#A bit of a deviation from my normal content

[lettersfromahopelessromantic]

“Finish them,” she scrawls on the weapon.

Them. A colorful people whose souls are alight with hope for a powerful future. “A just peace, not just a piece.” When the bulldozers come and their villages are razed to the ground, they stay. Their existence is a powerful resistance. They are cactus roots that are impossible to ever fully pull up, as steady as the olive trees that have been tended by their patient hands for generations. 

Them. Jesus was one of them. Brown-skinned, born in a manger in the Occupied West Bank. His family fled from a genocide on a donkey, downtrodden and fearful. He flipped the tables of injustice; he didn’t obliterate them. “Let the little children come to me,” he said. Their little children are scared. Orphans. Starving. 

I am guilt, sympathy, and empty words. I am hopeful and hopelessness coexisting. I have no wise words to bandaid a wound that has festered for more than 76 years. I am not equipped to comprehend, and I have never loved my home and community enough to die for it. But I have heard the wail of a father as he holds his lifeless, headless baby boy on Instagram. I have seen their livestreams, their pleas, their crowdfunding videos on TikTok— “PLEASE DON’T SCROLL”—to ask for one minute of my attention in this dystopia. Enough.

You arm your worldview with a twisted biblical narrative. Your thirst for Heaven has you encouraging Hell on Earth. I’ve traced the veins of your gospel, and its heart is not beating. I am suffocating in the presence of your Jesus. I want no part of your Savior who dazzles with his military might, his muscled arms firing armaments destined for a besieged city that is 40% children. As if the annihilation of God’s children is all justified by a few Bible verses taken out of context. If we cannot—and will not— see God in the faces of our Muslim brothers and sisters, have we not missed the point entirely?

Them. Palestinians. A colorful people whose souls are alight with hope for a powerful future. We must act. For injustice against them is a threat to justice everywhere. Our humanity shrivels, sputters, and chokes. 

[multifandomgirl08]

Caught [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader (Established Relationship), Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader x Lando Norris (Platonic)

Summary: Lando swears he knocked before walking into Max's hotel room, maybe he should have yelled before opening the door.

Warning(s): 18+ Implied sexual content, accidental?? voyeurism (Lando)

A/N: Little deviation from the normal chapter for this series as there is no Nico. This is an out-take that I just couldn’t hold onto any longer. It does have a bit of adult content, and although this series didn't have any before it was fun to work out of my comfort zone for this while helping me cure my writer's block.

This is a scene I reference in the third social media post in Through Max's Eyes. You get to finally read what happened in Barcelona 2023 with Lando, Max, and the reader.

Words: 2k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

Lando

After the disappointing race today Lando needed to get out of his head a bit. He had suggested to a few of the drivers about going out to a club to get drinks and blow off some steam.

He heard back from almost everyone except Max, he wasn't replying in the grid group chat. He knew that Max was probably on the phone with Y/N or talking to his son Nico after the race.

He didn't really understand how Max could manage his son, girlfriend, and career all at once.

He had asked Daniel which was Max's room number at the hotel they were all staying at. Daniel had texted him back, 331.

Lando was making his way down the hallway as the numbers kept going up.

300 - 320, on one sign 321 - 340 on another.

He followed the hallway down until he got to 330. Then on the opposite side was 331, the door was cracked open a bit, maybe Max forgot to close it all the way when he had come up after the race.

He knocked, waiting a moment, and knocked again a little louder but heard nothing back. Maybe Max was playing FIFA or had headphones on and wasn't paying attention to the door.

Lando pushed the hotel door open to walk into the room.

"Max?" He asked, his eyes scanning the room before he heard a breathy moan come from behind the open set of double doors.

This should have been Lando's cue to leave Max's hotel room and make sure to close the door behind him. But his feet pushed him on towards the sound. Maybe Max was watching a movie or something, or on the phone with Y/N. There were lots of possibilities.

He walked closer before his eyes met the empty bed. It was as if his ears had finally picked up on the sounds in the room. There was the sound of someone moaning again.

His eyes fell to the floor, shoes discarded, navy team polo by the chair in the corner, a pile of black fabric kicked off to the side.

Lando's eyes started their ascension at the carpeted floor, scanning upwards. Black high heels and bare feet, large hands reached down to pick the girl up, before she settled her legs around the guy's waist. He could barely make out that this guy had his jeans undone. A black bra strap fell off her shoulder and started to expose her to him.

"Zo goed voor mij." He heard in Max's voice but deeper in tone. It was barely above a whisper hearing the guy tell her how good she was for him.

"Max," Lando's ears had never heard you sound like this before. Yearning, desperate. He saw what he knew were your hands moving up a broad back before a hand dropped to the band of blue denim jeans trying to push them down.

“Zo wanhopig voor mij.” There was the voice again, his understanding of Dutch catching up with him again calling her desperate, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know for what.

Being in the room watching made sights and sounds seem like two different things that blended into one another.

His eyes eventually followed a delicate hand up to short brown hair, seeing a stubble-peppered cheek drop out of his view. Causing the woman to move to the right, covering both of their faces from his view. As the man pulled away from the woman Lando met the eyes of Max as if it fully dawned on him who he had been watching.

His eyes jumped up the wall and then back, to see Max standing there in jeans, and Y/N, against the wall in nothing but heels, and her underwear with her bra straps falling down her shoulders.

"Lando?" He heard from Max, their eyes meeting for a millisecond, blue on hazel.

Lando bolted out of there, leaving his question and the ability to look Y/N in the eyes behind him. He pulled the handle of the door along with him, the loud bang made his ears ring for a few moments.

Lando rushed down the corridor, room after room not paying attention to where he was walking.

“Hello Lando,” He heard from Pierre and saw him standing there with Daniel.

“Lando,” Daniel said, “You okay mate?”

Lando just shook his head no, looking down at the horrible pattern on the carpeted floor. He couldn’t tell Daniel or Pierre what he had walked into, they would never let him live it down.

“It can not be that bad.” He heard from Pierre.

“It’s pretty bad.” He moved to lean against the wall, knocking his head into it.

“Come on, Lando.” Daniel started to say, pulling him away from the wall.

“Okay, but you have to swear you won’t tell anyone else, not Charles,” He said to Pierre, “And not to Martin.” Lando pointed at Daniel. He knew that Max was close friends with Martin and he didn’t want Martin to know that he had walked in on Max sleeping with Y/N. He didn’t think he could deal with the teasing.

They both nodded back at him. Yeah right.

“Have either of you ever walked in on your parents… you know…” He kept trailing off. He couldn’t say going at it. It felt wrong.

Pierre looked at him for a moment, and Daniel said nothing before Lando saw the recognition fill both of their faces.

“Oh, Lando did you walk in on your parents growing up or something?” Pierre teased at him.

“No!” He objected. “Not my parents…” He took his time getting the words out.

Time to break down the story in full detail.

“I went to see if Max wanted to go get drinks at the club after the race. I walked to his room to see if he was going to go, and the door was open a bit. I knocked, but no one answered, so I went in. I saw…” He trailed off. “I saw Max and Y/N going at it.”

“Lando, Y/N isn’t here. Isn’t she in England for some work conference or something?” Daniel said. He moved to pull out his phone as if he was going to text Max and ask.

Lando reached for it to stop him.

“It was Y/N, I swear it was.” This whole thing just rubbed Lando the wrong way. Max was his friend, and Y/N was Max’s girlfriend. Lando knew that Max had sex before given that he had a kid, he just never thought he would see Max actually about to do it for himself one day.

“It’s fine, we believe you, that it was Y/N.”

“Lando.” He heard coming from down the hall. There stood Max in dark wash jeans, and a white button-up shirt, and holding his hand was Y/N in a black dress that cut off at her thighs.

Shit! Eyes to the floor, eyes to the fucking floor man.

“Lando,” He heard from Y/N. Her voice was almost motherly in tone. It just made an uncomfortable shiver run down his spine.

“I’m sorry,” He blurted out, hanging his head. “I didn’t mean to see. It was an accident, I swear.”

He couldn’t look at either of them. Sure Max was only older than him by two years, and Y/N was right around the same age as far as he could guess, not that he actually knew how old she was.

“It’s fine Lando, I’m sure you didn’t mean to see me and Max-” Y/N started to say.

“Going at it like rabbits,” Daniel interjected behind them.

“What are you talking about Daniel? We still had clothes on.” Max stated. Lando knew that was half a lie. Max had clothes on, and Y/N was pretty close to having nothing on. Lando couldn’t help but think back for a moment to the image that flashed across his mind, it was oddly erotic and would have been hot if he didn’t think of Y/N as a type of mother figure in his life.

“You can’t detail a car with the cover on,” Daniel quotes to the group. Lando looked up just slightly, enough to see Pierre who looked confused. 

“What do you mean, can’t detail a car?” Max asked. “I was kissing my girlfriend, Daniel, I wasn’t thinking about a car.”

“Really? The first Fast and the Furious movie. I’m disappointed in all of you.” Lando could see the happy expression fall from Daniel’s face. If it were any other time, and anything else was going on Lando would have remembered what Daniel was quoting, but as of right now he was a little too mortified to do so.

“Whatever,” Lando said, turning to Max and Y/N but didn’t make an effort to meet their eyes. “I’m sorry I walked in without making myself known. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s fine Lando,” Y/N said to him. “I’ll just make sure the next time I try to surprise Max, I’ll tell someone first.”

“I like your surprises,” Max said, giving her a wide, eye-crinkling smile. He pulled her into him, and Lando dropped his eyes to the floor once again. Too soon.

“So… Drinks? Bar?” Daniel asked. Pierre nodded, and Lando followed quickly after. Max and Y/N however said nothing. The sounds of kissing quickly became audible to his ears.

“Max, mate.” Daniel started to say. “Maybe keep the necking in public to a min. We’ve got young eyes here.” Lando could feel Daniel’s hand on his shoulder after he said that. He knew that Daniel was just teasing him a bit, but he still didn’t like it.

“I’m not that young.” He fired back at Daniel.

“Uh yeah, you are, if you caught these two about to go at it and ran away.” Lando couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He was never going to be able to live this down, was he?

“Have you?” Pierre asked as they walked down the hall towards the elevators leaving the couple behind.

“Have I what?” Daniel asked. Lando barely looked up to see Max and Y/N walking further down the hall with a short wave given to all of them.

“Caught them, about to…” Lando trailed off again, he still couldn’t say it.

“Let’s just put it this way, when they want a date night. I’m the first person that they call.” Sometimes Lando forgot how close Max and Daniel were. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my godson but sometimes Max needs to learn to call in advance instead of the day of.”

“So, you haven’t caught them then?” Lando couldn’t help but ask. Them wanting date night together was one thing, but that wasn’t what Pierre had asked.

“No, I have.” It almost sounded like there was a bit of mischief in Daniel’s voice. “Trust me mate, you were lucky that you walked in when you did because if it was after that, you would have been scarred for life.”

Lando widened his eyes at that. So, Daniel was keeping all of the truly gory details to himself. He knew more, so much more, and maybe he promised Max that he wouldn’t tell anyone what they truly got up to in their spare time.

“Was Max running his mouth?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, back to Daniel.

“Like praising her, in Dutch?” He couldn’t help but nod at Daniel’s question. He was a little curious if he could get more information out of him.

“A bit.” He choked out.

“Good on ya, that you didn’t stick around.” Daniel slapped the back of Lando’s shoulder. “Come on, once we’re down at the bar, I’ll get you a drink. You need it after all you’ve gone through today.”

Lando tried not to think further about what he just heard. Obviously at some point in time Daniel had walked in on Max and Y/N and had a very different reaction then him.

He followed Daniel and Pierre down to the bar, letting Daniel order him something strong that would hopefully make the last 6 hours or so disappear, at least for a while.

Translation(s):

Zo goed voor mij. - So good for me.

Zo wanhopig voor mij. - So desperate for more.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore

[kentopedia]

piece of cake

FEATURING. nanami kento x f!reader — wc: 9.8k

SUMMARY: nanami can't help but notice your strange behavior, and he begins to grow suspicious (aka you throw him a surprise birthday party)

CONTENTS: sorcerer!reader, nanami's bday, husband nanami, reader & nanami povs, gojo being the bestest friend, also everyone loves nanamin!! very very light angst, slight misunderstandings, and ofc nanami being the love of my life. sfw!!!

note: this ended up way longer than i intended! the ending is a bit rushed, but i really wanted to finish it before his birthday ended. i love this sweet man so much :(

Nanami didn’t want to be that kind of man.

He knew that letting his thoughts wander into accusations were a one-way ticket to unfounded miscommunication. It was senseless to even go there; coming up with wild solutions that he couldn’t back up would only cause problems that didn’t need to happen in the first place.

With his whole heart, Nanami trusted you. He loved you, and he had never doubted that you felt the same. Honesty was important, and you were both mature enough to understand that communication was the only way to make a relationship work.

He reminded himself of that whenever his mind was clouded with uncertainty.

There was still a small twinge of doubt that wouldn’t leave him alone, and day after day, it became more and more difficult to convince himself that he wasn’t concerned. Every time he tried to speak with you about your strange behavior, you’d talked him into circles, bringing him right back to the beginning of the question like he’d never asked it at all.

Nanami tried to tell himself he was creating something out of nothing, but for weeks, you’d been coming home late, you were always on the phone, and he would have been an optimist or an idiot if he truly believed you weren’t hiding something.

When he really put his mind to it, he could stop himself from coming to unfathomable conclusions. You’d never given him reason to doubt you, even if your behavior had become suspicious as of late.

What he couldn’t diminish was the deeply buried fear that, maybe, you wanted someone more than him.

The entire mess had started just a month ago, when he’d stumbled into the lounge at the high school, a book tucked under his arm and a coffee in his hand. Lunch hour had just ended.

Nanami visited you at the school often, and at this time, you were almost always training Maki, or switching off a class with another sorcerer. Your schedule rarely deviated, and if you weren’t in the middle of teaching, it was because they’d needed you elsewhere.

