#& I think you have to cultivate that type of energy if you wanna receive it too you know?

[oooohno]

You're such a muse to so many people, constantly bringing forth and encouraging their ideas. Truly your are a blessed and beloved figure 💛💛

Thank you so much for always being so sweet to me! You give me too much credit though chfjdn I just try to cultivate the vibes I wanna see on my dash 💓

[grewlikefancyflowers]

So sorry!! My previous incomplete ask was my cellphone failing on me. So I have to send it you again.

Thank You for clearing out my query on that translation.

Some questions i have right now

First, If gui dao harms one's mind in long term then why couldnt Xue Yang be affected by it even after using it more years than WWX?? Could it be because of the frequency of his use is less than WWX and the amount of his energy he used at one single time given that XY uses his primordial spirit to control only Song Lan??

Second, i just read that part from the original drafts where WWX explains how he uses his primordial spirit to control the corpses. But i have questions- the part where LWJ asks him if he uses his own primordial spirit or someone else's and WWX answers does WWX mean primordial spirit of his "own" and the "corpses" , also is it same scene in which JC gets to know that Gui dao is connected to WWX's mental state or there is any other scene where he specifically mentions it to him??

Third, do you have any ideas ony why exactly he received a backlash from his corpses during the first burial mound siege??

Lastly, wanna say that i completely agree that WWX's emotions and Guidao are interlinked in a way that we cannot draw a line between them. Nor do i think that it was a moral failing from his side.

Thank you once again!! Many things were cleared out for me by your answer.

Hello again! :3

First, Xue Yang

I'm not sure we really see enough of XY throughout the time he uses guidao to draw definitive conclusions about if or how it harmed his mind. Also XY was deranged from the start anyway lol. However, one thing we do know about XY is that he uses tools to control corpses rather than doing it directly himself — the yin hufu, and nails for WN and SL. Actually, I'm not sure we ever see him controlling corpses entirely from his own power as WWX does. As for why this is, it's possible that XY is simply not able to control corpses himself. It requires carefully-controlled emotions, which he certainly doesn't have. It may also be the case that XY uses tools to avoid or limit the harmful effects of guidao (remember that this was the reason WWX forged the yin hufu in the first place). I think both these explanations are plausible, but I lean more towards the first one since XY isn't really the cautious type. But either way, if use of tools reduces or removes risks from guidao, then since XY primarily uses those, it's possible his mind wasn't harmed by it.

Second, the explanation of WWX's cultivation in the original draft. Here is that excerpt in case others are curious.

'Wei WuXian replied, “Fine. I’ll answer – I domesticated them.”

“Domesticated how?”

Wei WuXian blinked. “How did I domesticate them? I can’t explain that in a short amount of time. Let’s put it this way – think, how would you domesticate a ferocious beast? The method’s about the same. First, suppress them with a primordial spirit, then give them whatever they want.”

Lan WangJi immediately questioned, “Did you use someone else’s, or your own?”

“Both.”

Lan WangJi walked around Jiang Cheng and got close to him again. Wei WuXian held out his flute horizontally in front of him, adopting a defensive posture. “Isn’t this excessive? Lan Zhan, I’ve already answered all your questions, but you’re still like this, all insensitive to others’ feelings? Just what do you want?”

Lan WangJi spoke, one word at a time: “Come back to Gusu with me.”'

So, what other primordial spirit does WWX use to control corpses? Tbh, I am not entirely sure, I don't recall it being addressed again, but I'd guess he's either referring to the corpses' or maaaybe the yin hufu since the sword it was made from had cultivated a lot of resentful energy into itself? I'm also not sure how far we can consider WWX's use of a primordial spirit other than his own canon, this was removed during edits. And yes, this is the scene where JC hears exactly how WWX's cultivation works, they don't speak of it again iirc, however I am not suuuper familiar with the original draft so I'm not 100% sure.

Third, backlash during the first siege.

I don't think there is a definitive canonical answer to this, but there are probably two possible reasons. One, WWX lost control due his turbulent emotions just as he'd done at Qiongqi Path and Nightless City, resulting in his corpses attacking him. Two, the loss of control was due to destroying/attempting to destroy the yin hufu, resulting in it sort of turning against him.

I don't think the first theory is impossible, but it's not one I'm particularly inclined towards. As we see at Qiongqi Path, even when WWX loses control, his corpses still follow his base instincts. Eg, WN killed JZX because of WWX's instinctive response to being attacked. So if WWX's loss of control at the siege resulted in his corpses killing him (in a most horrible way), this would imply that WWX was, on some level, suicidal at the time. This doesn't really track with the rest of his actions imo, such as hiding A-Yuan in a tree... he can't have at all expected that LWJ or anyone else would save him, so WWX was probably holding onto some hope he would retrieve A-yuan from his hiding place himself once the siege was over. And WWX has been in plenty of horrible, dangerous situations and he has always been one to fight to the end, so I don't see why his character would so a complete 180 here and subconsciously choose death.

For evidence of the yin hufu being the direct cause, 'Yinhu Fu was way more powerful and frightening than what he had initially expected. Originally, he wanted to use it as a form of support. Who would have known that it started to show signs of overpowering him, its creator.' (tmwx, ch.30) It seems to have some will of its own, so it probably wouldn't be too thrilled about WWX destroying it. Since WWX was already in a bit of a state, perhaps it actually managed to overpower him?

There is very little description of what happened during the siege, but we do have this 'But before he was able to finish disposing of the other, the Siege of the Burial Mounds descended upon him. He had no control over the events that followed.' (fyy, ch.30). So it seems like the siege was the initial cause of him losing control over things.

In Yi City, WWX also recalls not being able to control corpses that the yin hufu was currently controlling. 'A sudden thought crossed his mind and a thin layer of perspiration formed on his back. That’s not true. It wasn’t that “this has never occurred before”. In fact, it had happened before, and it wasn’t just once. There was indeed a type of ghoul that he couldn’t command. That was – ghouls that were already under the control of the Yinhu Fu!' (ch.34)

Another thing to consider is that control over corpses is a first come, first serve basis. Someone else cannot take control over corpses that are already controlled by the yin hufu, and the yin hufu cannot take control over corpses already controlled by someone else (ch.68).

If I had to put together a coherent sequence of event based on what we know, probably... While WWX was destroying the yin hufu, his control over his corpses (which he will have been using to defend the burial mounds) began to slip as the siege came down on him due to him being already mentally and physically hurt and exhausted from Nightless City & the surrounding events. The yin hufu, which wasn't a huge fan of being destroyed, seized control over the corpses WWX had lost his grip on, and set them on him instead.

[crisps-craft]

Hi Crisp! I’m so glad you’re here, back, and allowing us to ask questions again. 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾 May I please ask about the significant other/soulmate who’s coming and about potential friends a.k.a. my tribe? Are they coming in the near future and how kind of dynamic will we have? Well they be protective, loyal, loving, trustworthy, and supportive?

I’m really emphasizing those things because I’m currently alone with no support system, and I’ve been working really hard to heal and change things and I just wanna know that the end is in sight basically lol. That there will be people who try to get me as much as I try to get them, and reciprocate what I try to give to them. I really want to know what safety and love look like and feel like in this lifetime. AK, Gemini sun

hi AK! here are some messages i got from spirit:

I can definitely see in that in the past, you've experienced a lot of falling outs. a lot of the cards in the reading also showed me how stressed you've been feeling. i think your spirit guides are worried about you. they might be trying to give you signs- especially 333 possibly? and 555 for sure. 5 represents changes coming and when our lives change and switch course- which is good! i think that is spirit saying that change is coming- but for change to come, you might also have to change your approach to things. i think, especially from the painful experiences of the past, its made you struggle to trust people or give them a chance. you might feel more critical of people when you first meet them- even if you arent consciously aware of it. its like you analyze if you can count on them or not.

your guides are just showing me that just to say that if you want change, you also have to be the change. i see this message in a good light, though! your spirit guides want you to continue putting yourself out there, embracing new experiences with an open mind and also trusting in yourself and your ability to give and receive love. i can see how frustrated you feel and i really feel new things are coming- but in order for them to happen, you have to actively manifest them. trying new experiences, meeting new people, trying new activities, etc. spirit wants you to embrace change and be open to all experiences. giving people a chance. cultivate self-love too! spirit is stressing that to me.

anyways, i love the energy that came in from your soul family. i got this warm homey feeling. it felt so warm and comfortable. like that person- im feeling like you might make a new best friend soon? it will be someone sensitive, introspective, and more aware. i think you will both be sensitive people and it will really help with the giving and receiving aspect because you will both be very similar people. look for people who have an energy you feel comfortable around- someone who you feel like you dont have to wear a mask around. thats the type of people in your soul family.

don't give your energy to the wrong people who do not appreciate you- spirit wants you to put your energy towards people who radiate more kindness perhaps? people who are similar- im getting sensitive shy and perceptive type. like infp personality type. its okay to want that depth and i completely understand how hard it is to find that <3 spirit is sending you lots of love. embrace new changes, new opportunities to create new experiences to replace the bad ones. keep moving forward and i have faith in you <3

i hope that this could help <3

[tsipasce]

Same Difference Ch.17

A/N: Here is your reward for enduring last week lmao. This one is a bit long, but cutting it up just didn't seem as gratifying so I hope you guys enjoy.

