So as several people have noticed, ethos chair doesn't fit under his desk (maybe it squeezes but where are the scuff marks then?) @edwin-m-stanton and I ended up having a 2 am discussion about this (like normal people) and this is what we came up with

Without color for more "details" lmao

{Four Hundred Thousand Yen} Tamaki Amajiki x Reader

Tamaki had a lot of questions in life, but the list was reordered the moment he was chosen for the date auction of 3-A.

Why me?

Why was my name in the bid?

Why did no one look surprised?

Was this rigged?

His last question was answered fairly quickly, the class did in fact rig the polls. It was a tie between him and Mirio, but after some convincing from Mirio and Nejire, the class had filled the ballot box almost entirely with Tamaki’s name.

“Why would you do this to me?” He mumbles into his desk as he bowed his head to keep from seeing his traitorous best friend. Mirio was standing next to his desk with a huge smile on his face. Tamaki couldn't see it, but he could hear it in his friend’s voice.

“It’ll be fun! Don't sweat it, you're gonna be great!”

“I-I can't even- go on stage..” Tamaki lifts his head to show his lips were trembling as he was on the verge of a breakdown. The thought of being on stage for people to bid on- what if no one wanted him? What if it was just silence and he wasn't picked at all? How embarrassing would it be when he left the stage without a single bid? “What if no one picks me? I-I would be humiliated.”

Mirio pats him on the back. “Trust me, there are plenty of girls and guys waiting to bid on you, I did a poll!”

Tamaki’s face burns red. “You what?” He squeaks out.

“Well not an official poll, but I asked around the school and everyone was pretty excited to hear you might be in the auction.” Mirio rubs his chin. “I’d say you had a good seventy percent of the students I asked.”

The wheels in Tamaki’s mind stutter as he focuses on the thirty percent that must have said no. He groans and stands up from his seat. “I'm going to the workshop..”

“3-H?” Mirio asks.

“Yeah..” Tamaki slides out of the classroom with his head ducked low. His face was still a bright pink when he entered the third year’s workshop. It was enormous compared to the first year’s space. It had gear and tech that the first years were not yet trusted with.

He walks around the empty room, looking at the half built suits and the observation window that separated the testing room from the rest of the space. It was a special glass that was essentially bomb-proof, nothing could break the glass, which made it essential for testing costumes that needed to undergo massive damage.

“Tamaki!”

He turns around to find you dragging a massive robot by a thick metal chain. You were covered in scuff marks and grease, but you had a light in your eyes that made him smile. His thoughts were briefly distracted by the date auction and instead directed towards you. You were one of his friends since his second year when he needed an update in his costume. He still got shy around you, but talking with you became easier the more he visited you.

It was a small miracle that you didn't mind his silent days. You both would listen to your radio while you worked. You didn't push him, and it was greatly appreciated. Sometimes he needed a break and you were there to take it with him.

“Whatcha doing here Tama-chan?” You release your grip of the chain, unbothered by the loud boom as the heavy chain falls to the ground. It was startling sometimes to remember that your quirk was strength based. You lifted gear so easily, it looked weightless to him. “Got a problem on your mind? You look like a shrimp.” You brush your gloved hand over his flushed cheek.

Tamaki rubs his face while looking to the ground. “Iwasvotedinforthedatingauction..” He whispers quickly.

“What was that?” You tilt your head. “You lost me at I.”

He takes a deep breath and speaks a tad bit louder. “I.. Was voted in for the dating auction..”

“Oh. … Oh.”

You both stand in silence, listening to the ticking of the clock in the room.

You're the first to break the quiet. “Mirio was behind it wasn't he?”

“And Nejire.” He adds softly. His best friends other than you, both ratted him out. They knew he had trouble with the spotlight, with his.. His self image.. He couldn't do it. “I think I'm going to call in sick. Mirio is more popular than me anyway, he’ll definitely get bids.”

“I think you should do it.”

He startles. “What?”

You smile down at him. With your work boots you were a good few inches taller than him. “You're really sweet Tama-chan, you're underestimating yourself again.” You tap him on the forehead. “Think of this as a mission. The goal is to get to the finish line. Don't think about how much you earn, think of getting to the end of the auction.”

“But I can't handle crowds-”

You put a hand on his shoulder. “Tamaki.”

He looks you in the eyes, his heartbeat racing as he sees your normally nonchalant expression turn serious.

“You're Suneater, an amazing hero that always gets the job done. This is just another job. And you're going to rock it.”

He gulps.

Just a job. Not a game, not an auction, just a job. Another mission that needed finishing.

He nods his head reluctantly. “Okay.”

“Good.” You pull him in for a side hug, completely forgetting you were covered in grease. “Now help me figure out what the hell I'm doing.”

-

The day of the auction was hectic. It was a festival, which meant that the class was divided into doing different jobs, a sixth went to preparing the auction with the other classes while the rest went on to handle food stands and games.

Mirio was in charge of the money earned during the bids while Nejire was the announcer.

Which left Tamaki alone behind the stage with the other “volunteers”. Some of the students actually did want to participate, but he could see from some of the faces that some where plucked forcefully by their classmates.

At least I’m not the only one. He thinks to himself.

He mourns quietly as the students file in line. The first to go were the first years, then the second, then the third years. Which meant he was the first of his year to go onstage.

So far the highest bid was for Todoroki of 1-A who got fifty-one thousand yen.

I'll be lucky if I get one hundred yen.

Tamaki fiddles with the cuffs of his suit. It was black with gold sun cufflinks. If it were a different occasion, he would have liked the suit. It was comfortable and completely black, allowing him to blend in rather than stand out. But in this situation he would have no choice but to stand out.

He squeezes his eyes shut as he hears his name called out.

“Next up, Tamaki Amajiki from Class 3-A!” Nejire cheers from beyond the stage.

With a small pat on his shoulder from the boy  behind him, Tamaki steps through the curtain and walks on stage.

Faces. So many faces.

The crowd was bigger than he thought, it was full of people-

“Remember, keep your head up, eyes to the sky, it'll be over before you know it. Trust me.”

Your words ring in his head as he walks down the catwalk, his eyes on a distant tree as he tries to keep from folding over in shame as numbers are called out.

Ten thousand yen. Thirteen thousand yen. Fifteen thousand yen. Thirty thousand yen.

He stops at the end of the stage and keeps his hands clenched at his sides. He felt like he was going to collapse-

“Two-hundred thousand yen!” A familiar voice chimes from the crowd of people.

Tamaki’s gaze snaps to Nejire who had floated off the stage and was staring at Mirio with a look of wonder. Who- What? What! Who would bid that much!

No it had to be a mistake!

“Four-hundred thousand yen!” It was the same person. “You're twisting my arm here Nejire!”

Tamaki scans the crowd for the voice.

No, it has to be a joke-!

You stand in the center of the crowd with one of the bidding panels in your hand. You were grinning widely. “Neji, I could go on forever, just give him to me.”

The crowd parts around you as they whisper the number incredulously.

Four-hundred thousand yen.

Tamaki didn't even expect to get a percent of that!

Nejire lands on the stage with a small thump. Her smile was nearly identical to yours. “Any other bidders? Going once. Going twice?” The crowd was talking but no new bid came up. “Tamaki Amajiki, sold for four-hundred thousand yen!”

-  

After the auction, Tamaki finds you with Mirio, a thick stack of yen in hand.

He runs to you. “Wait!”

You look back at him just as Mirio tucks the cash into the metal box full of bids. “Yeah?”

He stands across from you, frazzled and in desperate need of a good cry. He almost ran off stage just to keep from collapsing in fear.

“How could you- why did you-” He stumbles over his words. “Why did you bid on me? Why so much?”

You smile as you zip your wallet shut. “That’s easy Tama-chan. I knew you wouldn't feel comfortable going on a date with a stranger, so I paid an amount I knew no one would be able to beat.”

“But, it's your money..” He squeezes his hands into fists. “You can't just waste it on me, I’m not worth that much..”

