#& write where there's muse

[nothatsmi]

The impossible duo (the simpletons)

THIS SHIT is the only thing that makes me happy these days. Only volleyball players on my mind. all day long. how do you expect me to work in these conditions...

I sure hope I can draw more of these fellas, there are so many characters that I like (my favorite is Nishinoya, he's definitely the one I'll draw next).

Anyway here's some kagehina, I totally ship it.

[comatosebunny09]

Sylus has a penchant for strays—just ask Luke and Kieran.

Maybe he takes in so many because he knows what being alone feels like. How it feels to be undesired and aimless. And perhaps that’s why he took you in all those years ago.

He wasn’t in the market for more henchmen/women/people, yet he didn’t turn you away when you asserted your way into his life, insisting you could be of value to him. He didn’t really need you at the time, yet now, it vexes him to imagine a day without your fruitless flirting and eccentricities coloring the atmosphere.

It’s fitting that, years later, after you unwittingly poked around in his mind and heart, he takes in the stray cat you insist on keeping. He pretends to be indifferent about it, the regal black feline roaming around his mansion like it owns the place. But he has yet to get rid of it, even long after its ribs are no longer visible, hidden by attentiveness, care, and lustrous tufts of fur.

Perhaps he keeps it around because it reminds him of you—mischievous, persistent, disarming. Maybe you’d be sad if you came by the mansion one day only to realize your precious little stray was gone. He couldn’t have you giving him the silent treatment for that, now could he? He figures it’s not so bad, keeping a piece of you around when you’re far from his side, swept away by missions and negotiations (his doing, by the way).

As much as he feigns disdain for the pretty little feline, his lips quirk when it hops onto his desk, slow-blinking and acknowledging him with the smallest, most pathetic “meep.”

He doesn’t chuckle fondly as he pets through the cat’s fur, and it bunts its little cranium against his knuckles, quietly demanding more pets. Marking him with its scent. And he’s certainly not enamored by the thing whilst he draws it onto his lap, the cat purring like the steady hum of a motor. It curls into a little ball of soot against his thighs, topaz eyes sliding shut, tail lazily swishing, displaying its trust in the big, bad wolf of a man it’s napping on.

Sylus has a thing for strays. And one day, he knows, it’ll be his undoing.

[azaablue]

im sure its been discussed but i was just thinking about how dick grayson's frustration with jason todd being a crime lord would be less about batman's code and more about the fact that his parents were murdered by a mafia guy/gang member? and so maybe like his brother deciding even for a little bit that they were His People would feel uncomfortable?? idk

[helixcraft]

the fish that keeps appearing all over my recommended only that he's out of jail and happy

[psychopomp-namine]

cheng weimin and shao yuanyuan abandoning cheng xiaoshi at the tender age of 8 years old gets even more fucked up when you think about how they know about the photo diving ability and that bahati is a school related to abilities

like okay listen. one of you has the ability to go back in time by clapping your hands while looking at a photo. presumably you know that abilities are passed on to children. they can activate at any time, perhaps during traumatic moments like with the twins. one of you went to teach at a school for superpowered kids so presumably you know how this works.

and you think you can just abandon a kid with unactivated powers?? leave him with trauma ripe for awakening abilities? what if it wasn't the bridon photo that triggered it huh? what if cheng xiaoshi, at the tender age of 8, cried so hard wondering about his parents and then he accidentally claps himself into a random photo (IN A PHOTO STUDIO! A SHOP ABOUT PHOTOS!! WHERE HE LIVES!!!) with no one to guide him? what if he gets stuck there??? as a kid???

like okay yeah lu guang discovered his ability at 7 years old but apparently someone was there to help him. and also his ability doesn't like, harm him physically. he's not possessing someone or anything. so we're all just lucky cheng xiaoshi never discovered his powers until he was an adult because like. if he discovered that as a kid, lonely as he was?? he'd be so fucked. oh my god. just thinking about it gets me heated like what the fuck cheng weimin. shao yuanyuan. what the fuck. what if your 8 year old kid with abandonment issues got stuck possessing some random person and he doesn't know what's happening. he doesn't know anything. his parents left him and he's not even himself anymore and he's not home and how does he fix this, how does he go back. the horror of it all.

[salvadorbonaparte]

In a universe where the crusades weren't absolutely horrible and reprehensible, a goose going on a crusade would make a banging children's book

[on-wine-dark-seas]

So what finally convinced you to selfship?

Whew, this might actually net me some disdain, resentment, etc, but...I'm gonna power through this because I have a lot of opinions, and I wanna make it clear why I'm taking on this challenge.