So, of course, he was surprised to see you were doing neither of those things. Instead, you were in the lounge with Gojo, talking in hushed voices while you stood strangely close to one another.

Your back was turned towards the door when Nanami entered, and you gesticulated wildly with your hands. Between your speed and the low volume of your voice, Nanami couldn’t catch a word of what you were saying. It was obvious that you were excited, and Gojo leaned up against the back counter with an indulgent smile, placing his fingertips to his chin thoughtfully.

Nanami wasn’t sure whether or not to announce his presence, so he let the door slam shut behind him, breaking up your enigmatic conversation.

You whipped around in surprise, your eyes wide. In a similar manner, Gojo’s head darted up like he had no idea Nanami had entered at all. The scene would’ve been comical if it hadn’t been so unfamiliar.

“Nanamin!” Gojo stumbled around the first syllable of his name before recovering smoothly, smiling that cheeky grin of his. “When did you get in? I thought your assignment wasn’t until later this afternoon?”

As Nanami slid into the room, he glanced between you and Gojo with pinched eyebrows, attempting to ignore his unusually awkward behavior. Gojo slid across the countertop, slowly inching away from you until he hit the edge.

“Kento!” you said, in a voice that was much squeakier than your normal tone as you shattered the silence. “You’re here early.”

Nanami had long since given up on trying to understand Gojo Satoru’s behavior, but you were a different case entirely. Your smile was lopsided and uncomfortable, and you wiped your hands on your sides like you weren’t sure what to do with them.

He couldn’t tell if you were disappointed or glad to see him. His features pinched tighter, and he shook off the nasty voice of mistrust that threatened to cloud his logical mind. “I’ve been asked to take Itadori with me today. Apparently, someone’s been telling the principal that I’m a good influence on him.” He took off his glasses, meeting your eyes pointedly. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

You smiled sheepishly, drawing closer to him like a magnet. As you left Gojo’s side to stand beside Nanami, that sharp coil of irritation within him released. The lines in his forehead smoothed, and everything was just as it should be.

“I had nothing to do with this,” you said with a small shrug, fixing the tie that was already straight, as if looking for a reason to touch him. “What would make you think that?”

Nanami rolled his eyes at you, knowing you’d had everything to do with it, and gave you an exasperated smile.

You released his lapels shortly after to check the time and frowned when you realized how late it had gotten. “I have to go.” You pecked him on the cheek with a grin, and though Gojo was watching from behind the dark blindfold, Nanami couldn’t bring himself to care. “Maki’s meeting me soon, and I don’t want to make her wait. See you later, Kento.”

He squeezed your hand, the action almost imperceptible as you waved to the other man over your shoulder. “Bye, Gojo.”

Gojo returned the action, his lips pulled together playfully as he returned his focus to Nanami. Although he’d seen the two of you together on numerous occasions, his favorite pastime was teasing the younger man about any sign of affection.

Nanami sighed, suspecting that he’d have to tolerate Gojo for the next half-hour until Itadori was back. He took a long sip of coffee that scalded his throat and sat down on the couch.

The silence lasted until Gojo crept unfortunately closer, lurking like a cat until Nanami huffed, the sign of irritation that Gojo had been waiting for. The white-haired man drew out Nanami’s name like a song, and then plopped himself down on the chair across from him, blabbering on about things that Nanami really didn’t want to listen to.

When he realized five minutes had passed without Gojo even taking a breath, he gritted his teeth, and leaned back in the chair. “I didn’t realize you were such good friends with my wife.”

That wasn’t entirely the truth. Nanami had known that you’d gotten closer to Gojo since you’d started working for the school part-time, but you talked about him about as often as you talked about your other colleagues. About as much as Nanami talked about Gojo.

You’d never made it seem like he was the type of person you swapped secrets with in the lounge while everyone else was off on a break.

“Really?” Gojo drew out the word dramatically, his mouth curling into a pout. “I’d say we’re good friends, actually.” He tipped his head back, leaning against the chair with uncharacteristic seriousness. “We mostly talk about you, though. I know you better than I know her.”

“That’s a shame.” Nanami flipped the page, finishing the last bit of his coffee, and feigned irritation, even if he was warmed by the thought of you talking about him so much. “She’s much more interesting than me.”

Gojo laughed, and it seemed to be genuine. Nanami began to grow frightened that he might actually be roped into an actual, amicable conversation with the man.

“Aww,” he cooed sympathetically. “Don’t worry, Nanamin. I know you’re probably worried we’ll become better friends, but you were my friend first.”

Nanami glanced up, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Trust me, I’m really not worried about that.” He kicked his leg out, the beginnings of a headache forming in his temple. “I’m more concerned that she’ll invite you over for dinner. I’d like to refrain from any interactions with you outside of work.”  

Gojo made a face and then whined dramatically. “You’re so mean to me.” He wiped a hand over his eyes like he was shedding tears.  

Nanami sighed.

A few days later, when he took Itadori out for another training session, he began asking Nanami too many questions about his personal life. That fact wasn’t as suspicious as it was frustrating. He couldn’t help that Itadori was curious, but he could’ve asked him these things on the ride over, or while they were at the school.

Invasive questions in the middle of a potential life or death situation were not exactly ones Nanami wanted to tolerate.

“So… what kind of places do you like to shop?”

The question was completely unrelated to his lesson and completely out of the blue. Nanami stopped, eyeing the teenager with undisguised skepticism. “Itadori. I’m not answering that kind of question when we’re in the middle of something serious.” He thought about his words, and quickly rephrased them. “Actually, I’m not answering that question at all.”

Itadori stared back, his face falling theatrically. Nanami could’ve guessed from that expression alone that he’d been spending far too much time with Gojo. “Fine.” He relented, drawing out the word as he scurried to catch up with Nanami, who was already paces ahead.

He let a few minutes pass before his next question.

“Where are your favorite places to eat?”

Nanami closed his eyes to regain his patience. “I’m not answering that either.”

A huff of disappointment. “Well, can I ask about your favorite—”

“No.”

Itadori’s glower turned into something more like a realistic frowny face. Nanami tried to refrain from snapping at him in order to regain his focus. “What can I ask?”

“Anything that you will gain valuable insight from.” Itadori opened his mouth, and Nanami quickly sensed his next words. “Insight that isn’t about me.”

He deflated once more. “Okay, fine.” For a few more moments, he surrendered, letting the conversation stall. Nanami should’ve known better than to expect peace and quiet for long. “So… what days will you be going on assignments? Do you have like… a set schedule, or do you usually get called in?”

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, hearing the creak of a floorboard upstairs. There were curses nearby, and if Itadori continued yammering on without paying attention, that would spell a lot of trouble for him and the kid. “Why are you asking me this?”

“I’m just curious.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you now isn’t the time.”

Itadori opened his mouth, but then seemed to register the sound of cursed spirits, and he finally sobered his attention. His expression changed to one of seriousness, and, thankfully, he let the topic go.

After a particularly stressful mission, Nanami went to the bakery that the two of you frequented, the one that had been the site of many of your dates throughout the years.

It was a quiet little café at the edge of the city, a perfect middle-ground between your home and the school. When he’d been working in the office, and you were still a sorcerer, you’d met him there on numerous occasions, usually bruised and battered, but never without a beautiful smile.

He stretched his back behind him as he headed through the door, his clothes dirtied from fighting and his hair in disarray. It was barely afternoon, and he was already exhausted, wanting just to go home and curl in bed to await your return.

It was a small daydream that would carry him through his last few hours of working, so long as no cursed spirits popped up in his vicinity of patrolling. There seemed to be more and more lately, and if he wasn’t being called off to go fight, then you were, leaving no time for either of you to be with each other.

As he crossed the threshold, another man was exiting, seemingly in a big hurry and carrying a coffee that he almost splashed all over Nanami’s chest.  

Reeling in his irritation, Nanami began a polite, “Excuse me,” before realizing who had nearly trampled over him. “Gojo. What are you doing here.”

“What a coincidence seeing you here,” Gojo greeted with a wide grin, like he wasn’t the one infiltrating one of Nanami’s sacred, headache-free spaces.

Nanami cringed, looking at the coffee in Gojo’s hand and the white pastry bag, immediately recognizing the contents. It was your favorite drink, the dessert you got once a week; you’d been ordering the same thing for the past two months, always getting hooked on new things before you eventually tired of them. He knew the order by heart.

“Sorry, I really wish I could stay and chat, but I’ve got important goods to deliver.” He held up the bag and the cup, a receipt folded up between his fingers. Bitterly, Nanami noticed he hadn’t bought anything for himself. For someone with such a sweet tooth, it seemed hard to believe that he’d refrained from indulging.

Which, Nanami concluded with annoyance, meant that he’d come specifically for you. He checked his watch, pushing away the negative emotions. Even though you could’ve called him if you wanted something, like you always did, you’d asked Gojo instead. “She’s not on a break?”

“Some students wanted her help with some things. I told her I didn’t mind getting her something if she wanted to take a break later this afternoon.” Gojo flattened his blindfold over his eyes, the material bunching up around his nose. “Everyone’s out today, anyway.”

“I see,” Nanami said, hating the unnecessary sting in his chest. You knew he’d been working, and even though he told you where he was going, you probably hadn’t seen the message. If you were busy, then he couldn’t expect you to be checking your phone. “Well, tell her I said hello, then.”

“Will do,” Gojo saluted cartoonishly and flitted out the door, smiling with a kind of glee that Nanami, stupidly, wanted to wipe off his face.

Those separate incidents with Gojo had annoyed him, of course, but he knew they weren’t anything to get worked up about. In fact, he’d almost forgotten about the interactions entirely, until another week passed and Nanami slowly started to wonder if you spent more time with the white-haired man than the one you were in a relationship with.

You’d woken up before him that morning, and Nanami opened his eyes to a colder bed and the sound of hushed music softly playing from behind the bathroom door.

It was a cooler day for June. You’d opened the window, and there were dark clouds gathering in the sky, a sign that it was going to storm any time now. He stretched his stiff back, padding to the hallway, where he could see the light coming from the bathroom, the door cracked open. The smell of your perfume wafted through, and Nanami had half a sense to drag you back to the bed and keep you there until the weekend was over.

He pushed the door open further, leaning against the threshold to watch you swipe pink gloss over your puckered lips. Your makeup was freshly powdered, your hair done up in its usual manner.

Nanami smiled, leaning against the door frame as he watched you finish getting ready. “Where are you going this morning, pretty girl?”

You blinked at him through the mirror, putting the tube of lip gloss back in the bag before turning to him with a smile. You looked so sweet, and he yearned for you, almost in disbelief that you’d been together for so long. “I’m taking the kids shopping in the city with Gojo today.” You wrapped your arms around his stomach, tilting your head back to look up at him. “I’ll be home before dinner. Want me to cook tonight?”

Nanami brushed your cheek, feeling that annoying wave of irritation return to claw at him. He didn’t care that you were spending time with Gojo—he shouldn’t care. Your students would be there too, and you’d been happier ever since you started working at the school. The first and second years cared about you so much already, and Gojo was a much less annoying friend to you than he was to Nanami.

He liked seeing you so happy, despite the toll that the job often took on you. “Don’t worry about it. We need to pick up groceries, anyway. I’ll do that while you’re out.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips. Although you’d meant for it to be quick, Nanami had wrapped an arm around your lower back, pressing you closer, deepening the kiss. He ruined your lipstick, smearing it all over his mouth, but he didn’t care.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered against your mouth, holding you close to him.

“I’m still in my pajamas.” You laughed, your cheeks growing warm as you drew away from him, teasingly dodging his final kiss. “Are you sure you won’t miss me too much when I’m gone?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’ll probably miss you too much.” As you fixed your lipstick, Nanami went back to the bedroom, rifling through his coat pocket for his wallet. He tossed the gold card on the bathroom counter, where your purse was laying.

You eyed him over your shoulder. “No.”

He stared back, just as seriously. “Yes. Buy yourself something nice, sweetheart.” He thought of the young teenager he’d been mentoring, who’d been putting in his best effort, and who he’d, unfortunately, come to care about quite a lot. “Itadori too. Just don’t tell him it’s from me.”

You blinked, before your expression changed into something so bright, Nanami would’ve done everything in his power to keep it there. “I knew you liked him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

With an affection so full that it threatened to burst out of your chest, you jumped towards him, wrapping yourself up in his arms. He kissed your temple and breathed, remembering just how much he didn’t want to lose you.

You were true to your word, always. You came back when you promised, you told him where you were going, but Nanami noticed that you’d been even more secretive since you went shopping with Gojo and your students. When he asked your plans, you were even more vague. When you didn’t return with any shopping bags, he found it odd that you smelled of a cologne he didn’t wear.

He reminded himself of how much he trusted you—he really, really didn’t think you would lie to him, but he couldn’t deny that your behavior was confusing him.

Nanami finished off his tea, eyes across the room as he watched you type wildly on your phone, your brows crinkled. You sent a message then waited for a response, impatiently pacing across the kitchen.

He called your name, but you didn’t respond, too enraptured in whatever it was that you were doing. You seemed to be attached to your cell phone these days, always having a call to respond to, and always jumping when he was a little too close to seeing your messages.

Yesterday, Gojo’s name had popped up on your screen with a message, and you’d crawled across Nanami’s lap to get the phone before he could even think to hand it to you. Nanami had done nothing but stare back at you, and you’d smiled at him, embarrassed, still hiding the screen from him as you read the message.

He really, really didn’t want to jump to conclusions. But these days, you were spending all your free time with Gojo, and you grew defensive every time he tried to bring it up.  

“Are you done with the tea?” Nanami asked again, piling up the dirty dishes from where he sat, noticing your cup was still half-full, but lukewarm.