Also, thank you so much for all the kudos, comments and bookmarks on AO3 and FFN-- you guys are too kind :'). I'll try posting more regularly on Tumblr too if ppl wanna read it here. Let me know what y'all think~

There was darkness, then flickers of lights and the occasional overwhelming flow of noises before it ebbed to silence and darkness yet again. First, she felt she was on a hard surface like concrete, then cold metal, then something cushion-like… a bed? Her thoughts were incoherent, presenting more as disjointed words and feelings. Anger, regret, hurt, with a sprinkle of sadness on top. Her body was heavy, every limb feeling as though the blood had been replaced with lead. Her head lolled and she heard someone suddenly shift at her side, the bed dipping under the pressure of said someone leaning on it and over her but was too out of it to open her eyes. Acquiescing, she fell back into unconsciousness.

An indefinite amount of time passed while she was in the darkness before her senses began to return fully. She heard typing, now able to feel a presence nearby. She wanted to open her eyes, but the task seemed too daunting still, simply listening would have to be enough for now.

“I can stand watch for now, if you’d like.” One voice offered, softly.

“What I’d like is to be left alone.” The other replied curtly.

“I see. We’re going to leave in the next few hours, I’ll get everyone ready.”

“You do that.”

Well this guy sounds like a treat… Nanami thought, her sarcasm unsurprisingly returning before the rest of her senses and memories. There were footsteps and then a soft thud, like a door being carefully shut. A couple moments passed before she heard what sounded like a laptop being closed, then footsteps coming towards her, and then silence. She desperately wanted to wake up, but her body refused to cooperate, causing her eyes to flutter behind her eyelids as she struggled in vain to move. She could sense the presence hadn’t left and she felt anxious as to what might happen next before hearing a sigh. She felt a sheet being pulled up to cover her arms, where goosebumps had been forming from the draft in wherever she was.

“I’ll deal with you when I get back.” The voice said with a hint of annoyance, though it was betrayed by its gentle tone. Hearing footsteps growing fainter, a door opened and closed once more. The words themselves were threatening but the way they were spoken, she felt oddly comforted. Falling back into the darkness, she decided to cultivate her energy and try her luck at waking up again later.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Emerging from the darkness again, the pain began immediately. Her head throbbed and she reflexively tried to groan but found her mouth and throat painfully full. Instantly recognizing the feeling, panic set in, the only other thing she could perceive being the desperate need for it to stop. She grabbed the tube, disassembling and reassembling it outside her body. The large obstruction dropped unceremoniously to the floor and she coughed, glad to be rid of it.

“Don’t be so rough with the equipment.”

She rolled her head to the direction of the voice, a bright light hitting her eyes as she struggled to open them for the first time since… Damn. It all came rushing back to her at once, the voice no longer a mystery. Her vision focused and she found herself looking at Overhaul as he sat at her bedside. His mask was on as he stared at her blankly. She stared back for a beat, not knowing how to begin speaking about what brought them to this point. Deciding she should be fully awake and rested for that conversation, she mentally tabled it, opting for their usual banter instead.

“It’s still intact isn’t it?” She cleared her throat, massaging it as she continued, “How long was I out?”

“Three days.”

“THREE DAYS?” Her eyes shot wide, another coughing fit beginning as she raised her voice after not speaking for days.

“Yes, that’s what I said.” He grimaced, moving back a bit at her sudden outburst, “Cough in the other direction.”

“No surprise that your bedside manner could use some work.” She sighed as she adjusted to raise herself up, wincing as her sore muscles tried their best to comply. He promptly rose, putting a pillow behind her as she sat up, his expression blank yet attentive, “Thanks.”

He nodded as he took his seat again and the silence continued, painfully. It felt like their first meeting all over again, neither knowing how to broach the awkward topic. Looking back, Nanami was angry at how insufferably rude he could be but couldn’t ignore her own part in this. A pang of guilt sat heavily in her chest when she remembered how easily she let her emotions get the best of her; she hadn’t told someone off like that in ages. In her mind, it in no way absolved him, but to say it was all his fault would be a lie. In that moment of rage, she… What did I do anyway? She glanced down, now more confused than anything, her brows furrowing before looking at him.

“Let’s chat.”

He readjusted in his chair, leaning back as he crossed his legs and folded his arms across his chest, “Let’s.”

His body language oozed condescension as though she was about to be scolded like a child and she hated it, “Why’d you attack me. Again.”

His eyes narrowed, displeased with how she was beginning their talk,” That was going to be my question to you. I thought we had a deal.”

“What are you talking about? We did—we do—I did not attack you.” she defended. Nanami knew they were both wrong for getting so worked up, but she wouldn’t stoop that low over an argument. “I was wrong, we both were for getting so heated, but I wouldn’t just start throwing hands like that. So again, why did you attack me? I thought… I thought we got passed all that.”

His brow furrowed at the implication, his jaw clenching uncomfortably at the hurt in her voice, “We are. We’re far passed all of that.” He intoned with a level of sincerity that seemed foreign to him. Having spent the past three days chastising himself for putting her in this position, wishing the exchange could be taken back, it was difficult to sound detached. He’d been angry, but harming her had been something he’d put out of his mind some time ago, “I didn’t attack you either…”

They both shared a moment of sincere confusion. Overhaul hadn’t come out unscathed either, having to heal his own head injury as well as a cracked vertebra from the impact once he came to. “Then what the hell happened?” Nanami asked, speaking the question they were both wrestling with. She looked around the room for her bag at the same time Overhaul reached for his laptop.

“We should run tests.” They said in unison. He handed her her notebook from the bag and a pen as they began noting exactly what happened leading up to the explosion.  As she recalled the events, there were a number of theories that came to mind, as well as ideas on how to safely perform reenactments of what transpired, but she also remembered the argument beforehand. He was somehow even more quiet than usual, and she could tell his gears were turning that morning, but the hostility seemed so out of the blue. Putting down her pen, he glanced up at her, noticing the sound of her writing had stopped and she was staring down thoughtfully.

“Did you think of something?”

“…Yeah. I did. Why’d you pick a fight with me that day?”

He looked back down at his keyboard and continued typing, “I don’t know what you mean. That little tiff was a joint effort.”

“No, no, no. It may have ended up that way, but you blew up at me after an entire week of solid teamwork. I expect the snide comments and the general air of grumpiness, but that was different… What happened?” He made the mistake of making eye contact with her. She didn’t look angry, just hurt.

Taken aback, all he could manage was “… I don’t know.” He wasn’t sure how to respond to that “emotion” nor did he have any plans to discuss feelings. If he was being honest, he wasn’t even sure why he did it himself. Perhaps it was self-sabotage and he was pushing her away, but to accept that would mean acknowledging they had gotten close; that he had, at some point, made the subconscious decision to stop viewing her as a pawn or even just a colleague, and to indulge the need for far more than their formal arrangement. He wasn’t ready to come to terms with the possible loss of his objectivity when it came to whatever went on between them, but he knew he’d have to confront the undercurrents of their relationship at some point. Right now, they had discovered a possible breakthrough in their research and there was no room for delay. With a ghost of a plan in mind for how to move forward with Nanami, he decided it would be more logical to smooth things over in the immediate moment with Dr. Watanabe; separating the two identities giving him the illusion of control. He continued” But I do know it won’t happen again. That was…unprofessional. How is your head?”

She bit her lip and exhaled, seeing the switch flick in his eyes knowing the wall had been put back up. “It’s... it’s fine. Just a little—no, really sore.” She confirmed with herself, rubbing her hand over the source of the pain to find stiches. Why wouldn’t he just overhaul this? “So, you decided to fix this the old-fashioned way, huh? The stitchwork is impeccable, but why go through the trouble? You could have just—”

“I didn’t want to touch you.”

