Survival Of The Fittest

The karaoke room was the shape of a bit too small and the smell of the odor lines of unwashed weeaboos, bless their overeager and extremely creepy hearts. Cedar watched the girl on stage in the solidly constructed, clean stitching, loose fit Violet Evergarden cosplay who was about done with her soft, octave-down rendition of the last verse of Rightfully. Her voice was cute, and predisposed to hitting notes... half? or maybe a full? step flat.

She was sure Tenshi would appreciate the performance (and similarly-slash-more importantly would appreciate how not good it was relative to her own rendition) and would maybe? Be inspired to take a shot at doing it herself (or at least say she would to prove a point) and then she'd definitely? Knock it out of the park if she hypothetically actually went through with her hypothetical bout of showmanship. Tenshi was the sort who would imagine everyone clapping (and not the polite sort of clapping but the actual clapping) so she'd definitely see it coming and still be a bit surprised (presumption had its limits and so on) before taking it gracefully in her stride. Tenshi's ego was a (pretty, platonically speaking) smile and sharp body language that obscured the zoomer ennui by getting louder when needed, totally valid, totally fair. It was the sort of ego that was worth cultivating an agricultural surplus (government strategic reserves full) of on the knife's edge of okay-this-might-be-too-much.

Wherever she was right now her cosplay was on point (she had more eyes for serving looks than Combustion Man) and her hair was definitively on point (silkier than all the combined cakes in all the desert cafes they'd yet to hit up in the Greater Boston metro) and that needed to be mentioned about a dozen plus infinity more times to her face (out loud, bold font) and hopefully she was out there bathing in a surplus of such commentary (from non-creeps in and among the convention populace, ideally) this very moment. There was a universe where Cedar would contentedly watch Tenshi bask in the glory of successful karaoke showboating and look good doing it (the looking good part was a universal constant, same with the having lungs made out of photo-ready chiffon).

Cedar curled up in the shape of a dumpling, legs and arms tucked, feeling and being smaller than her chair in the row of hard-on-the-tailbone seats emptiest and furthest from the cosplay stage. She was beginning to comfortably bake in the warmth provided by her jacket, a thick fabric, carefully hemmed navy blue jacket belonging to her genderbent Roy Mustang cosplay.

If they had LARP events here there'd be no telling if the crowd would amount to a so-called basket of deplorables, Angelo being the sort who could sniff it out before any mouths were opened or die were rolled. Well, if dice were rolled. He probably brought that up in one of his answer paragraph for every question sentence spiels and he'd helpfully bring it up again if ever asked again. He would be asked again and he would continue to be patient where he could afford the expenditure of energy on a face he liked to see. Among them Cedar's own, which was heartening. He had a heart-and-soul vibe among the members of their amalgamation of happily weird people called a platoon last checked. If he'd wanted the mantle of leadership or not he'd inherited enough of a piece of it that he would wear as responsibly as he did any other of his beliefs or creeds. Reluctantly, knowing it had to be done.

What they had in common with certainty was. Well, if he hadn't had to deal with the same set of problems it would have been preferable. Kindred spirits, wandering souls. He made it look easy, much as she knew it wasn't the case. It took courage to not write parental problems out of sight and mind entirely. He didn't see it that way most likely, but that was all the more reason to see what he humbly wouldn't.

Cedar started on texts to everyone, personalized with a meticulous quickness, her fingers being the only part of her body moving as she continued to slump into the shape of scoliosis that she maybe? didn't have yet. She felt the fire right behind her eyes that meant her headache could possibly become a migraine and standing too fast could possibly become an explosion of color in her eyes and vomit on the floor.

Anime anime anime anime anime anime anime anime anime.

Quentin loved anime anime anime anime anime anime. He didn't like weebs, though. He was one himself, but he was not like the others. He showered.

Hair dyed black, with the black japanese school uniform he looked like Josuke Higashikata. Actually, Quentin kinda liked weebs. He loved them! He was one of them. Cheddar and Tenshi were cool.

This Animecon in Boston had been very enjoyable for Quentin so far. He managed to visit many things and bought some swag. In fact, this is where he bought the ahegao shirt he'd terrorise Kyoto with months later!

With the cosplay attire, Quentin felt like a peacock. When they went to Boston together, the people wouldn't understand why they were dressed like this. He saw that people looked at him more when he was cosplaying and he wasn't quite sure how to handle the attention. He liked it. This must be how punks with bright green hair or hot girls feel every day, right? Being looked at all the time, not ignored.

Q sipped on his coke.

Oh fuck the room was starting to spin. No wait that was the Sheraton carpet.

She saw a guy and she smiled. She liked Quentin. She actually really liked his cute nickname for her.

