeks, but a breeze hadn’t blown in a while. Did Chevalier actually value Licht’s opinion?

“Well, maybe the blue will look better in the daytime and the yellow at night,” Licht replied. Chevalier hmmed and took the ribbons back, tying them into different intricately shaped bows on his fingers. No doubt Yves would find them charming, and a small smile involuntarily crept onto Licht’s face as he pictured the three of them dressing up White Horse in tiny bows.

What a ridiculous idea! As if Chevalier would ever agree to that! But still, even though Licht always spent time in the stables alone, the thought of inviting others once in a while wasn’t too indigestible. Is this what it was like to share hobbies? Could this be how Licht could cure his—as Chevalier called it—seclusiveness? They could have been friends all along?

The moment seemed right. He decided to shoot his shot. “Yves has lots more ribbon. And lace, too. Maybe we could all make bows for Maron and White Horse someday?”

“Perhaps,” said Chevalier, all ten of his fingers now bound by bows. “Tell me, do you think White Horse is attractive?”

Or maybe they were never meant to be friends after all.

“Er—” Licht stumbled. “He’s a healthy and well-kept stallion. I could ask for nothing more from him.”

“Not to you. A female.”

“Uhm… You could probably ask Nokto to grab a maid’s opinion?”

Chevalier clenched his fists, crushing the tiny bows. “A female horse,” he hissed.

“Oh!” Licht accidentally pulled too hard on a knot. White Horse turned to him and snorted sharply, dousing his face in chewed-up carrot. Yes, that tranquil moment had definitely passed.

Licht quickly unbuttoned his coat and wiped his face with the hem of his shirt. The very next morning, that shirt would be burning in the back of his fireplace.

“Is White Horse trying to impress a mare?” he asked in an attempt to salvage the conversation.

“We only agreed I reveal my intention for the carrot theft,” said Chevalier.

“Political subterfuge,” Licht corrected.

“Shall I send you to dreamland instead?” said Chevalier.

“I’ll be sure to ask for the story in the morning then,” said Licht.

Chevalier leaned against the wall and began undoing the bows as he spoke. “Do not interrupt. It began on a trip west last fall. Clavis and I were inspecting numerous citadels along the border, and as luck would have it I received word that the newest volume of a series I was following was set to release the day before our scheduled return to the palace.”

Licht swapped his brush for a flat bristled one and started on White Horse’s neck as he listened. He recalled Chevalier’s trip very clearly. Clavis had made a point to leave behind a timed-trap in his absence. On the morning of the twins’ birthday, hundreds of colorful paper airplanes were released in the roundtable room, each bearing a handwritten message like: “Thinking of you from so far away!” and “Big brother will bring home a bigger gift, just you wait!” and “Say your prayers, Sariel!” Licht occasionally still felt the ghosts of those paper cuts stinging his skin.

Unfazed by Licht’s cringing expression, Chevalier continued. “Despite Clavis’s bemoaning protests, we managed to reach the final location of our tour and complete the inspection with time to spare, albeit at the sacrifice of several nights’ rest. Our fool of a brother was at his wit’s end, but aside from his sanity we arrived back in town with zero casualties. He agreed to retrieve the book before returning to the palace as an excuse to finally be out of my sight, so he broke off from our party as we rode up. And seeing as White Horse knows the way to the gates I saw no imminent danger requiring my remaining alert and allowed myself to rest my eyes.”

Licht tried to remember the exact day of their return and if anything remarkable occurred, but his mind kept coming up with blanks. (He wasn’t allowed to interrupt, but the narrator can. Chevalier said he fell asleep.)

Chevalier finished removing the yellow ribbon from his fingers and crumpled it in his fist. “While resting my eyes, I could still sense the passage of time, and after an appropriate amount of time until when I knew we should have reached the palace had passed I opened them again but found we were in an unfamiliar area I had never visited before. We were near the outskirts of town where the cattle graze. Seventeen houses in total, each unremarkable in size and structure, yet White Horse perched at the fence of the red brick house watching a jet black mare race across the yard. Never before had I seen him so fixated on one task, even when we are in battle. I called his name and pulled his reins but he completely ignored me. I was about alight from his back to admonish him when the woman of the household spotted us from her window, and she let out a piercing scream that would have woken the entire town had it been dark. It was enough to startle White Horse, at any rate. More than seeing you tonight.”

At this, Licht instantly remembered the day. Everyone at the palace heard the scream, and the subsequent chill emanating from Clavis’s smile when he suggested Licht join him to wait by the gates could only be bested by Chevalier’s cold stare. Never before nor since was Licht so grateful for it to be his turn to clean the domestic faction office than on that day. Maron remembered the day because it was the only time Chevalier returned wearing robes stained not in red, but brown. And Chevalier remembered the day because there did not yet exist enough scientific literature in Rhodolite on lobotomy.

Recounting is all well and good, but White Horse preferred matters tending to the future. And while he was used to his master and his soft-spoken brother’s tendencies towards silence, this silence stretching on in their conversation soon bored the stallion. When at last it became too much to bear, White Horse sucked in breath through his teeth, pressed his nose against Chevalier’s head, and released a mighty sneeze that nearly shook the princes off balance. From across the hall, Maron whinnied at White Horse in disapproval, and Licht quickly steadied himself then began patting the horse’s white neck. This served two purposes: calming White Horse’s fury, and giving Licht an excuse to turn away as Chevalier picked globules of horse mucus out of his hair.

It seemed acceptable for Licht to speak now. “So White Horse likes Verona?”

“Who?” Chevalier raked the last of the snot out with the blue ribbon and tossed it onto the remains of the ripped bag.

“The mare. That’s her name,” said Licht.

“Don’t be ridiculous, they have never once interacted for White Horse to develop any feelings of ‘liking’.”

“Fine. He fancies her.”

“Such a useless emotion. Enough of it to lose his head at the screams of her owner,” scoffed Chevalier.

“He’s alright though, isn’t he?” said Licht.

“Only because I had the sense to steady us in time,” said Chevalier. What he conveniently neglected to mention was how after steadying White Horse, the woman raced out of the house waving a broomstick in the air because she didn’t recognize the Second Prince and assumed he was there to horsenap Verona. Before Chevalier could diffuse the situation, White Horse jumped at her advance and fell backwards, landing both himself and his rider in a puddle of mud. Prince Clavis was the only person standing at the gates to witness their soiled return, and he keeps the memory fresh in his mind for days when he feels blue. But there was no reason for Licht to know about it, so Chevalier said, “I have upheld my end of the deal. Pass me a brush.”

“But you didn’t explain the carrots,” said Licht.

“Do not ask for a story if you are too bleary-eyed to follow along,” said Chevalier. He swiped the brush out of Licht’s hand and began grooming White Horse’s other side. White Horse neighed softly and went back to staring longingly out of the window.

Rays of false dawn shone from the horizon, layering the first brush stroke of saturation on town. Licht followed White Horse’s gaze out the window towards the pasty colors of the pasture in the distance, just as the signs of a red house came into view.

Perhaps it was the exhaustion truly catching up to him, but Licht didn’t notice Maron trotting up to him until he felt his warm muzzle pressed against the small of his back. Even without facing him, he knew what Maron wanted to say.

“Maron’s friends with Verona,” said Licht. “We visit the horses there every month for a stretch. We could introduce White Horse next time we go, if you want.”

Perhaps the exhaustion caught up to Chevalier as well, because the small part of him that planned to find Licht in the stables tonight tingled with vindication. “What do you require?” he asked.

“I don’t need anything,” said Licht.

“And I do not desire to remain in your debt. Name your price,” said Chevalier.

It is a curious state to find oneself able to demand anything from Prince Chevalier. I can think of several princes who would jump at the opportunity and ask from him all manner of favors. But Licht was a simple secluded sword master equine enthusiast who when asked what he wanted most in the world would probably reply with the most seemingly mundane thing. And yet, it would still make him smile.

“Help me get rid of this cough. That way I can help disrupt the carrot supply chain next time.”

I once wrote a fic in the past when I thought Maron was a mare. If anyone else mistakenly thought he was a lady horse because of that fic, I take full responsibility, that's my bad.

With this fic I tried out a new narrative style. It was out of my comfort zone, but a fun experiment. If anyone has any constructive feedback about it (positive or negative, I want to learn) feel free to leave a comment or an ask. Did it engage you more in the story, did it slow it down, did it make you laugh, did it bore you... whatever you feel like sharing :) Otherwise, thanks for reading.

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri fanfic #wishuponanaidecc #licht klein #chevalier michel #ikepri licht #ikepri chevalier #ikepri maron #ikepri white horse #scorchie writes

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flecks-of-stardust · 2 years

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i don’t have enough evidence to make this an actual big post but i still wanted to put it out into the wild, but honestly ever since approaching (some of) bug fables’ world from the perspective of underspecification, i’ve been much less frustrated with it. it’s also fun to contrast the underspecification of bug fables’ world with the inference heavy world of hollow knight.

what i mean by underspecification is the deliberate act of saying something while leaving out certain aspects that are assumed to be common knowledge. one of the more prominent examples i can think of is eggs; when you say ‘egg,’ it’s almost always understood that you mean chicken eggs, and not duck eggs, goose eggs, quail eggs, or even turtle eggs. this is because of the high prevalence of using chicken eggs in recipes due to the domestication of chickens, and so saying ‘chicken egg’ is redundant unless more than one type of egg is used. in contrast, inference is when there is no shared knowledge, but there are clues in what is said or in the environment that point to a certain fact.

in the context of bug fables, i find the idea of underspecification to be particularly useful with the world of the four kingdoms. i’ve wondered for a while now why the ant kingdom is so catered to what team snakemouth needs as an explorer team, while none of the rest of the ant kingdom is shown; for a kingdom supposedly as great and as prosperous as the ant kingdom is, we do not see any sprawling residential areas, nor a schooling area (ann isn’t even in school, and apparently never is), nor even a graveyard to bury the dead. none of the hallmarks of settlements seem to be accessible to team snakemouth. but when i look at this from the perspective of underspecification, it both makes more sense and is more interesting than criticizing an indie dev team for what they likely did not have the time and budget to make. we do not have access to the broader residential area, the schoolyard, the graveyard, and other parts of the ant kingdom because team snakemouth already knows where they are, and there is no need to point it out. they have no need to wander in the residential area because there is nothing they need there. they have no need to go to the schoolyard because it’s not relevant to their mission. it would be nice to have that option as a player, but to team snakemouth, everyone already knows where all of these locations are, so why point them out? it would be redundant and weird.

conversely, in hollow knight, the knight is not presented as a local resident of the area. they do not know hallownest or anything about the general area. though not all information is freely given to them, there are aspects of the environment that do allow them to piece together the history of hallownest, particularly with areas like the white palace. so underspecification isn’t particularly useful here since there’s no shared knowledge, but there is a lot you can infer from.

this is messy but idk, the concept of underspecification is fascinating. i think it’s more fun to work with than the alternative.

#bug fables #hollow knight #i still stand by the fact that moonsprout should have put way more work into building the world #particularly with the contradictions #but this satisfies my worldbuilding itch

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wyrmguardsecrets · 1 month

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if it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and walks like a duck, its probably a duck

... but like it could also be a goose and ur just looking at it from a weird perspective bc ur too scared to get close to it

it takes nothing to not be confused for one so why risk it unless you're purposely dogwhistling cmon man

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cassatine · 2 years

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some last thoughts before i watch ep8:

"where is duty where is sacrifice" still living rent-free in my head because while Alicent's perspective is, very understandably, that it has defined her life but not Rhaenyra's, who spent most of her life giving the finger to these notions… from Rhaenyra's perspective? she's had to marry Laenor for duty, and in fact she's had to marry Laenor for duty in part because her father previously refused to marry Laena for duty and instead chose Alicent, and she's had to have children despite her Aemma trauma because not only was having children required of her as heir to the throne but also because of the prophecy requiring continuation of the Targ line so as to someday save the world, -- so while, again, Alicent's perspective is understandable, and aligns more with the patriarchal mores of Westeros and those of the Faith, it's also true that both Alicent and Rhaenyra have tried to do their duty and sacrificed things for it. they've both been fucked over by the patriarchy in different ways, but they've made very different choices wrt the way they lived with it, choices shaped by their different circumstances and what their status afforded them but also who they are as characters: Alicent's gone full on martyrdom to duty, while Rhaenyra's tried to find ways to reconcile duty and personal happiness.

when people argue that it was Rhaenyra's duty to have children by Laenor, whom we know to be a gay man, whom we've known since the ducks and goose convo has no interest whatsoever in women even tho he tried, whom we know is Rhaenyra's consort and under her in the hierarchy, whom we know didn't really have the option to say no to the wedding to start with, whom we know tried to have kids with Rhaenyra and it didn't work out -- well. i think people ought to think real hard about the take they're pushing.

"viserys only ever look the other way for Rhaenyra" sure sure that's why one of the first things we see him do is going come on let's all be friends when Otto and Daemon are bitching at each other in the Small Council even tho it's actually a huge ass problem that his then-heir presumptive and his main adviser can't go five minutes without snipping at each other, that's why his position on the first political issue brought up (the Stepstones) boils down to oh it'll blow over whatever, that's why he only sends Otto away when Rhaenyra makes it part of her wedding bargain, that's why he only yells a bit and never does shit when Jason Lannister mentions people expecting Aegon to be named heir soon, that's why he never does shit about Criston killing Joffrey, that's why his second wife displaying her House loyalties via wardrobe gets zero reaction whatsoever, that's why he shrugs away whatever is going on between his kids and grandkids, that's why he makes the insane decision to recall Otto as Hand after Lyonel's death (he should have made Rhaenyra Hand ftr), it's why he keeps wiping the state clean wrt to Daemon, etc etc. yes Viserys is a complete shit to Alicent and her kids, but also unless there's major pressure for him to do otherwise and/or he actually gets pissed, it is his modus operandi in most things personal, familial, political, to look the other way and pretend shit is fine and to expect everyone else will follow his lead. until shit blows up in his face.