You chewed your thumbnail anxiously, bouncing your leg as you waited for the person on the other end to reply. The phone shook in your hands, and you read through it again, obviously disappointed by the short response. He could’ve guessed who you were talking to, even if he didn’t want to.

Nanami frowned and called your name one more time. Finally, you looked up.

“What?” you asked, and then came to understand his question. The tea sat, unenjoyed, and shame marred your features. “Oh. I’m sorry. No, I’m not finished.” You frowned, tucking the phone back into your pocket before rushing over to your seat. “I didn’t mean to…” you trailed off, and Nanami stared, waiting for you to finish your explanation, even though you let it die there. “It’s been busy at work.”

Nanami hated how easily he could tell you were lying. He sighed, rubbing his temples as your phone rang again. This time, though, you kept it in your pocket.

It had been like that for the past couple of days. He closed his eyes, trying to come up with any possible explanation other than the most distressing one.

“Kento?” you asked in a small voice, noting his obvious discontent. “Is everything alright?”

He looked up at you, your eyes so wide and full of concern, and even if he wanted to be mad at you, he couldn’t. His chin fell, arms resting limply at his sides as you looked back at him, waiting for a response. “Is everything alright with you?”

“I’m okay,” you said, shifting where you stood. “Just busy. Like I said.”

The two of you stared at each other, waiting for the other to say what they really wanted to. Never once in your life had you had a problem with communicating, but it felt like now, you were hitting a wall.

All he could do was try his best. If you didn’t want to answer him, he couldn’t make you.

“Okay,” he said, taking your hand in his own. He brought it to his lips and kissed your palm, then the inside of your wrist, before massaging the center of it. “I don’t want you to feel like you need to keep secrets from me. If anything…” he steadied himself for his next words. “If anything changes between us, you can tell me. I’ll understand.”

Your eyebrows creased, before understanding seemed to dawn upon you. “Kento,” you said, dropping his hand to come around the table to climb into his lap, placing your hands on both of his cheeks. “Kento, no.”

“You’ve just been a bit—”

“I’m sorry,” you said, and he couldn’t help but draw back into you, smile when you kissed him all over his face, pressing the affirmations into his skin. “I’m not trying to be distant, really. Things are just busy right now, I promise.” You curled your fingers into his hair, scratching at his scalp, and Nanami brought his arms around your hips, settling you on his thighs.

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure.” His eyes softened at your frown, and he brushed his thumb under your shirt, grounding himself against your skin. “I love you.”

That put a smile back on your face, and you kissed him, whispering the same words against his lips.

Now, though he wasn’t so sure he believed what you were saying, as much as he wanted to. Maybe you were just busy at work, but you were certainly hiding something from him.

He knew that everyone had their secrets, but maybe it would’ve stung less if you’d just admitted you were hiding something from him.

The following week was the same routine, and as the workdays ended, Nanami saw you less and less each evening. You spent the majority of your time in the city center, and though you were often with your students, you were also with Gojo, and something about that fact was difficult to swallow.

Nanami felt a little sour that you never asked him to go too. He began to wonder if you were purposefully avoiding him, or if the students disliked him as much as he’d thought they did.

It was stupid, he knew it was stupid, and he didn’t want to be overbearing, to seem like he was the kind of man who wanted to control where you were going and spending your time with. He just wished you spared a little bit more of it for him, was all.  

He woke with that thought in his mind as he rolled over on the cold bed, reaching out to wrap his arms around you. When he realized the spot beside him was empty, he blinked himself awake wearily, adjusting his eyes to the dark.

The hall light was on, a yellow glow peeking through the cracks under the door, and he frowned as he heard the sound of your voice, low and hushed.

Nanami weighed his decision. It was almost two o’clock in the morning, and though you often went to bed much later than him, a phone call at this time was pushing it. He climbed out of the bed, padding quietly over the door to see if he could catch a part of the conversation.

It felt like a breach of trust, and he didn’t want to seem like he was spying on you.

He pressed his ear to the door, waiting for your voice, though it was silent. Half a minute passed. His hands curled around the knob, and he shouldn’t be trying to listen in, he should just go out there and ask you if anything was wrong, and then—

“Gojo, I don’t know what to tell him.”

Nanami stopped, swallowing down his breath to still all noises from his body. He squeezed his fist tighter until his knuckles had gone pale, hearing you murmur under your breath. There were a lot of words he couldn’t catch, and he wrinkled his forehead, trying to catch a hint of context in what you were saying.

“I’m not very good at lying to him, and if he finds out—”

Your voice dropped quiet again.

Nanami felt something fall in his chest as he released the doorknob. He was too tired to think about it rationally, and if he listened anymore, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

He stepped away from the door, his lips etched permanently into a frown.

After Kento had fallen asleep, you’d grabbed your phone off the nightstand, going through the to-do list that you’d created for his birthday.

You hadn’t meant for it to get so out-of-hand. He didn’t usually like big celebrations, and he’d never made a big deal of his birthday in the past. Though in your eyes, that was exactly why you needed to do something different for him this year.

Things had been going so well, and from what you could tell, everyone in your close circle cared about him more than he realized. It was the only way you could think to show that to him.

You’d just wanted to do something special for him, and it had turned into long shopping trips with Satoru Gojo, and secretive meetings with your students to make sure everything went exactly as you’d planned it.

And things were going according to plan… Only, you were starting to feel like your attempts at secrecy were sabotaging your relationship, and you feared that Kento thought the worst of your late nights out and your newly formed friendship with Gojo.

It was obvious that you were lying, and every time he brought it up, he seemed to become even more doubtful of your actions.

You flipped the hallway light on, dialing Gojo’s number, feeling antsy in your own skin. After two rings, he answered, his voice groggy and obviously full of sleep.

“Hello?”

“Gojo,” you said in a panic, rubbing your hand over your face with a kind of distress that he couldn’t even see. “I don’t know what to tell him.”

A beat of silence as he gathered his thoughts. “What?”

You almost felt bad for waking him up, but part of this was his fault. He’d been insistent on being a part of the plan, and now, he needed to listen to your apprehensions about the entire situation. He hadn’t exactly been sneaky either.  

“Kento.” you said, pacing back and forth in the hallway, your voice rising to a high-pitched shriek, even as you tried to muffle your words. “He’s been asking me so many questions, and I’m so bad at coming up with answers. I’m seeming like a horrible person.”

Gojo hummed on the other line, and you hated how nonchalant he seemed about all of this. This was your relationship, and he was just sitting happily in his home, with the receipt for a cake that had cost way too much, and gifts for a man that had started to doubt you even cared about him at all. “Well…”

“Gojo,” you said his name again, sternly.

“Sorry.” He sighed. “Nanami’s a tough person to keep a secret from. Just keep telling him what you’ve been telling him: we’ve been assigned to more cases together, work is too busy, et cetera, et cetera. That’s fine.”

“But he knows that’s not true.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, frustration prickling at you. Either Kento was much too perceptive for his own good, or you were just awful at planning surprises. “I’m being too suspicious. I’m not very good at lying to him, and if he finds out, then all the secrecy would have been for nothing.”

Gojo was silent on the other end of the other line. It seemed he was absolutely horrible at consoling you, unlike the man in the other room who was sleeping soundly, unbeknownst to the fact that you were doing this all for him. “Look, it’s only for a couple more days, right? You can keep the secret until then, can’t you?”

You swallowed, steeling yourself for one last week of misery. You weren’t sure you could continue to stand the look of disappointment on Kento’s face every time you did something out of character. “I guess so. Thanks.” You yawned, rubbing your eyes. “Sorry, I woke you up, didn’t I?”

“Don’t worry about it. Goodnight.” He hung up, and you stared at the phone once more, trudging back into the other room.

You couldn’t help the guilt that had settled deep in your gut. Even if you were lying to Kento for something special, you knew how it looked on your end. You weren’t good at dispelling his accusations; every time you opened your mouth, you just incriminated yourself more.

You couldn’t wait until his birthday. Things would go back to normal, then, and he could finally see that everyone cared about him more deeply than he realized.

Rubbing your eyes with exhaustion, you crawled back into the space where you always slept. Although, this time, you realized Kento was not asleep like you’d left him but was blinking back at you with concern in his dark eyes.

You jumped, startled for a moment, before settling back down. “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

“It’s okay.” He grasped your hand tightly, and you let him, let him drag you close in his arms as he curled around you. “Is something wrong?”

You tensed, and immediately realized that was a mistake. Fuck. You were so horrible at this. You should’ve just let Gojo and Itadori plan the entire thing, and maybe it would’ve been a disaster, but it also would’ve saved you a lot of unnecessary anxiety. “Everything’s fine.”

That didn’t exactly answer his question. Nanami turned on his side, the two of you staring face to face on the pillows. There was a wrinkle between his eyebrows, his eyes darting to each one of yours like he was trying to decipher a message. Then, he sighed. “Was… someone calling?”

“Just Gojo.”

“Gojo?” Nanami repeated, and though he seemed annoyed at the mention of him, at least he knew you were being honest about that. “Why the hell is Gojo calling you in the middle of the night?”

You blinked, realizing you actually had no good lie to cover that one. “Umm…” you played with Nanami’s hand, tracing the tendons and knuckles as he stared back at you patiently. “He wanted to know if I could cover for him in the morning. He’s… not feeling so well.”

You’d have to text him immediately so that he didn’t come to the school until later. Not that he would mind skipping out on a few hours of work, but even that didn’t seem to convince Kento. He opened his mouth, and shut it, as if trying to carefully put his words together. “That’s all?”

He said it in a way that made you think he was giving you an opening, like you had the option to tell him the truth if you wanted. Of course, you couldn’t reveal what you were hiding, but he didn’t know that.

You sighed, and smiled, kissing him as you curled your hands into his hair. “That’s all, Ken. I really am sorry I woke you up.”

Nanami stared back at you for a moment before forcing a smile, returning your kiss with all his fondness. He brushed your hair away from your face and kissed your cheeks before closing his eyes once more.

When the day of Nanami’s birthday arrived, you promised yourself that you wouldn’t panic if everything wasn’t perfect. He’d appreciate the sentiment, no matter what. Things didn’t have to go by the book for them to be meaningful.

Regardless, you went through your mental to-do sheet, made the final reservation for your dinner, and prayed that everything went as you intended.

Though you were usually not a morning person, you’d gotten up earlier than Kento to fix his coffee the way he always preferred, taking a quiet moment to still your excited nerves. When his usual alarm went off, at the same time every morning, you carried the mug back with you to the bedroom and smiled softly at his sleepy form.

You set the coffee down before he could fully gain consciousness, and sprang on top of him, peppering kisses all over his face until his surprise slowly melted, and he was hugging you tightly.

“Happy birthday.”

Kento smiled up at you groggily, his eyes still drooping with sleep as he curled a hand around your jaw. He pressed a soft kiss to your mouth, hugging you tight as he whispered, “thank you,” the touch of the words barely there at all.

You relaxed in his presence, sitting back as you handed him the coffee, to which his expression grew even more gentle. He brushed your hair out of your face and kissed you again on the forehead, making you melt, just as he always did.

“What do you want to do today?” you asked as you laid on his chest, staring up at him with every ounce of love you had to offer. “I have dinner reservations, but you’ve got all day until then.”

Nanami laughed, curling a strand of your hair around his finger. “It doesn’t matter. We can just spend it like any normal day.”

You frowned. “That’s not anything special. It’s your birthday.”

“It’s just a birthday.” He squeezed your arm before maneuvering you gently off of him so that he could sit up on the bed. “Besides, every moment I spend with you is special. I’m happy to just sit around and do nothing until dinner.” Kento seemed to notice your displeased expression, even though your heart had swelled at his comment. “Unless there was something you wanted to do instead…”  

He climbed out of the bed, taking one sip of the steaming coffee before setting it back down.

“It’s not my birthday.” You watched him gather his clothes up off the floor with a sigh, the muscles in his back clenching as he bent over. “I want to do what you want to do.”

“And I told you I didn’t care.” He smiled playfully at you, tugging his shirt on over his head. Then, he reached over and squeezed your hand, coming back to where you sat, your legs swung over the side of the mattress.

“Kento.” You pulled him back down with a pointed expression, your faces close, lips almost touching. “I’m serious.”

He stared back at you for a moment, before relenting. “Alright.” Kento bent down, kissing you once more before going into the bathroom. “Let me shower, and we’ll go get some breakfast. How does that sound?”

“Is that what you want to do?” you asked, eyebrows raised.

Although you could tell he was amused by your insistence, he softened, his eyes melting into hearts as he turned. “That’s what I want to do. Happy?”

“Very.” You shoved him away, laughing. “Go take a shower. You’re not getting any younger.”

He rolled his eyes and retreated into the bathroom, the door shutting softly behind him.

When the water started running and Kento was definitely in the shower, you hurriedly dialed Gojo’s number, begging him to pick up. After the third dial, when you were certain he wouldn’t answer, a short tone cut through the line.

“What’s wrong?” he answered, clearly amused. There was shuffling on the other end, and some sort of yelp. Your brows pinched together.

As you listened closely to make sure the shower water wouldn’t turn off unexpectedly, you frowned. Your leg shook with anticipation. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

Gojo released a breath, though his voice grew mumbled on the other end. “Well, you normally only call me if you’re panicking about the birthday situation, so—”

There was a scream. You dragged your hand down your face, as he said something sharply to someone on the other side of the call.

“Gojo?”

“Yeah?” Another sound, this one of extreme pain. “Sorry, I’m in the middle of something.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re exorcising a curse right now.”

He paused, and then the sound stopped, everything going silent on his side. “Well… I’m not anymore.”

You wanted to say that you were shocked he’d bothered to pick up the phone at all, but… You weren’t, really. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Unfortunately, cursed spirits don’t know it’s Nanamin’s birthday, so they just keep coming.” He sighed. “What a bummer. If they were nicer, I’d invite them to the birthday party.”

You snorted. “Right. I’m certain Kento would love that.”