(( Cedar Dalisay's Friends, Thread 1 ))

, not quite what she'd have named her first born daughter if she ever had one, but there was potential. Wow, what a horrible fate she'd potentially inflict on her yet unborn child.

Quentin was a cool guy. What was it about him that she liked? He was a nerd who knew how to shower? Looked good in a Jojo fit? Good friend? Needed protection? Woof, problematic thoughts. Cedar liked him enough that she waved the moment she saw him. It put fuzz back into the image forming on the back of her eyeballs. Ouch. Do not vomit. Do not vomit.

"Hey!" She wasn't too loud, just enough to call him over.

"What did you get already? And what do you think of the crowd this year?" Crowd opinions were an exclusive feature of convention cosplay watching, the realm of the most terminally online. Not online in this particular moment, but in general, rather. She knew he had an eye for judging others, he'd appreciate the opportunity.

Quentin smiled. "Oh yeah, the cosplay this year were really good," he lied. Cheddar looked kinda drunk.

"You drunk yet?"

"Are we pregaming for the rave or something? I wouldn't put it past Tenshi I guess." Some kinda half-truth.

remembered that she'd drunk alcohol sometimes. It hadn't worked out very well for her any of those times. One sip was a lot of stuff.

"Hey, sit down for a bit. Don't worry about me, I'm just dizzy."

"Tenshi's here too?"

Quentin turned his shoulder to look around. He then sat down. Pregaming, eh.

Quentin wasn't really a drinker, he was more of a smoker and he already had some janes in him. Alcohol was more what he liked to use when cooking. But eh, a drink or two wouldn't hurt.

"Maybe I was hallucinating that," sighed with the meme of defeat- instant loss confirmed. "Add that to my list of increasingly inexplicable medical conditions I guess."

Room spinning a bit more intensely now. Reminder to self: do not vomit. Yet, anyways, the nearest restroom was 2000 leagues under the sea away from the karaoke room because of course it was. The jacket she had on was loosened- she needed the air on skin to remind her that a reality existed outside of the swimming haze printed on the inside of her eyeballs.

"Can I rest here a bit?" Her hand lightly and briefly touched his shoulder. "I really need to close my eyes."

"Uh, sure. Go ahead," he wanted to add 'but don't puke on me', but he couldn't puzzle the sentence together in a way where he wouldn't sound like a dick. Like he could turn it to a joke, but that still didn't seem like the right thing to say.

He decided to say in a caring tone.

"Don't forget to stay hydradated, Ced. You don't want to get hung over once you wake up."

Yeah, hangovers could be the worst. Quentin had a bunch of experience in that.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror fluffing and combing her hair for what, the seventh time today, Tenshi was happy to indulge her own reflection. That's one way of putting "actually takes care of her appearance". Maybe what with the stereotypes it was easy to be convinced that it was the weebs (male) who were kinda gross by not doing that, but Tenshi was online enough to know girls (fujoshis, even) who took pride in being messy and unkempt and not doing makeup or even brushing or combing their hair in the morning. Not like other girls.

Not like Tenshi.

With clatters and the clicking open of clasps, Tenshi spread the tools of her trade on the silky pink napkin, protecting the delicate brushes from the grime of the public bathroom counters (they were barely counters! Just ledges below a wall-length of cheap-looking mirror panes that seemed ready to fall off. There was a reason she didn't use public bathrooms most of the time).

Foundation. Highlighter. Blush, blush, blush. In other circles there'd be a fine line between looking like a doll (cute) and looking doll-like (creepy) but the threshold of tolerance was higher for losers who only ever saw 2D, overly-idealized moes. It was also higher if you were cosplaying.

And yeah Tenshi would have a better cosplay on her hands if she got a wig, but stuffing all this hair under a net was totally gonna be a lost cause (and who'd want to miss out on this, anyways?) and using enough hair dye to pull it off was an even more lost one (she wasn't gonna let all that bleach touch her hair!) but her outfit had to carry it. It was under her rainjacket right now, it had to be protected from the elements of the convention space and her own makeup as it flitted across her face (it made her feel like she was transforming into a magical girl or something - a transformation that'd be complete when she tossed off the water-resistant jacket and made her debut on the karaoke floor). Blue eyeshadow, a tasteful amount. It wasn't Tenshi's usual colour but when she got on that stage she was - well actually, she couldn't stop being Tenshi. She would also, however, be Miku. Princess Miku.

She swooped her hair into twin-tails, fastened with those lace-patterned tie-thingies, it matched the dress. She fastened bracelets and a necklace, and finally, delicately lifted a little crown fascinator. Slip, and clip. All hail the princess.