So full disclosure: I don't actually really like Reader fics. It's not that they're not well-written. On the contrary, a majority of them are brilliant, and most of my favorite fics in this fandom are Reader[ish] fic. Now, the reason I don't like this is not because of the second-person perspective. I'm a longtime gamemaster, writing and speaking in second-person doesn't bug me. I've read The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin. Second-person can be a rad storytelling element.

What bugs me is the obvious farce of Reader fic.

I know a lot of writers and artists try their best to keep descriptions of the Reader out of their narration, but it almost always manifests and becomes glaringly obvious that the Reader is their OC stripped of name and defining physical characteristics. Even in the art, it's very clear that Y/N is an OC or a generic, skinny, white, feminine body.

Now, here's the issue: I'm a dark skinned Black woman with curly/kinky hair, and I'm not skinny or perceived as delicate [despite my best efforts]. When I see descriptions about my fave supposedly combing their hands through my hair, or my lips being plush and pink, or my CHEEKS TURNING PINK WHEN I BLUSH, I immediately separate myself from the Reader and replace it with what is obviously the writer's OC or self-insert. And there's absolutely no shame in them doing that! I am the CEO of the OC x Canon agenda, and I will always push for people to be fearless in creating OCs.

And so much of the Reader fic is making it painfully obvious that that's what everyone wants to do, and because no one wants to risk losing readers/views/kudos/comments at best, or being labeled the dreaded Mary Sue at worst, we get inundated with a lot of fanfic and fanart that clearly have heavy OC overtones.

I never see myself as the Reader because the writers are never visualizing me when they're writing the Reader. It's not even about the choices Reader makes in a fic, it's the obvious coding of the Reader's appearance, if that makes sense? I'm sure other Black women in fandom can relate.

So, because of this, I can't feel truly immersed in the story as if I'm the protagonist because the Reader is not me.

Does this look like a fragile, delicate, wide-eyed ingenue waiting to be seduced by the big, bad wolf? No. I am a woman of many vibes: I fuck. I fight. I curse. I spit blood and I dance until the sun comes up. I can also be very soft and sweet and affectionate [just ask the polycule], but most importantly: I'm Black as fuck; not just in appearance, but culturally. I come from Nigerian and American parents. I have a very rich cultural background that shapes and influences everything about me. And none of that is ever reflected in the Reader fics I read, and even some of the ones supposedly featuring a Black reader are holding back in significant ways. Yes, even the ones I praise and laud endlessly. Again, it's not about the quality of the writing, it's about the principle at its core.

And how could I ever expect a writer to account for a person like me in their stories? Why would I ever expect them to? Reader fics ring false for me because there's too many unique people out there to settle for generic nondescript details about the literal protagonist. And I have the misfortune of being in a fandom where that is mostly all there is to read. As a result, I have to do some extra mental gymnastics to enjoy reading fic. I would rather be reading about other people's OCs, if we're being honest.

I got tired of reading fic where I still felt like an interloper or outsider in a story that is supposedly about ME. And I decided to take the plunge and write a story that actually features me as the protagonist and love interest. Not the Reader. The Writer. I'm definitely not the first, and I hope I'm not the last. I feel like this is the natural progression for someone who exclusively writes OC x Canon.

On the other side of this, I understand why Reader fic has become so popular in the fandom. It's an easy way for people to get eyes on their work because now the readers feel like they can be invested in the story because the protagonist is them. And for some people, that's enough. But for those of us who are already ostracized, ignored, and even abused in fandom, and treated as Other, this is not always the case. It's not as easy as slipping into a new coat cut exactly to my size, and more like I'm in the writer's closet trying on their clothes and realizing that we're nowhere near the same size for me to be in there at all.

I hope the people who actually rock with me and my writing enjoy The Invitation when I finally release it. It's turning out to be a point of pride for me, and most importantly: the story is about me.

[expectiations]

Thinking of how "left me like a book on a shelf" is from River's POV and therefore does not mean it is the entirety of the story much like how "the Doctor does not and has never loved me" was uttered from a River who was grieving.

Like the Doctor could have spent a long time putting the TARDIS in stationary orbit around the Library. The Doctor could have puttered about with the Library from years before it was shut down to ensure that everything would go smoothly while doing his best not to change a single thing. And on days when it is too hard, he just stares at the Library from his perch on the TARDIS door. Waiting, hoping, thinking. Trying to find a way out for her. For them.

And he does!

He finds a hundred ways to get her out of the data core. But...something always goes wrong. It's somehow never good enough. She's back, but she's not entirely there.

So he scratches it out, slaps himself, and tries again.

And again.

And again.

But his plans always fail.