You step away from Mirio and stand in front of Tamaki, fixing his crooked tie from running. “I'm an engineer. I know how much each part costs and the cost of the overall product. You're worth more than I could ever buy Tama-chan.” You press a small kiss on the tip of his nose. “And I couldn’t pass up the chance of getting dinner with you in that suit.”

Finally, Tamaki collapses in a fit of pink.

You look at Mirio.

He laughs. “He's all yours!”

His plan went just as expected.

Jury Duty

Fandom: The Nanny

Genre: Romance/Humor/Comfort

Pairing: Fran Fine/C.C. Babcock

Rating: M

Summary: C.C. has been called to jury duty, and Fran decides to come along, placing C.C. in a very uncomfortable position considering the feelings she has been harboring for the nanny the last four years. To make matters worse, there's only one room left in the hotel.

Word Count:  2,826

Author’s Note: My first fic in six years, folks! I am currently neck deep in The Nanny hyper fixation, Fran x C.C. in particular, and I was inspired by my lovely friends and fellow shippers to write my first fic in years and very first fic for this pairing! Boy, have I come a long way since my Fran/Maxwell fanfic on Quizilla.com when I was 14-years-old. Interwoven with canon from S04E17: Samson, He Denied Her. Please enjoy!

This fic can also be found here on AO3.

“What’s that?”

“That’s...the nanny.”

_______

C.C. rolled onto her stomach, burying her face into her pillow, and groaned, the coolness of her satin pillowcase warming to match her body temperature a bit too quickly for her liking. As she shifted, contemplating whether to get up or relegate herself to a day in bed, ignoring all responsibility and...other stressors, an orange-brown fluff next to her feet growled.

Damn dog.

In order to prevent the mongrel from biting at her ankles, C.C. slowly pulled her legs up towards her chest before gently removing the covers, pushing herself up into a seated position, and scooting to let her legs hang off the side of the bed. She sighed and looked at her alarm clock.

5:30 AM

She had one of those dreams again. She was rarely the type to dream, but somehow her subconscious had been invaded by the intrusive thoughts she routinely pushed away during her waking hours. Sparkling red, a hand on her waist, her own hand tangled in a large nest of brown hair, and the recalled scent of scratch-and-sniff magazine perfume flashed through her mind before she could prevent it. She groaned again--loudly--and a retort, almost indistinguishable from her own guttural sound, emitted from the ball of fluff.

C.C. let out one more sigh before standing with renewed intention to have a good, productive day. She would bury her nose--and her mind--in her work. No one could get in the way of her and her job. She was the C.C. Babcock. She made her way to the kitchen and started her coffee maker. While she waited, she opened an envelope that she had left sitting on the table and froze, defeated.

_______

C.C. barged into Maxwell Sheffield’s office, ignoring the skip in her chest when she caught the image of brown, black, red, and white in her peripheral, accompanied by that--against all odds--alluring scent.

“Maxwell, you are not gonna believe this. I have been summoned for jury duty! Well, that is the last time I vote.”

The blur came closer. “Ms. Babcock, maybe I’ll go be on that jury with you.”

C.C. covered her panic with a chuckle. “Nanny Fine, you can’t just go.” This was it. The perfect moment for a witty jab. That would help. “It’s not like Supercuts.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve got a drawer full of those things. Besides, there’s nothing keeping me here.” Fran glared at Maxwell, and C.C. silently stepped out of the office as she heard the man’s voice raise, only making out an exasperated, “Ms. Fine!”

_______

“Oh I’ve just gotta get on this jury!”

As Fran blabbed on, C.C. tried not to focus on how close together they were sitting and how she could still feel the heat from the nanny’s hand on her knee, even after she had removed it. As Fran handed her a book, C.C. was given another chance at a jab. She gasped theatrically.

“You know him?”

“No. You read?”

Fran snatched the book out of C.C.’s hand, and C.C. laughed, the awareness of her leaning closer to Fran escaping her.

_______

“What do you mean there’s just one room left?” C.C. growled at the hotel receptionist.

The receptionist looked at the tall, blond woman towering above them nervously. “I-uh I’m sorry, ma’am, there are no other rooms available. Just the one.”

“But we have two people--” Fran gently placed her hand on C.C.’s shoulder and stepped in between her and the distressed receptionist.

“Are there two beds?” she asked, smiling.

“Y-yes,” the receptionist said hesitantly and then, more assured after calming down, “Yes, there are two beds.”

“See Babs? No harm, no foul,” Fran said brightly, squeezing C.C.’s shoulder as she reached over the counter to take the room key. As they walked towards their room, Fran went on and on about the plot of the romance novel she had shoved in C.C.’s hands earlier. C.C. focused on her breathing, trying to remain calm. She could feel the heat creep up her neck the moment the kid at the desk said they only had one room available, and now she didn’t even have to look to know she had red blotches all over her chest and cheeks. She couldn’t distinguish between her anger and...fear? No. C.C. Babcock was never scared.

“So then when he pulls her in--” holding the book close to her chest, Fran twirled around to face C.C. as she continued walking down the hallway backwards. “Ms. Babcock? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” C.C. responded curtly.

“You’re not having an allergic reaction, are you?” Fran rushed up to her and lifted her hand to examine C.C.’s face as she spoke. “You gotta be careful with shellfish! You know, my cousin, Ernie, never had an allergic reaction in his life. One day, 40 years old, he ate one fried shrimp and BAM --”

C.C. slapped Fran’s hand away, “I’m fine.” Her heart was racing.

“Okay, okay, sorry Mrs. Hyde.” Fran threw her hands in the air, and C.C. could have sworn she gave a tiny pout as she turned around and continued towards their room. When she opened the door, she paused, pulled it back to her, and turned. “You know, Ms. Babcock, we should celebrate! How about a drink? A whiskey. Bourbon. On me.” She winked then stood up straight with a stern look on her face, “ Well. Not top shelf.”

“Nanny Fine,” C.C. uttered through gritted teeth, “I just want to--” she pushed past Fran and opened the door “--lie down.” She stopped in the doorway, still as if she had come face-to-face with Medusa herself.

One bed stood in the room.

_______

The first night was somewhat tolerable. Fran was very kind to C.C., ensuring she was comfortable and that she did not take up too much of her space. C.C. reciprocated by keeping her distance as well. Falling asleep was another story. C.C. was the first to lie down. Being on the side of the bed facing the bathroom, she saw the nanny walk out, wearing one of her bathrobes. God, I hope she has something under that. She could hear the shuffling of the fabric as Fran let the robe fall to the floor and felt the weight in the bed shift as the other woman settled in. Before she could make sense of what was happening, she felt two swift pats on her hip. “Goodnight, Ms. Babcock!”

“Hm,” was the only confirmation she could utter.

C.C. was hyper aware of Fran’s presence. She measured the woman’s breathing and could tell by the slower, deeper breaths when she fell asleep. It took her a while to close her eyes. Every time she did, she saw Fran’s hand on her knee…

Her shoulder…

Her hip…

C.C. jolted awake from a half-sleep. She sighed and stared at the wall in the dark. The blackout curtains weren’t closed all the way, and she could see a sliver of light flash on the wall every once in a while. She could hear sirens, car horns, distant yelling, and sometimes a drunken laugh. She didn’t know what time it was, but it felt like she had been drifting in and out of almost-sleep for hours, still aware of the body radiating heat and energy next to her. What is it about Fran Fine? was the last thought that crossed her mind before she drifted into a very, very light sleep.

_______

C.C.’s eyes traveled down Fran’s figure as she stood up when Vincenzo approached the stand, her expression a mixture of endearment and bewilderment. Why her?, a question echoing the sentiment from the night before repeating in her mind. The rest of the day in the courtroom was filled with typical annoyances, with the exception of a moment of outburst from Fran that left C.C. with the sting of an emotion she couldn’t quite place in the moment as she softly pulled Fran’s arm down.

_______

The next day, C.C. pinpointed the emotion as Fran spoke. “See, that is what happens when a man tells you that he loves you and then he takes it back.”

Jealousy.

C.C.’s face was still until she realized her arms were full of snacks that Fran had been piling onto her.

“What are you looking for?”

“My Dexatrim,” Fran responded.