Blinking in the mirror, she wondered if she forgot something.

...she put her hearing aids back on. The last few bars of Rightfully echoed in the entrance to the bathroom.



[Tenshi Marie Anastasie Fukushima-Yves: MEMORY 01]

Tenshi took a deep breath and thought, I'm the number-one princess in the world, and by god she was gonna be treated like it. She strode onto the stage with all the hotshot voca-tuber with dreams of a career in bigger showbiz confidence she could muster.

She didn't even need to hear what she was saying at this point. She trusted her voice was as sweet and on-point as ever just because she'd run through that road so many times. It was like her signature, written deep and hard enough to indent on the rest of her notebook.

Tenshi was stuck in a rut and the rut was quality.

"Se-kaaai de~"

"I'm not drunk," she brusquely complained. "But I should be drinking more- water- you're right." The ends of her wig, each individual acrylic fiber pointy and somehow aggressively seeking the heat of Q's skin, stabbed with wild abandon. She sighed as she settled in place- lightly, barely letting her weight be felt. She just needed a bit of a lucky charm to ward off the inbound migraine-style neck pain. As with most forms of bodily pain she knew the subtle differences in how symptoms manifested based on cause.

Stiff. She wanted to yank her head off her shoulders and reset it, if at all possible.

"So if you wanna help me refill my bottle that'd be lovely." A small snrk. As suddenly, a considerably louder cheer.

That was her Miku striding boldly onto stage. The myth, the legend, the walking ego herself. Dramatic entrance, as only she knew how to pull off. She'd probably actually needed to charge straight out of the bathroom to claim her karaoke slot at the absolute last second because her makeup was multiple levels superior to 's and that shit took time, but Cedar also knew that time had been calculated to make an impact on everyone watching.

yo ne

They were all watching, of course. A few air guitaring for good measure.

"She's insane, isn't she? Taught me everything I know."

Cedar's wig irritated Quentin's skin and he wasn't too bothered by that. At least she'd drink some water to counter her boozesumption. And then came Miku.

Maybe it was his stoned-ness, but he couldn't help but find the cosplay and the singing to be ridiculous. He really had to resist just bursting out laugh in laughter. But luckily, he could just hold it. Come on, Quentin. Can't you just be a decent human being for one thread? Just one thread.

So he tried to supportive and cheered, and clapped, and hid his urge to just roll on the floor behind a big grin.

She felt weightless on that stage, like she was a being of pure light. Like she was nothing more than a hologram on a just-barely-visible glass screen, nonetheless holding a concert. Being up there, on stage. A marvel of modern technology and entertainment. An artificial sun.

Tenshi leaned forward and lifted her hand to her ears.

"-datte watashi wa-" Cause you know I'm-

And right on cue, they responded: The Number One Princess In The World, as per the first line of the chorus. Classic! It was smiles and she raised her hand and waved, all smiles on her face too. Her time on stage was coming to an end, and it felt like the weightless, paradoxically lifting sensation of being in a plane as it landed, or a carnival ride dropping down to a stop. (Or maybe not. If carnival rides were like this, Tenshi would go on more of them.)

And speaking of which, with a practiced sort of grace (but not so practiced, it wasn't like she did that anywhere other than her living room before) she dropped to her knees in a little slide across, leaning back with the power of that soaring last note.

She lifted herself back up, just to one knee and one foot. At that moment she noticed the blink of a camera, at the back. With a smile, she outstretched one hand to the back of the house. "Yeah!" Yeah, you! Hope you upload that to the internet! Maybe she should seek that guy out and tell him she had a channel full of these.

Finally, she stood up. Did a little bow. Absorbed the applause.

Tenshi stepped off the stage, but she kinda wished she could dissolve into pixels and light like a hologram could. Or better yet, turn around and switch into a new dress for a new song.

Would have been her camera pointed up at the stage if she hadn't been fighting off the dizziness in a Darwinian struggle for her own survival. Cedar was probably responsible for a plurality fraction of all the camera attention Tenshi had ever experienced in her entire life- the angel on stage, her halo an aura of immaculate foundation and liner.

She was so good, Cedar repeated x4.

"Glad you enjoy it too." Cedar managed to lift herself off Quentin's shoulder and only feel her stomach turn a few times too many, as opposed to Hawaiian roller coaster. "Though I'll admit she is a bit extra." She always was. Thumbs up emoji.

"Wait, is she done yet?" Cedar reflexively had started to check her phone as it suddenly buzzed quietly in her jacket pocket a bunch of times in a row. Data must have found its way into the convention room. "If she's on her way over here let me know so I can glomp on her before she finishes getting here."