“… Ouch.” She winced, glancing away as the abrupt response hurt a bit more than she expected.

Realizing it hadn’t been received how he planned, he clarified,” I meant I…didn’t want to use it on you. I was under the impression we had somehow attacked each other and assumed you might not find the prospect of me handling you in that way all that appealing.”

“…Oh. Well, thank you... I don’t mind if you touch me now” he rose a brow at this, “—I mean like to heal or—Oh you know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes before crossing her arms and continuing, “Just… just do it, please.”  The last word tacked on with a mumble.

Letting out an amused breath, he rose, motioning her to turn so her back faced him as he removed his gloves. She quickly brushed her hair to the side, missing a few strands. She tensed as he was much closer than she was prepared for, feeling the warmth of his hands against the nape of her neck as he gently gathered the stray hairs and handed them to her to gather in front. Smoothing down the part, he leisurely ran his hands through her hair, losing himself for a second before noticing the tops of her ears had reddened and her breath had quickened at his ministrations. Refocusing, he disassembled the stitches before immediately healing the wound knowing even a millisecond of delay would prove very painful. “Done.”

Cracking her neck and rolling her shoulders, she felt normal again and ready to get out of bed as her muscles had been unused for the better part of three days. Checking the time on her phone on the nightstand she saw it was only 6 am, “So, you wanna go for a run?”

“That’s not funny.”

“Fine, fine. But on a serious note, I think we should head to the lab. I know the deal was 2 weeks bu—”

“You don’t have to bargain. Get cleaned up, I’ll start preparations for testing tomorrow.”

She turned to him, brows raised in surprise, “Well okay then. I’ll see you back at the house.”

“See you there.” He said before exiting her room, shutting the door softly.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After a thorough scrubbing and stretching, she felt ready to get back to her remaining paperwork, putting on her favorite chunky turtleneck and sweatpants effectively pulling off the lazy-but-still-fashionable look. Brewing herself a cup of tea and pulling out her workbag, she thought it best to not dwell on all the Feels ™ that had continuously threatened to surface, which was undoubtedly exacerbated by their current living situation.

She was woman enough to admit she stared just a little too long, smiled just a bit too enthusiastically, and was way too excited by even the smallest bits of physical contact with him… But it’s just a crush. She lied to herself as though he hadn’t been the most intellectually stimulating person she’d had the pleasure of talking to. As though she’d ever felt silence more comfortable than their time in the lab or simply sharing meals together. As though— Girl if you don’t concentrate... She chastised herself before attempting to neatly compartmentalize her feelings, refusing to acknowledge just how much more difficult keeping them in check had become. It’s just because you’re all up under each other, it’ll pass.

Refocusing on the task at hand, she opened her laptop and pulled out a well-worn file folder, her gaze turning somber as her fingers traced the bend of it; evidence of the many nights she’d revisited it only to close it when the answers didn’t come. In the past month she’d taken on a patient who seemingly had nowhere to go. Many of her colleagues had turned him away, seemingly too jaded to go through the trouble of dealing with such a case. Nanami herself was puzzled when she reviewed his file, but she knew there was no other option; she had to at least try.

Kenta was a very jovial, large person with a personality to match. Built much like a strongman with tusks not unlike a walrus, he was hard to miss. Before he became her patient, she’d see him making small talk with the other patients, encouraging them though he himself was on the way to chemotherapy, his weight dwindling by the day. The previous doctors told him that he had osteosarcoma, a rare form of bone cancer. It was seemingly exacerbated by his quirk that gave him dense bones; they were perfect for diving, but apparently came at this very high price. The treatment had shown mild success, but her predecessors had decided his condition was becoming too advanced and an amputation was in order. After that visit, he attempted to keep his jovial nature, but his physical appearance continued to deteriorate, the medication and tests taking their toll. Full-hardy laughs were interrupted by coughing fits, round cheeks flexed into a habitual smile were replaced with gaunt hollows. Nanami couldn’t help but feel was cruel to be given such great power and still be unable to solve this problem.

She agonized, sincerely perplexed as to why someone as healthy and active as Kenta could have developed such an aggressive and rare form of cancer so quickly. It didn’t helped that after the first doctor’s diagnosis, the subsequent three doctors took little to no efforts to confirm said diagnosis, so she remained thoroughly unconvinced. She was a prodigy in her own right, but that alone couldn’t negate seniority. To go against the other doctors, she would need substantial proof of her theory—and also a theory to begin with.

Nanami was stirred from her thoughts by the sound of the silo being activated, as Overhaul stepped out. It had been hours since she had last gotten up as day turned into late night, too engrossed in her task. She glanced up for a moment, giving an absent-minded “hey” before returning to her work. It was unlike her to brush him off so quickly, and he assumed there were still hard feelings from earlier. Approaching her, he was about to speak before he caught a glimpse of her screen and notes, the file folder and its contents now haphazardly splayed on the coffee table, a few with drops of moisture on them.

“Didn’t I tell you no drinking in the living roo—” he stopped short, hearing a small sniffle escape her, before she attempted to cover it up by clearing her throat.

“Sorry, yeah, no drinking in the living room.” She laughed emptily, gathering the papers that were stained.

Seeing people cry was usually... uninspiring to him, to say the least; he couldn’t understand it, the need for such dramatic displays as an adult. But he found himself making exceptions more and more; she wasn’t one to throw herself on the floor in a tantrum—at least not seriously. Her tears were stifled, indignant, and his curiosity—yes, we’ll call it “curiosity”— got the better of him.

“What are you doing? Crying?”

“No!... Maybe.” She stubbornly corrected, further averting her gaze, hoping to use her hair as a curtain to obscure her face. Pausing for a beat, his attention turned to what he presumed was the source. He read over it as she attempted to fix her face. His brow furrowed, and Nanami turned back to see what he was doing. “Why do you care?”

“Osteosarcoma seems like an odd diagnosis for someone with his age and history.” He noted, choosing not to answer her question.

“That’s what I said!” she instinctually replied before remembering herself, “I mean quit snooping, this is patient-doctor information. It’s illegal to share.”

“Yet you brought it outside your office, to a yakuza base.” He deadpanned, pointing out the hypocrisy, taking a seat next to her on the couch. She pursed her lips, continuing to mull over theories, assuming he’d get bored and leave her be. “If not osteosarcoma, what do you think it could be?”

Knowing discretion was one of his strong suits, she decided to humor him. “I’m not sure. The tumor grew extremely fast and they began chemo almost immediately, so I didn’t get the benefit of a fresh diagnosis. He’d been perfectly healthy otherwise and his line of work kept him pretty active.”

“What’s his occupation?”

“He’s a commercial diver, it’s pretty fitting since his quirk gives him a lot of walrus-like qualities.”

“Sounds hazardous.”

“You’re one to talk. He’s practically made for it so drowning or being crushed under the pressure is near-impossible for him.”

“I was referring to all of the equipment. The fact that he’s kept all of his limbs up to this point is impressive.”

Slowly turning to him, a tired look on her face, she replied “… Your compliments are so very strange.”

Shrugging he continued, “It’s not that odd. The number of divers and sailors I’ve seen at port with mutilated legs is not small.”

Nanami was mid eye-roll when an epiphany struck her. Her eyes went wide, and she began frantically rummaging through the paperwork. "Shit-- wait, online!" grabbing her laptop, she began typing in a frenzy as Overhaul watched calmly. Finding Kenta's online records in the hospital database, she read a file from a month before his diagnosis stating he had been in a diving accident that severely fractured his leg where his tumor now was. She let out a shaky breath of excitement, "MO. It's fucking Myositis Ossificans! This explains why the 'tumor' grew so quickly. It's because it wasn't even really a tumor, just his body's response to a traumatic injury-- This is amazing!" 

He felt the corner of his mouth tug upward, as she practically wiggled in genuine excitement. “That diagnosis sounds much more appropriate.”

Facing him on the couch, she reflexively grabbed him by his shoulders, lost in excitement, before realizing what she was doing. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to just grab you like that,” she hurriedly removed her hands before he waved it off. “It’s just... I’ve been poring over this since I got this case but hadn’t thought to make that connection since he never mentioned the injury.” Thinking back for a moment, it dawned on her, “... how did you know to ask?”

 “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you.”

Smiling, he rose, walking to the kitchen, “Would you like a cup?”

Very aware he was evading her question, she rolled her eyes smiling in kind “Sure. Of what?” She wrote down her final notes before putting away the files, tucking them and her laptop away as she waited for an answer.