But they don't. Not really. His plans could work. Could have worked. His beloved Sexy would help him. She'd always help him when it comes to her Water. But he was too scared. Too frightened of failure. Because one single mistake. One. Single. Mistake. And she's gone. He can never get her back. Forever.

So he runs. And runs. And runs. Until centuries has gone by and companion come and gone. Until he met a younger, more alive version of her. And then they had Darillium. And oh the joys of wonderful joys, what a night that was.

But things end. Even for him. They had to part ways again. Had to say goodbye. So he tries again. Picks up what his previous self had shelved. He tries. Oh how he tries.

But still. That fear exists. Is it worth it? Can he finally accomplish what he'd started a literal lifetime ago?

(He doesn't.)

Off on another lifetime with a new body. He's a...she now? Oh and shorter! Wow. That's new! I wonder what Ri–

On the rare moments she allows herself to succumb to sleep she goes to their his her study. She takes a moment to take everything in. It's unrecognizable now – the study that once was theirs filled with warmth and laughter and-

Every single space was taken. Covered by plans of plans of plans spanning...two...lifetimes now. Sexy still kept it just as it was the last time he she had been in there.

Their His Her favorite throw was still where it was – on their his her favorite corner of their his her favorite couch.

Nothing had changed but everything had changed.

She curled up and buried her face hoping it would still smell of her (It did. They never knew how it worked but somehow her smell still lingered anyway. They thought they were hallucinating at first but other people had been able to smell it too. Sometimes they forget but Sexy also lost her too).

She was a he again. The same face they had four lifetimes ago. The same face who was the first to keep the memory of their meeting.

But wh- what? Why? How? Is this it? Is this the body that finally brings her back home? A fitting act really. He put her in there and so he'll also put her out of there.

But... she wasn't there. Nothing was there. Nothing but chunks of debris and ashes and smelted...somethings.

When he blinked his eyes open (when had he closed them?), Donna's worried face greeted him. He blinked again and blinked. Nothing changed. Everything has changed. He had waited for far too long. He had made her wait for far. too. long. He feared of failing her but now he actually has failed her.

Everything was bland now. Was it just him or is everything a bit...on the side of grey? Donna looks at him like he might break. (He won't. He's a Time Lord. Time Lords don't break.) Even Sylvia had taken to treating him a bit more kindly.

He goes off alone with Sexy. His return to the Noble-Temple (Temple-Noble) household becomes fewer and further in between. One day he finds himself in Venice. Wonderful Venice. His Pond and her Roman (who wasn't yet a Roman) had gone here. There were vampires. And running and –

River?

No silly. River wasn't there.

He blinked. And blinked again. Made sure the sky was blue and the clouds still fluffy white. But was that his leather jacket that just whizzed by past him? Wait. Hold on. That was... Was that? Oh no. It wasn't. It couldn't be. Did they? No. They couldn't have.

But of course, apparently they did. Because that was actually his leather jacket wearing self that just passed by him again(?) tugging along his very-much-not-dead wife along running from... Hold on. Why are they running? What- Who's shooting at her?!

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

it is a bit astounding how people seem to not even want to consider 21st century Paul songs to maybe be about his contemporaneous partners. at least Linda gets somewhat of a fair shake as a muse (and the songs thought not to be about her tend to be more conflict-ridden in a way not known to cohere with what's known about Paul and Linda's relationship)

not to be annoying, but it's kind of clear to me how a lack of interest in Paul's relationships with his non-Linda wives translates into a lack of consideration for their importance to Paul. He married them.

[lady-phasma]

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen - Dune: Part 2

Would you like some fresh meat my darlings?

[psychopomp-namine]

this is a dumb question and the answer is probably something like, "they didn't really think about it" but it's been bothering me for a while. where is the kitchen??

we know from the chibi shorts and yingdu ep 1 that cheng xiaoshi does the cooking. he even showcases this in S1E2 when he tried to replicate the noodle recipe

it seems they use this counter a lot for food. when they're eating, it's either here, the table next to the storefront sofa, or in the sunroom

but according to the floor layout, there is no kitchen in the first floor (or second, or third). there's the studio front, the dark room, a restroom, and the sunroom

so... where does cheng xiaoshi cook?? is the kitchen just not shown here?

the only thing I can think of is that he brings out cookware to the sunroom, like when they have hotpot. and I don't think cheng xiaoshi cooks elaborate meals or anything, so that's probably enough, but that's still such a hassle though? maybe that's why they always order takeout in the chibi shorts.

he looks so happy in this ad that I think it's a shame if they don't have a proper kitchen in the studio. I don't think this is in their studio but uh. it should be?? I'll pretend this room exists in their studio.

anyway, yeah, the answer is probably "they didn't really think about it" but the logistics of cooking in their studio is bothering me lmao

[aparticularbandit]

Alright, so, today on Bandit does analysis, we're gonna talk about this scene right here:

Where the Monokubs screwed up and didn't change any of these kids' costumes or download their first memory and do any brain rewriting and so they all woke up as still themselves in a scene that definitely wasn't supposed to happen at all, nuh-uh, nope.