C.C. rolled her eyes and stuffed the food back into Fran’s bag, the thought popping into her mind again. Why her?

_______

She was exhausted. Eight days, hardly any sleep, and “a horse is a horse, of course, of course” stuck in her head practically 24/7, C.C. wanted to explode when she read the words on the slip of paper, “And one ‘not guilty’…,” followed by Fran convincing another juror to vote “not guilty.” Every time she thought she was going to escape her personal hell, she was dragged back down. She was Sisyphus, and Nanny Fine was her boulder.

C.C. stood. “Could it be that you’re just a little sensitive to this shrew maid because you have some fantasy of ending up with your employer yourself?”

Sting.

“Let she who is without fantasy cast the first stone!”

Ohh, if only you knew, Nanny Fine!

The rest of the afternoon was full of more sting as Fran not-so-subtly talked about Maxwell and the children, but at least they were finally done. C.C. could go home and try to put this all behind her.

As they walked out of the courtroom, Fran hooked her arm through C.C.’s and cheerfully said, “I have a proposal.”

“And what would that be, Ms. Fine?”

“I propose we take one more night off. You know, eat, drink, relax, before heading back to work.”

“Nanny Fine, I really--”

“Pleeease Ms. Babcock?” Fran pleaded, stopping and tugging on her arm. C.C. looked into Fran’s eyes: earnest, gentle, kind.

That’s why her. “Well, alright.”

“You know, I really feel like this has been a good bonding experience for us.”

C.C. rolled her eyes...and couldn’t help but smile.

_______ 

 She wasn’t drunk, but she did feel a little tipsy. A little more relaxed. She and Fran were making their way back to their room after a pleasant evening of food and a couple drinks each. The nanny really was good company, when C.C. let herself enjoy it. C.C. settled into what she had established as her side of the bed for the previous eight nights, lying on her back and staring at the ceiling. Her blond hair pooled on the feather pillow under her head. She could hear the sink faucet turn on. A couple of splashes. Off. The towel being pulled off the rack. C.C. tore her eyes from the ceiling to the bathroom door. Fran walked out and, as she walked around to her side of the bed, began to untie her robe. C.C. didn’t take her eyes off of her. Fran wasn’t wearing anything particularly risqué--why would she be--but the loose fitting, thin material that made up her pajamas hung on her perfectly. C.C. could feel her neck and cheeks getting warm again--a nightly routine for her body at this point--and she turned over to hide. Her head was reeling with the influx of emotions she had felt over the last week, a mental Rolodex: anxious, longing, annoyed, jealous, hopeful...hurt.

“Nanny Fine?” She wasn’t sure if Fran had fallen asleep.

“Yeah, Babs?”

Her heart skipped.

“Why…” she turned over to face the nanny. “Why do you put up with it?”

Fran had been facing the other way. She turned over. The bedside table lamp hadn’t been turned off yet. C.C. was able to look into the other woman’s eyes again.

“Put up with what?”

“Maxwell. He...well, obviously he isn’t willing to give you what you want. Why hold out hope?”

“Why do you?” Fran retorted with a hint of defensiveness.

C.C. was silent for a moment. “I think I’ve confused myself.” Oh god, how much did I have to drink? “I don’t think what I really desire is what...I thought I desired.” I don’t feel drunk.

Fran maintained eye contact. Silent. Almost as if she knew. C.C. cast her gaze down. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Why do you act so hard?” the woman said. The words were accusatory but the tone was soft and empathetic. Despite her attempts to keep them at bay, C.C. could feel the sting of tears and a lump in her throat. “Oh, Ms. Babcock,” Fran whispered, slowly rubbing the blond’s shoulder with her thumb. “You really are a wonderful, caring woman. You just won’t let others see it. Like you’re protecting yourself from something.” Earnest, gentle...kind.

That’s why her.

“You hurt others before they can hurt you.”

C.C. looked back into Fran’s eyes. Up to this point, she thought her jabs had all been in jest. “Have I hurt you?”

Fran laughed. “Oh, honey. It takes more than what you can throw to hurt me.” C.C. sniffled. “But listen. I was holding out hope for Mr. Sheffield because the other person I noticed--the strong, loyal, brilliant woman who crossed my path every day--didn’t treat me the way I deserve to be treated.” Before C.C. could interject, Fran continued. “Now, that’s not to say he’s a saint. Faaaar from it, missy. But you, Babs. I see a lot of potential in you, but you gotta soften up that thing you got in that chest of yours.”

“I...don’t--half the time, I don’t even know what I’m feeling,” the words started escaping from her lips, betraying every cell in her body, every natural inclination she had. At least what she thought up to this point was natural for her. “When I first saw you, four years ago, in that sparkling red dress...the way you moved, the way you talked, your confidence, god I felt so...so intensely jealous. But...four years later, and I can’t get that image of you out of my head. Just you. Not Maxwell.”

Fran lifted her hand to wipe a tear from C.C.’s face then back to her shoulder. She felt the woman’s hand travel from her shoulder down her arm…

Her waist…

Her hip…

Then she tugged.

C.C. placed her hand on the brunette’s waist as she was pulled in, the many inches between them closed. She gasped, and her breathing became uneven. She could feel the flush in her cheeks as she glanced down at Fran’s lips, which she now noticed were coming closer...and closer. She had kissed people before. Plenty of times. But Fran’s lips felt like home. They were soft and warm, moving in tandem with her own. The perfect fit. C.C. moved her hand up Fran’s side, taking note of every inch of her curvature, until she was able to tangle her hand in that nest of beautiful, brown hair. Every breath she took in between kisses was filled with that wonderfully intoxicating scratch-and-sniff perfume scent, and in the moments a soft, nasally moan escaped from the nanny’s lips, C.C.’s hips pushed forward and she moaned in return. Fran coaxed C.C. onto her back with a gentle but firm push and straddled her, not letting their lips part for more than a second. C.C. put both hands on each of Fran’s hips as Fran began to leave a trail of kisses down C.C.’s neck…

Her collarbone…

Her chest…

This is better than being drunk...

_______

C.C. finally got the rest she needed. She woke up from a deep sleep and could feel the tangling of sheets around her body. As she began to shift, she felt a heavy weight on her legs and her waist. A quiet, gravely moan emitted next to her ear. As C.C. rolled over, Fran shifted but didn’t move her leg or her arm. Instead, she tightened her grip and pulled the woman closer. C.C. caressed Fran’s face as her eyes fluttered open.

“Mornin’, Babs baby.”

“Morning, Fran,” C.C. said with a smile and placed a sweet kiss on the nanny’s lips.

_______

Hand-in-hand, C.C. and Fran walked up to the desk in the hotel lobby to check out. The receptionist from their first night was working that morning. Fran smiled and slid the key across the counter, while C.C. took out her credit card to pay for all the unexpected nights.

“Good morning, ladies! Hope you enjoyed your stay. Did the pull out couch work out alright?” the receptionist asked.

Fran and C.C. exchanged glances and both blurted, “The what?”

My Top 10 Favorite Anime Heroes (Updated) by DarkChild316

“Guess who’s back…back again! DarkChild’s back, with 10 more friends!” LOL, sorry for that lame-ass joke, but I was listening to some Eminem earlier today. Anyway, my terrible sense of humor aside, I thought it would be a good time to give my list of “My 10 Favorite Anime Heroes” an update, figured since I did one for the villains I thought shit, might as well do one for the heroes too! Now once again, this list is strictly for the men only, if you want a list of my favorite anime queens, check out my list of “My Top 10 Favorite Anime Heroines”. But in the meantime, enjoy this updated list of my favorite anime heroes:

#10. Izuku Midoriya (My Hero Academia): One of the newest (and quite literally) entries on my list, Deku is a character who dreamed of becoming a hero in spite of being born without a Quirk or any kind of powers in a world dominated by heroes with them. Only to be chosen as successor to the greatest hero of the age, All Might. A humble yet caring fanboy at heart, if All Might represents the Golden Age of heroes, then Deku represents the future of heroes in the Modern Era. He may be a socially awkward cinnamon roll at the best of times, but don’t let that fool you into thinking that he’s not willing to stand up and do what’s right when the chips are down and the world needs a hero to stand for, no matter what form of villain is in the way! The only reason he doesn’t rank any higher on this list, is because he’s still relatively new to the scene and time will tell where he stands in the Patheon of anime legends.