#house of the dragon #meta #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #laenor velaryon #viserys targaryen

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schraubd · 1 year

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Debate Me, You Cowards

The other day, the Wisconsin Supreme Court (two weeks away from Janet Protasiewicz taking her seat on the bench and flipping the court's 4-3 majority) denied a request by the Wisconsin Bar to create a CLE category for DEIA (diversity, equity, inclusion, and access) credit. "DEIA courses would address “the subject of diversity, equity, inclusion, access, or recognition of bias, which includes topics addressing diversity and inclusion in the legal system of all persons regardless of age, race, ethnicity, religion, national origin, gender, sexual orientation, gender identity, or disabilities and topics designed to educate attorneys on the recognition and reduction of bias."

The court's denial, joined by the conservative faction, was a short per curiam opinion. The liberal coalition's dissent was likewise short, focusing on the Court declining to give the matter even a hearing which, under the Court's standard rules, should have been offered assuming the petition had "arguable merit". Since many states have DEI CLE credit akin to what the Bar was proposing in Wisconsin, the petition clearly had at least "arguable merit" and should have gotten a hearing.

(Underneath all of this is the imminent change in the Court's partisan composition. Scheduling a hearing would have pushed the decision back past the point where Judge Protasiewicz will join the court; a factor which no doubt encouraged the majority to try and slam through this lame-duck decision without giving it normal consideration. It also seems highly likely that the new majority will revisit the question in the near future).

However, aside from the short per curiam, and the short dissent, there was a very not-short concurrence from Justice Rebecca Grassl Bradley* (last seen engaging in election-denierism while comparing the use of ballot drop boxes to North Korean autocracy). The concurrence is little more than a Townhall-style rant against the dangers of diversity initiatives. It is replete with bitter buzzwords more commonly found in the recesses of social media: claiming that the "very point of mandating DEIA CLE would be to create a 'goose-stepping brigade[]' of attorneys," accusing the Bar of trying to "virtue signal, and railing against "the predictable and petty slanders of the cancel culture crowd." She even contorts the unanimous support of the Wisconsin Bar for this initiative as illustrative of a "grave illness in our society" that can only be explained by the way DEI supporters "demoniz[e] dissenters."

There's more in that vein, all bolstered by a bevy of citations to a range of right-wing shock jocks. But I don't want to parse Justice Bradley's concurrence. Rather, I want to flag how the dissent addresses it -- or rather, quite consciously declined to address it -- in its concluding footnote:

I choose not to respond to the substance of the concurrence, which is hostile, divisive, and disrespectful. This political rhetoric has no place in an order of the court. We should instead engage earnestly with opposing perspectives by granting a hearing on the petition, which is what our ordinary process requires.

Perfectly appropriate under the circumstances. Not only was Justice Bradley's concurrence not worth the dissent's time, it's not germane to the dissent's point; namely, that if these debates are to be had, they should occur through the normal process of granting a hearing and engaging earnestly with the various perspectives on the issue.

And that mature response by the dissent caused an already rage-filled Justice Bradley to truly go ballistic:

Proving well that many proponents of DEIA orthodoxy demonize its critics, the dissenting justices "choose not to respond" to this concurrence, instead dismissing it with a headline-grabbing caricature as "hostile, divisive, and disrespectful" "political rhetoric[.]" Dissent, ¶46 n.4. This concurrence cites more than a dozen United States Supreme Court decisions, multiple state supreme court decisions, Frederick Douglass, Martin Luther King Jr., Thurgood Marshall, Clarence Thomas, James Madison, Montesquieu, and at least an additional dozen legal scholars, authors, and professors. Of course, the real reason for the dissenters' refusal to engage with the substance of an opinion spanning more than 30 pages is the imminent change in court membership. The new majority will reverse this court's order at its first opportunity.

The dissenters borrow a rhetorical tactic from the modern political sphere increasingly employed by justices of this court in lieu of legal argument. See, e.g., Jane Doe 4 v. Madison Metro. Sch. Dist., Nos. 2022AP2042, 2023AP305 & 2023AP306, unpublished order, at 3 n.1 (Wis. May 19 2023, amended June 14, 2023) (Hagedorn, J., concurring) ("I also do not respond to this supplemental writing because of its abandonment of basic judicial decorum."). When lawyers decline to respond to legal arguments advanced in a case, the court considers the point conceded.

If ever there was a time for applying "I'm not mad" to a legal opinion, this is it. Note, incidentally, the final shot at Justice Hagedorn, who is actually a member of the Court's conservative faction but has generally refrained from joining the more fever-like portions of the Court's analysis (he didn't join Bradley's concurrence, for instance, though he joined the majority here). As is so often the case, the most immediate targets of conservative legal grievance posturing in defense of "ideological diversity" are other conservatives who don't want to engage in conservative legal grievance posturing.

In any event, it's tough to imagine a better example of conservative legal grievance culture than writing a 30-page 4chan post accusing the other side of being dishonest, virtue-signaling goose-steppers and then stomping your feet with "debate me, cowards!" (and accusing them of "demonization") when your colleagues don't deign to jump in the mud pit with you.

As I've written before, the Wisconsin Supreme Court has been a national embarrassment for years, and Justice Bradley certainly has played a large role in that. One can only hope that the new majority will restore some desperately-needed sanity and decorum to the circus-show.

* There are actually two Justice Bradley's on the Court -- Rebecca Grassl Bradley, who is among the conservatives, and Ann Walsh Bradley, who is one of the liberals. The latter Justice Bradley joined, but did not write, the liberal dissent, so throughout this post all references to "Justice Bradley" refer to Rebecca Grassl Bradley.

via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/ZA17odn

#diversity #judiciary #racism #Wisconsin

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ericleo108 · 2 years

Audio

01/06/2022 Click here for Spotify or Apple Music. This is my 28th official release. “Gold Shaw Farm” is a country rap track I wrote about the farm on YouTube by the same name. I don’t know Morgan, I just love his channel and farm. I like how Morgan narrates his videos. I feel like the song is me rapping his narrative, in a way. Everything I know I got from him and his channel. He also has different cameras that do videos spending the night in the hoop coop with night vision or from the cats perspective for example. I’ve probably been watching consistently for a year now along with a lot of his catalog. I got the idea because I wanted to show a sample of making a song about a subject, and I chose one that I genuinely enjoy, the farm , and it basically turned out to be a theme song.

youtube

I started writing the song on September 5th. The beat is from Ryini beats. The cover art was made by ArtworkGang from Fiverr. The track was professionally recorded, mixed, and mastered by Sam Peters at LA Luna Recording Studio in Kalamazoo Michigan. You can stream or download the track wherever music is sold. Thank you for your support. Be sure to follow because new music is released every first, third and if there is a fifth Friday of every month.

Lyrics:

Come on cows, let’s go, fresh grass Come on cows, let’s go, fresh grass Come on cows, let’s go, fresh grass

Welcome y’all to Gold Shaw farm Just watch, you’ll see Toby dog is the star We got Abby, Ginny, and Molly murder mittens On a goose farm of ducks and weird chickens Our hill farm in Vermont Is a cozy little spot Of moseying bird flocks And a mossy center earth rock We get it up, get it cracking Eggs for breakfast and it smacks’n We go out to back and Then release the quackin

Don’t visit, just watch on YouTube Where you can see the animals playing like Sudoku Family friendly we care and review When the last time you amused those that disagree with you? We got a mobile hen house Where the chicken get down Pick all the little bugs out The stuff cows poop out Got ducks with bumble foot And geese with angle wing But we still love them just as much as anything

We give em a good life At gold Shaw farm alright Their future and past in the fields are bright We plant trees like chestnuts Have a patch for lettuce Make bear cheese And get shipped seeds through FedEx You can buy your own goose And make um into soup Eat it with couscous Or canned bamboo shoots I thank the lord everyday she gives the strength to stay On the path and sway To videos that say

I feel like Allison and Morgan Taken whatever comes toward me Optimistic cuz and the lord can And I’ll tell you as a poor man I do my chores everyday And put it in a portrait So my family gets paid And on YouTube I say

Come on cows, let’s go, fresh grass x4

#gold shaw farm #kitten #kitty purrs #dog #dogs #farm #ericleo108 #rap #rapper #country

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baking-with-a-gremlin · 2 years

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Tiny Paws

This penultimate session is an almost bittersweet one I think as I prepared the ingredients for our bite size cinnamon buns. Though it has indeed been a few weeks since we embarked on this journey, time has secretly flew by at a speed I can’t comprehend. Luckily for this blog however, Reese has slightly recovered from her sickness as she only shows signs of mild nasal congestion, which is still accompanied by a nighttime cough that’s comparable to a seal’s bark. A sick child is an awful thing to experience from a parent’s perspective, often creating an inability to focus attention on anything else. Nonetheless, the determined face of the two-year-old was evident as she squinted her eyes while grabbing the oven mints with an almost clinical precision from the bottom of the stainless-steel oven. She was rearing to go. “Num-num Daddy, I heddy,” she guaranteed me as she attempted to pull her flamingo printed apron over her blonde locks (I had to intervene however as she somehow managed to tighten the strap while putting it on backwards, effectively choking herself while she looked like something out of Teen Titans. “Help Daddy help,” she said. Poor gremlin).

This session was set to be more of an intermediate level difficulty due to how we’d eventually get our end product: Bite size cinnamon buns. Regular size cinnamon buns are complexed enough, existing in the world at about the size of a hockey puck, by which they create a seemingly endless path inwards that looks like a scrumptious blackhole. What we’d be making today instead would require a little more finesse, considering these bite size morsels are roughly three times smaller than their larger counterparts. I suppose the only advantage we had was the goose’s dainty hands to roll the tiny, spiral treats. We began by swishing milk and hot water into the maroon-colored bowl. Putting the grainy yeast in the gremlin’s palm for momentary safe keeping while I grabbed the bamboo stir stick, I got her to sprinkle it atop of the thin and warm milky solution. After waiting a few minutes, Reese furthered her egg cracking skills with only two casualties that her mother helped clean from the floor (I purchased another half-dozen prior to this). The addition of both brown and white sugar thickened the mixture along with the activation of the yeast that the monster added. In the second bowl, two types of flour and salt were combined then escorted to the milky solution. After all four of our hands were finished kneading the dough, the wait game was on.

The filling was of relative ease in creating it. Three tablespoons of Reese’s famous microwave butter, a tablespoon of amber colored cinnamon powder, and five heaping tablespoons of brown sugar. The cream cheese frosting was of no difference, with of course the exception sneaking the required unmelted butter into the small, white glass dish before the monster noticed she hadn’t melted it. In with it went the velvety cream cheese, some powdered sugar, and a couple tablespoons of milk. Setting aside the filling and frosting, the dough was now ready to lay out flat into a semi-rectangle the size of a cookie sheet. “Now Daddy?” Reese asks as her hand was occupied with the cinnamon filling, patiently waiting to throw the powder onto the flattened off-white colored dough like she was feeding ducks at the local pond. She got most of it on the dough while some went overboard off the island we were situated at. Next, we rolled the cinnamon ladened dough into a log, with her on one end and me on the other. It ended up looking like an overweight garter snake. With scraper in hand, the miniature buns began to form. I showed Reese how to grease the cookie pan, invoking the great words of Mr. Miyagi: “Wax on, wax off,” I said. Her giggle is an utmost infectious one.

As the aroma of cinnamon filled the house, the gremlin’s eyes very rarely left the glass of the oven, peering inside to ensure the fruits of her labors were baking accordingly. After an endless 17 minutes, they were delicately taken out and put onto wire racks to cool. The golden color of the sweets made them all the more decadent. The goose of course couldn’t wait, grabbing one with an automatic “hot” coming from her mouth. She nonetheless ran off with it like a thief in the night. Letting them cool for 20 minutes, the cream cheese frosting silently screamed for unity with its destined mates. The gremlin ordered 2, with a glass of milk of course, devouring them both within a matter of minutes. The slight crunch complimented its soft but dense inside, leaving cinnamon crumble to inevitably fall away to the depths of the floor. Reflecting upon this session, I had great confidence that we could conquer the last recipe, the double decker princess cake. Until next time everybody!

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inverts · 3 years

Text

So you wanna put your art on a t-shirt

I, too, love putting my art onto shirts! Love to wear a garment that I designed myself. It feels good!

And then, of course, it’s also fun to have OTHER people wear those shirts! And naturally, it’s very nice to get some money too.

So this is a post that compares six popular websites that sell shirts produced by independent artists. This post will compare them both from a artist and customer perspective. I’ll be talking about print quality, customer service, and also my opinion of the company’s moral stance.

I’ve used all of these sites myself, as both an artist and a customer, except Threadless, which a friend of mine used instead and shared their observations with me. (I also got to examine the shirt they ordered as a sample.)

This is written in December of 2021; if you are finding it at a later date, some things may have changed.

The websites I’ll be discussing are:

The Yetee

Teefury

Teepublic

Redbubble

Society6

Threadless

First off, The Yetee.

Print quality: 10/10. The Yetee is the only one of the companies in this post that actually uses silk screening. I’m not going to get into the technical bits of the process--you can search it up on duck duck go if you’re curious, but suffice to say, it means that the quality of the print is very high. A shirt purchased through the Yetee will probably last longer than a shirt purchased from any of the other sites on this post; it will survive the most cycles through the washing machine without damaging the artwork. If this is a high priority for you, The Yetee is the company to use.

User interface as an artist: unlike some of the other companies on this post, you cannot simply upload your art and immediately have it available for purchase. It is not a print on demand site. The Yetee has open submissions; any artist can submit their art for consideration, and then every week or two, staff at The Yetee will review the submissions and accept some while declining others. Accepted art will be given a print date. On that day, the art will be available for purchase for 24 hours only. While it’s live, you can log in to your account to track sales, which is always very exciting.