Except.

I wanna talk about this.

This right here.

Tsumugi having a normie outfit.

Like.

Why does this even exist.

If everyone was supposed to show up already in their new costumes with their new memories intact, then why does Tsumugi have a normie costume?

If this is a mistake, Tsumugi should be showing up in her Ultimate Cosplayer costume ready to go because everyone else should also be showing up as Ultimates. In fact, there's no reason for Tsumugi to not show up in her Ultimate costume. Even in the case of a mistake (as the Monokubs are assumed to have made), all of these kids are going to have their minds wiped anyway, so they won't remember Tsumugi was already in her costume.

There is no reason for Tsumugi to have this outfit.

Unless.

This scene was always supposed to be here.

The only people who Tsumugi would need to wear this costume for are the viewers, which means that this scene was definitely plotted, the kids were all definitely supposed to do this, and the viewers were meant to see it to set up for the reveal later on.

Which would mean that the reveal was always intended - at least by Tsumugi, even if not by Team Danganronpa themselves.

(It is entirely possible that Tsumugi has cobbled this outfit together from her personal cosplay; I think it was @funishment-time who pointed out that this looks extremely similar to Haruhi's sailor outfit, which would definitely keep it from being something the costuming department was aware of or made. The colors are different, but like. Tsumugi's a cosplayer; she's got the skills to change all that.)

OR.

Tsumugi's a normal student who had her mind rewritten just like everyone else in the Game did.

The Monokubs did screw up, and Tsumugi really wasn't writing any of this until she's well into the Game (and then they've downloaded what she needs to improv as she goes. and programmed Motherkuma to listen to her voice. ahead of time. somehow (seeing all the other stuff they're able to do, this probably isn't actually a stretch, just incredibly creepy)).

Tsumugi's just a normie like everyone else. Everything - everything - is fake, including Tsumugi herself.

Like, there is literally no other reason for Tsumugi to have that costume and show up in this scene wearing it. At least none that I can think of, although I'm sure someone else can/will, and I'm. super looking forward to that, actually! Because I look forward to other opinions!

But. Yeah. Analysis done. For now.

[gentil-minou]

Wei Ying living on the street and still celebrates his birthday because it's a month after mid autumn festival and Mama taught him how to count the days before she and Baba left…

But little A-Ying still celebrates! He makes sure to prepare every year!

(Now an expanded oneshot on Ao3 here)

This year, A-Ying prepares by keeping the mantou a kind shopkeeper gave him a week ago! He wraps it up in the cleanest cloth he can find and tucks it away in his super secret hiding place.

(It's an abandoned shed on the outskirts of the village that A-Ying sometimes shelters in)

(He can't keep the mantou in his robes otherwise the dogs will find him…the shed is safer. There are even holes in the roof to let the moonlight in!)

(He can never stay for too long, though. Baba said they would meet him at the inn so he has to go back so they can find him!)

A-Ying likes birthdays! He likes the singing and clapping and smiling, the laughter that bounces off the walls.

He likes the feeling of celebrating one person, showing them how special they are! He likes that everyone has a day that's just for them!!

A-Ying is very good at singing, so even though he's the only one singing and clapping it's still a fun day! His laughter isn't as loud as Mama's, and there's no one to smile with him, but that's okay! A-Ying likes celebrating anyway!

It's a day just for him!

This year on his birthday, A-Ying finds a nice big tree not to far from the shed, a little bit a ways from the market in the village. From this far away he can still hear the street vendors cry out to each, and he can pretend they're calling to him too.

He's gotten reaaaaally good at climbing this year, so he goes up and up and up all the way to the second branch. He perches on his throne, watching the subjects of his domain move from one spot to the next, unaware of the child giggling at their antics.

Every one of those blobs has a story, and A-Ying likes to imagine them in his head.

That mother with her daughter is shopping for a new treasure to add to their collection.

Those two men whispering together are plotting a dastardly escape from the bad guys!

The stern, intimidating cultivator in glowing white robes is preparing to save them all.

The two brothers are sneaking off on their own, seeking adventures beyond his wildest dreams.

A-Ying smiles to himself at his game. It's fun, and he likes it.

He balances the cloth bundle gingerly on his lap, leaning as securely as he can on the tree whole trying to hook a leg around the branch for safety. He unwraps the dusty grey cloth, revealing the white dough of his prized mantou.