Bringing over two cups of sake and the bottle, he sat next her with his own before sliding over her cup. She gave him a look and he sighed, “Consider it your reward for your work today. But don’t get used to it, my living room consumption rule still stands.”

She raised her hands in surrender, chuckling before taking a sip. “Oh! Let’s play a game.”

His brows furrowed as he continued to face forward still enjoying his drink,” Do I seem like a man who plays games?”

“Well, judging by the shogi board, I’d say yes.”

“… Just set the board.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a bit before starting the odd conversation, chatting and playing until they were on their fourth cup. Nanami was admittedly tipsy by this point and decided to ask something that had been on her mind for a while now with the aid of her liquid courage. If ever there was an opportunity, it was now, “Hey, why didn’t you ever become a doctor?” The question caught him off guard as he stopped drinking and peered off into the distance thoughtfully. His lips parting for a moment to speak before closing again to consider his answer.

“It would be difficult to treat people you can’t touch.”

“Hm… sounds like a copout. I wear gloves on the job at least 80% of the time and a lot of the non-surgical work that requires touching could easily be done by a nurse. So, what’s the real reason?”

“Well, you’re awfully bold tonight.”

“Eh, it’s your fault anyway,” she reminded him, toying with the sake glass. “So, are you gonna tell me or not?”

He considered her for a second before answering, “Win this game and I’ll tell you.”

“Easy.” She shot back before considering another outcome, “and what if I lose?”

He smiled easily, her stomach flipping as a glint of mischief was evident in his eyes, “Just try your best to win.”

Nanami was determined, or at least she convinced herself she was, not wanting to confront her curiosity at what he would do if she lost … or what he would do to me… Ok, let me put down this sake before I get a life sentence to horny jail. Recomposing herself a bit, she observed the board, stifling a smirk when she saw her path to victory. It was a moderately long game, but the outcome was in her favor as she took his king. Raising the piece betwixt her fingers, she smirked, “Now spill the beans.”

He stared into the proverbial abyss, slightly peeved at the loss, priding himself as a more-than proficient player before tonight. “Give me a moment.” He said casually raising a finger as he cleared his throat. Taking a measured sip from his cup before locking eyes with her, “I have a duty.” Nanami shot him an unsatisfactory look before he clarified, continuing, “Pops took me in when I had nothing to offer. This,” he began as he leered at his hands, recalling the destruction they regularly wrought, “is what I was meant to become in order to repay him. Bringing the yakuza back to their former glory and carrying on his legacy are my primary objectives. My time is limited since he’s not as young as he used to be. The years of schooling it would take to reap the benefits he deserves would prove much too long. Indulging in a dream like that is not in my nature, even if I did have the time. That is why.”

Her smile dulled as she processed his response. She wasn’t self-righteous enough to impose her own ideals on him, but it seemed like such a waste. His leading questions tonight were just one of many examples of his expertise. Even without the formal schooling he had a level of mastery that could easily earn him a degree, and coupled with his research skills, he could do a world of good. But instead here he was, content with just the opportunity to pay his debts. For someone so arrogant, he thought surprisingly little of his own nature.  Maybe someday someone could convince him he didn’t have to carry around this weight all the time. Still very tipsy, she responded,” Well, if it’s a dream of yours to begin with, your nature can’t be all that bad now can it?” At this he knitted his brows, trying to accept the possibility. Seeing his hesitation, she continued, “You can do both, you know. Give yourself some more credit, bird brain.” She slurred the last insult, finishing her sake off with a gulp, not wanting to sound too soft. Feeling the consequences of her actions, she swayed sleepily in her seat before closing her eyes.

The next thing she knew, she felt herself being nudged awake, “Come on, get up. You need to get into bed.”

“But it’s sooo comfy here. Why are you being such a buzzkill, Kai?” she whined as he grasped her forearms, encouraging her to rise from her seat.

Stopping in his tracks, he asked a bit taken aback, “Where did you hear that name?”

“Your Poppy Pops told me” She almost sang, a grin plastered on her face.

“…Do not ever use the phrase ‘Poppy Pops’ again. Also, if couches were meant for sleeping, beds wouldn’t exist.” He responded irritated, though he handled her like porcelain, still remembering how unpleasant the last three days had been. Guiding Nanami to her room, he finally got her to lay down after tuning out a slew of other ridiculous nickname proposals, the drowsiness setting in as soon as her head hit the pillow. Knowing it would be too much work convincing a now drunk Nanami to get under the covers, he begrudgingly put a spare blanket over her. Before leaving, he looked back at her sleepy form. As much as they could grate each other’s nerves, no one had ever thought to encourage him or challenge his own thinking besides his father. He had never been a warm or sentimental person, having to try thrice as hard to grasp emotions that came so naturally to others, but she had planted a seed of doubt. Having always been so confident in his own lacking, he found a part of himself excited to be proven wrong for the first time. Before closing the door softly, he spoke “Thank you, Nanami.”

[unboundbnha]

hoooo my god. this is for ME

for me. for godzilla. :’) 

➤ rules; make headcanons of you and a character of your choice, be it sfw or nsfw.

Thank you so much for tagging me @spicyness​! I’m gonna SKAJHDSKJ. HHHHH. This is everything? Fuck I just want a purple boyfriend 😫 this will be about Shinsou because I like him a normal amount :-)

First off, I’m a pain in the ass. My sense of humor is wack (it’s basically just ‘annoy my friends and loved ones’), I’m always fricken TANKING The Mood (because it’s funny and I physically cannot resist making a Funny if the opportunity’s there), everything turns into a game unless you make me stop wink wonk. Shinsou seems like the type to snort in amusement and roll his eyes at my dumb antics, and I appreciate that! If I could make him legit laugh I’d die happy. (I am also emotionally savvy enough to know when to draw the line though, don’t worry. It’s just, man, my idea of fun is ‘LET’S ROAST ‘EM’)

I love cats. I’ll lose my whole mind over them. They NEED head kisses. Shinsou also likes cats. He also needs head kisses. That’s it, that’s the bullet point

Being open and honest and genuine is important to me. I believe most any relationship (friendship or otherwise) can work if you’re willing to communicate and empathize with the other person: I would 100% be willing to hear Shinsou’s shit, and he seems like he’d be a good listener too. I’m also good at logicking things through and he seems like he’d appreciate that. Likewise, he seems like he’d do the same for me, and as long as we stayed humble and weren’t looking to be offended (I don’t Do That -- he’s a Cancer -- love you, Cancers -- so it might take him a minute to get on the same page, but he’s emotionally smort and cares about me so I think he’d be willing to work at it) then we could help each other through emotionally hard stuff with hard truths. Plus, I’m a super honest person: if he was in a relationship with me he’d probably be pretty secure in knowing I wouldn’t hurt him on purpose. If past shit comes up with him, I’ll talk to him. Talking’s the good shit, y’all: utilize patience and empathy and you’ll be so well off!

I also battle, with a big fucking sword, a lot with mental health stuff (LMAOOOO WHO DON’T!!! YEET). I used to struggle with agoraphobia and still deal with anxiety and depression. On top of that, I have something like chronic fatigue -- I’ve been calling it chronic fatigue because I’m fucking tired, all the time. My top energy levels are like a 35% on a fantastic day. I really like the idea of this boye seeing me melting into a puddle, face down on the carpet, and bein like “how’s it going down there? you okay?” and the answer being obviously no, but him just like. Man I dunno. He seems like the kind of person who’s tired, but who can live with it. I can’t! When I’m tired, that’s it babes! I hit a 0% on my battery and I’ll collapse! So I just, hhhh. Don’t laugh, but I like to fantasize about him bundling me up and into bed. Thinkin’ about Birthday Snoot by my good friend @lord-explosion-baku​ and melting, okay?? OKAY???? I’m soft, the truth’s OUT, FUCK! I want to be taken care of like a sad but pampered cat.

(Please read Birthday Snoot I still cry over it)

Also I’m gross and struggle to shower often enough because it’s exhausting so bein given a gentle bath? oh MAN. Hands softly running through my stupid, terrible hair...asking me about my day and if anything happened that triggered me feeling this bad...just....the tenderness....the gentle affection.....being loved even when I’m at my lowest. Being cared for when I can’t do it myself. That’s a legit fantasy y’all. We out here!

I love to SNOOZE. I love being COZY. You bet your sweet bippy I’m gonna sprawl over a couch and take up the whole thing. Shinsou’d better be willing to snuggle the fuck up. I’ve got great squish which I personally feel like’s great for cuddling: I’m like warm taffy. How better to gently seep into every crevasse of your Favorite Person while enjoying a cozy cuddle?