#9. Inuyasha (InuYasha): He’s half dog-demon, half human: put it all together and what do you get? A sword-wielding hybrid who knows how to take care of business. Originally wanting nothing more than to become a full demon, his human heart trumped his selfish desires, leading him to fall for the modern-day schoolgirl he vowed to protect. Fighting through feudal Japan to recover fragments of the Sacred Jewel, InuYasha can be both cold and rude, yet heartfelt and compassionate. Plus, he makes us all laugh whenever we see this happen.

#8. Alucard (Hellsing): There have been a shitload of vampires in modern anime, yet all of them owe their debt to this tall, dark, well-dressed man. There has never been a vampire as delightfully sadistic as Alucard but unlike most vampires, there’s a method to his sadism that makes him truly brilliant. He isn’t truly evil, he’s just a monster who revels in destroying other monsters in any sadistic way he sees fit. And he truly revels in it, making his victims (most of which are evil Nazis and powerful demons) believe they actually have a chance by damaging them before regenerating and wrecking them in devastating fashion. This isn’t to say he’s totally heartless though, as he’s shown a great deal of fondness for the members of his team who are just as devoted to ridding the world of the evil forces that threaten it. Even though the anime version of Alucard mentions that he doesn't entirely understand humans anymore, he seems happy to work in the service of them, and to protect them from devils who aren't as honorable as he is.

#7. Kenshin Himura (Rurouni Kenshin): When I was a kid, Rurouni Kenshin was my favorite anime growing up and Kenshin was my favorite character. Having had a chance to revisit this anime recently during lockdown reminded me once again why that is, Kenshin is easily the most compelling character I had seen growing up as a kid and he was a refreshing change of pace in the samurai genre. Firstly, he was quite feminine to the point that many mistook him for a woman. He was also one of the politest characters in anime history, frequently putting others before himself and speaking to them with the utmost respect and patience. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the guy would be better suited as a florist that a samurai. But underneath that smiling exterior hides a dark secret, Kenshin is a man haunted by the demons of his past. A former mercenary who killed countless foes, he makes a vow to never kill again, and is repeatedly tested on that vow time and time again as less virtuous people endanger the country’s peace. When Kenshin's hand is forced, he can go to incredibly dark places and fall back into the habits that made him known far and wide as the most fearsome swordsman in the land. Although Kenshin’s momentary lapses make him a complete badass and set the stage for some of the most epic sword battles ever animated, Kenshin always goes back to his sweet persona once the danger is gone. But in his solitary, quiet moments, he's gripped by his greatest fear; that one day he will permanently revert to his former self and become a manslayer once more.

#6. Spike Spiegel (Cowboy Bebop): I’ll admit, it had been a long time since I’d seen Cowboy Bebop, so naturally I had forgotten about how cool a character Spike Spiegel was. Thankfully, this pandemic has allowed me to revisit it, and I find myself being just as in awe of Spike as I was when I was kid in the 90’s, he’s that awesome a character folks! Spike was an amalgamation of influences (from Bruce Lee, to Lupin III, and a little dose of film noir), and the result was a creation greater than the sum of its parts. In a series like Cowboy Bebop, which was itself a combination of cultural influences from around the globe, Spike was the essence of the story. Voice actor Steve Blum launched his career into new heights when he gave the performance of a lifetime in the English dub of the series, giving Spike a sense of smooth, effortless cool that many argue surpassed the original Japanese version.

Spike proved to be a versatile character; he was an expert pickpocket, a gearhead who worked on his own spaceship, a clever detective, a badass fighter, and even a bit of a philosopher. But what made Spike most interesting was his past as a gangster, and a man hopelessly in love. His relationship with Julia, and the tragic end of that relationship, haunts him throughout the series and shows us what truly mattered to him all along. When Cowboy Bebop reaches its powerful conclusion, Spike goes out in a blaze of glory that is unmatched in the history of anime (all I have to say is “Bang”).

#5. Ichigo Kurosaki (Bleach): The first of the shonen “Big 3” to appear on my list, you’d think being born with the ability to see ghosts would be enough, but not for this high-school bruiser. After a fateful encounter with a Shinigami, Ichigo gains the power of a god of death, and is tasked with defending his home from the malicious spirits known as Hollows. As his seemingly endless battle stretches to other planes of existence and some truly frightening enemies, both Quincy and Hollow, this orange-haired swordsman will keep fighting to protect what matters most to him no matter what.

#4. Monkey D. Luffy (One Piece): The second member of the shonen “Big 3” to make my list, this straw-hatted rubber-man takes my vote for his carefree spirit and his big heart. With the dream of grabbing the title of Pirate King, Luffy is a man who thinks with his stomach and fists rather than his head. Always in the pursuit of adventure, this happy-go-lucky guy may be the last person you consider when you think pirate captain. But you’d be wrong: You mess with Luffy’s crew and he’ll declare war on the entire world to save them.

#3. Naruto Uzumaki (Naruto): Talk about a rough childhood. After having a powerful demon sealed inside of him, Naruto was a social outcast in the shinobi village he grew up in; even though people despised him for being the vessel for the Nine-Tailed Fox demon he did not take the darker path in life nor did it deter him from pursing his dream of becoming the village leader to gain the respect and admiration of those who once shunned him. Naruto’s growth as both a ninja and human can be seen throughout the series,  as it was this good nature of his and the will to protect everyone close to him that slowly changed the attitude of people towards him as the bonds of friendship he forges make his dream worth fighting for.

#2. Edward Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist): Wildly ambitious, wickedly smart, and wise beyond his years, Edward Elric entered the stage with a fresh, but interesting take on the modern shonen anime hero. Unlike those who came before him, he wasn’t this lovable idiot with a heart of gold. He was smart, calculating, arrogant, and shrimp sized. But most daring of all was the fact that Edward is technically handicapped, having had both an arm and a leg lost in a tragic accident fueled by love and hubris. In Edward we had a character who unlike most anime heroes was truly multidimensional. He could be comedic and pull off wild takes and sight gags. He could be placed in the most tragic circumstances and portray the deepest kind of sadness. He could be a complete badass, but he could also be the nicest guy on the planet. And most of all we saw Edward discover harsh truths about the world and learn that he didn’t know nearly as much as he thought he did.

#1. Son Goku (Dragon Ball): With the greatest respect to those like Luffy and Naruto, none of those characters would have ever been possible without this man (and the creators of One Piece and Naruto have even admitted this themselves). The prototype for shounen lead characters, Goku was somewhat of an anomaly back in his day. When the plucky, pint-sized kid Goku first appeared in Dragon Ball, the trend for male heroes was to have larger than life muscle heads (which Goku ironically turned into in his adulthood). Goku also grew up; another drastic change in a time when characters rarely changed much. But Dragon Ball Z is where Goku truly earned his fame. Goku isn’t even the most popular character in DBZ sometimes, but he is the foundation of the series. His heroism, strength, and dedication make him the perfect core for a kid’s show where the themes are meant to be pretty simple. He may not be the most complex character in anime history, but he’s perfect for the goal he was meant to accomplish. But Goku isn’t my top hero so much for his character complexity; it’s his influence that cannot be denied. He was, in many ways, a character that bucked the trends of his time and defined the direction of shonen manga/anime for decades, and that's why he's my #1 anime hero of all-time.

So that's my list, what did you guys think about it? Love it, hated it? Go on and tell me what you think and let me know who your favorite anime heroes are. See you soon!

Deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/darkchild316

Shrimp - Peter Parker (Tom Holland)

Requested by: Anon

Word Count: Approx. 1300

Pairing: Peter Parker (Tom Holland) x Reader

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  With Peter, every day had been a dream. He had been the most gentlemanly, loving and just down right perfect boyfriend since day one. Of course the beginning was a bit rocky, but only because the two of you had been really awkward. Once that awkwardness faded, the transition from just friends to more had been a breeze. Dates usually consisted of movie nights in pajamas where kisses were stolen, and sweet nothings were whispered. You had even been voted most likely to get married out of all the couples at school, but that was mainly because you were “attached at the hip” according to some students.