It's not as fresh and soft as he remembered it, and the steam is all gone, but it's still his mantou!!! He doesn't even know what's in the filling, but he bets it will be delicious!

He prepares to take a bite when A-Ying hears a soft rustling of leaves and quiet sniffles.

He hooks an arm around the tree, mantou secure in his other, and peers around to see who's managed to find his hiding spot.

It's one of the brothers from earlier, the little one with hair only up to his shoulders. His face is scrunched up and angry looking, but his eyes are sad.

The boy looks around, seeming confused and…lost? The long sleeves of his pure white robes catch on sharp brambles and thickets, and he exhales sharply when they pull him back and trapped him.

The boy sends the bush a withering glare, and is about to pull his arm free.

"Wait!" A-Ying calls out before he can think otherwise. "Don't just pull!"

The boy startles and jerks back, though he keeps his arm perfectly still. Sharp eyes dart around looking for the source of the sound, before glancing up and locking onto A-Ying.

Gold. Molten like the sun above them. For a second the tree no longer feels solid beneath A-Ying.

He shakes the feeling away and tucks his mantou back into his robes, and jumps down to land in front of the boy.

His knees scream, not used to such a tall height.

He hides a wince but the boy is too taken aback to even notice in the first place, reeling away from A-Ying, looking terrified and furious.

It's so fun, A-Ying can't help the giggles from escaping as he exclaims, "Hi!"

The boy says nothing but he doesn't move, arm still caught.

"If you tug your arm out like that, you're going to rip your pretty robes!" A-Ying tells the boy, his eyes drawn to the shiny pale blue thread that winds through the white fabric in the shape of misty clouds. He almost reaches out to touch it, stopping himself at the last second.

He lifts one of his tattered sleeves, gesturing to one of its many tears. "Look, see? This is what happens when you pull too hard! It makes a hole and sometimes it cuts skin and hurts a lot."

Sure enough, the hole reveals a tiny angry red scar from when A-Ying ripped it.

The boy lets out a quiet hiss, and his expression changes to one of commiseration. He lifts his hand, letting the sleeve drop to show A-Ying a small cut on the back of his hand.

"Ouch!" A-Ying exclaims, even though the cut looks like it's been healed for a long time. "That looks bad too! Did you get hurt already? Where? Anywhere else?"

A-Ying doesn't have any soothing salve, but he can maybe wrap the white cloth around the boy’s injuries? Or maybe find a nice adult?

Luckily the boy shakes his head and speaks for the first time. "No. Ge's sword…"

The boy trails off, staring at the ground as he draws lines in the dirt. The tips of his ears bloom pink where they peek from between ebony strands of hair.

A-Ying blinks before catching on, the mirth filling him with warmth. He throws his head back in joyous laughter that grows at the boy's pretty pout.

He wipes the tears from his eyes as he asks, "You played with your brother's sword didn't you, without asking first."

The boy nods once brusquely, still stubbornly pouting at the ground. It makes A-Ying want to laugh again and he bounces with the feeling.

"Where is your brother? I saw you two earlier when I…" This time, A-Ying trails off his words catching in his throat. Heat floods his cheeks for some reason, and he suddenly feels too shy to let the boy know he'd been watching him earlier.

How odd.

The boy, however, doesn't seem to pay attention as his head darts up and devastation spreads across his face. "Ge…" he starts, his lower lip wobbling. "I can not find Ge."

His voice comes out a bit hoarse, like he's been crying. And now that A-Ying has a better angle, he can see the tears resting in the corner of the boy's eyes where he must have cried earlier.

The boy is lost…away from his family. Unsure of where they went and when he'll see them.

The thought sits heavy and hard im A-Ying's head, and his face goes blank.

But not for too long, as he lets the feeling pass over him like a wave the way Baba showed him when he was little. He takes a deep breath, and takes another step closer to the boy.

The boy gives him a wary look, but with his arm still caught there's no way for him to escape.

A-Ying gently takes his arm, keeping his movements light and easy to shake off. He gets a better look at where a branch as snagged on the boy's robes, a sharp pointy end of the stick caught on a loose thread. Then, A-Ying grabs the stick and slowly pulls it out, taking care not to loosen and more threads.

When the boy's robes are finally free, with only a few easy to fix loose threads, A-Ying hops back and presents the boy's arm with a flourish.

"There! All fixed! See, isn't that better than a nasty hole?"

The boy inspects the damage, a judicial eye moving up and down the length of his sleeve, clinical in its assessment. A-Ying has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at the boy's serious expression.

Finally satisfied, the boy drops his arm and regards A-Ying with the same serious expression.

Again, the ground feels a little less solid beneath A-Ying's feet, like he's about to float away.