The benefits of this are that the Yetee is known for high quality art, and subsequentially, it feels very good if your art is accepted. Of course, the downside is that the people making the selections are humans with their own tastes and opinions, and it can feel bad if art you were confident in does not get accepted. However, it’s important to remember that there can be many reasons a piece of art might be declined. It may be a good piece of art, but the staff at the Yetee feel like their audience won’t appreciate it. It may be that the art will lie on someone’s body in an unflattering way (maybe there are focal points at the nipples). It does not mean the art is bad if it doesn’t get accepted, just that the Yetee staff feel that it won’t be a good fit as a Yetee tshirt.

(Additionally, out of respect to indie game developers, they will not accept designs of indie games, such as Undertale, Hollow Knight, Hades, or Untitled Goose Game. They do, however, sometimes partner with indie game developers to offer official merch for those games, but becoming an artist for an official collection seems to be a matter of invitation only.)

Lastly, if your art has transparencies, the Yetee will convert them to halftones for you. In fact, they specifically request that artists let them handle this process.

Money: The Yetee pays $2 per shirt sold in this 24 hour period. They pay pretty quickly--usually the next business day after the shirt is up for sale--and you also get 3 free shirts with your design.

Customer Service: The Yetee’s customer service is helpful and responsive.

Overall impression of the company: There is no ethical consumption under capitalism, but I’ve enjoyed working with the Yetee. They have a discord community that’s friendly and supportive. It includes a feedback and critique channel, and many members of the community are helpful and encouraging; I’ve seen many designs workshopped in this channel to make it to accepted shirts, including my own. Staff members will also occasionally offer feedback, though this does not guarantee acceptance, but can be helpful insight into the factors that affect selection.

The Yetee also partners with various charities throughout the year, making huge donations to non profits such as The Trevor Project. There are a lot of LGBTQIA+ people in the Yetee community, and I feel safe being open about my own identity in the Yetee’s discord community.

Also, the Yetee is firmly anti-NFT, which is clear from their social media on twitter but is nice to repeat here. A+ Yetee. It’s pretty clear I’m biased towards this company but in my opinion they’ve earned my good will.

Last notes: The only thing I think the Yetee could improve is that sometimes--rarely--their hoodie or longsleeve image previews do not provide accurate colour matching for the product you receive. I’m aware that this is sometimes a supply issue, especially due to covid, and they match as closely as they can, but as I know some people have strong opinions about shirt and hoodie colour, I’d love to see them do better on the preview images so that people don’t get a surprise when they open their package and find a hoodie that looks different than what they thought they ordered.

Secondly, Teefury.

Print Quality: Eeeeeh. It’s fine. It’s not any better than Redbubble or Teepublic, because it’s DTG, or direct to garment printing. Teefury’s own website has a FAQ about this, so I’ll leave it to them. However, it means it won’t survive as many washes as a silk screened garment. But, it allows them to do the rest of their business model, which I’ll get into...

User interface as an artist: Much like the Yetee, Teefury has open submissions and will accept or reject shirt designs. If accepted, a shirt may go up as a daily. Unlike the Yetee, however, after the shirt’s initial 24 hours as a daily, it then will make its way to their massive gallery of past designs. Alternatively, some designs won’t be accepted as dailies and will simply go straight to the big gallery.

Teefury’s artist interface USED to be completely awful and impossible to navigate. It wouldn’t show you your sales or anything. They’ve made massive improvements to it recently, though, so now it’s all right.

Because Teefury uses DTG printing, they don’t have to do the prep work that silk screening demands, and they are able to continually offer designs after the initial 24 hours. This lets you continue to make sales after the initial hype, which can be especially nice during holiday seasons.

If your art has transparencies, you’ll need to convert them to halftones on your own.

Money: Teefury pays $1 per sale when a shirt is up as a daily, and $2 per sale for all sales when a shirt is in their gallery. Also, if your shirt is selected as a daily, you get one freebie. Payments typically arrive on the 15th of the month, give or take a few days if it’s on a weekend. Also, whether because of paypal fees or something else, you typically lose about 2 cents per dollar, so technically you’re getting $1.96 per sale instead of $2.

Customer Service: I haven’t used their customer service in years, but when I did, it was like pulling teeth. I’d have to ask my questions multiple times to get an answer, and they didn’t explain things well, leading me to have to ask again or reword my question to try to get the information I needed. Now that they’ve updated their artist user interface and FAQ, it might be better, but it used to be pretty terrible and I haven’t seen anything to make me think it’s improved.

Overall impression of the company: I still use them because their reach is greater than what I have been able so far to achieve on my own, but I don’t like it. They also have no respect for indie game developers, allowing people to submit designs for things like Undertale, despite that the game developer has asked that people not mass produce fanart for sale such as print on demand tshirts, which is exactly what Teefury sells. I know they have a discord community for artists, but I haven’t joined it, though I think about it sometimes.

Last notes: How could I write this post without doing a little boost? I’ve got a couple of shirts up on Teefury and it’s cool if you check them out. :3

Next, Teepublic.

Print Quality: I’ve only gotten their tshirts, but the print quality varied from order to order. The first order I did, the print was blurry, as if it had become slightly offset during the printing process. However, when I contacted them about this, they provided free replacements, which had crisp printing. The quality of the print is still average, but not bad. I like wearing my shirts.

If your art has transparencies, you WILL want to convert them to halftone. Teepublic provides a pdf guide on how to do this. Teepublic’s printing does not handle transparencies super well.

User interface as an artist: Teepublic is a print on demand site, so you can upload your art and have it available instantly, on a variety of products. The interface for adjusting the size and positioning of your art is easy to use and pretty good about automatically sizing art to fit the different products. I prefer their interface to Redbubble’s. However, Teepublic won’t let you upload art below a certain dpi; all the art uploaded needs to be big enough to go on a tshirt. Even if you want to disable certain products, it’s got to be big enough.

Additionally, it’s very easy to see your sales, because when viewing your storefront while logged in, you can see how many sales any given design has had during its lifetime in your store.

Technically Teepublic does not allow fanart, unless it’s through their partnership programs, but lots of artists manage to get away with selling fanart there anyway. However, takedowns do occur. Nothing to do but accept it gracefully when it happens.

Money: Because Teepublic has lots of different products, payouts are different for each one. Additionally, when Teepublic is having a sale--which they do at least once a month but usually more--you make a bit less. However, at full price, you can get $4 per shirt, which is more than any of the other companies on this list. The downside is that you’ve really got to build your reach and get people’s eyes on your art yourself.

They pay typically on the fifteenth of every month. At the time of this writing, you don’t have to reach a certain minimum to receive your payment; they’ll payout all your earnings.

From a buyer’s perspective, I never pay full price on Teepublic, because they have sales so frequently it’s very easy to just wait for a discount.

Customer Service: as mentioned above, when I received a product with bad printing, Teepublic was happy to replace it for free. They also didn’t ask for the bad product to be returned. They did want to see photos of the printing on it as proof, but this is likely to prevent people from abusing their system to get free extras.

Overall impression of the company: They’re a fine way to get your art out there and make a couple of extra bucks. Some people find a lot of success with putting designs on this site, and some people don’t. You have to put in a lot of work getting yourself out there. But it’s nice to have them do all the distribution for you.

The downside of this company (and Redbubble as well) is that it’s very easy and common for art thieves and bots to upload art that is screencaps or manga scans, or steal art from other fanartists and upload it here. It’s best to go to an artist’s teepublic by finding their own link on their own socials; that way you know it’s legit.

Last notes: Of course, I once again am going to plug my own art here. :3

Redbubble:

Print quality: I was actually pleasantly surprised last time I ordered a shirt from them. Still DTG, but very crisp and good colours. Again, you’re going to want to convert transparencies to halftones.

Conversely, I was disappointed last time I ordered stickers from them. The print was grainy, and even contacting customer service and getting them reprinted didn’t fix this. Which is hilarious, because after sending photos of the original order, customer service agreed that the quality was poor, but the replacements were just as bad.

User interface as an artist: Like Teepublic, RB is a print on demand site. You upload the art and it’s immediately available on lots of products. Teepublic and RB are actually owned by the same parent company, but they have lots of little differences in user interface. Honestly I prefer Teepublic’s interface to Redbubble’s; Redbubble is more annoying with resizing and positioning. However, you can upload art of any size to Redbubble, and if it’s not big enough for some products, simply disable those products. There are a lot of things I uploaded to RB solely to sell as stickers and/or buttons.

Like Teepublic, RB doesn’t allow fanart outside of their partnerships, but people sell fanart there all the time anyway. As I have shops on both sites, it’s been funny to me when some fanart gets taken down on RB but not Teepub, and vice versa.

Money: Again, lots of different products mean lots of different rates. You can actually increase your prices on RB to increase your profit margin, but then some people might not want to buy your stuff if it costs more than other people’s. Redbubble has probably the worst payout rates of the various sites on this list; to add insult to injury, you only get paid when you’ve made $20 or more, OR if by the end of the year you hit over $2. It’s not going to make or break my income, but I’m not a huge fan of RB holding on to my money for so long.

Customer Service: Like Teepublic, they’re happy to replace anything that has issues. They also want to see photos first. Customer service is easy to contact and helpful.

Overall impression of the company: Pretty much the same as Teepublic, just with some little quirks and differences. They do probably have a bigger customer base than Teepublic, so you do probably have a greater chance of people randomly stumbling across your art, but the payout is worse. Win some, lose some.

And again like Teepub, there are art thieves and bots aplenty. Make sure you’re supporting the actual artists.

Last notes: You know I’m going to put a link to my own redbubble storefront here right?

Society6:

Print quality: Variable. Shirts that I ordered looked nice, but the masks were kinda blurry, but still good colour quality.

User interface as an artist: Another print on demand site with a huge selection of products you can put your art on. Personally I find S6′s interface to be one of the most confusing to navigate, but that could just be because I’m not uploading things at a big enough dpi.

Money: I haven’t actually made any sales on S6, probably because I haven’t put very much of my art on this site yet, so I can’t tell you anything that their FAQ doesn’t. But it’s going to once again be varying amounts from varying products.

Customer service: N/A, haven’t yet had the opportunity to speak with them.

Overall Impression: I started using Society6 because my friends liked the folded face masks they offered, which are different from the masks offered via Redbubble and Teepublic. So far they seem much the same as the other two print on demand sites reviewed above, though with perhaps less reach than Redbubble. The print quality does not stand out as particularly better or worse than RB or Teepub. I have run across fewer bots on this site, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

Last notes: .... yeah why not. All I’ve got on s6 are some cute patterned masks, but if you’re interested, go ahead and check em out.

And lastly, and definitely least, Threadless:

Fuck these guys they’re going into NFTs. Don’t touch em, don’t use em, and if you have a shop there take it down and migrate somewhere else. The one time I got to look up close at a shirt ordered from them, its quality was exactly the same as Teepublic or Redbubble. They offer nothing you can’t get from another company.

That’s all! I hope this post can help artists out. I’d like to edit it to add photos one day, but I knew if I waited until I had photos to make this post, it would never get made.

If you enjoyed this post, please consider buying me a coffee or checking out my art in the above links.

#tshirts #printing #review #print on demand #opinion #the yetee #teefury #teepublic #redbubble #society6 #threadless

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change-life-change-world · 2 years

Text

You Are What You Eat; What Happens When You Eat Chicken?

"You are what you eat."

This is different from the idea of yin and yang, telling us eating food or the lives of animals or plants means eating characteristics and tendencies of each unique life. Let's look into the further meaning of this.

Hello, I'm Hiroyuki Naka, a macrobiotic mentor.

Chicken for example.

You all know how chicken is nutritionally rich in protein, fat, and vitamins, and how it's nutritionally rich or low based on analysis.

When you read about them in books or magazines, or when you hear about them on TV from a registered dietitian, you may think that it is a great thing, and you will remember it for your future.

But this is very left-brained.

It brings you to the habit to judge things good or bad, and loss or gain based on memories.

Next, if you look at chicken from a yin and yang perspective, chicken is yang.

Of course, yin-yang is a world of comparison, so the point is whether chicken is yin or yang when compared to pork, beef, and duck.

Considering your current physical condition, constitution, mood, and behavioral tendencies, you may think it's better to go to a yakitori grilled chicken place rather than a yakiniku grilled beef place.

It's right-brained to think like this.

You thought about it with your mind, and you intended to make it correspond to your body.

The point is that what should be considered next as a standard next is not nutrition or yin-yang, but imagination in terms of vibration and energy.

It's more of a right-brained, more use of the top of the head, more imagery.

It's whether you want to be like a chicken, right now.

You observe their behavioral tendencies and habits.

First of all, chickens have a higher body temperature than other animals.

They get up early in the morning and announce, “it’s morning! Get up, everybody!”

They shake their head vertically.

They poke with their beaks.

They walk like hopping on two legs.

There’s a Japanese saying “Come to cockscomb” which means to get mad.

The meaning of chicken is timid, coward and wimp.

Chicken breast meat and tenderloin are dry. They are rather firm and hard.

Their thighs are thick and fatty.

Their calves are thin.

Their toes are curved and stiff.

Their neck is thin and long.

When you prepare a chicken, you wring a chicken’s neck.

A poor chicken is killed by wringing a neck.

That’s enough about this.

The fact that you eat chicken is that chicken becomes you. You become chicken.

In other words, you will get up early.

You will want to announce some good information. Or you often want to raise a strange voice.

You will get the habit of nodding at everything others say.

You get into the habit of poking at people’s weaknesses. Or you will want to abuse others.

You get into the habit of running fearfully.

You will become short-tempered and tend to lose your cool.

On the other hand, you will get nervous and timid.

You’ll become skinny, and if you are a woman, your breast will become smaller and the body will be muscular and firm, but only your thighs become thick.

You will have goose-skin or oily skin.

Your joints of fingers and toes will bend like rheumatism and become hallux valgus.

Your neck will be thin and long and often be suffered from a stiff neck.

If you try to kill yourself by any chance, you might choose to hang.

These happen if you eat too much, though.

When we eat an animal, we eat its life and that is, we eat its habits and behavioral tendencies.

In the same way, I can explain all kinds of animal food one by one.

Beef, pork, lamb, quail, duck, frog, snail, crab, prawn, squid, octopus, and fish.

The energies of those animals can come out in dreams, or it can be seen in your unconscious actions and feelings.