  The last couple months had been different, you hadn’t hung out just the two of you in a month, and every time you tried, he made up an excuse. It was like he’d lost all interest in you. He was even distant at school, always zoned out when you tried to chat with him, but you didn’t want to bring it up in fear that he would break up with you. It all pointed in that direction, but you didn’t care anymore, if he was going to break up with you, he should’ve just done it, instead of dragging it out. It would only hurt more.

  That’s how you ended up here, standing on opposite ends of his room screaming at each other.

  “Peter, if you wanted to break up with me, why didn’t you just tell me!” you yelled.

   “Because that isn’t what I want (Y/N)!”

   “Then what do you want! Because it seems to me that’s exactly what you want!” you yelled before going quiet, “why else would you start avoiding me all of a sudden.”

  “Maybe because sometimes I want my own life, and you’re too clingy!” he yells, realizing what he said was completely out of anger after he’d already said it. He loved you, he knew that, but the stress of being spider-man had gotten to him. It was the only thing he could focus on, and he hadn’t even noticed your feelings until it was too late.

  “Fine Peter, if what you want is some space, i’ll give you some. All you had to do was ask.” you respond, holding back tears at your frustration.

  He was speechless as you gathered up your coat and purse before opening his door. Turning back to him you send him a small smile, hoping he won’t see how hurt you really are.

  “Bye Peter” you say, stepping out of his room and closing the door behind you. From there, you rush out to the front hall of the apartment and leave the apartment. You make it to the sidewalk before the tears begin to fall, and when they come, they turn into quiet sobs as you make your way home.

  As you walk, memories of Peter and you rush through your brain, as you passed your favourite pizza place, you remember your first date. He had tried to be romantic by taking you to an expensive french restaurant, but as soon as you guys read over the menu, you decided to bail.

  You went to the little pizza place on the corner of Peter’s street, all dressed up, everyone looking at you two like you were crazy, but that only made it all the more fun. You guys laughed and talked until close, both your mom and aunt May texting you guys like crazy. When you realized how late it was, you told him that he should get home as quick as he could, but he insisted on walking you home, and you shared your first kiss on the stairs to your building. The entire thing seemed like it came right out of a cheesy romance novel, but it had been the best night for the both of you.

  Distracted by your sorrow, you didn’t hear the footsteps coming up behind you until it was too late, and you were pushed to the ground. As you fell, both of your knees scraped against the pavement, rocks digging into your palms as you tried to catch yourself. Failing, your face hits the pavement abruptly, causing a jarring pain in your head. Your vision was blurry as you slowly turned your body over to face your attacker, a dark figure coming closer to you, and as your vision cleared you came face to face with him. A malicious smirk spread across the man’s face, an angry red scar across his left cheek criss crossing with the wrinkles around his eye, and emerald green eyes that looked anything but inviting. Pushing yourself with your hands, you scrabble backwards on the pavement, hoping that there was someone nearby to help you.

  You backed up until you came in contact with a wall, and your fear began to grow, the man followed you slowly, pulling you up by the front of your jacket as he reached you, his strength greater than an ordinary man. You could feel a lump form in your throat. You were going to die here. You thought.

  “Hey buddy, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” a voice sounded from behind him.

  He turned towards the voice, revealing the friendly neighbourhood superhero who was all the talk around here lately Spiderman. He was leaning against the pole of a street light nonchalantly, arms crossed over the emblem on his chest.

  “Yeah, and who's going to stop me shrimp?” the man asked, still grasping your coat tightly.

  Without answering, a web shot from Spiderman’s wrist, wrapping itself around the man’s hand that wasn’t attached to you and sticking him to the wall behind you. Walking towards you, the masked vigilante pulled you free of the grip holding your coat before webbing up the guys other hand. Turning towards the street, he pulled out his phone before calling 911.

  Coming out of your shock and fear, the voice begins to sound familiar to you, that's when you notice the case on the phone. Its covered in dorky stickers, including one for your school’s debate team, and that’s when you realize it. Rushing forward, you pull the suited boy into a hug from behind, hands wrapped around his waist and forehead rested against his shoulder.

  “You figured it out, didn’t you?” Peter asks, resting his hands on yours settled on his waist.

  All you can do is nod, still scared from the night’s events. You can feel him sigh deeply as he turns in your arms, resting his hands on your hips.

  “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out,” he speaks with a sniffle, reaching his right hand up to slowly peel the bottom half of his mask up, not wanting to reveal his identity to the man that attacked you.

  “I don’t care, I’m just glad I know. I’m so sorry for how I acted, if I had’ve known, I would’ve acted differently.” you spoke, tears in your eyes.

  “No, none of this was your fault,” he spoke softly, holding your cheeks in his hands and looking down at you through the eyes of his suit, “I should’ve told you a long time ago, and I definitely do not want space, because...well because I am absolutely in love with you and I can’t get enough of being around you.”

  That caused you to smile up at him in sheer joy of hearing those words coming from him after the events of the last month. That’s when you heard the sirens, both your eyes and the eyes of the suit widening in realization.

  “Okay, I really love you too, but we gotta get out of here” you state with a laugh.

  Pulling you to his side he shoots webs at the nearest building and the two of you web out of the are, once again attached at the hip.

Corona Diaries

2/14 - Fly to Arizona for Grand Canyon and Arielle Bach Party. People in airport are wearing masks. I make a comment to my mom about it, not understanding why people are wearing masks or wondering if they are sick.

3/2 - Patient Zero tests positive for COVID19 in New Rochelle. 

3/8 - Our Boss at Schoology tells us we can work from home if we feel more comfortable. We think she’s just being lazy and wants to work from home herself.

3/6 - Comedy show in NYC. Kristin doesn’t feel well and we worry she should stay home incase she has COVID19. We go to the comedy show. The comedian makes jokes about COVID19, we laugh.

3/8 - Eric’s School closes School for the following week. I make a comment to him that that’s overkill and a “private school privilege”. All other schools will eventually close of course. 

3/11 - Mom flies to Madrid.

3/12 - National Pandemic Announced & Trump Announces Travel Ban between US/Europe. Cuomo declares State of Emergency in New York.

3/13 - Mom flies home from Madrid to NY after Mara books back up flight for Mom from Madrid to London. Mom spent $1400 to spend not even a full day in Madrid, goes back to the airport with thousands of panicked Americans, gets off stand by and comes home. Mara comes over to greet mom and give her some food, flowers, and company. 

3/14 - Mara works remotely indefinitely, office shuts down until at least April 7th. Mara and Eric do the NYT crossword, hike the Masters trails with Winnie, and Mara and Eric go to Japanese Restaurant with Susan, Jeff, and Matt. Restaurants will soon close. Earlier in the day Mara goes to Larchmont to check in on mom, goes for a walk with mom and Winnie, and meets up with Kristin, Kevin, and Zoey at Central School. 

3/15 - Mara goes to Larchmont and goes to Manor park with Shanni, Maddy, Liana, and Nicole and Nicole’s dog Remy. 

3/16 - Mara works from home. Luckily Peloton bike was delivered last week just before the store closures began. At this point all Spin Studios and Gyms shut down. Mara and Eric cook butternut squash risotto and parmesan asparagus. De Blasio announces that NYC Public Schools are closed. Meals will be served at food centers.

3/17 - Eric and Mara are watching Sex Education. Mara Eric and Susan go on trail hike with Winnie.  

3/18 - Mara Hallie Eric Winnie trail walk with Winnie. Mara Zoom date with high school friends. 

3/19 - Zoom date with MK, Jana, Jason. 

3/20 - Mom comes over for trail walk with Winnie and we cook the Shrimp Pasta dish with brussel sprouts.

3/21 - Peloton bike, talked to Elise on the phone, walked to tennis courts to play tennis with Eric’s family. The Masters courts are shut down due to Corona. Dinner at Eric’s family’s house. We sat at the dining room table to spread out. Mara played Ping Pong with Matt.