Listen, everyone fucks hard with Shinsou calling his S/O ‘kitten’, and I agree (def have written leetle -- HOO -- leetle scenarios with that nickname because wow) but I get all wibbly with the idea of He calling me ‘Angel’. A joke at first because, like, guys, I’m really nice. (I know it sounds bad when people say they’re nice and LSDFLKJDF I AM, OKAY. I’ve worked on it. Cultivated the skill of kindness! Being kind isn’t easy, and sometimes you just wanna go apeshit, but I’ve worked hard to improve upon myself! Yeet!) But I also just really fucking love being annoying. I simply cannot resist the urge to sneak up behind someone and poke them in the ribs. I rib-poke while in the deep depths of making out too, I’ve tanked the mood a lot so picture my dumb ass Pink Panther’ing behind Shinsou, prepared to be Evil while he’s, idk, making breakfast or something, and before I can commit a Rib Crime he uses his hero training and fast reflexes and honed senses and all that good stuff to snatch my wrist and ask “what’re you up to, angel?” the answer is nothing, because he’s killed me by being sexy and fast and hero-y, and he’s probably actually killed me by startling me into collapsing like a fainting goat

He gets the deep stuff. Unfortunately for everyone and especially myself, I’m a Thinker with a capital T: it never fucking stops. I had an existential crisis for like three years in a row because of course, but I feel like he knows what it’s like to get lost in your head. Working each other out of panic attacks because holy jesus the universe sure is fucking huge huh? We’re not even a blip on the radar in the history of existence and we’re gonna be dead basically tomorrow aaaand that’s why we’d be good for each other, because I feel like we both have coping mechanisms that keep us from spiraling too bad, and we could share them with each other.

I also so fucking admire his drive, but it makes me angry that stupid fucking hero society would discriminate in the first place. 

Oh, yeah, that’s another good point: I’m hella mad about 98% of the time and I work hard to hide it! Because innocent people don’t deserve to get yelled at! I feel like Shinsou’s smart enough to sense when I’m about to pop and he can be like “heyyyyy...you wanna talk this out constructively instead of getting into a public brawl?” and I’ll be like “NO but I’ll do it for you because I love you” and then we get pizza.

Because I’m fine and balanced and stuff, I made a quirk for myself if I was in the BNHA-verse, and basically I can get stronger at the expense of higher thinking skills and will turn into a weapon of mass destruction against whatever I’m pointing at (ugh, that’s so sexy. Fuck I wanna be a big spooky buff as shit monster thing), friend or foe, so Shinsou and I would work well in tandem because if I got too rowdy he could use his quirk and get me to calm down! Keep me from accidentally doing a murder! Nice!

Okay this is nsfw so if you’re under 18 DON’T READ IT. I’LL CALL YOUR PARENTS. GET OFF MY BLOG. 

Relating to the point above, QUIRKPLAY. Mind control me into stuff I want to do but am too awkward to ask for, please and THANK you. Also, Shinsou’s a top. Gotta be, and thank god for it because I’m certainly not. I’m not happy about being a fucking bottom, because my first and most powerful personalty trait is ‘be as annoying as possible to the people you like; don’t let them tell you what to do.’ Can’t make it easy on myself, nope. Anyway, I want the appearance of being a top without the responsibility because damn, gotta be like, suave and shit. Gotta plan stuff. I don’t like that! I do that enough in real life and I don’t like it there, either! But whatever. I’m a brat and I feel betrayed by my coochie for it. But Shinsou’s a top and he’d tease me for being Fucking Terrible, and suddenly I wouldn’t be so mad at my coochie. She has her reasons.

I...like Shinsou for a lot of reasons, but a really big one, for sure, is that I feel like he can communicate about the important stuff. He likes to tease, but he knows when to be serious too. I’m really wack about being close and intimate with people and I have, hhh, special requirements to be able to sleep with them, and I feel like he’d both be able to respect AND honor that. Like, run through the rest of the BNHA boys with me here: would Bakugou be able to be completely cool, calm, and collected while still teasing, but knowing where to draw the line? Todoroki’s closer maybe, but he’s not as people-smart (which is also a big thing for me). Confidence (or at least the appearance of it when it’s important), respect, communication, listening and respecting what I ask for even if it seems wack -- Shinsou has that, and god is it attractive. 

Also, mind control. 

Also, his capture weapon. 

Also you know this motherfucker is kinky as shit. Thank the good lord.

Also, sexy-slow makeouts with his long, nimble hands running up my outer thighs to squeeze my waist -- teeth on neck, stolen gasps of breath -- 

\\\\\\

I feel bad because all of this, fuckin, WALL of text is pretty much ‘this is what purble boy can do for me’ and I don’t say a lot I’d do for him, but if I got someone like him I’d go to the end of the earth for them. I may be a perpetually-sleepy bitch, but one of my best -- and worst -- character traits is my unwavering loyalty. I’ll be 110% down to kick anyone’s ass who insults him: he can fight his own battles, but he shouldn’t have to over some dumbass with a big mouth and a little brain. Making him smile and laugh, oof, be still my beating heart. Words of encouragement when life gets too much. Genuine thanks for his help, whatever it may be. Hugs, because we’re both touch-starved as fuck and he deserves gentleness, dammit. He doesn’t seem like his love language is receiving gifts -- more like quality time and words of affirmation? Maybe physical touch? -- but I’d still get him little things that made me think of him, that could help him in his day to day life or maybe just bring a smile to his face. We could rescue each other at social conventions, have dates to the humane society and play with cats. Support each other through our depression days, prove that even having a brain that’s mean to you sometimes doesn’t make you unlovable. Man, idk. The whole thing’s soft and makes my heart go doki-doki. Hitoshi Shinsou is an extremely good person and god damn I’d want to show him I appreciated him and existing at the same time as him. He deserves love and kindness. He deserves someone to kiss every knuckle of his hand. He deserves hugs in the kitchen and blankets being pulled over his shoulders when he falls asleep at the desk. He deserves only good things, and I’d be honored to give them to him. 

HHHHH.

Okay! If you made it to the end of this, congratulations! You don’t actually get anything, but boy oh boy you have a lot of information about ME now! Aren’t you delighted? Heh. So! You tag people for this stuff, and I’m gonna tag @lord-explosion-baku​, @bnhascribbles​, @perpetual-bed-head​, @russianonion​, @weebsinstash​, and last but certainly not least, @usernamekate94​. Tell me about Monoma, Kate. Tell me.

[junkyardlynx]

Sweat poured down Ritsuka's bare torso and stoic face as he went through the motions of combat alone. Countless hours of combat drills under Leonidas had made it so he required no real opponent to practice with, though it certainly helped. In his mind’s eye, he saw the thrust of a spear, the arc of an axe and a sharp kick aimed at the back of his knee. Reflexively, his right shoulder jerked back and the arm attached to it curled tight, capturing the imaginary thrust even as his left palm snaked out to connect with the axeman’s temple, throwing the blow off. At the same time, his right leg bounced up, avoiding the crippling kick and stomping down hard on the assailant’s leg. This dance of illusion continued behind Ritsuka's closed eyes as his body moved to disarm, destroy and disable the perceived attacks.

He clicked his tongue in mild dissatisfaction as his breathing grew rougher and the sweat soaked into his loose black pants. His body was reaching it’s limit. As he wound down the exercises, he finished the fake bout with a stomp of his right foot followed by a discharge of magical energy. Breathing in for a moment, he collected himself before bowing to the training room. Opening his placid blue eyes, he confirmed that he was alone before rolling his shoulders and running a hand through his sweat-slicked hair, wiping it on his pants afterwards. A white cloth towel and a basin of water sat upon a wooden bench, and he made liberal use of them to cleanse himself.

His mind wandered as satisfaction crept up the spine of his soul. This world, like every other, operated on rules of power. The power to defend, to take, to protect, to plunder. The power to save something. He felt powerless, though he had certainly saved many lives in his journeys. The root of the issue was far simpler. He himself was not classically “strong” and thus relied on the strength of others. This made him what he saw as a liability.

This not entirely true. In the modern day, Ritsuka might actually be one of the most capable mage combatants, disregarding his special circumstances. He received tutelage in the arts of war from Leonidas II and Scáthach, studied magecraft with Medea and Circe, and sharpened his mind with the likes of Sherlock Holmes and James Moriarty. No flesh and blood human reasonably expect to best him without thorough preparation, no matter their weaponry or Mystic Codes. He took his middling magical energy and his average talent and honed them with the one thing available - effort. After all, even the sharpest blade starts out as an unassuming lump of iron. Only through determination, persistence and strife could that iron be formed into something beautiful.