I used to write these stories in a magazine called Monthly Macrobiotics for fun, but that’s all for now.

Every event has a cause.

If you don’t find the cause, we won’t solve any problems.

I think you should keep in mind that one of the causes of your problems may be the vibration or energy of the food you eat.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

Originally distributed by Hiroyuki Naka, a mentor of macrobiotics, as an e-mail newsletter in Japanese on November 7, 2021.

Translated by Meerabai

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

“Why Are Hard-working People More Likely To Get Cancer?

Actually, cancer cells hate to compete.

A YouTube video by Hiroyuki Naka, a macrobiotic mentor.

youtube

English subtitle coming soon!

#You are what you eat #yin and yang #macrobiotics #What happens when you eat chicken?#chicken #healthy diet #Hiroyuki Naka #Youtube

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lost-on-kamino · 3 years

Text

6 hours

A lot can happen in 6 hours, especially to a family -Order 66, from Dove’s perspective- <Welcome to Avis Squadron and how things slowly turn for the worst... Harpy is Deaf and I kinda used BSL to work for him>

6 hours

The Bridge was quiet for once, allowing the Lieutenant to breathe a little easier. They had reduced fighters due to the amount destroyed during the Battle of Coruscant; that Crow had counted, but they still had the numbers for the next battle they needed to engage with.

Dove stood firm, despite the itchy uniform as she watched the stars go past.

Harpy had gone to get them Caf while another Officer, Filter, had gone to get Sabacc cards. Dove hadn’t been the best at the game, but she did have her secret weapon after all.

She would work it out through their emotional projections.

The tense smile hiding a bubbling sense of excitement meant they were happy with their cards while a bluff may be easily called out with a worried twitch in their mind. General Tuteru had been helping her through it after discovering the young Lieutenant had been suppressing such abilities at a young age. She had theorised that she had been a youngling given up by a Jedi parent… and finding out from her Uncle, Ald; that would have been her mother. As for her father? No idea.

Dove shook her head, brushing the bangs from her face. They were getting longer again, she’d need to ask Duck to cut them for her if he was next available. Her head glanced as Filter walked in with a smile. The Clone seemed more awake than ever, moving to sit down quietly and passed the mug over. Dove gave him her thanks as he looked over.

He straightened up in her direction and his thumbs tapped his chest twice before moving his hand to his face, making a pecking motion.

Ready, Pigeon?

Dove snorts with a grin as she leans forward. She taps her thumbs to her chest in return as Filter scrambles in, offering a quick peck on the cheek to Harpy, who beamed as she sat down and shuffled the cards. They heard the scrambling feet as what appeared to be Duck, Goose and Robin ran into the Bridge, squabbling with one another.

“Hey Dove! Going to lose your game again? Do you want any help?” Duck grinned as Goose peered around Harpy’s hand of cards, the older of the four slouching in an effort to hide his cards.

Dove sighs.

“I will if I have you three causing distractions!” She grumbles, but with a warm grin. Robin thinks for a moment before perking up.

“Oh! Magpie needed you for something. Asked if you could go as soon as you could before your patrols.” Robin commented as the twins groaned as Harpy chuckled softly and Filter looked over. “I’ll just win in your honour instead. We girls gotta stick together.” Filter nudged her head as Harpy brought his hand in front and waved it away from him.

Go.

Dove’s shoulder slumped, but she knew better than to argue with the cook. “Alright… But you two better win…” Dove narrowed her eyes. “I know you two have something planned for you 2 years of dating in this damn war.”

Filter only smiled. “What makes you say that?” Harpy only leaned his head on his partner as she took his hand and brushed his knuckles. Dove slowly stood up, downing her caf in one gulp before slowly moving off the bridge, towards what her next job would be.

5 hours

Magpie was grumbling to himself, brushing strands of long black and white hair from his face as he stared down at his latest patient as Dove walked in. Kite hid sheepishly in the med-bay’s covers as he stared up at his brother.

“Dove help! The crazy Medic says I need walking exercises again for my legs!” Kite called out as Magpie glanced over.

“He does! His legs need adjusting and I only barely caught him because of Kestrel! Bloody Clone tried to blow himself up again, adjusting his starfighter!” Magpie returned fire as Kite grumbled, Kestrel making himself known as he nodded his head towards the Lieutenant.

The Arc Trooper was always lurking around the mad pilot that was Kite. Mostly to keep an eye on him and to ensure he didn’t blow up the hanger in trying to make himself faster.

“He does need adjustments,” Kestrel points out as Dove turns to Kite. “I’d say let Magpie take a look… He knows best” Dove reasoned with the Pilot who grumbles. “He’s going to steal my legs-“

“No I won’t!” Magpie flushed and swatted Kite who cackled. Magpie always had the habit of picking things up… even if it wasn’t his… Considered by his bunk were buckets of paint belonging to other battalions and groups… Comms… The list somewhat went on… If someone was missing something, it was the first place to check.

Dove pinched the bridge of her nose as she glanced at Kite.

“Please. We need you fit in case one of the other battalions calls us… the 332nd are in Mandalore and they may need help despite our current location… that or the 104th in Cato Neimoidia.” Kite thought for a moment before sighing. “Fine! But Kestrel gets to hold my legs.”

The Arc Trooper shrugged but turned to Magpie who grumbled and eventually agreed.

“Speaking of… Magpie, what did you need me for?” Magpie blinked before moving to his desk, grabbing hold of a bundle of Datapads while almost tripping over his chair.

“I got… those reports of men lost during the Battle of Coruscant. I need the Commander to sign these off”

Dove frowned at the amount. “Ah…” She glanced at Magpie. Obviously the medic had skimmed through the files and had scribbled down that they had been K.I.A before sending it to Crow to finish off.

“Sure I’ll take em…”

Magpie’s smile didn’t reach its full potential as Dove scooped up the pile, Kite having fallen silent. “I still have more to complete, but if you could give Crow a head start…”

Kite looked over. “Hey Mags, want me to help with that? I mean… I ain’t doing much now.” The engineer of the brothers commented as Magpie turned back towards him.

“…Me too,” Kestrel smiled. “While we sort out this idiot.”

“Hey! I thought we were having a moment!”

Dove left the Medbay quickly before Kite and Magpie could squabble once more. The two had come together after losing their Batchmates and despite the small fights, it was obvious to others that they cared for each other in their own way. Kite only wanted Magpie to not get grey hair despite the Clone’s intention to salt and pepper his hair anyway, and Magpie had hovered ever since Kite lost his legs, gaining replacements thank to Kestrel. The Clone always wanted to go faster… which left many marks in the hanger.

3 hours She found Crow, head down on his desk with data pads littering his room as she sighed. The Commander had probably fallen asleep after processing the lost clones due to the previous battle. She had been surprised the General had not been here, considering how close she could tell the two were slowly going.

They were going to wait until after the war to date. So they could properly get to know one another without the looming threats. Dove smiles warmly at the thought before moving over to pick up Crow’s favoured blanket from his bed and moved it over the Clone Commander. It had been a gift from one of the civilians rescued during one of their dogfights, and Crow had treasured it massively. He took it off on shore leave and back to the command ship when needed, it had certainly become a comfort item to the commander when he was off duty.

She put Magpie’s records on the side away as she sighs. Something in her gut told her this feeling wasn’t going away so easily… maybe she would visit Magpie to get knocked out and sleep it off. But she needed to be back on the Bridge to meet with the General… But maybe she could convince Tuteru to allow Crow to sleep in… the bags under his eyes only grew deeper and they weren’t from Twin watching.

Dove decided to leave him be. The Commander deserved some rest, especially after looking out for their Flock. Macaw had walked in just as she was leaving, greeting her as he paused at the sight of their drooling Commander surrounded by Datapads.

“I’ll help him and forge his signature… saves him the time.” The newest Arc Trooper commented with a smile as he continued, sitting on the floor and grabbing a pen.

Dove smiled.

“Just make sures he sleeps. Otherwise Magpie will kill him before the war ends.”

1 hour

She found their General, an older Pantorian Lady by the name of Chora Tuteru, meditating in the training rooms of their old Venator. Dove found herself slowly walking over before perching on a mat. The General chuckled as she nodded her head in Dove’s direction..

“Seems like you’ve had an adventure walking here.” Tuteru smiles warmly, sending a wave of comforting energy as Dove slouches, throwing off her Officer’s jacket. “Well… They can be them off the field… But I think the recent battle’s have stirred them. I can feel their tension.”

Tuteru opened her eyes and glanced towards Dove.

“You seem to be getting better at your senses, Though we do need to work on your own projections…”

Dove winces. Of course she projected. She’s untrained… that’s why they had these sessions…

“Dove.”

Dove froze as she paused.

“Sorry.”

“…Walk with me, Little Bird.” Tuteru smiled as she stood up, helping the Lieutenant up before exiting the Training room. Macaw had joined them along their walk as small chatter filled the room, Crow had woken up and asked for a caf which Macaw said he’d grab. Walks had helped, the familiar rumbling and the safety net of her family reassuring her… that

It was alright.

Tick-

Tock-

Tick-

Ex—t- -rd—6-

The general collapsed briefly.

Dove ran to her side, but then it hit her. Overwhelming pain, screams of the damned. Raw emotions of Betrayed! Deception! Beware!

Think of the children- Her heart swelled before she too stumbled. Then it happened too suddenly. Macaw had turned and aimed his blaster-

Tuteru had force pushed him into the wall before Dove quickly shut the blast door. The two glanced at one another in confusion.

Another door opened.

More clones came. Blasters raised.

Kestrel was next, Dove stunned him and quickly cuffed him to another clone as Tuteru trapped the rest behind a sealed door. Magpie and Kite had been locked in the Medbay as far as she was aware. The Comms were a mess.

There was confusion, anger, crying and begging.

But Dove could not feel anything from the ones she called Brother.

It was like they were gone. Silenced. The Force did not know where they’d be, nor did she.

Her private line went off; Filter cursed.

“Dove? Are you there?”

Dove responded with a shaky hello.

“The Clones have gone off! Said something about an Order, nothing that Harpy didn’t know about. But we’re holding them off the bridge! He’s just finishing off the other clones here and making sure they don’t cause trouble! Is the General with you?”

“I am.”

“What do we do? We have wounded but of course the Med-bay isn’t available and, Hey Duck! Do not chew through those- Kriffing Idiot! You’re going to get shocked!”

Dove heard cursing from what she assumed was Duck, calling them out to be traitors for hiding the Jedi.

“I don’t know what’s happening… But We’ll try and get through to you.”

“No time, We have no way out and currently we’re in the middle of a fight for our lives ourselves.”

“Halliday, I am sending you orders.” The General commented after a bit. “I’ll take Dove and we’ll see what other damages… and if we can, send anyone in the crossfire to the Escape Pods.”

“Understood… and good Luck… Harpy is wishing he kissed our kid goodbye, I hope… he’s safe…” Filter mumbled weakly before the line cut, and explosion followed behind, shaking the ship. Dove looked to her General who seemed distraught, but sent a calming wave towards Dove before looking down the Corridor.

“Let us proceed.”

Dove and Tuteru ran along, trying to avoid the corridors of clones. It was safer that way then to engage, due to the numbers compared to the amount of Natborns on the ship. That was when Crow had spotted then, charged and knocked Dove hard into the wall as Tuteru moved to grapple with the Clone Commander. So far, all clones had their buckets on, had… nothing inside, as if their lights had been flushed out. Dove had pulled her blaster out and fired rounds of stun bolts, finally knocking the Commander out after the 4th. Tuteru grunted as she pushed the Clone off of her.

“Are you okay…?”

“A bit sore… but I’ll live… I just… don’t feel anything. Its cold… Scared…” Dove mumbled as Tuteru held her cheeks, looking over her. The general was certainly the closest she had to a mother figure, and Dove was scared. She had somehow lost her brothers… Would she end up losing her mother too? She felt a small pinch at her neck.

Was that a stim…?

Tuteru moved over, supporting the Lieutenant as the two ladies ran through the Venator. More and more, the cries were stopping and were eventually silenced. Dove felt herself losing the battle to stay away. Maybe Crow had knocked her head too much against the durasteel walls, because she swore she was in the Pod bay…

Why was Tuteru putting her in one…? Were they running…?

Wait… why…?

She felt her body being strapped in as Tuteru smiled sadly.

“Dove. You need to live. Continue for the Flock… I need to get to Filter and Harpy… But we have a plan… You just need to survive.”

“But… Gen…” Dove murmured as she tried to get a grip of her senses. What was with her? Her emotions flooded with fear against Tuteru’s slowly glowing core, who was sending reassuring waves in return.

“Dove… please.” And that’s all Tuteru left it at. The Pantoran slowly exited the Pod as Dove reached up to pull at the belts. Why? She suddenly heard a saber ignite and one voice she could assume as Crow’s own, calling to kill the Jedi as the pod shut behind her. And then she was gone. The Pod launched into the voice, turning and flipping wildly as Dove tried to get control against her drowsy body. The escape vehicle had just spun enough for Dove to watch as her Home, Her mother figure and what remained of her family dive into Hyperspace.

And away from her.

+24 hours

It had been 24 hours since the change in her friends, 24 hours since the one she could consider her mother was now lost again to the Stars.

Did Chora survive? Did Crow kill her? What of the other Natborns?

Did Harpy and Filter hold out on the Bridge?

She hoped they did.

The Escape pod drifted in open space. Dove hadn’t found the energy to try anything yet, Just no will to proceed. She simply sat on the floor, lost in her thoughts and pounding emotions which threatened to bubble up.

She had the comm channel on briefly, The Senate was broadcasting that all Jedi were traitors. The Clones… had executed them.

Palpatine had been granted emergency powers for the attack. Dove had shut it off after hearing Palpatine. It wasn’t true… She knew her brothers… they weren’t like that.

They made her feel welcome. They gave her name… Made her feel like one of them despite her own background. And she desperately wanted her family back.