3/22 - Mara ran 3 miles, used Peloton, went to Larchmont to work on Obama NYT puzzle with mom.

3/23 - Monday, Peloton, worked from home, played SET with Eric, cooked a big salad. 

3/24 - Run, work, tennis with Jodi, visited mom, Video session with Aubrey, Elise, Kelly

3/25 - Peloton, work from home, went on walk to store, no one was there and everyone in masks. Order in sushi. Video date with MHS friends. We started a CS team fitness challenge today since no one is moving since only home! 

3/26 - Didn’t sleep because reading too much news and it’s so sad. US now has more cases than any other country (82k), NY has 37k cases, and the news is really grim. Had my virtual performance review and got a 3% raise, went on a 7 mile run but tripped on a rock and got hurt, played tennis with Jodi, then went to my mom’s and cooked dinner. I feel scared every time I go to my mom’s house in fear that I’m bringing the virus into her home. A lot of my mom’s coworkers have tested positive for COVID-19. Deccico’s is doing a great job with their grocery store (limiting number of people in store, making people wait outside 6 feet apart, mandated gloves, sanitizing shopping carts, glass wall at check out. Stop and shop is not doing much and so people haven’t been going. Trader Joes NYC closed because too many employees tested positive. Everyone is panicked and at this point it is hard to imagine life going back to normal. Even if legally it goes back to normal, everyone is absolutely terrified of other humans. Everything about this is unprecedented and unimaginable. Trump is a moron. It hurts to think about how much better handled this might have been with Obama. The 2020 Presidential Election is essentially at a standstill, no one going to primary elections, very curious what will happen, will we even be able to vote in November? Bernie and Biden left, Biden in the lead, but Biden is hardly speaking up about Covid-19. It’s been fulfilling to work at Schoology during this time as we are making a real difference in virtual learning and our school districts are eternally grateful. Side note––Amazon is hardly even running! They’ve cut down on their hours and employees, and the average wait on PRIME is 30 days!!! I am going to sleep at my mom’s tonight.

3/27 - Ended up sleeping at my mom’s on Thursday night. Took a work meeting from my mom’s then went back home. First dropped off my right AirPod at a FedEx drop off but you had to touch the box. Tried to do a Peloton class at home but Winnie got into my medicine bag and we found her with an empty laxative and ambien pill container. We took her to emergency vet and had them induce vomiting. We were terrified we killed her. Turns out she didn’t eat any pills and we ended up finding all of the pills when we got back from vet. Poor Winnie. Silly $300 at vet. Pet insurance is dumb because it has such a high deductible. I then went on a walk with Winnie because it was 64 degrees out. Eric and I cooked a fancy meatloaf for dinner and finished Sex Education.  I made a lovely cocktail. 

3/28 - Weekends don’t feel all that different from weekdays. Trump is discussing a mandatory quarantine on all New York residents since there are now 45,000 confirmed cases (many more unconfirmed). Reading the news is scary and I have been trying to limit it at night because it gives me insomnia and anxiety. Most of my friends aren’t seeing their parents at all. It’s gross out today. I did a few Peloton classes and started Little Fires Everywhere. It was a book turned into a movie but because movies are closed they released it as a TV series on Hulu. Just stepped out of the house for the first time today to take Winnie on a short walk. My team at Schoology is doing a fitness challenge to get some steps in because it’s HARD to find reasons to move! We were going to go to the Shear’s for dinner tonight but Susan had a headache this morning so to be safe we aren’t going. This is the crazy world we are currently living in. I’ve been mostly only wearing sports bras not real bras. We have not been able to locate lysol wipes in weeks. Note to self, I’d like to add some photos here because this really is all so unprecedented and it’s hard to put into words the craziness. 

3/29 - Working out every day but gaining weight. Watched Little Fires Everywhere - LOVE it. Gross day out. Peloton inside. Zoom Call with Kristin, Oliver, Parker, Mom. Went on a walk around the apartment. Weekends are worse than week days because no work to do. 

3/30 - Work is crazy because Schoology crashed since too many people on the platform. Did lots of Peloton Spin. Amanda moved her wedding to 2021. We are very worried about ours. I haven’t been sleeping. Went to visit mom with Winnie in afternoon for a walk. Passed neighbor Kelly but we couldn’t let her pet Winnie because not supposed to have other people pet your dog. We had a meeting with the Rabbi for our wedding. She is hopeful for July because she can’t stand the thought of not being able to send her kids to sleep-away camp haha. Started this dumb show Tiger King, everyone is watching it. About a man who keeps tigers in his house.

3/31 - Schoology crashed again. Too many users. Work has been busy but fulfilling though because we are so important right now, been nice to connect with my clients. It’s been hard working full days though I take breaks to work out and to do chores so I’m a bit all over the place. Went to the post office today to return a dress for my mom because I won’t let her go, all stood 6 feet apart and I feel scared to breathe in public now. It’s so bad in NY and the Daily Podcast is scaring me. 

4/1 - Work has been stressful because of the Schoology outages because everyone is doing school on Schoology now. Went to Deccico’s at lunch to do a big grocery shopping (we are trying to limit grocery store to once max twice per week since it’s unsafe to go). I wore a t-shirt as a bandana to cover my mouth, tried to keep sunglasses on, and wore a glove on my right hand (left hand was for my phone to see the shopping list). The line was wrapped around the entire corner and I ended up waiting 45 minutes. You have to be really careful to stand at least 6 feet behind the person in front of you. It was a bit overwhelming because we had such a long shopping list (also doing groceries for my mom), and they were out of a lot. I couldn’t find bread, orange juice, turkey, etc. Also have not seen lysol wipes in weeks. Unfortunately. I ended up being gone for an hour and a half and couldn’t even finish the shopping. Went to Stop & Shop after to finish the list. No one is going to Stop & Shop because they aren’t doing as good of a job with cleanliness protocol so it’s far less crowded. Under isolation I am 1) becoming a chef with Eric, we are cooking so much! 2) working out a lot and incorporating more floor workouts and strength training 3) drinking almost daily… 4) eating A LOT!!!!! Getting fit + gaining weight at the same time. Today was Greg Lesser’s birthday, so we had socially distant drinks on our lawn, I have a funny picture of all of us sitting that I’ll post above. During the happy hour, Caitlin Casey wanted to use our bathroom so she stepped inside, we deliberated if it was okay. I was too close to the door when she opened it and she alarmingly stepped back, no one gets that close anymore. Winnie turned 9 months today. A few other notes: our Election Primary has been moved to end of June. I will have to likely cancel my bachelorette party. Schoology already closed our office through April 30, with optional WFH through May 31st. I interviewed Hong Kong American School tonight, as they’ve been remote for months. They almost went back to school but when folks came back to China they brought COVID19 with them so now they are back to isolation. 

4/6 - We decided to stop going over to Eric’s family’s house because it’s making us anxious and there are four of them and Eric’s mom is still going to the hospital. I got an actual mask and have started wearing it to the store and I feel a lot more safe. It was a beautiful day today, 62 and sunny. I went to my mom’s house and worked from her patio. Then I went on a distanced walk with Winnie and Shanni and then Winnie and Caroline. I’m getting used to working fully remote, I can’t even imagine commuting in at this point.

4/7 - Here are a few things I’m grateful for during this time. Eric, a supportive and loving partner. We get along so well and find a great balance between hanging out together and being independent, so we haven’t been sick of each other at all. Our spacious apartment and easy access to green space and outdoors and running paths. Winnie, truly the love of our life, she is just a saint and we can’t imagine life without her. And the fact that we have a “home gym” ie Peloton, exercise mat, and weights. These four things make this experience far more manageable. And of course the fact that we are both still employed and that our families are still healthy.

4/11 - Went on a walk with friends in LeatherStocking Trail in Larchmont. Was a bit crowded and narrow which wasn’t good. We ran into a random boy from our high school who immediately picked up Winnie. (We aren’t letting people pet Winnie due to Corona but I didn’t act quick enough to stop it). Anyway, turns out his brother who he LIVES with has Corona. Which means he probably has it too. And he was out on a walk not social distancing and PET MY DOG!!! I was absolutely livid. 