"Thank you," the boy says, gaze intense and making A-Ying twitch.

"It's not problem at all, no need for thanks! I'm happy to help! Now, let's find your brother."

"It's not problem at all, no need for thanks! I'm happy to help! Now, let's find your brother."

He grabs the boys hand and begins to walk, when the boy pulls him back, as if still caught in the brambles. "You wish to help?" he asks, that same confused expression from earlier on his face.

"Of course! Everyone needs to find their family! It's a given!"

This time when he tugs on the boys hand, warm where his palm sildes against A-Ying's cool skin, the boy follows.

"Besides," A-Ying continues, focusing on the path ahead of them for anymore wayward branches, "When you help someone on your birthday, you get extra blessings!"

"It is your birthday?" the boy asks from wear he walks behind A-Ying.

"Yup! And my mama says we have to share our blessings with everyone on our birthday, so we can live well!"

"…Where is your mama?"

The boy's voice is quiet, like he almost regrets asking.

But that's not why A-Ying stops walking, frozen on the path.

He's tried very hard not to think about it too much this past year…but where is his mama?

Usually when he feels a gloomy cloud anchor itself to him, A-Ying ignores it and finds something fun or interesting to do. And right now, the fun and interesting thing is the pretty boy at his side with ears that turn pink and a huffy, pouty mouth.

So A-Ying focuses on that. He's very good at changing the subject.

The village market isn't too far away, but A-Ying fills the time with boisterous chatter, asking the boy about his pretty forehead ribbon and showing him the red ribbon Mama gave him ears ago, tied securely to his wrist.

He asks the boy a lot of things, but he doesn't seem like to like talking all that much.

But! He's a wonderful listener! He makes all these cute head movements and his eyes give away his feelings even when he tries so hard to keep them off the rest of his face. He nods at the right times and doesn't become bored ever!

It's been a long time since A-Ying had someone so fun to talk to, and he gets distracted telling the boy a scary story about once when he hid in a tree away from fierce and angry dogs.

In what must be uncharacteristic for the boy, he tugs on A-Ying's hand and interrupts him.

"Your birthday," he says, in that soft voice of his. A-Ying likes it a lot. "How are you celebrating it?"

A-Ying tilts his head, confused. He'd thought the answer was obvious.

"Like this, of course!" He waves their joined hands then let's them swing back and forth.

The boy frowns, deep lines forming between his brows where all his secrets must hide.

A-Ying presses the tip of his finger against those line, smoothing them out.

"No frowning on my birthday!!! It's not allowed! Only smiles!"

The boy's face turns neutral again, but the intensity in his gaze remains.

A-Ying puts on an affected pout and bends a little bit so he can peer up at the boy, though he's a bit shorter than A-Ying "Come on… give me a smile. Please? As my gift?"

All traces of a frown vanish completely and the boy wears a resolute look while his ears turn pink.

His face scrunches in concentration and slowly changes

He lifts one corner of his mouth higher than the other, a lopsided forced smile that shows a little bit of teeth. It's stiff and doesn't quite reach his eyes, but it's the cutest smile A-Ying's ever seen!

He bursts into laughter that rings around in a song, squeezing the boys hand for stability even as he almost falls over.

He can't remember the last time he was so happy.

"That's the best gift I've ever gotten! A perfect birthday smile!"

The edges of the boy's smile softens even more beautifully..

Drums beat against A-Ying's ribcage and he lifts his free hand to rest against his chest, willing the heat to dissipate from his cheeks.

He's on a mission after all, and with this gift to spurn him on he continues searching around the crowded market in search of white robes.

A-Ying hears a rumbling sound behind him. It's so similar to a dog's growl his shoulders stiffen automatically as he tenses and whimpers.

The rumbling continues and he squeezes the boy's hand preparing to run away, when the boy speaks softly to him.

"…Sorry…I did not eat.."

The fear exits A-Ying's body in a long deep exhale and he turns around to see the boy's cheeks have pinked as his hands clutch his stomach, where the grumbling sound continues.

He gives the boy a friendly smile and drags him to an alleyway just off the side street.

There, A-Ying removes his prize mantou and presents it the way a street performer might, holding his prize high in the sky.

"Ta-da! My birthday mantou! We can share!"

The mantou is difficult to split in half when it's this stale, but he manages and holds half out to the boy.

The boy hesitates before he takes the mantou, glancing between it and A-Ying as if looking for some reassurance.

A-Ying nods eagerly, gesturing for him to take a bite and lifts his half up to his lips in preparation.

The boy bites down. He stops. He chews. He stops.

His face takes on an entirely new expression that A-Ying finds utterly fascinating. He looks like he's both grateful and also wants to cry.