+80 hours

She hadn’t counted the hours, or even days. She had focused on what little she had to keep the ship operational, barely using the equipment while waiting. But for what? Why was she waiting? The Pod creaked at her. She glanced up and put a hand to the side of the ship. Maybe it was time to end. She knew her stomach was gnawing at her, the small container of rations stared at her. She needed to eat, she would eventually.

Or she could just… not.

Not care anymore.

Wait for her end.

She didn’t see the approaching ship on her lonely pod. Nor did she mind.

After all, her family?

Was gone.

#Star Wars #The Clone Wars #tcw #swtcw #Dove #Chora Tuteru #Commander Crow #Avis Squadron #clone oc #jedi oc

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cometcrystal · 4 years

Text

anyway i finished Family by ffn user The Middle Warner Sibling today. i’d link it, but tumblr hides posts with links; you’ll find the fic easily if you sort on fanfiction dot net by highest amount of favorites for animaniacs LOL

here are my thoughts which i am making a Post about because this fic is literally 760,000 words long and if it’s not a touchstone of the fandom, it should be. ALSO if you care about spoilers for this story, this post will have spoilers in it.

things i liked:

the warners themselves are written very well. i’m not a huge fan of the “they’re actors and animaniacs is the show they film” idea myself, but it’s done in the best way possible here that feels very believable

i watch riverdale and thus i enjoyed all the melodrama. this fic is very dramatic but that’s not always a bad thing

the adult fear was very powerful. as a 24 year old and also an oldest sibling, reading about how during their TIS days, dot was adopted off to a few different homes and yakko and wakko didn’t even know it??? and she was only returned because she wouldn’t stop crying out for yakko??? was INCREDIBLY unsettling to me. the fact that it’d even happen. also my favorite arc was probably the TIS arc alongside the car crash/coma arc

the sibs being descendants of bosko was an interesting detail that i liked. there are SO many animation history references throughout this ENTIRE fic and i’m positive i missed some but i recognized a lot. op obviously knows what they’re talking about

the implementation of toon theory and “schlesinger syndrome” is BRILLIANT. i’ve seen lots of fics explore toon theory stuff, but none as in-depth as this. i LOVED IT and i want to read just an entire manual on toon theory. i wanna take an entire course

the sibs’ mentors and chaperones are all wonderful. i’m very firmly a “scratchy is the warners’ parental figure” truther, but bugs bunny being that in this fic worked very well. yakko calling him “da-doo” in his perspective is VERY fitting and i liked that detail a lot. it’s extremely cute. also foghorn’s relationship w wakko and porky’s relationship with dot are both extremely cute as well. also: chaos vodka aunt slappy nation rise

hello nurse is given a real name and some agency thank god

the character of penelope goose should be a real thing. i love her SO much.

i have never watched a single episode of talespin in my life but i love mrs cunningham, kit, and molly now

i cried three times at this fic, which is an accomplishment because i have NEVER cried at a fanfic before: once when ophelia died, once when goose comforted yakko after they got caught by TIS, and once at goose’s funeral

normally i don’t care for overly-dad-like yakko. he’s protective of his siblings ofc and would die for them but he’s still their big brother, not their dad. BUT in this universe, dad-like yakko makes perfect sense, and i really enjoyed it, so points for that

every good thing that happens to the warners feels completely earned. we see them from the very beginning, when dot can’t even walk yet, all the way up to yakko’s 16th birthday. it all just feels very rewarding to see them succeed, and their backstory/buildup to working for warner bros is just. really good. the familial love and sibling relationships are IMMACULATE

things i didn’t like:

i know that teenage boys are just Like That but also i did not like how the author put yakko in so many situations where he was allowed to act on it, especially considering he’s like, 12 or 13 when his first makeout session happens, and then maybe a year older when the next thing happens. really did not like that.

also really did not like the author’s homophobia and transphobia showing in SEVERAL instances. it was just weird because the fic’s weirdly progressive in a lot of places but then its just like. yakko explaining that gay people exist to wakko is suddenly a “weird conversation”. like. ok

Plucky Duck Epic Racist Moments. THIS WAS SO JARRING FJDSKLFJSDLK DONT DO PLUCKY LIKE THIS AND DON’T DO MARY MELODY LIKE THIS EITHER. EVIL

pinky and the brain and straight and brain is straight with GADGET HACKWRENCH

this fic is so mean to scratchy. be nice to him :(

it’s also mean to skippy hes just a boy!!!!!!!!!

things i am neutral on but still found noteworthy:

the author has a very very strong vendetta against darkwing duck for some reason and its just so baffling. he is SO yucky nasty to the warners and FOR WHAT??? and gosalyn is a lil bitch in this fic too its SO weird to see. ive never watched darkwing duck so maybe theyre just like that but i doubt it

anyway i enjoyed reading this story despite the problems i have with it. it managed to cut off at the best moment it could: yakko getting reassurance from bugs and giving him a hug after wakko and dot have decided to try new interests out. it’s unfinished, and was last updated in 2014, but that’s a much better cutoff point than a lot of unfinished fics get, and i don’t feel a need for closure on anything.

just be warned, this fic has a LOT of heavy subjects in it. feel free to ask me if you need any specific warnings, but otherwise, i say go for it

#animaniacs #animaniacs 93 #animaniacs 1993

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justcallmefox89 · 4 years

Text

Truth or Dare Part 6 - Diavolo’s Ending

Arianthi’s choices have the potential to shake up the House of Lamentation and the Devildom, but is she ready to accept everything Diavolo is offering her? After an unexpected altercation Mammon is offered something he never expected.

Written from the perspective of my female OC Arianthi.

NSFW - penetrative sex, unprotected sex, impact play, rough sex

TWs - physical violence.

Mood Playlist: (I don’t know what it is about writing Diavolo that brings out the dramatics and my inner theater kid lol)

Jonathan Young - Beauty and the Beast (cover) Jonathan Young - All I Ask of You (cover) LP - The One That You Love Jeremy Jordan - It’s All Coming Back to Me Now Yohiro - My Nocturnal Serenade

Mammon’s kiss is rough and insistent, I can feel my lips bruising beneath his. I shake my head and try to wiggle out of his grip.

“Mammon? Mammon, stop! We have to talk -”

“Mammon!”

“LET HER GO!”

I hear two voices cry out in unison; Lucifer’s measured, controlled tones and Diavolo, his voice deep with pain and something I’ve never heard before......rage.

Mammon lets me go and we take a few steps away from each other, both of us breathing heavily. I barely manage a glance at Mammon before I’m bodily picked up and my view of him is obstructed by four huge black wings and a bare, broad back. I see the familiar markings and realize with a shock that Diavolo has shifted to his demon form.

Oh my god. He’s going to kill Mammon.

I hear footsteps behind me and realize the the rest of the demon brothers have come running, skidding to a stop behind me.

“Arianthi?” Asmo gasps.

“What’s.....going....on?” Levi asks, hands on his knees, sucking in deep breaths of air.

Satan peers around me at the trio in the kitchen, brow furrowed. “We heard shouting. Why are you here? And why is-?

“Guys......bigger problems right now!” Belphie interrupts Satan, raising a finger to point at Diavolo, who is slowly advancing on Mammon.

“How dare you touch her?” Diavolo’s voice is low, thick with menace.

Mammon glares back at him defiantly, still in demon form, refusing to give an inch as Diavolo stalks towards him.

“Lucifer! Do something!” Beel appeals to his older brother, pupils blown wide with fear.

Lucifer takes half a step forward, then relents, shaking his head silently. He’s not going to interfere, even if it means his lord kills his younger brother.

Beel growls low in his throat and begins to shift, but Lucifer shoots him a look of warning.

“This is the last time you touch what isn’t yours Mammon.” Diavolo has backed Mammon into a corner. “Don’t resist and I’ll take you outside. I won’t make your brothers watch this.”

Mammon shoots a panicked look over Diavolo’s shoulder, blue eyes meeting mine.

“Oh for the love of......!”

It finally clicks in my brain that none of the brothers are going to step in. I run towards Diavolo, feet slipping on the kitchen tiles. I grab him around the waist, attempting to stop his forward trajectory. He drags me right along with him, my efforts in vain.

“Diavolo stop! Stop! You’re going to hurt him!” I shout, trying to get his attention.

Diavolo looks down at me, head cocked to the side. For the first time since I’ve met him, I’m afraid truly afraid. His deep amber eyes flash gold in the room’s low light; he’s now a predator in search of prey. “I know.”

Fear trickles down my spine and I break out in goosebumps. “You can’t!”

Those golden eyes narrow and laser in on me. “You would tell me what to do?! A human would attempt to give orders to me in my own kingdom?!”

“Arianthi get back here!” Belphie hisses.

I glance over my shoulder and see him clutching his cow pillow, eyes wide.

Diavolo takes another step towards Mammon, reaching out to grab his throat. He lifts Mammon with one hand and I hear Mammon struggling, clawing at Diavolo’s hand and kicking his feet, attempting to find purchase.

He’s really going to kill him.

I squeeze Diavolo’s waist tight and dig in my heels, attempting to pull him back. “My prince stop! Please, Lord Diavolo!”

Blood has started to trickle from Mammon’s nose and his eyes roll back in his head.

I’m going to be sick.

I bury my face in Diavolo’s back, tears stinging my eyes.

“Diavolo! Stop Dia, please! Please, for me..... please don’t hurt him!” I beg one more time.

I hear a sudden, sickening thud as Mammon’s body hits the ground and feel myself move as Diavolo takes a step back. I duck beneath one of his wings and scramble towards Mammon on my hands and knees.

“Mammon! Mammon, open your eyes!” I pull him halfway into my lap, patting his cheeks and attempting to wipe the blood from his face with the hem of my shirt.

“Lucifer! Satan!” I scream for their help, realizing I’m well on my way to being hysterical but refusing to give in to it until I know Mammon is alright.

I feel, rather than see, Satan and Lucifer drop to their knees next to me, both reaching out to take measure of their brother’s injuries.

“Arianthi. We’re leaving.” Diavolo is still in his demon form, looking down at me, extending his hand to help me up.

I shake my head and cling tighter to Mammon. “No! Not until I know he’s ok.”

He scowls at me.

“I said we’re leaving.” He enunciates each syllable, voice low and threatening.

“And I said no!” I tearfully give Mammon a small shake, willing him to wake up. “You almost killed him Dia!”

That seems to snap Diavolo out of his haze, and fury slowly fades from his face as his body relaxes.

Mammon rolls to his side and coughs roughly, eyelids flickering. “Human?”

“I’m here, I’m here,” I reassure him, rubbing his back soothingly. “Beel’s going to take you to your room, alright? And Satan is coming too, so he can check on your throat.”

I look up at Satan to make sure that’s fine, and he nods his ok while motioning for Beel to come get Mammon.

Beel picks Mammon up like he weighs nothing and leaves the kitchen, the other brothers, with the exception of Lucifer, filing out after him.

When it’s just the three of us left we all stand silently staring at each other. I slump against the counter, filled with too many emotions. I’ve gone from sad, to angry, to freaked out, to scared shitless, all in the span of about twenty minutes.

As I look back and forth between the two demons in front of me, rage starts to creep in, buzzing in the back of my skull like a horde of flies.

“Lucifer, you should go check on Mammon. We can see ourselves out.” My voice sounds icy, calm despite the fury that’s threatening to set fire to the blood in my veins.

He was really going to let Mammon die. He wasn’t going to do a damn thing to save him.

Lucifer looks to Diavolo for confirmation.

“I said, go check on Mammon. We’ll be back in a few days.”

Both demons stare down at me, wearing identical frowns.

“With an apology.” I fix a glare at Diavolo, daring him to argue.

I wish a motherfucker would. I. Wish. A. Motherfucker. Would.

Diavolo opens his mouth as if to say something, then snaps it closed and gives Lucifer a curt nod.

Despite his confusion at the shift in power dynamics Lucifer nods. “I will speak to you soon my lord. Arianthi.”

As soon as he’s out of sight, I stalk to the front door and out of the House of Lamentation without waiting to see if Diavolo is following. He catches up to me quickly, one of his steps making three or four of my own.

Bastard.

“Arianthi,” he says softly, reaching out for my hand. “Please stop.”

“I swear to god if you lay one finger one me I will bite it off.” I hiss, never breaking my stride.

Diavolo flinches back, startled. He stays a few paces behind me for the duration of our walk back to the castle. I storm in, past a clearly flustered Barbatos, and make my way to our bedroom. I try to slam the door in Diavolo’s face but he’s too quick.

Bastard!

“You’re going to be sleeping somewhere else tonight,” I inform Diavolo with a bravado I don’t feel. A hysterical laugh escapes through my lips, and I clap both hands over my mouth.

I’m trying to order the prince of the Devildom out of his own bedroom. After he almost killed another demon. After he almost killed Mammon.

Another laugh leaks out. Along with a few tears.

I collapse on the edge of the bed, my shaking knees finally giving out on me. I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, attempting to fend off more tears. I hear a rustle of fabric and bring my hands down. Diavolo is back in human form, kneeling in front of me.

The fragile dam holding in my emotions breaks.

“How could you do that? You almost killed him Dia!” I wrap my arms around my stomach and hunch over, attempting to self soothe.

He reaches out for me then pulls his hand back, thinking better of it. He sighs. “I am so sorry Princess. I wish you hadn’t seen that.”

“I wish you hadn’t done that!” I snap back.

“He shouldn’t have touched you!” Diavolo growls at me, eyes flashing gold again.

“So strangling him was the answer?! I could have handled it! What were you even doing there?”

Diavolo inhales deeply. I’m aware I’m punching every button on his console but I really don’t care.

“Could you have though? Really? How would you have handled it princess?” He demands. “ And I was there because you weren’t in bed when I came up. The House of Lamentation was the only place where I thought you may be.”

“I would have talked to him! He’s only like that because we left things a mess between us; we need to clear the air.”

“So now you’re excusing him?” Diavolo is aghast.

“No, I’m not excusing him, but I understand why he did what he did. He’s hurt and he’s confused.”

“You’re excusing him.” He repeats stubbornly. “And you would have attempted to reason with him, while he was in his demon form? He could have killed you with a flick of his wrist Arianthi!”