The real issue was the fact that his opponents were never flesh and blood. They wore a simulacra of flesh and carried the idea of blood, but they were far removed from baseline humans. They were Heroic Spirits, the figures of ages past that made their mark on humanity. That mark…that mark was usually a bloodstain. If Ritsuka was, say, an antimaterial sniper rifle, than even the lowest Heroic Spirit was a nuclear bomb. A force of destruction you simply cannot hope to stop. Something to weather out.

So he relied on his bond, his ability as the Master of Chaldea. He cultivated those bonds with the Spirits of ages long dead, and he opened his heart to friend and foe alike. This was a type of strength, and one far more meaningful and potent than mere martial prowess.

However.

That sort of strength didn’t always allow him to save those in front of him.

Too many times to count, innocents died in front of him. Heads shorn from bodies, limbs ripped off, hearts pulled out. Sometimes at the hands of monsters. Sometimes at the hands of monsters calling themselves men. Sometimes at the hands of those all-too-human Heroic Spirits. Cold logic told him that intervention would have meant death, and that not even a true hero could save everyone. Cold logic was cruel like that. By following his instinct and that path of logic, Ritsuka saved himself time and time again, and in doing so, saved humanity from a ghastly Incineration with that human strength of his.

But who would save those people? If he was stronger, could they have been saved? If he could have saved them, could he grow stronger through the experience? Could that strength lend itself to more people saved?

Could he have saved the people of Uruk? Could he have saved Ushiwakamaru? Could he have saved that Leonidas? Could he have saved Siduri?

Could he have saved anyone at all with his own two hands?

There was only one way to find out.

“Kotarou.”

A redheaded ninja slipped out from between the shadows, giving a small nod and a smile.

“Yes, my Master?”

“Wanna spar with me?”

“I’m not sure how useful you’ll find fighting with me, as we shinobi tend to stray from fair fights, but it would be my honor!”

“Even better! Just uh, let me borrow a sword or something. Lady Kiyohime was nice enough to let me train here, so I’m sure one of her retainers will let me nab a bokuto.”

“No need, Master! Catch!”

Reflexes acted faster than thought, and Ritsuka’s right hand rose to catch an unexpected weapon - a quarterstaff. He had spent the most amount of time training with this due to his choice in teachers, and it felt at home in his hands, but he had to wonder exactly why Kotarou had it with him. Personally, he’d always felt an attraction to things like Musashi’s dual blade style, but he couldn’t deny that this was what he was best with.

Perhaps Kotarou had noticed his inner turmoil.

His doubts, his fears, his struggles.

His desire to grow.

His need to save someone, anyone.

“You’re a mage, Master! Mages use staves. And…I think you look coolest with a staff.”

Kotarou truly was the ideal shinobi.

The two shared a heartfelt smile as Ritsuka spun the oaken staff, twirling it around his wrist before gripping the midsection and flicking his wrist fast enough to crack the air. Master and Servant bowed to each other. A moment later, Kotarou disappeared from sight, a set of lethal strikes aimed at Ritsuka’s spleen and neck.

Wooden daggers cut thin air as oak met spiritual flesh, a sweeping motion knocking both blows away. Kotarou’s eyes went wide beneath his shaggy red hair, and he smiled wide, laughing in mirth before redoubling his efforts.

The two men danced into the night, playfully attempting to kill each something in each other. Kotarou aimed to kill his Master’s doubts and Ritsuka aimed to kill the worry in Kotarou’s too-big heart. Bruises and scrapes accumulated, droplets blood and sweat soaking into the floor beneath them, but there was only love, camaraderie and loyalty in those blows.

Tomorrow may bring new joys and tragedies, but tonight?

Tonight belonged to a world of two.

[ilusionis]

THE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all have witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat.

Mun Name: vinn (or ila, for close friends)     Age: 22       Contact: IM, discord

Character(s) I rp: aizen sosuke on here, askin nakk ke vaar (@ levaer) and lille barro (@ firstritter, sideblog) Which muse(s) inspires you the most atm?(for MM): all of them actually. Current Fandom(s): bleach. Fandom(s) you have an AU for:  none. i’ve been debating about making a modern au but i wouldn’t be sure what to explore in it. within the context of bleach, though, i’m very interested in developing a bunch of AUs. My language(s): i’m only confident in writing in italian or english.  Themes I’m interested in for rp:   Fantasy / Science fiction / Horror / Western / Romance / Thriller / Mystery / Dystopia / Adventure / Modern / Erotic / Crime / Mythology / Classic / History / Renaissance / Medieval / Ancient / War / Family / Politics / Religion / School / Adulthood / Childhood / Apocalyptic / Gods / Sport / Music / Science / Fights / Angst / Smut / Drama / etc. Themes/Genres you have an AU for: none.

Preferred Thread length: one-liner / 1 para / 2 para / 3+ / novella. Asks can be send by: Mutuals / Non-Mutuals / Personals / Anons. Can Asks be continued?:   YES / NO   only by Mutuals?:  YES / NO. Preferred thread type: crack / casual nothing too deep / serious / deep as heck. Is realism / research important for you in certain themes?:   YES / NO. Are you atm open for new plots?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS. Do you handle your draft / ask - count well?:  YES / NO / SOMEWHAT. How long do you usually take to reply?:  24h / 1 week / 2 weeks / 3+ / months / years. I’m okay with interacting: original characters / a relative of my character (an oc) / duplicates / my fandom / crossovers / multi-muses / self-inserts / people with no AU verse for my fandom / canon-divergent portrayals / au-versions (as main or only verse). Do you post more ic or occ?:  IC / OOC. Are you selective with following others?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS.  

Best ways to approach you for rp/plotting:  if you want to plot, it would be best to send me an IM and ask me, then we can definitely move to discord if you’d rather. it’s possible to approach me for rp without plotting first, best way would be to send me a meme when i reblog them or simply an ic ask, which i will answer, while memes might get lost. ic asks are good ice-breakers, we can continue plotting from there.

What expectations do you hold towards your plotting partner:  i need my partners to be as interested in our plot as i am. it would be great if you already have an idea, but it’s still good if you don’t, i get that coming up with ideas can be hard sometimes; mostly, i require honesty. you can definitely tell me that you got no ideas and i will do my best to help, ask questions, try to spark something. i do require the feeling of having that commitment reciprocated.

When you notice the plotting is rather one-sided, what do you do?:  i tend to straight up drop the conversation lmao. no hard feelings, but if i get the feeling you’re not interested, i will take my distance - i won’t waste my energy on a plot if my partner doesn’t share my enthusiasm. still, you can always approach me again, if you’re feeling up to it / have new ideas / whatever. nice thing of online convos is that they don’t have an expiration date lol.

How do you usually plot with others, do you give input or leave most work towards your partner?:  i always ask if they got any ideas to begin with. if my partner already knows, more or less, what kind of dynamic they wanna build with my character(s), that makes it infinitely easier to build something meaningful. it’s still fine if they don’t, i will usually ask a lot of questions regarding their muse’s opinions / feelings / etc., and try to navigate from there. a question i usually ask is: is there any aspect of your muse you’d like to explore? i think that’s a pivotal point in any interaction. 

When a partner drops the thread, do you wish to know?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS. - And why?: if they feel like telling me, why not. but usually, i don’t warn when i drop a thread, so it’s not expected of my partners ever. - What should your partner do when dropping a thread?:  nothing in particular tbh. they can tell me or approach me to start a new thread if they wish to, but it’s not required.

What could possibly lead you to drop a thread?:  i might lose interest in a thread, especially if i feel like it’s going nowhere or if the inspiration for it simply doesn’t come. it’s never happened so far that i had to drop a thread because it was making me uncomfortable, but that could still be a reason for me to. in general, though, i would approach my partner in that case. - Will you tell your partner?:   YES / NO / DEPENDS.

Is communication in the rpc important to you?   YES / NO. - And why?:  absolutely. i’d rather avoid awkward situations or misunderstandings of any kind; if something’s up, tell me. i also like to communicate with my writing partners (be it in the tags of our threads or in IMs), makes me feel like the enthusiasm is not one-sided and i find it generally pleasant.  - Are you okay with absolute honesty, even if it may means hearing something negative about you and/or portrayal?:  sure. we gotta stay polite, but honest. - Do you think you can handle such situation in a mature way?  YES / NO.

Why do you rp again, is there a goal?:  to have fun, to cultivate my writing skills and my english, and to explore my favorite characters. 