Gojo laughed. “So, what were you calling about? If it’s to panic over your much too long list of things for me to do, don’t worry. Everything’s in order.”

“Really? Did you wrap the presents?”

He hummed. “Megumi did.”

You closed your eyes, holding back a sigh. That was probably for the best, anyway. You’d never seen Gojo wrap a gift, but you weren’t sure how it’d look if he did. “Okay… What about the decorations?”

“Itadori is bringing those over once you two leave.”

A part of you wanted to get frustrated with him for doing absolutely nothing, but it wasn’t his fault he had to work, even if he’d promised to help you out. At least he was delegating the tasks. One way or another, it would get done. “Are you going to help him at all?”

“Have a little bit more faith in me than that. You’re hurting my feelings.”

“No I’m not. Did you get him a birthday card?”

“I think Maki offered to do that. And before you ask your next question, yes everyone’s going to be there on time. Kugisaki followed up with everyone.”

“Oh my god… Did you do anything, Satoru?”

“I picked up the cake.” A beat of silence. “Well, I haven’t yet. I’m going right now. I got a little side-tracked.”

He’d given you no reason to doubt him, really. But you were still afraid that something would go wrong, and you’d be left without a cake, in the middle of a very important birthday. “Fine, but just know that I’m texting Megumi in an hour to come check on you. I can only keep Kento out of the house for so long, so you need to make sure it’s perfect.”

“You got it, boss. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

Once you’d sent Gojo the final list of things that needed to be done, you put your phone away, promising yourself that it would not be a point of stress while you were at dinner with Nanami. You’d reserved a table at his favorite restaurant and dressed up nicer than you had in a while.

After breakfast, the two of you meandered around the city for the rest of the day until your reservation, as you tried to think of anything that could keep him away from home. Worried that he would catch on, you continued to diffuse his concerns, kissing him with a smile as you pulled him along to the next place you could think of.

And though he’d protested, saying that you didn’t have to dedicate your entire day to him, you couldn’t think of another way that you’d want to be spending it.

When the evening started to fall, you made your way to the restaurant, and the phone buzzed in your bag. You gritted your teeth and ignored it.

“Are you sure we don’t need to go home?” Kento asked you, swinging your hand in his between the two of you. Neither of you had ever been big on public displays of affection, but holding hands through the streets was one of the nicest feelings you’d come to experience. “We have time.”

“No,” you said a little too quickly, and he eyed you curiously, almost stopping in his tracks. “We better get there early, just in case. Don’t you think?”

Kento raised an eyebrow, but then nodded, squeezing your hand. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to be early.” He smiled, humming to himself happily. “You know, you didn’t have to do all of this for me today.”

“I wanted to. I wouldn’t do this for just anyone.” You laughed, but for some reason, there was uncertainty behind his eyes. You felt the phone buzzing more and more in your pocket.

The restaurant was packed, and even though you were early to your reservation, they got you seated immediately.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart. Did I already tell you that?” Nanami said once you were seated.

You flushed, your cheeks growing warm as he stared at you across the table with gentle, brown eyes. “Thanks, Kento,” you said in a quiet voice, knowing that you’d looked much better earlier, when your hair had been perfect, and your makeup hadn’t smudged. Your dress now had some wrinkles, and you were sweating with nerves and the heat outside.

He glanced down at the menu, perusing it, even though he got the same thing every time. You ordered a bottle of wine to split between the two of you.

The server brought the alcohol back and poured it, then took your order back to the kitchen. When Nanami ordered, you dropped your chin in your hands, watching him, distracted by the very sight of him.

He nodded at the younger girl politely, and she grew pink, scurrying off to the next room. Kento looked back at you as you laughed and started up another conversation. You talked about school and work and everything in between, the mood only shattering when you felt the incessant buzz of the phone in your pocket.

You were in the middle of a story, but your sentences started to blend together into something that didn’t make sense. You stumbled over what you were saying, feeling the weight of the phone in your pocket as you tried to refocus on your words, but remained distracted.

The phone buzzed again in your pocket. You gritted your teeth. Fucking Gojo Satoru and his idiotic brain—you’d told him not to contact you.

“Is everything alright?” Kento blinked as you took your phone out and set it in your purse.  

“I’m sure it doesn’t matter.”

He hesitated, thoughtful as he swallowed a sip of wine. “Well, I don’t want you to get in any trouble if it’s work.”

“I took off today. If they can’t handle two sorcerers being gone, then they’ve got bigger problems.”

Nanami sighed, drumming his fingers against the table. “I guess that’s true. Speaking of work, I—"  

The phone buzzed louder, then there was a pause. It buzzed again. You cringed.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you, but—”

The phone started ringing.

You were close to throwing the bag altogether, and probably would’ve, if it hadn’t been one of the most expensive accessories you owned. Nanami looked down at the bag, then back at you, eyebrows raised.

“Honey…” he said, eyes gesturing to the phone. “Just answer it.”

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you, and you dug your phone out of the bag, Megumi Fushiguro’s name was bold as it lit up on the screen. You held it tightly in your hand and began to stand, feeling sick and horrible and wondering if all the secrecy had just ruined his birthday. “I’m so sorry Kento—"

He shrugged; his voice was solid with gentle patience. “It’s alright. Take your time.”

You nodded, and waited until you were out of earshot to answer the phone, feeling horrible about leaving him all by himself. Once you were in the bathroom, locked in one of the stalls, you answered. “Hello?”

“Itadori dropped the cake.”

You took a breath before answering Megumi’s calm remark, wondering how close you actually were to snapping. “What.”

In the background, the pink-haired boy wailed over and over, loud cries that were, clearly, full of remorse. “It was an accident!” He shouted over Kugisaki’s berating, and you weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry, because that was the last thing you’d expected to happen.

“Itadori dropped the cake,” Megumi repeated, flatly, like you hadn’t gotten it the first time. “It’s all over the floor. Kugisaki’s trying to get him to clean it up, but it’s just making him even more miserable.”

You covered a hand over your mouth, wondering why your eyes were welling up with frustrated tears. Things were not going the way you’d planned. “Is Gojo there yet?”

“Yeah.” Megumi hesitated, and there was a pause, like he was unsure what to do now that he finally had you on the phone. “Want me to put him on?”

You nodded, before realizing that he couldn’t see you, and muttered, “yes.” Within a moment, the older man, currently in charge of three teenagers, was on the line.

“This may or may not be Gojo,” he said, and you were glad that he at least had enough intelligence to sound nervous.

“Satoru.” You tried hard not to panic. “Please, please can you try and find another cake? I know it’s late, but I’m not sure how much longer I can stall here. I’m trying so hard not to be suspicious, but I’m horrible at it.”

“I can try, but—"

“Kento already thinks I’m acting weird, and he keeps asking me questions that I’m doing a very bad job of answering. I feel awful because it’s his birthday, and I’m afraid he thinks I’m just getting ready to split up with him or something.”

“Ouch.” Gojo said dramatically, hissing like he’d been stung. “That’d be a bit of an asshole move, wouldn’t it?”

“Well, I’m obviously not going to do that!” You scrubbed your hands over your face. “He seemed upset today, and I just don’t want all of this to go to waste. Please, Satoru. It doesn’t matter what the cake looks like, but just make sure that you get something, so that—"

“Hey,” he said, dropping the theatrics when you choked back a sob. His tone grew serious. “Take a deep breath. I think you’re forgetting who we’re dealing with here.”

“What do you mean?” You blinked, dabbing your eyes, hoping that your mascara wouldn’t smear.

“Nanami is going to appreciate the gestures, even if they aren’t perfect.”

You inhaled and exhaled, realizing that Satoru was right. Out there was a man that you loved very much, who loved you in return, and this was not as serious as you were making it out to be. “You’re right.”

“Obviously. Enjoy your dinner. I can take care of it.”

“Are you sure? It sounds like a warzone in the background.”

“Everything’s fine,” Gojo swore, even if you didn’t entirely believe him. “I told Megumi not to call you, but he loves getting me in trouble. Please, don’t worry about it.”

You opened your mouth, but Gojo had already hung up.

As you left the stall, you sighed, seeing yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were red with unshed tears, but you’d already made Kento wait long enough.

Twitching nervously, you headed back to the table. Nanami was sitting patiently, scrolling through something mindlessly on his phone.

“Everything okay?” he asked as you sat back down, noticing the signs of tears and misery. He reached for you across the table, but then thought better of it, and just frowned.

“Everything’s fine. I’m just really sorry, Kento.” You looked down at your hands. “I didn’t mean to be so rude. It’s your birthday. I want you to enjoy it.”

A beat of silence passed. He smiled. “I am enjoying it.” He did reach for your hand, then, and pulled it tight against his own. “This has been the best birthday, sweetheart. Why are you upset?”

You swallowed. “I’m not upset.” You shook your head, trying to clear the unhappiness from your expression. “Anyways, what were you saying? I interrupted.”

Nanami’s face fell. You’d changed the subject so quickly; he hadn’t had the chance to ask you any more questions. “Right. Well, nothing important. I just have to be in Kyoto next week.”

You frowned. “All week?”

He nodded. “I wanted to let you know in case you wanted to make plans. You’ve been...” he paused, thinking over his words. “Seeing Gojo a lot lately, so I thought you might want to—”

You stared at him, and realized what he was getting at. Fuck, you felt so horrible. “Oh,” you said, scratching your wrist under the table. “Yeah. Maybe. I’m sure he’ll be busy too.”

That wasn’t the answer Nanami was looking for. He stopped, and then regrouped, nodding. “Well, either way, I wanted you to know. They didn’t give me advanced notice.”

You smiled tightly. “I’m going to miss you.”

“It’s only for a few days,” he said, releasing your hand to place it back onto his lap. “But I’m going to miss you too.” There was something distant in his voice when he said it.

On the way home from the restaurant, Gojo texted you obnoxiously, sending you pictures of the house, the cleanliness of it, the set-up of the gifts, the new cake, and you smiled to yourself, somewhat relieved that things weren’t a complete disaster.

You could feel Kento’s eyes on you as he drove home, his hand resting on your thigh as you turned slightly away from him, keeping his eyes off the screen.

Stop sending me things before he sees my phone.

Gojo’s response was much too quick.

Stop looking at your phone.

You sighed, clicking the screen off and finally relaxing against the window. The secrecy was almost over; you hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to keep this all hidden without causing so much dramatic suspicion.

Nanami pulled into park in front of your home, squeezing your leg gently before releasing it. You expected him to make a move to get out of the car, but instead he sat, contemplative, the key still in the ignition.

You swallowed, looking at him. “Is everything okay?”

He took a breath, turning back to you with some sort of determination in his eyes. “Have I done something to upset you?” he asked, his voice so incredibly gentle.

“What?” you said, laughing nervously. “Why would you ask that?”

His face fell as he looked back at the steering wheel. “I just thought this would be easier if I’d hurt you in some way.”

Your mouth grew dry. You reached for him. “Kento—”

“Look,” he scrubbed a hand through his hair, the strands coming loose, falling onto his forehead. “I’m not trying to… I don’t want to…” His words fell off, and though you knew what he was trying to say, you didn’t want him to say it, because there was no reason for it. “If something’s wrong, I just want to know. Let’s at least try to fix it.”

“Nothing’s wrong, I promise.” You squeezed his hand, trying to pull away from him. “Can we talk about this inside?” You started to get out of the car.

“No, wait.” He stopped you again, eyes wide with disappointment, like he couldn’t get his words out fast enough. “This is what happens every time. I ask you about it, then you find a way to spin my words around so that we never talk about it. I let you every time, because I love you, and I trust you, but I don’t want to lose you.”

Your heart squeezed. “Kento.” You began, feeling bad that you were forced to talk in circles just to get him to believe in your lies. “I promise, we’ll talk about it inside. It’s still your birthday, and I don’t want to ruin it by misunderstanding one another. Please, let’s talk about it once we’re both settled in.”

Nanami’s shoulders stiffened, then deflated, but he didn’t let go of you. “There’s not… Someone else, is there?”

“Of course not.” You said fervently, kissing his hand. “God, Ken. You think I’d want anyone else when I’ve got you?”

He smiled, though it was half-hearted.

“Come on, let’s go inside. I’ll explain everything. I owe you that much.”

You led him into the house, holding his hand tightly, hoping that this went over as you intended. Beside you, he was still contemplative, flicking on the lights as you continued into your home.

“You know, I really think we should still—”

As the lights came on, his words were cut off by some variation of everyone yelling happy birthday, and he blinked back at the students he’d recently met, and all the sorcerers he’d worked with closely in the previous years. His jaw opened, then shut, then he looked at you, then back to Gojo, and you could see the understanding in his features before he’d expressed it, when everything clicked into place.

A moment of silence passed where Nanami said nothing, and then Itadori decided to fill that silence with very off-key singing, and Kento’s cheeks dusted light pink, barely visible in the light, as he squeezed your hand tighter.

Everyone made the rounds, greeting him with varying levels of enthusiasm, while Nanami just thanked them with quiet politeness, even though you could see that he was secretly pleased, his lips curling up into a smile, the signs of stress dissipating from his features.

Itadori approached with a poorly wrapped gift and a hug that Nanami didn’t quite return, but he didn’t push away, either.

Nanami took the gift, holding it with soft eyes like he’d been given something precious. “Thank you, Yuuji. This is very kind.”

“You’re welcome.” Itadori said back proudly, smiling smugly at his two friends over his shoulder, obviously proud that he’d gotten such praise. “It’s probably going to be the best gift you’ll get tonight.”

You could see Nanami trying to refrain from laughing, but he snorted instead. “Is this why you were asking me about all those things that I liked a few weeks ago?”

“Uhh…” Yuuji smiled sheepishly, rubbing a hand on his neck. “No! Not really. But… Maybe.” He sighed. “I’d thought you’d forget about that.”

Kento’s eyes crinkled at the corner, and he squeezed Itadori’s shoulder, clearly touched.