I shake my head, just as stubborn. “Mammon would never hurt me on purpose.”

“Humans are fragile! Especially here. He could have killed you without meaning too!”

“Oh for Christ’s sake Diavolo!” I fall back onto the mattress, exasperated. “I could be killed just as easily in the human realm. A goose could take me out on a roller coaster for all we know. So just fuck off with your “humans are so fragile” bullshit.”

“A goose on a roller coaster?” Diavolo pauses for a minute, considering, then gets back on track. “He still shouldn’t have put his hands on what’s mine.”

I sit up very slowly. “I beg your pardon?”

His eyes widen. “What?”

“What’s yours?” I use my fingers to make air quotes. “I’m a person, not a puppy Dia.”

“I know. But you’re in a relationship with me. Making you effectively mine.”

I’m gobsmacked at the finality in his tone. “No. Not how things work. Humans don’t belong to each other.”

“I’m not a human!” He roars out, clearly frustrated by our conversation.

His outburst shocks me into silence, and I fold my hands in my lap, unsure what to do.

“I’m sorry Arianthi, I shouldn’t have -”

“No,” I interrupt him. “No, you’re right. You’re not human. I’ve let myself forget that. You’ve spoiled me and you’ve been so loving and attentive. You’re such an amazing boyfriend Dia. But you’ve protected me from so much here....... I forgot that fundamentally we are very, very different.”

Diavolo looks like I’ve slapped him. I try to look anywhere but his hurt face, casting about for something to do.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” I say, standing up.

He nods mutely as I slip past him into the bathroom. I click the lock, and turn on the shower, adjusting the water temperature to just under boiling. My arm has a few bruises from where Mammon grabbed me - nothing serious. I scrub at my skin harshly, trying to cleanse myself of my frustration and fear.

I want to go home. Do I really though?

I sigh and thunk my head against the wall of the shower.

No. If I’m honest with myself I don’t want to. And if I’m really honest with myself.......I’m in love with both......nope. Not going there. Nope. No.

I indulge myself in another deep sigh.

I’m not built for this kind of introspection. Between the two of them I forgot how dangerous the Devildom can be for a human. And tonight they showed me how dangerous they both can be with the right provocation.

I brush my wet hair out of my eyes and turn under the spray of hot water, rinsing the last of the soap from my body.

Am I even really safe from them?

I feel a hot rush of guilt and shame for the thought.

I just hate this situation. I hate feeling so weak and frustrated.

I stifle a scream and turn off the water.

Hopefully Dia is gone. Or asleep, and I can sneak off to one of the guest rooms.

When I emerge from the bathroom, dry and wrapped in a large towel, I see that once again this evening luck is not on my side. Diavolo is sitting in one of our bedroom’s large armchairs, idly flipping through the pages of a book.

He gives me a cautious smile. “Hey princess.”

“Hello.” I walk to the closet and look for something to sleep in. After a few minutes of searching I grumble in frustration. Since I’ve moved into Diavolo’s bedroom I’ve been sleeping in his shirts; I can’t even locate any of my own pajamas.

“Of for the love of Christ!” I rub my hands over my face in frustration.

“Something wrong princess?”

I jump, startled. I turn around to see Diavolo standing behind me, looking concerned.

“Don’t call me that!” I snap at him.

His face falls. “I apologize. Is something wrong Arianthi?”

I turn back to the closet shelves to search again.

“You almost killed one of the men I -” I grumble, before stopping myself with a squeak of surprise. I stiffen momentarily, praying that Diavolo didn’t hear me.

Does God still listen to prayers once you start sleeping with a demon?

Diavolo takes a step closer and places his hands on my shoulders, turning me around to face him. He winces at how I flinch at his touch. He reaches up to cup my jaw with one large hand.

“I am so sorry Arianthi. Despite what has happened, I know that Mammon is important to you. All the brothers are. I shouldn’t have let my possessiveness of you get that out of control. I promise you I will make this right with Mammon. And with you. Tell me what you need from me to make this right,” he pleads, his gentle eyes searching my face.

I chew on my lower lip. “You need to apologize to Mammon.”

“Done. As soon as possible.”

“And....” I suck in a deep breath, suddenly lightheaded. “I want you to let Lucifer out of his pledge to you.”

Diavolo’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry?”

“I want you to let Lucifer out of his pledge to you,” I repeat again, with more confidence.

He narrows his eyes at me. “Lucifer’s pledge is none of your concern.”

“Because this is your kingdom and I’m just a human?” I challenge him, my voice bitter.

Diavolo’s face falls. “No, princess. I’m so sorry I said that. That is in no way how I feel about you.”

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close to his chest. I stiffen for a minute, then relax into his embrace.

“But I really do fail to see how Lucifer’s pledge is of concern in this matter.”

I place my hands on his chest and push back slightly, so I’m able to look up at him.

“You’re almost killed his brother Dia. And he didn’t step in because of his pledge to you. He couldn’t even allow his other brothers help Mammon.” I look into his eyes, willing him to understand what I’m saying.

“You feel that Lucifer’s pledge to me is too much?”

“I really do. I understand that he’s your second in command, so why can’t he just be that, without his pledge? If this is something that has the potential to put his family at risk, or that means he places you above his family.........” I shake my head. “That’s not fair Dia. You can’t ask him to do that.”

“Princess...” Diavolo trails off, still not completely convinced.

Almost there. Time to bring out the big guns.

I look at him with my best puppy dog eyes. “It’s been centuries since Lilith. And Lucifer has served you faithfully every day since then. He still will I’m sure, but he deserves the chance to make his own decisions Dia, not just be blindly loyal to you.”

I pause for a few beats.

“Please baby?” I whisper.

When Diavolo lets out a low groan I know that I’ve won.

“You are entirely too much princess.” He drops a kiss onto my forehead. “When we go speak with Mammon I will inform Lucifer he is free of his pledge to me.”

I hug him tightly. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

I let out a yelp as he suddenly picks me up and walks towards the bed. “What are you doing?”

He drops me on the mattress and shrugs. “I’m tired of talking in the closet.”

He strips off his jacket and sits down next to me. “I am so sorry for what happened tonight. For hurting Mammon, for scaring you. For hurting you and making you question what you mean to me.”

He pulls me into his lap, resting his forehead against mine. “I will never stop trying to make this up to you.”

I loop my arms over his shoulders. “I believe you.”

He nuzzles his face into my neck. “I love you princess.”

“I love you too.” I idly play with his hair, marveling for the hundredth time at how soft it is.

“Even though we’re so different?” His question is whispered against my neck, so soft that I almost don’t hear it.

“Oh Dia.....” I reach down and cup his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me.

“Of course I do. Us being different isn’t a deal breaker. We still have a lot of things to learn about each other, but as long as we’re open and communicate honestly everything will be fine.”

Diavolo nods, then gives me a little smile. “You’re right.”

I boop his nose. “I often am.”

“And so modest.” He chuckles and pulls me into a kiss.

It starts out soft, a gentle teasing of lips and tongues, but quickly turns heated. I card my hands through his hair and tug roughly, biting at his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

He pulls away from me, shocked, and touches his fingers to his lip. When he pulls them away and sees a few drops of blood, his eyes darken with something I can quite place.

“Still mad at me my princess?”

I feel my face flush.

“I may still have some aggression to get out,” I mutter, refusing to look at him.

Diavolo grabs my chin and forces my head up. He grins at me, looking feral in the low light of the bedroom. “I can help with that.”

He yanks my towel off and I hear fabric ripping. He carelessly tosses the scraps to the floor then grabs my hips, positioning me so that I’m straddling his thigh. One of his hands grips the back of my neck as the other slides up my stomach to cup my breast.

“Kiss me,” he growls.

I hesitate for a moment and Diavolo roughly pinches my nipple, drawing a shocked gasp from my lips. His hand leaves my neck long enough to deliver a stinging slap to my ass. I jump at the impact and let out a whimper.

“Do as you’re told princess,” he whispers in my ear, nipping at my earlobe.

I bring my lips close to his, barely touching. “You’re playing rough tonight my prince,” I murmur.

“You started it.” He lowers his head and his fangs close in on the delicate skin of my neck while his hand delivers another sharp smack to my ass.

I seal my mouth over his, licking along his lower lip and tasting blood. His hands grip my hips, forcing me to grind down against his thigh. I gasp at the intense friction against my clit, and his tongue flicks against mine. I fist his shirt in my hands, trying to bring him closer.

When we finally break apart I kiss along his jaw and down his neck, my fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. His hands keep working my hips in a delicious rhythm against his thigh while I yank open his shirt, dropping kisses across his chest.

“Shirt. Off,” I demand, moving back up to his mouth.

He chuckles against my lips. “As you wish.”

He shrugs his shirt off and my hands immediately begin exploring the smooth skin of his shoulders and chest. I move in to kiss him again, but he winds some of my hair around his fist and yanks me back hard, so that my chest is arched towards him.

Diavolo’s mouth works feverishly against my skin, leaving warm, wet kisses and sharp bites over my breasts. He sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue and scraping his fangs against it.

“Dia,” I whine, moving my hips helplessly. As good as the friction from his thigh feels, I want him to fuck me.

A sharp slap rings out and I feel the sting of his palm against my ass once again. I scream out and jerk forwards, pleasure and pain making it hard to think clearly.

“No whining,” Diavolo commands. He gives my shoulder a sharp bite, one hand coming between us to rub my clit.

“You have made such a mess on these pants,” he mumbles against the skin of my neck.

I gasp and dig my fingernails into his shoulders, tension gathering in my lower abdomen. He continues to use one finger to lazily circle my clit and mouths at my neck while I grind into him, chasing my orgasm. I’m right at the edge when abruptly removes his finger.

“What the fuck?” I whimper.

He smiles at me before lowering his head to flick his tongue against my nipple. “Tell me what you want Arianthi.”

“I want you.” I tug at his hair, holding his head in place while his mouth works against me.

He stops long enough to say, “You have me,” before sucking forcefully on my nipple again, his hand palming and squeezing my other breast.

I groan in frustration and pleasure. “Fuck me.....I want you to fuck me.”

He chuckles darkly. “Not yet baby. Cum on my thigh first. Then I’ll fuck you.”

I reach between us, running my hand along the length of his erection, reveling in the moan that leaves his lips. One of his hands is on my waist, fingers pressing deeply into my skin. I clumsily undo his belt, then his button and zipper, before reaching into his pants and freeing his cock. I tease the tip with my thumb, smearing pre-cum, before softly running my fingertips over the velvet soft skin of his hardness.

“Such a little cock tease.” Diavolo brings his lips to mine, kissing me hungrily.

I use one hand to stroke his cock, the other I place on his shoulder to steady myself as I slowly start rolling my hips. The hard muscles of his thigh and the rough fabric of his pants rubbing against my clit make for an intense duality of sensations and I moan into his mouth.

“That’s right baby.” Diavolo takes my lower lip between his teeth and tugs. “Just like that.”

I tighten my grip on his cock and he hisses in pleasure, hips bucking. My breath starts coming in short pants, pleasure building as Diavolo uses his mouth and hands on me. One last roll of my hips has me seeing stars and crying out his name. He holds me close to his chest, peppering my face with soft kisses as I come down from my high.

My body is pleasantly loose, humming with satisfaction from my orgasm and the feel of Diavolo’s mouth. I wind my arms around his neck and lazily return his kisses.

“Ready for more my princess?” Diavolo asks, nuzzling my hair.

I nod eagerly, pressing an open mouthed kiss to his throat.

“Good.” He squeezes my ass, sore from his earlier slaps, and turns, sending me tumbling onto the mattress. “On your hands and knees my love. Ass up.”

I rush to obey his command, pressing my chest and face against the mattress and arching my back, wiggling my hips in excitement.

Finally.

Diavolo stands, and I hear the rustle of his pants hitting the floor and the clinking of his belt buckle. I turn my head to look at him and see that he’s folding his belt into a makeshift strop.

Oh, so we’re playing like that tonight.

The mattress sinks beneath his weight and I feel bare skin brush mine as he settles behind me. Cool leather traces the curve of my spine as one of his calloused fingers traces small patterns over my ass.

“As pretty as my hand prints look on your skin, I’d love to mark you up just a little more,” Diavolo says. He bring the belt between my legs, giving my pussy a few light smacks. “Are you up for a little more, princess?”

“Yes my prince,” I reply breathily, trying to anticipate his next move.

Diavolo growls low in appreciation. “Count for me then. To ten.”

I barely have time to nod before supple leather cracks against my skin. “Ah!”

“Count for me baby,” he orders, slowly slipping one finger into my pussy.

I involuntarily react at the invasion, my slick walls tightly gripping his finger.

“Fuck,” he groans out, slowly pulling his finger out halfway then thrusting back in.

“O-o-one” I stutter out.

Another crack and the sting of leather again my skin. “Two.”

A second finger joins the first, gently preparing me for his cock, in tandem with another lash against my ass. The gentle rhythm of his fingers is at odds with the harshness of his breathing and the sting of the strop.

“Count.”

“Three!” I move my hips back against his hand, greedy for more of him, greedy to be filled.

“So needy tonight baby,” Diavolo mumbles, his fingers never breaking rhythm as his brings his belt down again.

“Four,” I cry out, a second orgasm quickly building.

At the seventh stroke of his belt I cum around his fingers, drawing a strangled sound from his throat.

“Fuck, princess.”

I’ve barely recovered when he delivers the last three strikes in quick succession. I collapse onto the mattress, body sore and mind hazy.

“On your knees. Your prince isn’t done with you yet.”

Diavolo lifts my hips, adjusting me, and dusts kisses across my lower back.

“Oof!”

The breath is pushed from my lungs as Diavolo wraps one hand around the back of my neck, pushing my upper body into the mattress and holding me there. His other hand guides his cock to my pussy, sliding it against my slit and gathering my wetness, rubbing against my swollen clit, before finally pressing into me.

Once he’s fully buried inside me, Diavolo uses his other hand to grab my wrist and pin it behind my back. Now gripping my neck and arm, completely controlling my position, he has me right where he wants me.