Strange. Maybe A-Ying's birthday mantou is extra delicious!

A-Ying takes a bite.

Immediately, he spits the morsel out onto the dusty path, trying to get rid of what must have been rotting filling encased in a dough that was too stale and hard enough to break teeth.

He looks up at the boy in horror. "No! Quick, spit it out! Spit it out before you get sick!"

Though alarmed, the boy follows, somehow showing it's possible to daintily spit into the palm in his hand and tossing the remains away.

A-Ying grimaces at the taste still lingering in his mouth. He's eaten a lot of questionable things in the past year, but he's used to it.

He'll wash his mouth out in the stream and then hope he'll find something to wash out the taste.

But he feels horrible that the boy had to eat that...He doesn't seem like the type to ever eat something so gross.

"Sorry," he whispers. He tugs on messy strands of his hair, wishing they could hide him from view.

The boy gives him a searching look, golden eyes wide.

"…No need for sorry," he replies simply. His face shifts into one of determination and this time the boy is the one to take A-Ying's hand and guide him through the market streets.

The boy stops in front of one of the bigger food stalls. The ones that sell skewered meat along with mantou and pancakes and all sorts of yummy treats. A-Ying knows this stall well because it's always very busy and sometimes people will order too much and toss their food out.

Keeping a firm hold of A-Ying's with one hand, the boy uses his other to reach into his pocket and pull out a cloth purse. The money inside clinks together and A-Ying can't help but be stunned. It's the most money A-Ying has ever seen!

He watches the boys fist close tight around his hands and follows as the boy marches towards the stall with stiff upright shoulders. He stands before the market stall, it's kind elderly proprietress smiling gently at him.

And he freezes.

A-Ying blinks and waits, wondering if the boy made a mistake perhaps.

He squeezes his hand, hoping to reassure him.

It does the trick, rousing the boy from his shock as he points at various items, gathering an assortment of meat, fresh mantou, and even sugary youtiao!

The stall's owner gives him a bemused look as she hands over everything as the boy pays for it. It's a lot, more than the boy is able to carry as he tries to pay at the same time.

A-Ying didn't think he seemed like that big of an eater, but maybe he was wrong!

The smell of warm, fresh food right in front of him makes his mouth water, and he smacks his lips together.

Finished with paying, the boy turns away with his haul. He looks behind him, as if to make sure A-Ying is following.

A-Ying runs after him, happy to follow him anywhere.

They stop at a bench a little ways away from the main thoroughfare where it's less crowded and market fades into background noise.

The boy pulls a clean white cloth from his sleeves and places it on the bench between him and A-Ying, then arranges the food with care.

One of A-Ying's legs bounces up and down uncontrollably, but he waits as patiently as he can manage.

At last, the boy nods, satisfied, and sends A-Ying a pointed look.

A-Ying blinks and points at himself. "Wait. Me first?" he asks.

The boy nods and hands a steaming mantou filled with savory meat filling whose smell nearly forms a cloud around them.

"It's your birthday," the boy says, like it should be obvious that this stranger bought A-Ying food without any thought. "This is for you."

A-Ying gasps, all the air in his lungs leaving him as he surveys the spread around him. Blood rushes to his cheeks, and he lifts his cold hands to press against them.

"This is all…for me?"

"Mn. Happy Birthday."

A-Ying beams his biggest, brightest toothy grin, watching the boy blink back at him as his ear turn that adorable pink again.

He happily takes the proffered mantou and bites down, savoring the burst of warmth and flavor that skitters across his tongue. He moans, and eats with zealous.

He hasn't had anything like this in so long! It's even better than he imagined!

Once he finishes the mantou, he takes a skewer of meat in one hand and a small pancake in the other and eats them in turn, alternating between bites. His body wiggles back and forth in a happy dance.

He's halfway through his second skewer when he notices the boy hasn't taken a bite of anything at all, even though he was the one who was hungry in the first place.

A cry of dismay escapes his throat. He hands the boy a bun filled with sweet red bean paste, waiting for the boy to start eating before resuming himself. Once the boy has taken a few small bites, A-Ying smiles once more and move on to the youtiao.

He tries to tell the boy about the time he found an entire bin filled with leftover dough and how he'd tried to eat it, but the boy gives him a reprimanding look.

"No talking while eat."

"Pfft, that's no fun. And besides, it's my birthday! Surely there are special rules for birthdays!"

The boy's expression turns skeptical, but A-Ying takes it to mean he's right after all and carries on.

By the time they've finished his birthday feast, the sun is begin its descent beneath the horizon, pinks and oranges mingling with blue skies above. The blue reminds A-Ying of the boy's robes, and he wonders if it always will. If even years later, he'll look up and think of him.