Wishlist, be it plots or scenarios:  i want to develop aizen’s wandenreich verse, because i’m deep in quincy hell and i think his dynamics with quincy muses could be super interesting. anything involving the intricacies of bleach politics is super interesting to me, be it with aizen or with my two quincy muses - who, btw, are also good to explore dynamics between quincies / their culture / relationships etc.

Themes I won’t ever rp / explore:  i won’t write anything pertaining to sexual assault. 

What Type of Starters do you prefer / dislike, can’t work with?: it’s gotten difficult to work with starters such as “you summoned me / do you need anything / did you call for me” etc. i used to receive that kind of starters all the time with aizen, and i can’t come up with something new every damn time. i also have a hard time working with starters / replies that already feel like a closed conversation and don’t give me anything to reply to.

What type of characters catch your interest the most?:  i’m not sure i have a type. aizen is pretty much an exception, the only example of an already well-built character i write, since i tend to gravitate around minor ones that don’t have much material and that i can work on and expand without being affected by the fandom’s opinion or whatever. somehow i always tend to rp tall guys-

What type of characters catch your interest the least?:  children and teenagers don’t interest me for the most part. characters who don’t have a shred of an opinion or can’t offer any interesting conflicts. overly friendly, mushy, affectionate and flowery characters are really not my cup of tea either. 

What are your strong aspects as rp partner?:  oh god i have no idea. i’m very laid-back, i guess. i’ll never pressure my partners for replies, i don’t think i’m owed a reply in the first place because we all have lives offline,  so i’ll never take it to heart if a partner drops a thread. if i really feel like our roleplaying styles don’t mesh, it will be at my own discretion to do something about it. another strong aspect i have ....... i think i have a decent grasp on all my muses? especially aizen. of course ur free to disagree lol. also, lately i’ve been p active, so that’s it. 

What are your weak aspects as rp partner?: i’m really slow. i might speed up for my closest friends, with whom i plot / rp regularly, but usually i take quite some time to reply to random unplotted threads. i probably have a thousand other flaws as a rper, but this is the biggest one that comes to my mind rn. 

Do you rp smut?:  YES / NO. Do you prefer to go into detail?:  YES / NO / DEPENDS. Are you okay with black curtain?:  YES / NO. - When do you rp smut? More out of fun or character development?:  i don’t write detailed sex scenes. sorry lmao they’re just not interesting to me. however, i’m super-ok with writing anything around it, like intimate scenes etc. in fact i find it somewhat soothing.  - Anything you would not want to rp there?:  the nitty-gritty part is already a no, but i guess also sexual violence and shit like that. it’s a no.

Are ships important to you?:   YES / NO. Would you say your blog is ship-focused?:   YES / NO. Do you use read more?:  YES / NO / SOMETIMES. Are you: Multi-Ship / Single-Ship / Dual-Ship  —  Multiverse / Singleverse. - What do you love to explore the most in your ships?:  all my ships are with snow 8′) and ur never bored with her. in general, i love being able to explore the muses’ relationships, their conflicts and their peaceful moments, especially in relation to canon events! - What is your smut tag?: nsfw / ........ my n*sfw posts are rare anyway.

Are you okay with pre-established relationships?: YES / NO. - And what kind of ones?: to an extent, i prefer pre-est relationships to first meetings - which they can get a bit dull after some time. i’m ok with mostly anything, and only more selective when it comes to relationships that might severely alter my muse’s canon / past / overall character. 

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- What could possibly make your Muse interesting towards others, why should they rp with this particular character of yours now, what possible plots do they offer?:  not to stroke my own feathers but aizen offers a perfect chance at character development to any and all bleach characters. he’s the main villain, he holds some wild opinions, and whether you agree or disagree with him, he leaves no one indifferent. aizen is the main cornerstone of bleach, and if you want your muse to questions themselves and the system / world around them, interacting with him is the best way to start. also, aizen interacted with a fuckton of people, knows practically everything there is to know, is responsible for significant amount of canon events, so you see ... whatever character you write, aizen has the full potential to be extremely relevant in the course of their development.

- With what type of Muses do you usually struggle to rp with?:   children, ordinary low-ranked shinigami (i find it hard when it’s out of the blue, even in aizen’s captain and lieutenant verses ... because interactions would likely be only work-related, and won’t go far), characters whose personalities really have nothing to do with aizen. unfortunately, he’s not my easiest muse, and i don’t want to force interactions with him.  - With what type of Muses do they usually work well with?:  characters who have opinions, some political involvement, in general characters with whom aizen had a dynamic in canon. 

- What interests your Muse(s) in general:  reading, calligraphy, philosophy (especially in-world philosophy), science (again, mostly related to the specificity of the bleach universe), the very careful crafting of his plan- - What do they desire, is their goal?:  kill the soul king and take its place, destroy the institutions of soul society, subdue them. and then rule, as the soul king never did before. - What catches their interest first when meeting someone new?:  the idiosyncracies in their behavior, the particularities, their possible weaknesses.  - What do they value in a person?:    very little, usually. he may appreciate a resolute personality, strength, and intelligence. - What themes do they like talking about?:  speaking mostly of mundane talks, he likes conversing about his interests. it takes a lot for him to share any personal information, though. - Which themes bore them?:  anything about the greater good, friendship, love, very human topics.

- Did they ever went through something traumatic?:  seeing the soul king, in all things like a ghost stalking his dreams, and well ... spending his early life in rukongai as a whole. being forced to consume other souls in order to survive. the first times his reiatsu killed anyone who tried to get near him.  - What could possibly trigger them?:  it’s rare that he will outwardly show signs of distress, i’d say almost impossible. the few times the soul king still appears in his mind, greatly upsets him though. - What could set them off, enrage them?:  the soul king gets him particularly heated. urahara, as we witnessed. after his defeat, ichigo, to an extent. - What could lead to an instant kill?:  kubo was a coward who didn’t dare let him kill any relevant character, but actually aizen kills very liberally.

- Is there someone /-thing they hate?:  the soul king, urahara. he has a strong disdain for yamamoto, and that joke of C46. - Is there someone /-thing they love?:    himself. tousen

Is your Muse easy to approach?: YES / NO. - Best ways to approach them?:  he’s only really easy to approach for bleach characters, who, depending on who they are, have different eligible verses to further facilitate the interaction. humans / powerless bleach characters can’t really interact with him tho. - Where are they usually to find?:  soul society or hueco mundo. i have a verse set in the wandenreich.

Something you may still want to point out about your muse?:  aizen is not a particularly easy muse, but it’s part of his overall mosaic to be somewhat unapproachable and distant. i’m not out to make him someone he is not, so forgive me in advance if plotting with me turns out to be difficult in a way or another. he’s very dear to me, and i try my best to do him justice! while my main headcanons may not affect our interactions specifically, i still ask my partners to look them up (they’re linked in my about page) because they’re essential to my portrayal and it makes me happy to have them acknowledged. i think that’s all lmao. come visit me over at my quincy boys too.

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

Tagged by:  @skyvar​ I DID IT AT LAST. Tagging:  i don’t know who has been tagged so, you know what to do.

[theuncurrentdispatch]

“How long did it take to grow that mustache?”: Gender identity in Napoleon Dynamite

This summer marks the 15th anniversary of Napoleon Dynamite, a film so unique and divisive that computer scientists now use the term “Napoleon Dynamite problem” to describe the difficulty of predicting an eccentric movie’s likeability. From thrift-shop chic to nerd culture, Napoleon Dynamite lingers in the millennial identity— for proof, check out the comic book sequel coming this September. 2019 feels like the right time to analyze how the movie portrayed gender and sexuality to a generation that has since navigated high school, pushed for LGBT rights, and championed the #MeToo movement. 

 In this essay, I rely on the fraught, stereotypical terms “feminine” and “masculine”. It’s an imperfect schism-- women don’t have a monopoly on emotional sensitivity any more than men hold a lease on courage. But these terms accent how the adolescent Napoleon forges his adult identity through gender performance and subversion of stereotype, and I wanted to exploit those connotations. Subvert gender stereotypes, and all your wildest dreams will come true.

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After the opening sequence of hand models presenting food (MTV insisted the casts’ hands were too ugly), Napoleon Dynamite boards a school bus of children. The ages are uncertain, but the age gap is obvious. (It helps that Jon Heder was 27 during filming.) The gap in maturity is less apparent with the film’s first lines. “What are you gonna do today, Napoleon?” “Whatever I feel like I wanna do, gosh!” Then, in the movie’s framing thesis, Napoleon throws a toy wrestler out the window to drag it behind the bus with fishing line, an adolescent boy exercising a cathartic sadism on the image of masculinity.