He slowly, tortuously, pulls out. I whimper in protest, trying to move but his hold on me is ironclad. He teases me, presses just the head of his cock into my pussy, thrusting in short, shallow strokes before roughly bucking his hips against mine.

“Diavolo!”

He sets a brutal pace, cock merciless pounding into my pussy, the skin of his lower stomach rubbing against the welts on my ass, his balls slapping against my clit.

“I can’t believe how well you’re taking me baby. How wet you are for me, being such a good girl and letting me fuck you like this.”

Praises fall from Diavolo’s lips even as he abuses my body, and my god, what wondrous abuse it is. Being totally at his mercy is an aphrodisiac by itself, but coupled with his words and touches my body feels like it’s being consumed by my searing desire.

I feel his hips stutter and realize Diavolo is close to his own orgasm. He releases my neck and wrist, before gently pressing my whole body down onto the mattress. He slows his thrusts, leaning down against me, pressing kisses against my shoulders, hands roaming up and down my sides.

He slides one hand between my hips and the mattress, large fingers easily finding my clit.

“I want you to cum with me baby. Cum one more time for me princess.”

I mewl in response, eyes rolling back in my head. A few quick motions of his fingers have me flying apart and crying out his name. My pussy clenches down on his thick cock, squeezing hard, milking his orgasm from him as he shoots rope after rope of warm cum against my trembling walls.

He collapses against me completely, our bodies still joined, murmuring loving affirmations, running his fingers through my sweat dampened hair. He gently disentangles himself from me after a few moments and I hear him pad into the bathroom.

I stretch luxuriously, completely fucked out, and absentmindedly admire the new marks on my body. Love bites and fingernail scratches paint my skin and I can feel the welts on my ass from Diavolo’s belt. I touch my fingers to my lips; they feel puffy and swollen, and my scalp is sore from where he pulled my hair. I sigh happily and squirm deeper into the mattress, a small smile on my lips.

I feel Diavolo settle back next to me on the bed.

“Feeling better princess?” He asks, amusement in his voice.

“Much,” I sigh, opening my eyes to look at him.

He reaches out with a warm, wet washcloth and gently begins cleaning sweat and cum from my body. After he has dried me with a soft towel he applies a soothing balm to my welts and the deeper bite marks. He helps me into one of his shirts then tucks me firmly into bed, dropping a kiss on my forehead.

“I’ll be right back baby. I’m going to go grab you some water and a snack.”

He flashes me a smile as he pulls on a pair of grey sweats and quietly slips out of the room.

Surrounding by warmth and Diavolo’s familiar scent I slowly drift off, coming to only when I feel him slip under the blankets next to me and hear his low chuckle.

“Come on princess,” he urges me lovingly. “I need you to wake up and eat just a little bit for me before you go to bed.”

I blink drowsily at him. “Feed me.”

He shakes his head and laughs. “Open up then.”

I obey and suddenly taste something warm, flaky, and buttery. “Mmmmmm. I didn’t know Barbatos made bread today. “

Diavolo huffs out a small laugh. “I think it’s for tomorrow, but I doubt he’ll mind if I steal some for a midnight snack.”

He pops a piece of bread into his mouth and grins at me.

Diavolo spends the next few minutes slowly feeding me some more bread, and helping me sip some water. Once he’s satisfied he pulls me to him, cradling me against his chest, and curling his body around mine.

“I love you so much Arianthi. I will do anything in my power to make sure that you are happy,” he whispers into my hair.

“I love you too Diavolo,” I manage to reply, before I tumble off into the abyss of sleep.

Two weeks later Diavolo and I are sitting on the couch in the library of the House of Lamentation, Mammon and Lucifer sitting in the two armchairs opposite us. The air is thick with tension, and Mammon looks like he wants to jump out of his skin. He keeps shooting anxious glances at me, and I try to smile back at him encouragingly.

Diavolo starts us off. “Lucifer and Mammon, I owe each of you an apology. Mammon I shouldn’t have attacked you. That was unforgivable of me and I don’t know if I will ever be able to make it up to you. I offer you my sincerest apology.”

Mammon’s eyes shoot from me to Lucifer to Diavolo. His mouth opens and closes a few times, but he’s unable to form a response.

“Oh!” I pop up from my seat and rush to hand him a large, wrapped package.

“I got you something too. I’m sorry for yelling at you that night Mammon. And for everything that has happened between us. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I really am so sorry that I hurt you. And I got you this.”

I shove the package into his hands.

He eyes me for a minute before tearing into the wrapping paper. His mouth twitches as he smooths his hands over the soft leather of the deep wine colored jacket I had picked out for him.

“I thought the color would look really good against your skin and your hair,” I explain in a rush. “But if you don’t like it -”

“I love it ya dumb human.” Mammon looks up at me with a small smile and softly brushes his fingers against mine. “And I forgive ya. I’m sorry too. For everything.”

I give his hand a quick squeeze before returning to my seat next to Diavolo.

“I also owe you an apology Lucifer. I came into your home and attacked one of your brothers without provocation. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Of course my lord.” Lucifer seems shocked Diavolo would even apologize for that in the first place.

Diavolo looks at me and takes a deep breath before continuing. “It has been brought to my attention that I also owe you an apology for the terms of your pledge to me.”

Lucifer’s head snaps up, his eyes wide. “I don’t understand my lord.”

“You should not be bound to me by an oath that prioritizes me over your family. So I release you from your pledge to me. You have served at my side faithfully for centuries, and I hope you will continue to do so. But now you have the freedom to make your own choices, even to stand against me if you determine the situation calls for it.”

For the first time in our history together Lucifer is speechless.

“Lucifer? Are you ok?” I ask him cautiously.

He shakes his head, breaking out of daze.

“Of course Arianthi.” He gives me a slight smile, before looking to Diavolo.

“Thank you my lord. I would be honored to continue in my service to you. I can’t deny that being able to focus more on my brothers will be a welcome change.”

Diavolo grins at him. “Perfect. Now Lucifer, I would ask that you excuse us. There is something I wish to speak to Arianthi and Mammon about in private.”

Lucifer, Mammon, and I share a look of panic.

The fuck, Diavolo?

Lucifer recovers first and stands, giving Diavolo a short bow. “As you wish Lord Diavolo.”

He quickly exits the library, closing the door firmly behind him.

“Mammon, if you would, come sit next to Arianthi. I’ll take your seat.”

Diavolo stands up and Mammon hesitantly sits down on the couch, careful to keep his distance from me. Diavolo moves an armchair closer to the couch so he can sit directly across from us.

He smiles and waves a hand at Mammon and I. “You may as well sit as close as you wish. You two do love each other after all.”

I feel my spine straighten with shock and can see from the corner of my eye that Mammon has adopted a similar pose next to me.

“Diavolo-” Mammon begins to protest.

“You would deny that you love Arianthi? After that little declaration you made in your kitchen?” Diavolo cocks his head to the side in amusement. “And you my princess, I know you love him.”

We both deflate a little, but are still on guard. We stay silent.

“What are ya playin’ at Diavolo?” Mammon finally asks.

Diavolo leans forward, forearms braced on his thighs.

“I’m not playing at anything. I promised Arianthi I would do anything in my power to make her happy. She loves me, and she loves you. We both love her. So I have a proposal. Why not let her have us both Mammon?”

Mammon’s mouth goes slack with shock and I stare at Diavolo in confusion.

“Are you saying you want me to date both of you?” I manage to croak out.

Diavolo takes my hand in his. “I’m saying I want you to be happy. I’m confident in the love we share. But I would be a truly neglectful prince if I ignored my princess’s deepest wishes.”

He kisses my knuckles. “If you are accepting of this, I would offer you the chance to have us both.”

I turn to look at Mammon, who still hasn’t said anything.

“I don’t....it’s not just me Diavolo. Mammon....I don’t....” I trail off, unable to form a coherent thought.

Mammon frowns. “So what? Ya want me to move into the castle with ya? Share the bed?”

Diavolo shrugs, unconcerned. “If that’s what you and Arianthi wish.”

Mammon’s blue eyes meet mine. “I do love ya. And bein’ with ya.........ya know I want that too. But I can’t just be....”

“My dirty secret?” I finish softly.

He nods mournfully.

“I’m not asking Mammon to be kept a secret.” Diavolo reassures us. “If we decide to do this, then Mammon would be brought into this relationship as an equal. He has the same protections and privileges as you do. The same affections from me if he wishes them. And with time maybe even my love as well, if he wants, and I feel the same way.”

“Can you do that? Publicly I mean?” I ask, shocked.

Mammon has been stunned into silence next to me.

“You still struggle with the whole “Prince of the Devildom” concept don’t you, princess?” Diavolo gives a small laugh.

“Relationships like the one I’m proposing aren’t uncommon here. I am the prince, the next ruler of the Devildom. Who would stand against me? And it’s not like I’m immune to Mammon’s many physical charms. This wouldn’t exactly be a stretch for me, especially if it makes the woman I love happy.”

Mammon flushes red to the tips of his ears and mumbles something I don’t quite catch. He stays silent for a while, considering. He turns to me. “Are ya goin’ back to the human realm?”

I blush and shake my head. “I’m staying here after the exchange program is over.”

He nods.

“So this would be a long term relationship?” He aims his next question at Diavolo.

Diavolo smiles and reaches out to hold my hand. “I would like to make it a permanent relationship someday soon, if Arianthi would have me.”

I blush again at the implication Diavolo’s words.

“Ok. So sayin’ ya do make Arianthi your princess. Where would that leave me?” Mammon asks.

“It wouldn’t leave you anywhere. You would still be by our side. By Arianthi’s side,” Diavolo responds.

“And what about when it’s time for ya to have an heir?”

Mammon’s next question hits me like a bus. I knew, in an abstract way, that Diavolo would eventually have to produce an heir to the Devildom.

“What about it?” Diavolo shrugs dismissively. “There’s no rush for such a thing. I think what you’re really trying to ask is if the heir must be borne of my seed.”

Mammon’s cheeks redden slightly, and grits his teeth. “That’s what I’m askin’, yeah.”

“No, they don’t.” Diavolo shakes his head. “If Arianthi is the princess, and you are our partner, any child borne of our relationship will be a valid heir. I have no need to know who’s blood it is, as we would all be equals in the relationship. I would love the child regardless.”

Mammon and I lean into each other, overwhelmed and seeking each other’s warmth. His hand grips mine, thumbs brushing over my knuckles absentmindedly as he thinks.

Diavolo is mimicking the motion on my other hand, waiting for a response to his proposal. As insane as his idea sounds......it feels right.

I can’t be selfish. Diavolo is ok with it. I’m pretty sure I am too. But Mammon has to be ok too. I wouldn’t ever push him into something like this.

“Mammon?” I ask softly.

“Mmmm?” He rests his head on my shoulder in an unusually bold gesture.

“What do you think about all this? About what Dia is asking?”

“I never thought it would be an option.” He sounds dazed.

“Would you be ok with...you know?”

“Sharing?” He lets out a startled laugh. “It would take some gettin’ used to. But if it’s only him,” he gestures at Dia, “and everything is as equal as he says it gonna be then I think it might be alright.”

Mammon smirks a little. “I know a good lookin’ demon when I see one. Bein’ in his bed wouldn’t be a hassle, especially if you're there too. And I’m sure the castle has all sorts of treasure that could make up for him almost killin’ me.”

“You would get a very generous allowance.” Diavolo smirks back at him. “You would still be expected to carry out your duties as one of the seven ruling lords of the Devildom, as well as your R.A.D. studies.”

“I can do that easy,” Mammon answers, voice cocky.

Diavolo extends his free hand to Mammon. “So what do you say Mammon? Be with us?”

Mammon doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” he says with a smile, slipping his free hand into Diavolo’s. “I wanna be with both of ya.”

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astrodances · 4 years

Photo

Scroldie Weekend 2020: Day 3 - Klondike

Happy Klondike Day!

Woohoo Woo-oo!

I’m so, so happy to finally get to share this - my take on the Blackjack Ballroom, Goldie’s dancing saloon in Dawson, made using The Sims 4 (on PS4)! (Featuring Sims versions of Scrooge and Goldie)

This has been a year in the making and has been quite the journey - I started making this during last year’s Scroldie Week (as a reference for one of the chapters of my story, Always the Lady In My Life - I was just picturing it so perfectly in my mind, I had to make it). Besides my story, its design + layout was mainly influenced by Rosa’s Klondike-based comics, some of Barks’ paintings (namely, “The Goose Egg Nugget” - see the 2nd pic in the photoset above - and “Nobody’s Spending Fool”), DT87′s “Back to the Klondike” episode, and some scenes from @iamthehousethatfloats Fortune Favors the Gold (and I was super honored when she and @koizumi-marichan used my Sims Blackjack design for inspiration in a chapter after I had shared some preliminary photos 💜).

I finished the building last July, but I may or may not have gotten sidetracked with learning how to legit play poker and blackjack in another PS4 game before sharing this. 😅 (Though that game also has a ballroom with a stage that definitely gives me Scroldie feels.) At some point, I also found out that PS4 Sims players would be able to upload to the gallery soon to share their creations, and then this year, just recently, they came out with The Sims 4 Eco Lifestyle, which includes auroras as a feature, so I had to wait to include that in these photos, too. (They’re so pretty aaaah!)

Photo descriptions for above, split into “rows”:

Exterior of the Blackjack on a snowy winter’s night (totally from Scrooge’s perspective)

a) Recreation of Barks’ “The Goose Egg Nugget” (minus everyone else but Scroldie XD) b) Recreation of that infamous scene from Rosa’s “The Prisoner of White Agony Creek” (+ House’s retelling of it ;))

Scrooge and Goldie dancing together in Sims versions of their formal outfits in DT17′s “The Golden Lagoon of White Agony Plains!” (and them dancing in those outfits is based more on that episode’s museum scene, but I’m just having it here at the Klondike shh)

a) Goldie looking out from her dressing room window towards... b) ...the trail to White Agony Creek, hoping that her letter reaches its destination (this row inspired by the end of Rosa’s “Hearts of the Yukon”)

Goldie giving Scrooge a big ol’ kiss by the fire, just because ;)

a) A beautiful aurora over the Blackjack b) Goldie swinging along onstage, singing about gold nuggets (based on DT87′s “Back to the Klondike”)

The beginnings of a gorgeous sunrise over the Blackjack, leading the way to White Agony Valley... 😌

Up next, I plan to make a certain little cabin... 😏

I’ll include the Gallery link to this lot in a reblog of this post, for any Simmers out there who want to download it!