4/15 - Cuomo requires all people wear masks in public in NYC. Cuomo says likely that there will be no large gatherings through the summer. Very sad about the wedding. Colleges are making online learning plans for the fall just incase.

4/28 - Silver lining of quarantine: I get to hear Eric’s work, not just his teaching but his deanship how eloquently and professionally he handles parent conversations, managing faculty that’s older than he is, and student situations. He is currently leading a parent forum book discussion on the book White Fragility on race and whiteness

XIU XIU - PUMPKIN ATTACK ON MOMMY AND DADDY

[5.00]

We luv the controversy OH!

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: In the early years of high school I was deeply into Swans -- specifically, the pair of albums that Michael Gira put out in 2012 and 2014. I cannot recall if these albums were good. I am not inclined to revisit them, given Michael Gira's unpleasantness as a person. Yet in the all-consuming hammer of a beat that drives "Pumpkin Attack on Mommy and Daddy" I feel the same energy that 15-year-old me found so compelling in Swans' heaviness. It's not even particularly hard or aggressive in its sound -- the weight it carries squirms beneath its surface, ready to explode outwards without ever doing so. There's no release or jump scare here, just further coiling and rising action. It's dread music, a caldera of fear. I am no longer drawn to sounds like this, but I cannot help but feel nostalgic for its thump. [5]

Vikram Joseph: I used to think I liked Xiu Xiu, but play counts don't lie, and looking back it's clear I liked the concept more than the reality. I lost track of them sometime around the turn of the decade -- presumably I came to the conclusion that my iTunes could only hold so many performatively unsettling, hook-light records that I hardly ever listen to. I was intrigued to find out whether they'd changed, and "Pumpkin Attack on Mommy and Daddy" is certainly different to the Xiu Xiu of a decade ago -- a deranged techno grind that sounds like HEALTH on some very bad pills -- but it rings rather hollow: provocation as its own end with little to back it up. Plus ça change, etc. [4]

Tim de Reuse: It's a structureless mess, yeah, but it's easy to follow. The beat is stubbornly un-syncopated, the bassline hammers a single note for five minutes, there really aren't that many elements at play at any one time, and the vocal clips only occasionally poke out of the mix ("no-thing! no-thing! no-no-no-thing!") to deliver disjointed nonsense. There is little salient cause-and-effect relationship from one moment to the next, and this has the lovely effect of trapping you in the present for five minutes, in a way that your typical verse-chorus-verse situation couldn't really accomplish. For five minutes, it takes a couple measures of industrial fever dream and contorts them, rotates them in place, shows you new angles on it, and the straightforwardness of the composition makes all of these little tweaks gel together in memory. This is what a nightmare feels like when you're six years old and terror is still a relatively simple thing. [9]

Nortey Dowuona: This sounds like a brain being squished and all the memories running into the bathroom and shaking a toothbrush. The bass drums run in. First, with a scattering of toothbrush and vocals, then a descent of rattling percussion layered with hurling phone shrieks, with vocal samples ladled in, then clumsysnares dripping in with a break for a story, with shrimp synths shredding their voices as the bass drops out, with another break for another vocal samples, with bass dropping out as Jerry creeps across the Moog synth to turn on the TV, with the shrimp synths slipping back with the bass as more vocal samples, emitting from the TV, who closes the song out. [9]

Ian Mathers: I am generally such a fan of the existence of Xiu Xiu, what you might call the whole rich tapestry, that even though I prefer it when their material veers a couple steps closer to "song," I'm still fond of this meandering thing. Honestly, I've spent so much of 2019 listening to Coil that it'd be weird if I didn't like this. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Appealing in the way that a lot of EBM is for me: it's cold and sterile and makes me feel completely hollow. [6]

Iain Mew: If this was truly horrible and pushed abrasion that bit further, or if it had truly "no nothing" and pushed boredom that bit further, I could at least feel something about it, even if it was hatred. As it is, it's an endurance test that doesn't even give any particular feeling of reward for having endured it. [2]

Kylo Nocom: Forgive me for not entertaining the noise of the edgelord underground. Forgive me for finding Jamie Stewart's voyeuristic disrespect of black bodies, alive and dead, terrible enough to where any of my goodwill has been drained for his work. Forgive me for thinking we can do better than believing that dunderheaded aggression, the kind aided by the likes of Fantano and RateYourMusic circles, is the only mode of "avant-garde" aesthetics worth caring for. Forgive me for not seeing sub-"Windowlicker" noise, Psycho string plucks, John Carpenter synths, and exoticized valley girl narrations as the genius they are; I only hear the music of people who don't care about what gets shat out, as long as its listeners find its chaos confusing enough to mistake it for meaning. [1]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: I'm all for befuddling, odd experimental music, but my only lasting impression of this song is that when I played it using speakers in my living room, my roommate shouted at me: "What the hell is this? It sounds like someone on ketamine decided to make a song!" [4]

Thomas Inskeep: A soundtrack to a performance art piece (as its video makes perfectly clear) that never coalesces as any kind of song. It kind of wants to be an avant-garde version of a late '80s My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult record, but never gets there. What remains is instead just sophomoric collage. [3]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