You kissed his cheek and left him alone to talk with everyone that came to visit, going to thank Gojo and the students that had helped you over the past few weeks.

An hour passed before you found Kento again, after the cake had been cut and Gojo had insisted he opened one of the many gifts he’d gotten him.

He was standing in the kitchen, staring at a pile of wrapped gifts and the sliced cake that wasn’t exactly what you’d intended, but had received the same reaction, nonetheless.

“Kento?” you said quietly, and though you could tell that he was appreciative of everyone, you still weren’t sure how the surprise had gone over. He turned to you, his sleeves rolled up, a few more strands of blond hair coming loose. His cheeks were flushed, eyes soft. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been lying—”

Kento was to you in two long strides, backing you into a wall before kissing you deeply. Your hands curled into his hair, and you hummed into his mouth with a smile as his hands rested on your hips.

“Don’t apologize,” he whispered against your mouth. “I should be the one saying sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to ridiculous conclusions.”

You laughed, kissing him again and again, feeling things finally ease back into normalcy. “I know how it looked—” He looked away, embarrassed that he’d even thought of the possibility that you would leave him for Gojo. “I’m sorry I was so suspicious.” You sighed, leaning back in his arms as you held his cheeks with both hands. “Were you surprised?”

“I wish I wasn’t. It was pretty obvious now that I think back on it.”

“But…”

“But, yes,” he said, kissing your forehead as you preened, proud that it had all pulled together in the end. “I was surprised.” He gave you one last kiss, whispering, “thank you” and “I love you” on your lips.

From behind the door, you heard shuffling, and opened your eyes to see Gojo snapping a picture, to which Nanami groaned, pushing himself away from you reluctantly.

Gojo grinned, “Sorry. I’ll let myself out. Didn’t realize you two lovebirds were in here,” he said, even though he most certainly did.

“Please do,” Nanami gestured in the direction of the front door. “I hate the fact that you even know where I live.”

Gojo’s face fell. “After everything I did for your birthday, and you’re still going to pretend you don’t like me?”

“I don’t.” Nanami sighed, before swallowing down whatever antagonist words he really wanted to say. “But thank you. I really do appreciate it.”

Gojo beamed—you intervened before he could even think to throw his arms around Kento.

[gucciforasushirestaurant]

Love Bites | Old School Love Universe

summary: harry's not fed in a while and you just want to help.

word count: 2.1k

read time: 9 min

content warnings⚠️: vampire!harry x human!reader, fluff, angst (if you squint), mentions of biting and blood and vampire biology

a/n: i guess this is a series now? haha enjoy!

Old School Love Universe

For the last week Harry has been avoiding you, which is very unlike your boyfriend. A complete deviation from his normal, arguably clingy, behavior. He’d answer your texts, but would find every excuse not to see you, and your phone calls always seemed to be cut short. You knew it probably had nothing to do with you, but it was beginning to hurt your feelings.  Especially after turning a corner in your relationship following some doubts he’d been having about whether or not you really didn’t mind he was a vampire, you were worried about this seemingly massive step backwards. So you did what any rational girlfriend would do after being ignored by their boyfriend for a week. You showed up at his front door. 

Is forcing a confrontation with Harry a good idea? Probably not. But as the days went on you went from annoyed that Harry was ignoring your text to sad to down right worried about him. So you told yourself it was nothing more than a wellness check, and marched across town to his apartment. 

You exited the elevator of his building, and headed to his door to see a few packages at his front door. He either hadn’t bothered to open his door in a few days or worse, he hadn't been home since he left your apartment last week. 

You didn’t want to panic, he was a vampire he could take care of himself, you're sure of it. But the ‘what if’ swarmed your mind as you lifted your fist knocking on the door. You didn’t hear anything for a moment and decided to knock again. This time you hear some rustling on the other side. 

“Harry. I can hear you in there.” you sigh, relieved at some proof of life. 

After a few moments and more shuffling from the other side of the door, he opens the front door just a crack peeking his head out just barely. Still you can see he doesn’t look like himself.  He looks tired, skin dull with bags under his eyes, and a major case of  bedhead, despite it being mid afternoon. The worry that had dissipated at the knowledge that he was at least safe at home, came back at the sight of him. 

“Doll, what are you doing here?” Harry asks tightly. 

“Open the door and we can talk about it.” you pout, giving him your best doe eyes. 

“You shouldn’t be here, baby.” 

“And why’s that?” 

He looks down shifting his feet, shifting his weight “I - I haven’t fed in a while.” He admits and your need to be close to him grows, although he's determined to keep his distance. 

“Harry, let me in.” you plea, but he shakes his head. 

“Baby Doll, I really shouldn’t.” He wants to let you in, but he’s scared, terrified actually. He knows he won’t hurt you. He’d do everything in his power to make sure that you were safe, which is why he’s iced you out recently. But he’s also never been around you while being as hungry as he is now. His plan was to keep his distance until he was able to reup on his blood bags, get fed and then give you all the cuddles and kisses to make up for him going MIA. You showing up at his door unannounced was not part of the plan. 

“Open the door Harry…please.” There’s a bit of edge to your voice but your eyes are soft and full of sympathy. 

He chuckles a little, shaking his head at your attitude.  My stubborn girl, he thinks. He should have known you weren’t going to leave him be, especially after not having seen him in so long. He opens the door slowly, stepping aside and allowing you to come in. He turns and locks the door. When he turns back to you, you rush in to hug him, nearly knocking him over. 

“It’s dangerous for you to be here while I’m like this.” he sighs sadly as he melts into your hug, though arms don’t quite wrap around you like they normally would. 

“Like what?” you ask brushing some hair from his forehead, and the proximity makes him suck in a breath. He takes your hand kissing your knuckles before intertwining his fingers with yours. 

“I told you, I haven’t fed in a while. I’m too…thirsty for you to be here right now honey.” 

“I know you’re not going to hurt me.” you say confidently and squeeze his hand in yours, “I’ve missed you.” 

“I missed you too, baby. I’m just trying to keep you safe.” 

Your heart breaks at that. You know Harry would never intentionally hurt you, and knowing that he felt he had to lock himself away to keep you safe broke you, just a little. “How long has it been?” you ask and he looks away from you, and your heart sinks, “You haven’t gone this whole time without anything have you?” you ask in a voice laced with worry. “Harry.” 

“I haven't had anything since I left your apartment Friday.” he confesses, “I was supposed to pick up more on Saturday, but my guy at the hospital said they were getting suspicious, and I needed to wait until after the blood drive this weekend, to pick up more.” 

“Why didn’t you call me?” 

“That’s why I didn’t call you.”  He hated to admit it, and he hated discussing  his diet and hunger with you.  But he promised you honesty after he told you his secret and he meant it. But seeing the worry in your eyes now, has made him realize maybe he’s done a shitty job at keeping that promise. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I was just trying to keep you safe. Keep my distance.” 

“I understand.” you sigh, “I just wish you would have told me instead of ghosting me. And I wish you would trust me with things like this H.” 

“I do trust you.” he says, squeezing your hand reassuringly, and then you get an idea. 

“Come here.” you say dragging him to his couch. You sit him down and sit in his lap. He tenses, hands on your hips to lift you off but you don’t budge. 

“Doll.” he warns, stiffly, despite wanting nothing more than to hold you close, “I think it’s best if you -” 

“I want you to drink.” 

Harry’s eyes snap to you, brows knitted together. “What?” 

“Drink.” you say, shifting closer, and pulling the hood of your hoodie to the side exposing more of your neck. 

Harry shakes his head, untangling your arms from around his neck, “No, Baby Doll. I’ll be okay. I can get some blood tomorrow and I’ll be good as new okay? Don’t worry about me.” 

“Too late.” you say, kissing his cheek. Harry turns away, sucking in a breath, but you move closer. “Drink.” 

“We’ve talked about this.” 

“And we agreed that you’d only bite me if I asked and feed from me in case of emergency. What would you call this?” 

“Not an emergency.” He insists, looking at you. 

“You’ve taught me enough about vampires by now for me to know that’s not true.” 

Harry sighs, because he hates when you’re right. He has taught you quite a lot, always answering your endless questions, even asking his friends for answers to some of the questions that he wasn’t sure about. And one of the first things you’d asked him was his diet. You’d noticed in your time leading up to his confession that he almost never ate. He’d cook for the two of you, make sure you were always fed but would only have a few bites himself. It’s when you asked about it that he told you that younger vampires like himself need more blood than a vampire older than him. And that the older he got the longer he could go without feeding and the more he’d be able to stomach solids, but for now, he pretty much lived on blood. And going as long as Harry had  admitted he’d gone without blood was bordering on dangerous. 

“Besides” you say, “You don’t let me miss a meal without a lecture. What makes you think I’m going to let you go for a week?” Harry smirks at you, and he shakes his head fondly. He leans forward and presses a much needed kiss to your lips. 

“What have I done to deserve you?” He looks at you in that love sick way that makes your stomach flip and your cheeks warm up.

“That’s very sweet.” you smile playfully rolling your eyes, “Now drink.” 

Harry chuckles, “You’re sure?”  

“Yes, please.” you say, he shifts you to come closer to him and places a soft kiss to your collarbone first, before moving up your neck to a safe spot. 

“Alright.” He sighs giving in. He’ll beat himself up for being too weak to resist later. Now, he was thirsty and physically weak and desperately needed to feed.  “Stop me if you start to feel light headed, okay?” 

“I will. I trust you.” you smile, “I just want you fed.” 

“Thank you.” He says placing a sweet kiss to your lips. 

Harry's bitten you before. Only briefly and only after you asked him too, curious about what it would be like, and wanting him to eat after you’d had your own dinner. And sometimes he’ll allow himself to indulge when the two of you are fooling around. But never has he bitten you while he was actually thirsty and he was a little worried. But knowing you had so much confidence in him, and his ability to control himself made him more comfortable. 

He places a kiss to your collarbone, and a few up your neck before finding a spot safe enough. He counts down from three, to prepare you for the initial sting of the bite before sinking his fangs into your neck. You move a hand to the back of Harry’s head, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, as he drank. 

He drinks slowly, hands on your hips, thumb stroking the skin under your hoodie to distract you from the slight discomfort of the bite. He drinks for a few short moments before he raises his head up. “You doing okay?” he says into your neck. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Just a little bit more okay?” 

You nod your head and encourage him to keep drinking and he does. With every second that passes you can feel yourself getting to that warm and fuzzy place that you tend to get to when Harry bites you.  He’d explained it was a high of sorts, brought on by a mix of the blood loss, and the ‘venom’ from his bite. Scientifically speaking, the purpose was to incapacitate a vampires ‘prey’, make them more pliant for feeding, and more susceptible to compulsion so they’d  forget the encounter after the fact. In cases like yours though, where said ‘prey’ gave in voluntarily, it would cause a short high and a brief spell of giggles. In cases where you and Harry had already been fooling around, well you’d get a little…needy. 

He drinks for a few more seconds, and then pulls away, full and satisfied. He licks the little bit of blood that's dribbled down his lip, wiping his mouth with the back of his own hoodie sleeve. With his fangs still out, he picks his index finger, drawing a drop of blood and rubs it across your bite marks watching them heal instantly. He kisses your neck one more time “There we go. Good as new.” He smiles, planting a kiss on your lips. He looks up at you and sees you looking down at him with dazed eyes, and chuckles. “Are you doing okay Doll?” 

“Yeah. I’m just - ya know.” you smile, waving your hand. “Are you sure you’re good? Full?” 

Harry nods his head, leaning into your hand that you’ve placed on his cheek. He turns, placing a peck to your palm. “I’m much better now.” He smiles sadly. Just that little bit of your blood, and he looks a million times better. His eyes, the bright emerald you were used to, his skin and hair far less dull than it was when you’d first arrived. He still had some bags under his eyes, but he looked leaps and bounds more healthy. 

“Thank you. For letting me…feed.”  

“You don’t have to thank me. Just glad you're okay. Please call me next time, if you end up in this situation again.” 

“I will,” he says holding up his pinky, “Promise.” you wrap your pinky around his, and he leans forward kissing his fists, and you do the same. 

Maybe it was the bite, or maybe it the way that Harry was looking at you, regardless you were pretty sure you were falling in love with a vampire. 

✨masterlist✨ ∣ ✨yap & request box✨

[love-minor-poltergeist]

A/N: I saw the positive reception that my Barbi hcs and I wanted to say, from the bottom of my heart, thank you kindly!! I always find myself feeling apprehensive on deviating from the fandoms I usually write for, so the fact that you all seemed to liked my Barbi content means a lot! (〃＾▽＾〃)

In the spirit of things, I decided to try my hand at baking a batch of hcs for our lovely, awful Police Sergeant Coyle! I will admit that his character was a little bit more difficult to write for since there's a lot uncomfortable themes and ideals related to his character. However! I welcome the challenge and hope that these turned out okay. Lemme know what y'all think!!

!Content Warning!: There's a passing mention of CSA/Childhood Sexual Abuse since the comics implied that it happened, and while it's only mentioned very briefly, it's better to play it safe

General Leland Coyle Headcanons:

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

Ever since his father served in the military briefly in WWII, which subsequently left the older man an invalid– having lost a foot and permanently unable to walk normally– Leland was left to carry out most of the physical labor around him and his family’s cattle farm. Pa would still insist on bossin’ him around, though, and Leland usually had to be the one to help him walk the fields while dealing with the cattle. Of course, once he joined the local police force, most of those duties fell upon his ma. 

Granted, in his ever charming views, he always thought Ma did a crap job of the physical work, so he’d usually take over anyway. All the while he and Ma argued back and forth on the fields.

An average day, if he wasn’t off dealing with police duties, he’d watch the cattle and make sure they’ve eaten and prod any escapees back into the fields. He was none too gentle, either, and he’s earned his fair share of bruises and narrowly avoided a few nasty kicks. Leland’s even got a particularly nasty scar on his lower abdomen from getting gored by a rowdy heifer. It luckily wasn’t deep enough to get him sent to the hospital, but boy did his parents ridicule him for being dumb enough to let it happen in the first place. 