Napoleon is frozen in a boyish immaturity, and he is crushingly isolated. At school he’s bullied, taunted and laughed at by various incarnations of that plastic wrestler, until he calls his brother Kip to plead for rescue. Kip is just as important to the film’s point as his titular brother, because his quest offers an inversion of Napoleon’s journey. Kip is Neville Longbottom to his brother’s Harry Potter, his quest foundering in delusion while his brother successfully marries his masculine and feminine identities. The Dynamite brothers embark on separate journeys for the film’s central motifs: companionship and, most importantly, adult masculinity. The two grails overlap frequently in the form of various role models and gender performances the brothers engage with.

While Pedro and Deb are vital to Napoleon’s journey to selfhood (and one wonders whether Kip wouldn’t have gone astray if he’d had friends like them), the critical intrusion into the Dynamites’ stasis is Grandma’s removal. Grandma has been the orphan brothers’ anchoring role model, a sexless matriarch providing shelter in a sea of gender performativity and social isolation. The brothers’ first conversation shows the stark contrast of these two worlds as the wounded Napoleon seeks refuge with the school receptionist (herself a Grandma-type haven) to call Kip at home, where he “chats online with babes all day” and revels in the freedom to remotely assume an identity so far from his real-world grasp. When the hypermasculine Uncle Rico replaces Grandma (an unwelcome intrusion in itself), he reveals that she’s been adventuring across dunes with a secret boyfriend. Now lacking Grandma’s ostensible solidarity, the Dynamite brothers begin their quests to find the companionship and adulthood they’d convinced themselves they were successfully living without.

Napoleon latches onto Pedro. The day after Rex Kwon Do’s emasculating karate demonstration, Napoleon echoes the macho-man and asks if Pedro has his back. Pedro’s confused “What?” evokes a rare moment of vulnerability as Napoleon looks off and breathes “Never mind.” To Napoleon, Pedro is an enviable specimen of masculine maturity, possessing bike pegs, confidence with women, and the ability to grow a mustache. When Pedro says he intends to ask Summer Wheatly to the dance, Napoleon attempts to match Pedro’s masculinity by showing off his made-up girlfriend. “I like her bangs,” Pedro says. “Me too,” Napoleon replies, staring at a picture of a stranger.

Kip’s identity is even less stable than his brother’s. Despite being older, Kip is physically and emotionally weaker than Napoleon. Uncle Rico becomes Kip’s first stable companion and masculine role model. Kip, happy to play the toady instead of the victim (voyeuristically watching the steak hit Napoleon rather than receiving Rex’s slap himself), becomes a tool for Rico’s deluded ambition. Rico’s masculinity exudes the usual toxicity: Self-absorption, disrespect for women, a desire to get ahead. His fixation on his life’s masculine peak as a young athlete is particularly telling, revealing both his worship for manhood and his own stunted maturity. In their first one-on-one hangout, Rico and Kip talk about women, and it’s Kip’s turn to try on masculinity as he describes his own incredibly suspect girlfriend. She has a vague, “pretty good-looking face,” as well as “sandy-blonde hair” that Lafawnduh doesn’t have.

Like so many “Magical Black” characters, Lafawnduh is interesting and underdeveloped, entering the story to provide solutions for White characters. In this case, it’s Black identity itself that offers Kip an answer. Just as Rico’s retro style embodies his antiquated vision of manliness, Kip’s transformation reflects the widespread early 2000’s appropriation of Black fashion and music to express White masculinity: Third wave ska bands like Reel Big Fish, clothing trends like pants-sagging, and white rappers like Eminem all brought Black culture into vogue to an extent unseen since the 1950’s.

Meanwhile, backed by the proper companionship and cultivating a respect for the feminine, Napoleon continues to hone in on his adult identity. Napoleon’s companions, largely devoid of the White (or Black-appropriated) masculinity Kip is chasing, are feminine archetypes, compassionate and artistic. The duo serve as surrogate parents for Napoleon, with Deb demonstrating the power of feminine vulnerability and creativity and Pedro teaching Napoleon that a mustachioed, socially confident man can exude femininity. Pedro’s head-shaving provides a key lesson in Napoleon’s education. The replacement wig, provided courtesy of Deb’s pink-draped studio, exposes gender identity as performance, malleable and superficial. “I think this matches your season,” Deb declares. Pedro responds with a soft smile.

The next day brings another lesson as Napoleon offers a bullied student one of Deb’s boondoggles to symbolize Pedro’s protection-- A feminine craft symbolizing a masculine strength. The boondoggle’s promise is quickly called upon, and Pedro’s cousins chase off the bully. Napoleon witnesses the paradox of masculinity, one that CJ Pascoe observes in her theory of “fag discourse”: Though masculinity offers endless ways to dominate and police others, even the manliest identities are never secure. Masculinity is a never-ending performance, a contest that can’t be won. (Uncle Rico learns this lesson as well, and his broken arm, along with his broken masculine delusion, ushers a female energy into his life that the gentler Rico welcomes with Pedro’s soft smile.)

Napoleon’s perception of Rico and the adult manhood he represents continues to sour as the adolescent realizes what misery and delusion the grown man brings in his wake: Clogged toilets, electrocuted groins, and superficial relationships. Rico shames Napoleon for not having a job, and the subsequent chicken-cooping work earns Napoleon a dollar an hour and a Hamlet-level resentment toward his uncle. He courts Summer’s popular friend Trisha, only to find the relationship with her brand of femininity unfulfilling and unsustainable. When Napoleon and Rico finally come to blows in an impasse that can only be described as Oedipal, two important revelations emerge. Napoleon realizes he has reached his tolerance for toxic masculinity, and that that toxicity is, when elbowed, vulnerable to Napoleon’s own masculine strength. Napoleon is no longer willing to lie about wolverines or supermodel girlfriends to survive within masculine discourse-- now he knows he can harness the power of his emotions. (It’s been suggested that the Tree of Knowledge provides Eve not with a magic apple, but with the indelible knowledge that she has the ability to disobey. Does it seem fitting that Napoleon initiates this confrontation by throwing fruit?)

The identity struggles within Napoleon rise up for a final confrontation at the school election. Napoleon’s relationships with his masculine and feminine pillars, Rico and Deb, have been thrown into jeopardy, and Napoleon realizes which character’s energy is most important to him. With proper guidance from his companions, his masculinity has taken the form of a quiet strength that protects others and knowingly performs gender (i.e., the brown suit he takes off a female mannequin), and his femininity carries an emotional intelligence that can’t be acquired from Uncle Rico’s herbal supplements. And once again, Black gender identity arrives to save a White character, but now Black femininity rather than masculinity supplies Napoleon with the tools for victory. D-Qwon’s dance tape gives Napoleon the feminine power of dance as physical expression (contrast this with Kip’s physical outlets of Rex-Kwon-Do and cage fighting), and Lafawnduh herself gives Napoleon the soundtrack he’ll have on hand at the election. (That said, I’m aware that Napoleon’s dance moves are incredibly White.)

Napoleon’s dance, a triumph of femininity over masculinity, performs a vulnerability that brings the previously blank-faced student body to its feet. The students see themselves not in Pedro’s or Summer’s campaign speeches, but in Napoleon’s harrowing self-expression. Napoleon gambles his physical and emotional self on his friend’s behalf, in an act so free and selfless that Deb realizes this person would never fall prey to a “Bust Must+” brand of femininity. But the fact that the audience connects with the dance, the fact that it wins Pedro the election, doesn’t matter. What’s important is that, like Spirited Away’s Chihiro or Russian Doll’s Nadia, Napoleon confronted a final test and produced a correct answer. The prize is an immutable inner truth that will endure any bullying or masculine taunts.

After the climax, with one at the end of his journey and the other hopelessly lost within it, the Dynamite brothers cross paths one last time. (The wedding was a campy, fan-service ending tacked on after MTV’s acquisition, and I don’t consider it canonical.) Kip, in full hip-hop regalia, doesn’t notice his brother as he and Lafawnduh board a bus (in an ending reminiscent of Ghost World). Napoleon watches helplessly from across the street. This scene always makes me sad, partially because we don’t see Kip telling anybody he’s leaving-- it seems like another confused, uncharacteristic move. These brothers, having started the story together in their sexless grandma’s stasis, have ended in completely different worlds, and Napoleon, after painstakingly forging his adult identity, can only watch as his lost brother continues his own quest for meaning.

This article has been published in Entropy Magazine.