In the meantime, enjoy a bunch of layout + other screenshots and descriptions under the cut! :D

** A quick note about my take on the layout: I know that in the comics, the stairs to the second floor are usually (at least) on the left side of the ballroom (looking towards the stage), and that they tend to head seemingly backstage, but particularly for my own story that I built this for, I have the stairs just on the right side, and they lead up to the dancers’ rooms and have a little balcony looking out towards the stage.

** Second note that you’ll have to use your imagination with the stage a bit. Since foundations (and thus stages) are tricky when used indoors in TS4, the stage is the same level as the rest of the first floor. I just made it a different flooring and put a threshold-type fence along the edge of it. But it works! :D

First things first, some overviews (please forgive any snow flurries getting in these shots XD):

^ Overview of the exterior

^ Overview of 1st floor (entrance is on the right) - we have the bar in the top-right, restrooms bottom-right (mainly needed to serve as a community lot in the game), poker and eating tables in the central area, staircase leading up to the second floor in top center, and the stage far left!

^ Overview of 2nd floor - it’s just on the right half of the picture (the railing should serve as the cutoff). These are the dancer girls’ rooms - starting from the top-right corner and going down in a backwards “L” shape: first two rooms are generic dancer girls’ rooms, then their bathroom, then Snake Hips’ room in the bottom-right corner, and Goldie’s room next to hers!

Now for a walkthrough (littered with so many comics references aha)!

^ About to head in after walking all the way from your claim, and you look over your shoulder to see her face on the moon this stunning view? Sign me up.

^ Coming inside, this is what you see first thing (*love of your life standing against a backdrop of flames onstage not included)

^ Here’s the bar, off to the right of the last photo!

^ Don’t forget to hang up your hat and coat by the door! (But don’t just stand right there like a big dope. The owner hates that...)

^ Some overview shots of the place looking from the stage. The first one in particular is as close as I can get to the image I had in my head of this scene for my story, where Goldie and Scrooge are sitting on the edge of the stage looking out over the place. Note than you can see Goldie’s room up there on the far right of the second story...

^ Close-up of the little fireplace nook I added in! Note the little steamboat model on the mantel of the fireplace. Sure would be a shame if it...caught on fire...

^ Shots of the stage! Of note, the last one is from the balcony area in front of Goldie’s room (can see into backstage-left from here). I like to think that Goldie liked to spend some of her time here overlooking her establishment, looking for her next victim to swindle or perhaps a certain sourdough in particular...

(Also, kudos to anyone who can spot the very subtle not-duck-related decor choice I accidentally made regarding the stage. 😉)

^ One of my particular favorite parts - the dancers’ dressing “room” backstage-right! This is where Goldie was in photo 4a for the original photoset of this post, where she’s looking out of the window towards the mountains.

^ Heading upstairs now, here are some rooms! First, the two generic dancer girl rooms, and second, Snake Hips’ room! (I like the camera I gave her on her nightstand - perhaps she would take up photography of the town as a hobby! :D)

^ And finally the last stop on our tour before you drink some suspicious coffee and wake up in the snow hours later is Goldie’s room! That glyph above the fireplace totally isn’t a “poison glyph,” what ever gave you that idea? 😅

And so ends the tour! Now time for a couple last fun bonus shots:

^ House and Mari, this one’s for you! ;D

^ This one’s really for anyone who just wants the setting of the coffee scene!

^ Idk, perhaps there were some nights Goldie couldn’t seep and would wander to a window to see a view like this.

^ It really is beautiful, isn’t it?

If you made it this far, thank you, and I hope you enjoyed the tour!

Again, I’ll be reblogging this post with a link to download this lot from TS4 Gallery!

#Scroldie Weekend 2020 #DuckTales #scroldie #Scrooge McDuck #Goldie O'Gilt #The Sims 4 #Sims #my stuff #long post

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ducktracy · 4 years

Text

173. a sunbonnet blue (1937)

release date: august 21st, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: berneice hansell (girl mouse), mel blanc (sheriff, george washington, various), billy bletcher (villain)

the second entry in his mice trilogy (that is, ain’t we got fun, this, and the mice will play), tex avery revisits the roots of earlier merrie melodies to give us this cutesy tale about mice running rampant in a hat shop at night.

akin to the countless of other “come to life at night” cartoons of both the past and future, we open to the facade of a hat shop -- snobby hatte shoppe, that is. the streamlined, art deco exterior feels straight out of a frank tashlin cartoon. truck inside with a multi-plane pan across the dark, empty, vast shop. very moody and eye-catching.

a mouse hole in the wall is now the focus of the camera, where a trepidatious mouse pokes his head out warily. he tiptoes furtively along--the foreshortening and perspective on the backgrounds is very nice, again quite tashlin-esque--the shop, pausing right out in the open. silence except for the music score... until, in an unmistakably avery move, the mouse bellows��“HEY! ANYBODY HERE!?” without waiting for an answer, he darts back into his hole.

the coast is clear. delighted, the mouse hops into his conveniently placed elevator, leading right towards a light switch. this cartoon does take extra steps to make lighting a priority, but some cases are more successful than others: as the elevator doors open, revealing a pool of light, the mouse momentarily becomes transparent as he passes the open door, thanks to difficulty with the double-exposure. nevertheless, mr. mouse turns on the lights, prompting the black button above the on/off switch to ram right into his face, sending him falling to the ground and landing safely on top of a top hat.

mr. mouse asserts that he and his mice friends have no company: they’re free to party. after all of the mice have swarmed the place from their hole, the mouse proves himself to be a casanova as he chews the shape of a heart into the wood to impress his sweetie, voiced by the giggly berneice hansell. his efforts pay off as his girl croons “oh george, you’re so cute!” i’ll never get tired of hearing hansell’s squeaky voice for as long as i live. the love-birds run to join their friends, but have unexpected company: a nefarious, billy bletcher voiced mouse. yes, folks! it’s a kidnapping picture! the kind that dominated the first 5 years of warner bros cartoons all too prominently!

in preparation for the song number, both mice coyly pose with the hats mentioned in the song, with villain mouse crawling under a nefarious looking cap of his own to keep a keen eye out on the missus. the pans from the lovebirds to the villain is well executed. it’s not as blindingly fast as frank tashlin’s transitions, but it doesn’t need to be, either. there’s definitely a level of control present, which works to the cartoon’s advantage and disadvantage. primarily the latter.

a mouse turns off the light-switch, another turning on a headlamp to use as a spotlight, which segues us into our song number. the song number is cute, but that’s about all it is. it’s surprisingly prominent, calling back to the earlier days of the merrie melodies where the songs were full-on songs, not sharp, witty, tongue-in-cheek quips as was becoming the norm for 1937. another pan demonstrates that the sunbonnet blue and the yellow straw hat getting wedded. the song sequence is unremarkable, but there is a bit of that avery bite as we get a rather dismal view of married life: sunbonnet mama is doing all of the housework while straw hat dad reads the paper, paying no mind to their plethora of children running around.

we’re treated with more lighting effects as the mouse operating the headlamp now uses colored visors as a substitute for lighting gels. some of the colors certainly translate better than others (that last red color in the sequence muddies up the drawings an awful bit.) nevertheless, the happy couple are greeted with cheers and applause after their cutesy little number is complete.

thankfully, irv spence swoops in to save the day from monotony, adding some much-needed zest and fervor with his animation of “the three ratz brothers”. the clumsy brothers perform a vaudeville routine after breaking out of a dunce cap, singing “i haven’t got a hat”, the merrie melody that marks the debut of porky, beans and co. just 2 years prior. the entire ratz bros. sequence is very well done and difficult to capture in photos and words: one of those scenes that you need to see for yourself. irv’s poses are strong, defined yet loose and rubbery, and his facial expressions are satisfyingly goofy.

the rats burst into a medley of songs, the mood drastically changing as the engineer mouse from before switches out gels. green lighting sparks a mournful dirge of “i haven’t got a hat” (with one of the brothers even crying hysterically), yellow lighting prompts one of the brothers to recite ted lewis’ catchphrase of “is everybody happy?” lighting turns blue to reflect the unanimous outcry of “NO!” again, this is a great sequence--THIS is what tex avery is about. it’s strikingly noticeable that his heart wasn’t quite in this short, but for just a minute, he’s allowed to get a word in. song numbers change, as do moods, as do colors, the rapid pace transitions once again tashlin-esque in their execution. the three brothers end the number in a lively rendition of “the lady in red”, staring at the audience with crossed eyes and big grins. gone too soon!

with the festivities over and done with, the peace now serves as the perfect transition for some prime kidnapping. the villain mouse sneaks up to the girl using his hat as a cover, and, predictably, snatches her away. george does a bit of an avery take as his ears elongate in shock--he rushes to bang a spoon against a nearby military hat. they’d have plenty of military gags to work with in the coming years, as we’ll most definitely see once WWII breaks out. for now, george summons his army of mice to go after the villain and save the day.

memories of harman and ising past revisit us once again as we get a taste of a tried and true--well, mainly tried--gag: mouse blows trumpet, prompting his pants to fall down. more hat gags, such as a line of mice marching beneath band leader’s hats with merely their legs exposed, until irv spence breaks up the monotony by animating a rat sheriff resting beneath a sheriff's hat. george hurriedly alerts him to his dilemma, prompting the sheriff to exclaim “WHY DOESN’T SOMEBODY TELL ME THESE THINGS!?”, a catchphrase whose origin is a bit muddy--some attribute it to radio show personality fred allen, others to a listerine commercial, it’s even the name of a song. it bubbled up in a number of 1937 warner bros cartoons (porky’s badtime story being one example.) nevertheless, spence’s animation is lively like always, his zest not taken for granted.

after the sheriff blows on his whistle, summoning a police and fire brigade (all spawning from police hats and fireman hats respectively), a mouse hiding beneath a cowboy hat bellows “BUCK BENNY RIDES AGAIN!”, prompting a slack-jawed, hayseed mouse to respond “hello, buck!” both are a reference to jack benny’s radio show, particularly jack benny’s cowboy persona, (as you can guess) buck benny. elsewhere, we get some more gags of the mice and their “factions”, including football playing mice and their respective cheerleaders. finally, we get a distance shot of all of the hats running together. it’s a nice bit of animation, and the lively underscore of “i haven’t got a hat” does contribute an air of jolliness to the sequence.

elsewhere, george darts through rows of hats, the sounds coming out of his mouth being the unmistakable laugh of daffy duck’s. in the midst of his franting HOOHOO!ing, george stumbles upon another george: washington. once again, irv spence animates the exchange between both mice, the Regular George asking “which way did they go?”, prompting washington to arbitrarily tack on “i cannot tell a lie: they went that way.” the scene has potential to be funny--i would have loved to have seen the washington mouse act all uppity and snooty--but falls rather flat instead.

we’re treated with a blind mouse gag (because that’s a knee-slapper, huh?) who points george in the direction of the chase. kidnapper and victim dash over a staircase of meticulously placed hats, pursued by george. george jumps onto a top hat, flattening it, and then swings the hat around like a frisbee. the frisbee effectively slides beneath the villain, sending him sliding. again, another spence scene, with some rather intriguing animation, especially that of george winding up the hat to throw.

the villain loses the girl in the process, and now flies empty handed into a knight’s helmet after the top hat springs up and launches him across the room. george closes the helmet, placing the villain in “jail”, prompting him to grumble the ever popular fibber mcgee and molly catchphrase “t’ain’t funny, mcgee!” mel blanc voices the line instead of billy bletcher for reasons unbeknownst to me. meanwhile, the mouse sweethearts reunite. george excitedly whispers into his sweetie’s ear--she nods, prompting george to do a dance of excitement while the audience waits with bated breath.

their grand secret? a wedding. the happy couple march down the aisle lined with hats, complete to a rather jazzy rendition of “here comes the bride” (which makes me think of a similar scene in a gandy goose and sourpuss terrytoon, animated by the great carlo vinci.) the officiator reflects a burst of avery humor as he gives a hilariously abbreviated ceremony: “do you.... dododododdododododo... do you?” “i do!”

with weddings come wedding gifts, and our mice are no exception. the bride does the honors of opening the box, and husband soon follows. wife peers inside and grows rather bashful, a flurry of giggles. she encourages her husband to peer in--he does so, giving another daffy-esque “WOOHOO!” of shock as he stares at the camera in befuddlement. we iris out on the big reveal, which also has the honors of being tex avery’s first use of live action in a cartoon:

this is a rather frustrating entry. i don’t like to hold tex avery up as if he’s some monolith--his cartoons aren’t perfect, as we see here. he has weaknesses and faults like everybody else. but the fact that we’ve seen what he’s capable of, it’s hard not to compare it to works like these: the letdown is inevitable. it’s clear his heart was not at all in this one. it instead feels like a merrie melody from the 1934-1935 season--the art style is the only thing boosting it from comparisons to harman and ising. it’s just not a strong entry at all. there’s hardly any bite to it, it plays the game much too safe. irv spence’s scenes are the shining stars of the cartoon, especially that interlude with the ratz brothers. that is true avery, that is what he is capable of, but the rest of the cartoon just doesn’t follow through. painfully formulaic, unremarkable, forgettable. you’re better than this, tex! i will give it points for artistic experimentation: the lighting effects, while not executed perfectly, were certainly ambitious, and some of the backgrounds are very tasteful. but, as a whole, this is a very forgettable cartoon that you can easily skip. but, for you curious types such as myself, link!

#lt #a sunbonnet blue #looney tunes #avery #reviews #long post

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