Cannot cook for the life of him. Pa drilled it into his head that cooking was a woman's job, so he never really bothered to learn. All of the housework was handled by his wives, and god forbid if they wanted a break from it… During the brief stints between each marriage, Leland’s survived off diner food, cigarettes, coffee, and the occasional frozen tv dinner. 

On the other hand, however, he’s completely fine with a man cooking if it’s to handle a grill. Hell, Pa was the one to teach him how to prepare meat after they’ve sent their cattle off to the slaughterhouse, and goddamn can he cook a mean steak. Now that he thinks about it, Leland sometimes wished he paid more attention on how to make fried chicken when his Ma tried to show him… 

The Coyle family were devout Christians and attended Sunday mass each week. Of course, Leland doesn’t practice the religion much as he grew older, but much of the values taught to him remained; most of them perverted to fit his ideals. 

Thanks to his chronic smoking habit, Leland’s appetite is close to nonexistent. He does it so much that the other officers of the Blackwell Police Department often joked about how Sergeant Coyle’s office may as well have been an oven with how much smoke emanated from his office. However, given how he’s the one to handle most of the paperwork until the asscrack of dawn, and with only a cigarette and numerous cups of coffee littering his desk to keep him going, no one really complained. 

Usually shaves his head during the summer time. Sure, he’s a vain man, but it’s become a habit after his time in the military. Not to mention that it usually helped him keep cool during the days where he toiled in the fields with the sun beating down on he and Ma. The habit followed him into the Sinyala facility, where staff usually had to shear him down since, though he’s a Prime Asset and thus has special privileges, he’s still not to be trusted with anything sharp. 

Has extensive firearm training. Pa first showed him how to handle a rifle whenever the farm had to deal with coyotes and stray dogs that harassed the livestock. On the offtime there wasn’t anything to shoot, young Leland was usually spotted by the fence posts in the outer perimeter of the farm, practicing his aim with a few cans and empty bottles. Which eventually graduated to shooting at any unlucky birds or cats that wandered too close to the property. He was also put in charge of putting down any sickly cattle, too, after Pa was left crippled.

His aim only got better thanks to his time in Okinawa. He’s got more experience in rifles and pistols, but he has a natural knack for machinery, and he’s a quick learner. Not to mention that he follows gun safety to a fuckin’ T…. Which only made him even more offended when he learned that some deformed, baby-talkin’ runt got a gun before he did in Sinyala. 

Usually has a sore back after trials. Sure, he can handle lugging around that pontiac car battery on his back for hours if he needed to, but goddamn is that thing heavy. First thing he does after a trial is stretch until he hears his back pop. 

Suffers from really nasty night terrors. Going back to his comic and how it briefly touched on how Leland’s exhibited signs of CSA, it’s highly possible that much of the abuse occurred behind closed doors and at night, where everyone else was asleep. He’s avoided sleep like the plague since then. Both as a means of trying to protect himself and not have to deal with constantly reliving the incident. He’s never talked to anyone about it, and refuses to do so. 

He’s also coped with it via hypersexualising himself and inflicting pain on others. It gives him a sense of control and a rush of power that was stripped away from him. Silently vowed to never let himself be that vulnerable again.

╚═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╝

[arminsumi]

hm.. shy vampire armin who’s scared to admit that he’s a vampire to you. when he finally does, you obviously have millions of questions! one of them being about sucking blood 👀 - let’s just say he’s not so shy after he gets a taste of your sweet blood

IM SORRY I DIDNT MEAN TO MAKE IT LONG SISBIWS IM SORRY JAYYY

DRINK ME

↳ ARMIN アルミン + fem!reader

Note : V-VAMPIRE ARMIN?! you needn't apologize when u have blessed my inbox with vampmin 🧛‍♂️❤️ i used to be obsessed w the idea of vampire armin n even made a vampy ver. of him and me in the sims lol it was a whole jay era no one saw. anyways i think i deviated a bit pls forgive i was in a vampy daze 😵‍💫 and p.s. the length of ur req is all good!! no worries 👍

Warnings : vampirism, 🔞 suggestive/smutty content : mdni/mdnr, blood, blood drinking, possessiveness, marking, biting, it's a lil goofy i'm ngl

🍒 More from Jay : Armin works

He bows his head in shame, avoiding your gaze after telling you the truth one night, while the two of you were cooped up in your dorm rooms like two very normal students. Er... well, one normal student now.

"Min... that's..." you begin, too surprised for words.

"... I'm so sorry if it makes you uncomfortable. I just couldn't bear lying to you anymore. Do you... hate me for it?" he asks sheepishly.

"Not at all. I'm just surprised... kinda into it..."

"WHAT." he widens his eyes.

"Nothing." you backtrack, giggling nervously. "I didn't say that. You didn't hear that."

"Nahhh..." he looks at you with an intense gaze. "You definitely just said that... what, do you, like... have a kink for vampirism?" he jokes but your sheepish smile tells him he's right.

His heart pangs.

"Wow... that's freaky." he giggles.

Ooh... his fangy teeth are so subtle, so cute. Lil' chompers craving nothing more than to sink into your warm flesh.

"Sorry..."

"... don't be." he creeps closer to you. "It's cute... but... don't tempt me. Or I'll bite you. Joking... of course."

"Min... I'd let you bite me."

"What... 😳"

"... not to turn me! Just... for a snack."

"... a snack...? Angel, I can barely control myself when you have a tiny cut on your finger, I think I'd lose it if you let me suck your blood. It would be too sweet..."

He'd get a sugar rush, for sure, from gulping down your saccharine blood.

"I wouldn't mind. I lov— I uh... I'll offer it to you anyways. Um... incase you ever want to."

Well now he's looking desirously at your neck, struggling to maintain eye contact. He was so taken aback by you forwardly permitting him to take a sip of you.

He stares at you silently for a moment.

"Uh... would it hurt...?" you ask.

He drops his tone into a serious, concerned voice.

"Yeah... it would hurt quite a bit..." he informs you, "And it takes a while for the mark to heal... but if you're o-okay with... me having just a taste..."

"I am..." you say, "Mmm... weird question, but is it possible for you to drink all my blood in one go?" you suddenly ask, curious.

He chuckles a little, "Um, considering there's like... about five liters of blood in your body... no, I couldn't drink it all in one go." he lightens the darkening atmosphere with a joke, "It'd give me a major tummy ache."

"So... how much would you drink from me right now, to replenish yourself?" you inquire further, pawing closer to him.

He gulps, enticed by your scent.

"Probably a glass' worth...? That's typical." he looks away, too shy to say more. The thought of drinking a glass of your blood felt like asking for too much. "More than a glass would just be greedy..."

"Would it get messy and ugly?"

"Nah... I pride myself on being a clean eater." he winks, endeared by your giggly reactions to his subtle flirting.

It's bizarre to Armin; he expected you to be repulsed by his vampirism. But you're not. You're still flirting as hard as you did before he told you tonight.

"Armin... drink from me." you say seriously, seeing how he was holding his hands behind his back so tight when really he just needed to give into his raw desire.

"Uh—" he gulps as if his mouth is watering, "Are you sure you know what you're offering me?"

"Yes." you say more serious than ever. "Drink me."

Did you intend for that last part to sound so seductive? He can't tell.

He looks at you with eyes blown open, and bats his lashes in disbelief.

Then a a few moments later... he's pinning you to the bed and slotting his slender leg between your thighs.

His lips graze your neck, he kisses it... licks it... takes his time with it. You ask a bit more, breath staggering at his feverish licking.

"Do you always lick this much?"

"Mhm..."

"Why?"

"It's um... like a taste test..."

You feel your cheeks and chest warm up. "Oh... I see."

It's a minute later and he's sloppily making out with the area he intends to bite and drink from, while you happily allow him and run your fingers through his tawny blond hair.

"A–angel... your neck is so..." he swallows his drool, "so pretty... I'll be as gentle as p-possible... promise..."

"You don't have to be..."

"... really?" he asks breathlessly.

"Mhm."

He anyways encourages you to hold his hand and squeeze it if it's too much pain. "I'll stop if you tell me to... I have good discipline, I swear."

When his fangs fully come out, he slowly grazes their sharp point across your skin and gives testing pokes across the sweet curve of your neck. He exposes your neck more, pinning your shoulder with his hand.

One small gasp escapes you as he sinks just a tiny bit of his fangs in. He's trying his best to make it a smooth and clean incision. He's good and disciplined, he reminds himself, he can't just tear into you like you're nothing but a blood filled sac.

"Ah...!" you hiss in pain. It hurts way more than you anticipated, two sharp fangs pricking into your skin.

The way he sucks your blood out feels... sensual. Romantic. Like it's intimate... because it is. How many vampires does he know of that suck necks? It's the most erotic place to suck. It's an unspoken rule in his world to avoid the neck... because it's such an erogenous zone. Usually only lovers poke their fangs there...

Simply said? Armin sucked blood from your neck just to slyly turn you on. Because he had the hots for you. The cute human who wormed into his sexual fantasies.

"Mmm!" you squeal softly for him.

"Mmm..." he groans back, sinking his fangs as deep as they can go, spiraling into pleasure as his lips press flesh against your skin and squish flat.

"Min..." you moan, and now he knows he's got you.

Some blood dribbles down your chest and forms rivulets down his chin. He pulls his fangs out and licks at the wound lustfully, eyes lidded and breath heavy.

"F-fuck..." he curses, feeling himself getting a bit too excited after that intimate moment.

He's quietly patting himself on the back for not losing control even though the taste of your blood made him dizzy.

He inhales deeply to stabilize himself. Then he checks on you, caring eyes peering into your soul.

"Are you okay?" he asks, voice deep and low.

"Y-yeah..." you nod.

"It stings a bit, right?" he asks with a slight glint of sadism in his eyes.

You nod, "Not too much..."

He smiles at you, fangs cutely poking udner his upper lip and peaking out a bit.

"Good... don't wanna hurt my sweet Y/n."

Oops... did he just get a little possessive? Mhm yeah he did. And you don't realize it, but he made sure is fangs sunk deep enough to leave a longlasting territorial mark... he had to let the world know you were claimed as his little human possession.

"Min... you okay? You zoned out." you laugh.

An hour has passed. He cleaned up all the blood and now laid snuggling with you in bed. For the first time, he was spooning you; a small show of dominance that he never showed before biting you up.

"Yeah... just a bit dazed."

"In a bad way?" you ask.

"No. I just get dazed after drinking sweet wine." he says.

"Hm...? Is that so? Dazed and dizzy 'cause of me?"

He smirked, eyes admiring your bite marks in the dim moonlight. He thumbs the skin around them.

"Yeah... dazed and dizzy for you..." he says slowly, voice washed with drowsiness.

He clutches you tight and sleeps.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[hamlettie]

“ GOD IN YOU

Fyodor Dostoevsky (BSD) & Reader

— You find Fyodor frozen in the middle of the snow. You don’t know him, but you two share a moment together.

“In that, you’re right. God, as the kind of person He is, wouldn’t feel good thinking about how His homes are ruled…” His gaze rose to the vast and empty sky, getting lost in the fog, as his body lay back on the snow. He let out a sigh. “God is not a person.”

Words—1.4k

Content—SFW! Religious and philosophical themes. Pre-rat Fyodor (he did commit crimes, but this is before the organization). Fluff, comfort. You can see he is hurt.

Notes—First time posting fanfic in Tumblr!! :D There is a part that is inspired in “He bled for us” fanfiction by @/creantzy because since i read it, it just grew on me like canon and I can’t see things otherwise.

The sky was stained with a dark and cold mist; you couldn’t even see the moon or the stars. As you walked along the path among the trees, the sound of your steps was muffled by the dense snow. In all of this, you seemed to spot something strange as you lifted your gaze towards the clearing. The body of someone dressed in dark clothing contrasted against the pure white snow. Oh, a man! Around him, there were no marked footsteps. It was as if he had fallen from the sky… or perhaps, he had been there since the morning before the massive snowfall that probably covered such traces.

If you were a bit more normal, witnessing this would worry you to the extreme, and you would run to check if the man was okay or even breathing. But you didn’t react, at least not immediately. You simply deviated from the path, moving away from the black, bare trees, and walked towards the figure with complete naturalness.

If anyone were to see you at that very moment, they would think you were taking it with an inhuman tranquility. But it wasn’t that. It was more of a certain resignation: for that man to be lying there, the world and the people inhabiting it should be more rotten than you believed.

Poor man, you thought.

But when you got close enough, you could see his flickering magenta eyes gazing at the sky. You noticed he held a silver rosary in his hands over his chest. Strangely, he seemed so calm, as if he were incapable of feeling any cold.

You lowered your scarf slightly and asked, not wanting to interrupt too much: “Are you okay?”

Suddenly, the man noticed your presence. He quickly scanned you from head to toe, as if you might pose a danger he hadn’t anticipated. However, as soon as he saw that you were just an ordinary person, rightfully concerned, his eyes relaxed, and they returned to the misty sky.

“Yes,” he replied.

You sat down on the cold snow next to him. Even though he seemed to show no signs of being cold, you didn’t want to be mistaken. You took off the scarf that covered half of your face and offered it to him. “Here,” you said. “You need it more than I do.”

The man’s eyes looked back at you.

“Certainly…” he said, as if he was remembering where he was. “I must be cold.”

He carefully sat on the snow, as if being cautious with his own body. With a certain peculiarity, he took the scarf, staring intently at your hands, making sure not to touch them as he accepted the garment.

In a few seconds, the comfortable scarf was wrapped around his neck, and he let out a small sigh, closing his eyes as he felt the soft wool with the tips of his fingers. He seemed content.

As he kept silent, you said: “You could get seriously sick, or worse, die of hypothermia being out here… Did someone leave you here?”