12. Staying quietly in bed is harder after that. I want to be doing something, finding out more about District 13 or helping in the cause to bring down the Capitol. Instead I sit around stuffing myself with cheese buns and watching Peeta sketch. Haymitch stops by occasionally to bring me news from town, which is always bad. More people being punished or dropping from starvation. Winter has begun to withdraw by the time my foot is deemed usable. My mother gives me exercises to do and lets me walk on my own a bit. I go to sleep one night, determined to go into town the next morning, but I awake to find Venia, Octavia, and Flavius grinning down at me. "Surprise!" they squeal. "We're here early!" After I took that lash in the face, Haymitch got their visit pushed back several months so I could heal up. I wasn't expecting them for another three weeks. But I try to act delighted that my bridal photo shoot is here at last. My mother hung up all the dresses, so they're ready to go, but to be honest, I haven't even tried one on. After the usual histrionics about the deteriorated state of my beauty, they get right down to business. Their biggest concern is my face, although I think my mother did a pretty remarkable job healing it. There's just a pale pink strip across my cheekbone. The whipping's not common knowledge, so I tell them I slipped on the ice and cut it. And then I realize that's my same excuse for hurting my foot, which is going to make walking in high heels a problem. But Flavius, Octavia, and Venia aren't the suspicious types, so I'm safe there. Since I only have to look hairless for a few hours instead of several weeks, I get to be shaved instead of waxed. I still have to soak in a tub of something, but it isn't vile, and we're on to my hair and makeup before I know it. The team, as usual, is full of news, which I usually do my best to tune out. But then Octavia makes a comment that catches my attention. It's a passing remark, really, about how she couldn't get shrimp for a party, but it tugs at me. "Why couldn't you get shrimp? Is it out of season?" I ask. "Oh, Katniss, we haven't been able to get any seafood for weeks!" says Octavia. "You know, because the weather's been so bad in District Four." My mind starts buzzing. No seafood. For weeks. From District 4. The barely concealed rage in the crowd during the Victory Tour. And suddenly I am absolutely sure that District 4 has revolted. I begin to question them casually about what other hardships this winter has brought them. They are not used to want, so any little disruption in supply makes an impact on them. By the time I'm ready to be dressed, their complaints about the difficulty of getting different products - from crabmeat to music chips to ribbons - has given me a sense of which districts might actually be rebelling. Seafood from District 4. Electronic gadgets from District 3. And, of course, fabrics from District 8. The thought of such widespread rebellion has me quivering with fear and excitement. I want to ask them more, but Cinna appears to give me a hug and check my makeup. His attention goes right to the scar on my cheek. Somehow I don't think he believes the slipping-on-the-ice story, but he doesn't question it. He simply adjusts the powder on my face, and what little you can see of the lash mark vanishes. Downstairs, the living room has been cleared and lit for the photo shoot. Effie's having a fine time ordering everybody around, keeping us all on schedule. It's probably a good thing, because there are six gowns and each one requires its own headpiece, shoes, jewelry, hair, makeup, setting, and lighting. Creamy lace and pink roses and ringlets. Ivory satin and gold tattoos and greenery. A sheath of diamonds and jeweled veil and moonlight. Heavy white silk and sleeves that fall from my wrist to the floor, and pearls. The moment one shot has been approved, we move right into preparing for the next. I feel like dough, being kneaded and reshaped again and again. My mother manages to feed me bits of food and sips of tea while they work on me, but by the time the shoot is over, I'm starving and exhausted. I'm hoping to spend some time with Cinna now, but Effie whisks everybody out the door and I have to make do with the promise of a phone call. Evening has fallen and my foot hurts from all the crazy shoes, so I abandon any thoughts of going into town. Instead I go upstairs and wash away the layers of makeup and conditioners and dyes and then go down to dry my hair by the fire. Prim, who came home from school in time to see the last two dresses, chatters on about them with my mother. They both seem overly happy about the photo shoot. When I fall into bed, I realize it's because they think it means I'm safe. That the Capitol has overlooked my interference with the whipping since no one is going to go to such trouble and expense for someone they plan on killing, anyway. Right. In my nightmare, I'm dressed in the silk bridal gown, but it's torn and muddy. The long sleeves keep getting caught on thorns and branches as I run through the woods. The pack of muttation tributes draws closer and closer until it overcomes me with hot breath and dripping fangs and I scream myself awake. It's too close to dawn to bother trying to get back to sleep. Besides, today I really have to get out and talk to someone. Gale will be unreachable in the mines. But I need Haymitch or Peeta or somebody to share the burden of all that has happened to me since I went to the lake. Fleeing outlaws, electrified fences, an independent District 13, shortages in the Capitol. Everything. I eat breakfast with my mother and Prim and head out in search of a confidant. The air's warm with hopeful hints of spring in it. Spring would be a good time for an uprising, I think. Everyone feels less vulnerable once winter passes. Peeta's not home. I guess he's already gone into town. I'm surprised to see Haymitch moving around his kitchen so early, though. I walk into his house without knocking. I can hear Hazelle upstairs, sweeping the floors of the now-spotless house. Haymitch isn't flat-out drunk, but he doesn't look too steady, either. I guess the rumors about Ripper being back in business are true. I'm thinking maybe I better let him just go to bed, when he suggests a walk to town. Haymitch and I can speak in a kind of shorthand now. In a few minutes I've updated him and he's told me about rumors of uprisings in Districts 7 and 11 as well. If my hunches are right, this would mean almost half the districts have at least attempted to rebel. "Do you still think it won't work here?" I ask. "Not yet. Those other districts, they're much larger. Even if half the people cower in their homes, the rebels stand a chance. Here in Twelve, it's got to be all of us or nothing," he says. I hadn't thought of that. How we lack strength of numbers. "But maybe at some point?" I insist. "Maybe. But we're small, we're weak, and we don't develop nuclear weapons," says Haymitch with a touch of sarcasm. He didn't get too excited over my District 13 story. "What do you think they'll do, Haymitch? To the districts that are rebelling?" I ask. "Well, you've heard what they did in Eight. You've seen what they did here, and that was without provocation," says Haymitch. "If things really do get out of hand, I think they'd have no problem killing off another district, same as they did Thirteen. Make an example of it, you know?" "So you think Thirteen was really destroyed? I mean, Bonnie and Twill were right about the footage of the mocking-jay," I say. "Okay, but what does that prove? Nothing, really. There are plenty of reasons they could be using old footage. Probably it looks more impressive. And it's a lot simpler, isn't it? To just press a few buttons in the editing room than to fly all the way out there and film it?" he says. "The idea that Thirteen has somehow rebounded and the Capitol is ignoring it? That sounds like the kind of rumor desperate people cling to." "I know. I was just hoping," I say. "Exactly. Because you're desperate," says Haymitch. I don't argue because, of course, he's right. Prim comes home from school bubbling over with excitement. The teachers announced there was mandatory programming tonight. "I think it's going to be your photo shoot!" "It can't be, Prim. They only did the pictures yesterday," I tell her. "Well, that's what somebody heard," she says. I'm hoping she's wrong. I haven't had time to prepare Gale for any of this. Since the whipping, I only see him when he comes to the house for my mother to check how he's healing. He's often scheduled seven days a week in the mine. In the few minutes of privacy we've had, with me walking him back to town, I gather that the rumblings of an uprising in 12 have been subdued by Thread's crackdown. He knows I'm not going to run. But he must also know that if we don't revolt in 12, I'm destined to be Peeta's bride. Seeing me lounging around in gorgeous gowns on his television ... what can he do with that? When we gather around the television at seven-thirty, I discover that Prim is right. Sure enough, there's Caesar Flickerman, speaking before a standing-room-only crowd in front of the Training Center, talking to an appreciative crowd about my upcoming nuptials. He introduces Cinna, who became an overnight star with his costumes for me in the Games, and after a minute of good-natured chitchat, we're directed to turn our attention to a giant screen. I see now how they could photograph me yesterday and present the special tonight. Initially, Cinna designed two dozen wedding gowns. Since then, there's been the process of narrowing down the designs, creating the dresses, and choosing the accessories. Apparently, in the Capitol, there were opportunities to vote for your favorites at each stage. This is all culminating with shots of me in the final six dresses, which I'm sure took no time at all to insert in the show. Each shot is met with a huge reaction from the crowd. People screaming and cheering for their favorites, booing the ones they don't like. Having voted, and probably bet on the winner, people are very invested in my wedding gown. It's bizarre to watch when I think how I never even bothered to try one on before the cameras arrived. Caesar announces that interested parties must cast their final vote by noon on the following day. "Let's get Katniss Everdeen to her wedding in style!" he hollers to the crowd. I'm about to shut off the television, but then Caesar is telling us to stay tuned for the other big event of the evening. "That's right, this year will be the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games, and that means it's time for our third Quarter Quell!" "What will they do?" asks Prim. "It isn't for months yet. We turn to our mother, whose expression is solemn and distant, as if she's remembering something. "It must be the reading of the card." The anthem plays, and my throat tightens with revulsion as President Snow takes the stage. He's followed by a young boy dressed in a white suit, holding a simple wooden box. The anthem ends, and President Snow begins to speak, to remind us all of the Dark Days from which the Hunger Games were born. When the laws for the Games were laid out, they dictated that every twenty-five years the anniversary would be marked by a Quarter Quell. It would call for a glorified version of the Games to make fresh the memory of those killed by the districts' rebellion. These words could not be more pointed, since I suspect several districts are rebelling right now. President Snow goes on to tell us what happened in the previous Quarter Quells. "On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it." I wonder how that would have felt. Picking the kids who had to go. It is worse, I think, to be turned over by your own neighbors than have your name drawn from the reaping ball. "On the fiftieth anniversary," the president continues, "as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes." I imagine facing a field of forty-seven instead of twenty-three. Worse odds, less hope, and ultimately more dead kids. That was the year Haymitch won... . "I had a friend who went that year," says my mother quietly. "Maysilee Donner. Her parents owned the sweetshop. They gave me her songbird after. A canary." Prim and I exchange a look. It's the first we've ever heard of Maysilee Donner. Maybe because my mother knew we would want to know how she died. "And now we honor our third Quarter Quell," says the president. The little boy in white steps forward, holding out the box as he opens the lid. We can see the tidy, upright rows of yellowed envelopes. Whoever devised the Quarter Quell system had prepared for centuries of Hunger Games. The president removes an envelope clearly marked with a 75. He runs his finger under the flap and pulls out a small square of paper. Without hesitation, he reads, "On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors." My mother gives a faint shriek and Prim buries her face in her hands, but I feel more like the people I see in the crowd on television. Slightly baffled. What does it mean? Existing pool of victors? Then I get it, what it means. At least, for me. District 12 only has three existing victors to choose from. Two male. One female ... I am going back into the arena.