He hopes it will.

For now, he plops down from the bench, dusting his hands clean of crumbs as the boy carefully folds the cloth napkin and tucks it into his sleeves. A-Ying spares a moment to wonder what else he hides in those sleeves, before he gets back to the task at hand.

He needs to get this boy back to his family.

Surprisingly, no one has been shouting or racing around looking for him. A-Ying had assumed sticking by the market would be their best, but now he's feeling less so.

Sure enough, when he asks the boy, he tells him actually his family had been all the way on the other side of the town, far away from the market!

"Why didn't you say that earlier!?" A-Ying exclaims, already tugging the boy away.

The boy doesn't answer, his ears pink as he watches the ground. But the corner of his lips quirk up in a sly smile.

He hears that drumming noise against his chest again at the sight, and he almost feels dizzy with it. He ignores the feeling, and together the race across town before darkness falls.

Almost as soon as they turn the corner, A-Ying spots them. The mean looking cultivator from earlier, and next to him the white robed brother A-Ying had seen earlier.

The older brother looks close to tears, while the cultivator paces back and forth pulling on his beard like he's about to rip it out.

But it's all okay, because A-Ying did it. He helped find the boy's home.

He whirls around, hoping to see the relief on the boy's face, but instead the boy is watching A-Ying, something sad and even more lost pooling in that serious stare of his.

"Look, see," A-Ying says, though his tone isn't as cheery as he'd hoped. "We found them."

The boy nods, but he doesn't look at his family at all. His eyes are fixed on A-Ying.

Of all the things he could say, A-Ying doesn't expect the boy to ask him, "...Did you have a good birthday?"

A-Ying grins, warm and bright and cheeks straining to keep all the joy inside.

"Yes! It was the best birthday ever!" He pulls the boy into a hug, uncaring of his dirty robes now that he has such a wonderful friend! "Now go, your family is probably worried sick!"

The boy slowly withdraws with one hand still holding A-Ying's tattered sleeve.

"You too. Birthdays should be spent with family," the boy intones.

A-Ying doesn't answer, but he gives the boy a small, reassuring smile and sends him off. The boy walks briskly to his family at first, then breaks out into a run when his brother notices him.

He watches the tearful, happy reunion for a bit, a feeling full from more than just a filling meal. It settles happily in his chest, warm and content.

Then he turns around and heads back to his shed. By the time the boy looks back, searching for him, A-Ying is long gone.

Halfway back, as A-Ying pats his tummy and watches the lights in the houses turn on one by one giving the town a lovely glow, he realizes he never got the boy's name.

It's okay, he thinks. He has a strange feeling one day he will get to spend another birthday with the boy.

fin.

(link to threadfic here)

[unironicallycringe]

Sometimes i think about TMM and get all Hearts Emoji about it, but other times i just feel embarrassed or ashamed. It's weird! I feel like my ability to be joyfully cringe and creative has eroded over time. It's a muscle that needs working out. Sharing my work has become emotionally taxing. I started out posting TMM really regularly, then after a couple incidents, I got slower and slower. Now, in posting Dear Brother, I just sort of show up every other month or two and drop a chapter and bail lmao. I talk to a few mutuals and then skip town. I think about how I used to do weekly / biweekly TMM updates and I'm like "who tf was that guy with so much naive energy" LOL

I think maybe when I continue posting TMM, I will have to be way more distant and quiet in the fandom space, as I am lately with DB. Much much love to all of my readers and thank you for your patience and interaction! It's just been such an unexpectedly-long hiatus, and I've been paralyzed on posting TMM for many, many different reasons.

(I know I show up like every 5 months and make a post musing aloud like this, just consider it a proof-of-life if you're not tuned into my TES stuff /lh)

[purplink8]

Hate to burst anyone's bubble but I don't think L would've revealed his face to Light if the latter wasn't Kira. The Kira case was the only case in which L shows his identity to anyone besides Watari because it's the first time he (and his authority) has been challenged like this (with the majority of the Japanese task force leaving since they can't trust L coz of the FBI incident).

If Light weren't Kira and went on to become an NPA officer like his father, he might work with L on some cases together but that doesn't mean L would've revealed his identity to him, however intelligent this particular NPA officer may be.

Like I ship Lawlight very much and I'm not (in this post, that is) referring to anyone exploring the idea of non-Kira!Light with L in their AUs as bad (I like those AUs too), but let's remember that it wouldn't be plausible if we're going by canon. Even if Ohba said somewhere that they'd work together if Light weren't Kira, I'm sure he didn't mean working together as in face-to-face.

[twistedappletree]

when you’re trying to get advice from your friends but you all share 1 collective braincell ✨🧠✨