A brisk breeze brushed against you two as his magenta eyes opened. His delicate black hair flowed with the wind.

“No one left me here. I came on my own.”

He didn’t seem very enthusiastic about your questions. Nevertheless, he also didn’t seem like you bothered him. He kept his gaze on you, as if wondering what else you might ask. Because of that, the absence of any negative reaction to your presence, you didn’t want to leave him alone as he was before.

You noticed that he continued to grip his rosary tightly with his left fist, and you thought that was a good topic. Or… maybe it wasn’t. You recalled the incidents in the monasteries, of monks, novices, and fathers who were found dead in a pool of blood. You thought that it could be that this guy came directly from something like that, explaining his strange behavior.

Still, you had nothing else to talk about.

“Your rosary is very nice.”

The guy’s eyes shifted from yours to the gleaming silver of the object that shone brighter than ever in the whitish atmosphere.

“In some particular universe… I might have been a fervent novice in the local monastery. But not in this world.”

“The world is cruel,” you tried to console. “I’m sorry about the incidents…”

The guy concealed the rosary in his black clothes, strangely gaining a certain determination in the act.

“No,” he said shortly. “Churches tend to be crueler than the world itself.”

“In that, you’re right. God, as the kind of person He is, wouldn’t feel good thinking about how His homes are ruled…”

His gaze rose to the vast and empty sky, getting lost in the fog, as his body lay back on the snow. He let out a sigh.

“God is not a person.”

A certain degree of confusion introduced itself in your head.

“What do you mean, not a person? Isn’t God a being, a moral figure, for us to follow?”

“No, He’s more than a being, more than a simple model of ethos. Because God doesn’t breathe like we do. God doesn’t get sick, and He’s not susceptible to the freezing cold of the snow…”

Suddenly, the guy sneezed.

“Come on… you’re getting sick,” you said. “We should go.”

But he didn’t respond to your idea. Instead, in a few seconds, he tried to continue developing his idea as if he hadn’t heard you.

“God is… He is everything conceivable. He is not just the material reality like furniture, matter, the… small atoms that make up snowflakes…” The pale tips of his fingers felt the snow, bringing it infront of his eyes, appreciating every sensory detail that God had provided for him, for us, for everyone to feel. “God is how everything works. The laws of physics, chemistry, that we deduce through pure intuition and intellect… God is that as well.”

You remained silent, attentive to his words.

Slowly, you settled in, resigning yourself to the numbing touch of the snow, lying down on it, hearing its crunch, and joining him in the dialectical journey he was undertaking. At least, you felt that he connected with what is true in this world to establish such connections between ideas that, if not for him, would continue to be separated. Science and God returned to their usual relationship before their big fight, like a married couple apologizing and promising to listen and respect each other from now on.

Because science is a human product, and the human product is God.

“That means…” you said, “that we are all part of God.”

“We are all part of God, even the sinners… That’s why He loves us so much. It’s like… do you know that natural attachment parents usually have to their children? Even when the child is the most horrible, physically ugly, and very badly behaved, but still, the parents still love him and always will, because they tell everyone how wonderful the despicable child is. Well, that’s kind of like God’s love. But He is not compassionate with those who don’t recognize their wrongdoing. Sinners disrupt the order established by Him and harm His world, harm others who are like Him.”

The corners of your lips timidly lifted your cheeks. Something was making sense to you.

“It’s as if we were all the same person, don't you think?”

His gaze fell on you, observing you closely. But unlike the other times he looked at you, this time it arose from genuine interest. At least, that's what you felt when you saw his eyes flashing that hint of surprise.

After a few seconds, the man turned his face away and closed his eyelids, no longer watching you or the sky. In such tranquility, he replied, “Certainly,” while his left hand was hidden under his clothes, gripping the shiny object he hid, and his right hand continued to play with the senses of the pompous scarf.

You couldn’t stop looking at him.

“…What’s your name?”

Without moving an inch, he replied, “Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky.”

Then, as you directed your gaze to the sky, the dense dark fog had dispersed. The moon was above all, in that sky you thought was black but was actually blue. The tones of the snow painted a beautiful light blue, shining, and the stars twinkled above both of you.

[spaceyaceface]

Don't Go Where I Can't Follow

Sebastian Sallow and Ominis Gaunt (Platonic) (Or not idk read it how you like)

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Feelings of guilt, murder, almost murder, angstttt oh my god, hurt/comfort

Summary: Sebastian can't give up. Not even after he's killed his Uncle. He's determined to save Anne, and won't take no for an answer.

Or, a brief exploration into the broken(?) friendship between Sebastian and Ominis after everything happens.

A/N: A bit of a deviation from my normal content. No MC to be seen here besides a brief mention. I really liked writing this, though, because it's hard to imagine things go "back to normal" after the catacombs.

They’d all given up on him. On Anne. Even she had made that clear in that damned letter, running off to Merlin knows where. What did they not understand? He couldn’t afford to give up; not when he knew he was so close.

Solomon had destroyed the relic, and Anne had done the same with the book. For a while, those blows had devastated him. 

But they hadn’t been able to burn what lingered in his mind. 

He’d read that book, over and over, practically memorized it—and he found it was enough to start on. Enough to keep him going. 

No one agreed with him. They were too afraid of the power that laid just past their fingertips. Ironic, for the new fifth year he had befriended. Hadn’t they been trying to master powerful magic themselves? What was it that had them so afraid this time around? The fear they felt—both them and Ominis—is what stopped them. It was foolish. Why fear it, when you could control it?

Because he’d felt the way that sort of magic flowed through him. He understood the reins he had to hold, the deep well that was stored so deep, just waiting to be accessed. 

There had to be a cure in those depths. Had to. 

He no longer asked for help in his studies. Why bother—all he’d get was a no, an argument. Another person telling him he’d gone too far, when he knew he was just scratching the surface. 

He’d made new habits. Ones that involved him sneaking around the castle, even in the light of day. Ones that had him skipping classes—none of them mattered more than his sole focus. He skipped meals. Spoke to no one. An endless loop of searching, searching, searching. 

He’d find it. The answer. It was out there. 

People stared at him wherever he was seen nowadays. He supposed he couldn’t blame them—he looked quite different. His hair had grown longer. Eyes more sunken. When he looked in a mirror, he saw himself looking more and more like Anne, and it only spurred him to try harder. 

There was one pair of eyes that never looked upon him—simply because they couldn’t. They belonged to the person Sebastian avoided the most. 

Because there was a pain that lingered there—one that hurt more than others. One that reminded him of those moments after he killed his uncle, a twist of the stomach that’ll leave him breathless if he lets it. 

He’d labeled that feeling as betrayal. It didn’t seem right, but he decided it was close enough. He’d felt betrayed by Solomon, and betrayed by Ominis. Surely that was the thread that connected them. 

But Ominis hadn’t betrayed him completely. Not like his uncle had. No—Ominis had decided not to turn him in. His loyalty had won out for that much—maybe that was why it had hurt even more. That there was some loyalty—some trust—that remained. It just had limits. 

It was probably cruel of him to use his old friend’s space in a way he would have so very disagreed with. But Ominis hadn’t been back to the Undercroft after everything had happened, and Sebastian didn’t know of any other place to continue his research. So he defaced the walls with pages torn from books, with writings and notes connecting them. 

He was scribbling something down on one of the pages when he heard the door open behind him. 

It seemed that Ominis had finally returned. 

Sebastian tensed, standing silently. Ominis’s wand let out its constant red glow, and Sebastian knew his friend sensed him, confirmed further when his pale friend faced toward him. 

“Sebastian.” 

It was strange, hearing his name in someone’s voice. It struck Sebastian that it had been quite some time since someone had spoken directly to him. 

“Ominis,” he answered, frowning. 

“I need to talk to you.” 

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”

“You’re not yourself, Sebastian,” Ominis said. “You haven’t been for months.”

“How do you know that?” Sebastian hissed. “You’ve given up on me. Everyone has. I think you’ve all just forgotten what I’m like.”

“Sebastian—”

“But I don’t give up so easily,” he continued, stepping closer to the blond. “Even if Anne is done with me, I’m not finished. Not until I find a way to heal her.”

“I haven’t given up on you,” Ominis spat. “Why on earth do you think I’m here right now? And do you think I want to see Anne healed any less than you do? This isn’t the way to do it, Sebastian. Don’t you feel any of it?”

“Feel what?” he growled. 

“Guilt,” Ominis answered. “Remorse. I know it’s eating you whole. Don’t you regret any of it? Haven’t you lost enough of yourself already?”

Sebastian laughed bitterly. “Lost myself? I haven’t lost anything. At least not anything worthwhile.” 

“Are you as blind as I am?” Ominis shouted. “What about your mind? Clearly that’s not with you. Your uncle is gone. Your sister.”

Anger anew ignited inside him. “This is for her! All of it!” Sebastian roared. 

“She doesn’t want it!” Ominis yelled. They were across from each other, a few short feet apart. “She doesn’t want you, not sick with this madness!”

And that’s when Sebastian realized his wand was raised. 

It’s pointed directly at Ominis’s chest. There was a familiar taste on his tongue—like iron, but more bitter. It’s the taste of words uttered once before, words that had taken a life. 

His wand clattered to the ground. Before, this time, instead of after. Out of fear instead of regret. The sound echoed from the walls, and it sounded too much like those catacombs. 

He’d almost done it. Again.

He looked back up at Ominis, and to his surprise, there was no horror there. No fear, from his best friend being ready to kill him. Instead, there was nothing but anguish, tears flowing freely down his face. 

“Please,” Ominis said. His voice was soft. Trembling. Nothing like the shouts from moments before. “Please, Sebastian. I know this path. I’ve followed you, for better or worse, for all my life. But I can’t come with you if this is where you go. I’m begging you, don’t go where I can’t follow.” 

“Ominis…” The word came out as a twisted, strangled noise. 

He wasn’t sure who rushed to who, or if it was a perfect meeting in the middle. But suddenly, Ominis was embracing him, and Sebastian clung back like he was drowning. A sob made its way up his throat, and hot tears came tumbling down on his friend’s robes. 

Those things he had locked away, refused to let himself feel, came forward with full force. The loneliness. The sting of his failures. The guilt. That was what he had felt, every time he had looked at his friend. A guilt and shame so deep and lasting, he feared it would destroy him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, over and over again. Because his friend had warned him, he had seen the end from the beginning, and Sebastian had ignored it. “I’ve lost everything. Everything.”

“Not everything,” Ominis said, pulling away enough to talk to him. “I’m right here.” 

Sebastian leaned forward, letting his forehead rest against his. “You’re the only family I have left.”

Ominis seemed at a loss with that, tears anew flowing out. It took a few moments for him to croak out a few words. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I need to stop,” Sebastian said. “I need your help. I can’t do this, not alone.”

“You won’t be alone,” Ominis promised. “Not anymore.”

One feeling came forward, warmer than the rest. One that he decided he would cling onto, with everything he had. 

Hope.

[transmothergoddess]

"Better to reign in Hell, than to serve in Heaven" - The Devil, Paradise Lost by John Milton

This blog will feature kinks such as:

Pleasure-domming

Incest

Cult-play

Cannibalism

Trans Supremacy

Consensual non consent

Impregnation

And more. This is your content warning. If things of this nature in fiction are not to your liking then you should not be viewing this blog. Minors dni, don't be a dick, etc.

As for turn offs:

Bathroom kinks and diapers

Furry/anthro/scalie and things of that nature

Bothering me without permission

Baby talk or uwu writing styles

Hyper proportions

Men in dominant roles.

Raceplay

If you run a blog that includes one of my turn offs, feel free to follow and interact, but just respect that I'm not interested in that personally and I won't be looking at your blog. I block with enthusiasm, so respect my rules on my own blog and we'll get along.

Rules: For my own mental health and emotional well-being, as well as to suit my tastes, I'll keep a simple list of things I expect from anyone who chooses to interact with me personally, but not with simple likes or reblogs/comments/tags on my posts.

1) Don't take these rules way too seriously. This is for fun and fantasy, these rules are a guideline for my own enjoyment and to get me in the mood and fuel my desires. At the end of the day I'm a normal person that has a lot on her mind, and I can't pay attention to everyone.

2) Uphold a basic standard of literacy with as few spelling mistakes or grammar deviations as possible. I like when people I interact with have a good grasp of writing.

3) Don't beg for tasks, ask politely and with humility. If I am in the mood, I will deign to grace you with my attention.

4) Don't pester me with multiple asks or messages. I don't mind spam likes/reblogs or tons of asks/messages, but when it starts venturing into self-deprecating or begging for attention, I'm liable to block and move on.

5) Respect my privacy and boundaries. I work hard irl and just want to have a fun relaxing time. I also deal with mental illness so sometimes I'll go inactive for awhile for my own sake. If I say I'm dealing with something for instance, give me a bit of breathing room and assume if we were using the red/yellow/green light system that I just invoked a yellow or red light.

6) I primarily soft-domme. I'll do harder stuff if I like you, but it's emotionally taxing and if we do that, I need aftercare. If you don't think a domme should ask for aftercare, just don't bother speaking with me.

7) Irl I struggle with body image issues that I'm trying to work on. Don't ask me about my height, my weight, my size, or just anything about my real body. If you want a picture, and I really enjoy your company, I may send something. But for fucks sake I am sensitive about my appearance and it drives me up the wall when people demand pictures.

8) My preferred honorifics are: Mother, Goddess, Mistress, Queen, or anything that conveys a sort of maternal or holy authority. Mommy doesn't convey the sense of knowing acknowledgement that I like. Fellow tops, dommes, or casual visitors to my blog can instead use "My Lady" or "Your Grace" if it pleases them.

9) If you want more of my attention, think of me as a queen or cult leader with tons of sycophants and menials I deal with on a daily basis. I like intelligent, independent people that show enthusiasm and respect. I like *interesting* people. You aren't just preening for my attention, you should be trying to court me or curry my favor. I tell everyone they're my favorite, but if you actually want to be more than a tool for my pleasure then you have to show me or teach me something interesting.

10) Anyone identifying as a man, he/him pronouns, or masculine honorifics should first show respect and submission to me before sending asks or dms.

With this all in mind, welcome to the Courts of Love, and the Cult of Pleasure~

[that-ghosts-art]

“Come on buddy, don’t ya wanna make a lil deal with lil ol’ me?”

I’ve been on a bit of an equivalence high recently as anyone following me may have guessed haha ^-^

For anyone who’s interested I’ve written some of my thoughts on demon!Mabel below the cut :3

First things first let's talk about her style and general appearance, cause I feel like I’ve deviated a fair bit from the previously established fancy suit she’d been portrayed as having like Dipper.

My logic for the change (outside of wanting to try drawing something that isn’t a suit haha) is that I feel she would have more varietyin the outfits she wears compared to Dipper. Looking at the show Dipper was out there wearing the exact same outfit for an entire summer while Mabel (admittedly wearing the same type of clothes) had significantly more variety, wearing a different sweater every episode, some episodes even having more than one, and I feel this would continue to reflect here.

Dipper has his suit and doesn't venture much further then that if he can help it (obviously not to say he doesn't but you know what I mean). Mabel mean while would have a new outfit every day, multiple per day sometimes!

Most of the time I think she would default to a more punk, diy aesthetic because of the inherent creativity of it (which for a typically detail averse artist such as myself was certainly a decision haha), not to mention I can imagine Mabel being like “I’m a literal demon Dipper I gotta go for the outfits with the spikes and chains!”

At the same time she would definitely enjoy trying out a whole host of different styles (to a point though. Some just aren't comfortable, not any more at least, a part of her stolen away with the Transcendence).

I'd need to do some research into clothing styles to say specifically what else she would enjoy, but I can say it's a lot of black with small splashes and highlights of colour. She's also, regardless of style wear lots and lots of jewellery and piercings cause I think she’d like them :3

Switching things up a bit I wanna quickly go over her pins (ie, her queer identities). My hc for demon!Mabel is the same for normal Mabel, being bisexual with a masc preference, and a demigirl (she/her/they/them exploring and trying out various neo pronouns as she encounters them, rotating through them depending on her mood).

Slightly serious tangent, but I know the previously established lore for EAU was that she would be aroace, but in all honesty that never quite sat right with me. Like the only reason she, or subsequently Dipper in the main TAU canon, are aspec is because of the demon-ness, and while I love demons and the demonic as much as the next aroace person, and I adore representation of my identity, the implications aren’t my favourite in the world. Obviously no disrespect to the people behind that decision, (in fact I applaud them on exploring how a character like Mabel might react to people assuming she wants that in this lil fic here :3). Only the maddest of respect to the people who make characters the identities they want them to be :) I just wanted to address it for anyone who like me has read every bit of eau content they can get their grubby lil hands on and noticed that particular difference :p

Besides, this way we get to explore the logistical and moral implications of a character being allosexual while also being an incredibly powerful and immortal being, especially when you get into questions of how she ages herself compared regular humans :3c (I think I'll leave that for another post though haha)

On a different note, another design idea I had was that it'd be really cool if she had a dynamic and moving tattoo that would constantly change and show new (typically pig and star related) designs :) this definitely wasn't inspired by my own inability to come up with and stick to a particular singer design, definitely not.

I also thought it would be neat to differentiate the demonic aspects of her and Alcor's design by giving her feathered wings, rather than the typical bat wings. I mostly just thought it could be nice to try drawing something different, and while Dipper and Mabel are very close and have a fair amount in common they are still very different characters, so it would make sense for their demonic features to differ, even is only slightly. On that note I also gave her a pink outline to her pupils as inspired by this art cause I thought it was neat :3

Anyway I accidentally posted this before I was finished so Imma just take that as a sign to stop and put my other thoughts in a different post haha 😅

[magnumdays]

Magnum PI 5.04 - ‘NSFW’ review

I think this might be my new favourite episode! Seriously, this had all the bits I love and nothing I didn’t so doesn’t that make it the perfect Magnum PI episode? I’m inclined to think so...

Everyone be Worrying (this be da theme of the week?)

So maybe a strange thing to start off with but this episode has a lot of worrying about each other. Higgy worries about Thomas (hand touching again!), Thomas worries about the guys, Gordy worries enough to risk his career, TC’s girl notices and is worried, Rick worries that he wasn’t there for Ruthie and even the case is, at the core about worrying something has happened.

I did really enjoy Higgy being worried, though I can’t decide why the line“I don’t want anything to happen to you, especially now.” is bugging me. Just a little.

Like sure, I get that things are different, but would she really have been that much less devastated six months ago if he got hurt? It just felt a little strange for some reason to me. I did love that we finally got another Miggy kiss, and they’re being so super adorable with the kissing and banter and worrying! Just making my day.

Also is Thomas/Jay saying “now I don’t want to go” not the sexiest thing anyone has ever said? Like what did he do to make his voice all raspy and grrr? Very much enjoyed. Big time enjoyed. Can’t wait for more because damn NBC you’re killing it with the Miggy content. Like it’s just perfectly woven into the rest of the episode.

The Case

So I think I cared the most about this case out of the four we’ve had so far this season. We can see that the client Jordan really is concerned about Sandra both on a personal level and because if she’s not there for the big meeting the company might go under. A company doing good thing, possibly being at the forefront of clean energy.

So yeah, half meeting in, I care about Sandra and this company and I want everything to work out.

Spoilers - things do not work out - neither for Sandra, Jordan or (I’m assuming) the company.

I enjoyed both Magnum and Higgins investigating, Magnum pretending to be ‘Tom’ and Higgy hacking and checking garbage and just them putting things together. 

Leaving it a little ambiguous with if the prosecutor ended up going after Jordan or Zoe was an interesting deviation from the normal ‘justice is always served’ theme of Magnum PI. Will, the janitor guy was saved from being falsely incarcerated though which is very on brand. 

Little sad about the energy company presumably going belly up. It would have been interesting if the Mom had confessed and then maybe part of her motivation could have been ‘this way the company lives on’ even as she took the fall. Because it did sound like she was into creating it too and cared about Sandra too.

Wonder if we get to see Zoe again. There was something a little sweet-creepy about her... and she did kill Sandra and is going to get away scot free. Wonder what that does to a person... (she could be a odd sort of return bad guy for season 6. Maybe.) Also how would it be like to live with your kid knowing she’d killed your husband’s mistress? Weird I’m guessing.

Ruthie & Rick

I thought this was a really interesting dynamic, like Rick expects screw-up Ruth but she’s grown up and even has the audacity of having kept a secret from him for decades(?)! Rick goes from worrying what’s wrong and how he might help her to worrying about not having been clued in, to worrying about not having been good enough/been what she needed. In the end she shows she very much thinks of him as someone very important to her by asking her to give her away at her wedding.

It showed up a bit of a different side to Rick, which was nice, we got a feels plot + positive representation and a kind of interesting take on how someone might feel about a person coming out. Rick isn’t upset about her being gay but about the secret and not having known. I really liked that, because it showcases that you can be okay with someone’s sexuality but still struggle when you learn something surprising about someone you’re close to and maybe feel sad and upset they didn’t trust you sooner. I think. 

Also I want to meet Tammy now. She seems like a blast.

TC & Mahina (Cade)

So we finally got word Cade is coming back! I’m looking forward to that and I’m loving how sweet TC and Mahina are and it’s nice to see TC having someone look out for him. I hope we get to see more of Mahina, maybe something with her job as a fire fighter (I do remember that right and she was a fire fighter right?)

Greene case

So Gordon getting Magnum the case file *chef’s kiss* that just shows how different things are now and how important the Ohana has become to our favourite (ex) cop.

I like that it’s in every episode so far, but in the background enough to not be super distracting. Still it’s very present and great to have as an extra incentive for people to come back and follow along each week to see how it develops. So far doing that great, much better than earlier seasons where the bad guy of the season tended to just be forgotten for a few episodes and then randomly pop up again.

Already mentioned the worrying, which I loved, and I like that Thomas is letting people in and admitting to being worried and scared and yeah, being set on facing things together. I think that’s important and I hope we get something similar, like a moment, with Higgy where she’s also ‘we’ll do it together’ because she’s always been so determined to go at everything alone too. She’s very much a protector, as we saw in this, when she tried to make Magnum stay back at the office and be ‘safe’. I’m excited to see where this Greene case goes and how it all ties back to what they did on that mission in Afghanistan. 

Next Week!

We finally getting our lift-kiss scene and we got TC and Rick starting to really get suspicious (at least if the trailer is for next weeks episodes is to be believed). Also Magnum still has Roberto II! The mouse is making a comeback as well as Zeus and Apollo! 

[innerangeltoadlover]

9. I remember my first visit to my new psychiatrist I said that I was inwardly quite confident. She sat there and started shaking her head quite vigorously- I was sort of taken aback by this because I don’t measure myself against a person like her and it was plainly rude. I think with my illness, I have done okay, but the fact that she actually was shaking her head like she completely disagreed was pretty off putting. I have never thought of myself as a weak or inferior person but as I watched her I felt that. I also refuse to use terms such as strength or weakness to describe the human condition- if I did I’d probably top myself. I think I’ve been dealt a really hard card and I have reacted to the way I have been treated in unconventional ways. I expect that a psychiatrist is smart enough to realise that schizophrenics aren’t going to measure themselves against a norm which psychiatry has created - to me there are many forms of confidence. What I found most strange about her reaction was that it was an instantaneous response to my declaration of confidence. Even 3 years after this meeting this was a huge indicator of where my visits were going to take me (I can hear a toilet flushing ). I am sure that in normal types of therapy confidence is something to be nurtured however in my case confidence was merely evidence of denial. I was also pleasantly contented that the Court case had shone a light on my sister’s psychopathology and I felt I was turning a new page. My former psychiatrist had assured me that my new psychiatrist was great with trauma and I would be treated accordingly. There was lots of hugging etc etc and goodbyes etc etc. The reality is that my new psychiatrist is the most hardline doctor I have ever had and she has done considerable damage. During a phone call with my previous psychiatrist she described her as a bit “cold” and then proceeded to say, “ but you wouldn’t mind that”. So all in all it’s a bull shit game that we nutters are subjected to and conversations are , for the most part meaningless and suited to a particular moment in time which doesn’t matter anyway. I will always believe that the Court Case offered me an opportunity to run through a wide open door that had a wellness sign hanging on it . However that opportunity was bolted shut in my first session and this has motivated me to write this. At my age there really is no valid reason to destroy the moments of happiness and realisation for a client because they may deviate from what is a medical model that has failed me and so many others. I have committed no crimes in my life and I feel I deserved to enter my 60s with the peace of mind that the Court Case had given me . There was also so many moments of affirmation from lawyers , nurses who cared for my parents that my sister was hellish and I’d had to put up with absolute rubbish - not a hope from psychiatrists though. So when I talk about the bacteria in a Petri dish - it ain’t bullshit.

So did I believe in the diagnosis from the beginning? Yes absolutely and completely -I was 25 and a total mess. I still believe in the diagnosis but the treatment is far worse than the illness. I have always taken some pride in being different but carried myself without the confidence that difference requires. As a result of difference without brilliance I was bullied mercilessly- this bullying began in the home ( they call it sibling rivalry) and at the time it was believed to be a rite of passage growing up. The prevailing mood is “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” and other such cliches. I’m afraid in my case and in the case of many others sibling abuse is a form of domestic violence which though under reported can have devastating consequences. When one is abused at a young age it can create a pattern which is replicated throughout life if not dealt with.

[cature]

💌 ) BEST BELOVED. okay time to be normal. here’s a tag for my comfort characters, never specified by name or dug into in any meaningful depth. i am putting them in my mouth and chewing. i am asking at all times to be reading illuminated treatsies on their actions and their subtexts and their costume designs and their leimotifs and to hold their beating heart in my hands (just to look at it!) and yeah, okay, also sometimes to suck their soul out of their body twice a day for the rest of my life.

💎 ) OLD MONEY. this is quite literally just my blair waldorf tag. it’s the newspapers in print and the purses that don’t carry cash and lipstick made custom and champagne from the valley and not just imitation. it’s the world that gatsby could entertain but never enter. it’s the girls who aren’t daisy. it’s a white winter in the city, but every path you walk on is still clean and dried. the grand vizier, the high pope, the dark curl-spilled queen to serena’s lion-haired king among men, morgan le fey come again to wear chanel.

🔏 ) POETRY. another normal tag! i am a horrific poet with barely a handful of daily lit deviations (i hope reading that phrase gave you flashbacks) under my belt, but the self-published poetry scene is finally recovering from the mass damage that instagram and richard siken fanfic did to it. and i for one am fucking pumped. other quotes with particularly good cadence will also be thrown in here just to jazz things up a bit.

📖 ) MEDIA. i’m on a normal tag roll. these are the stories that are important to me in ways unrelated to comfort characters or my deep abiding need to get plowed by questionable anime men. a lot of my favorite posts end up untagged on my sideblog because they’re not as structured as i like my main to be, so the ones that do make the cut are guaranteed to have been heralded by me physically showing one of my spices my phone.

🥠 ) LITTLE THOUGHTS. essentially a text post tag. a lot of them have tended to be sweet or sad rather than silly, but i like collecting the ones that make me react. fortune cookie emoji feels self-explanatory from there. as with my media tag anything that i like enough to have but not enough to revisit or incorporate into my bird’s nest goes over on a sideblog, so these reblogs are fun treats for me to pick back through.

🪶 ) HOPE AS AN ACTION. “empathy isn’t just something that happens to us - a meteor shower of synapses firing across the brain - it’s also a choice we make: to pay attention, to extend ourselves. It’s made of exertion, that dowdier cousin of impulse. sometimes we care for another because we know we should, or because it’s asked for, but this doesn’t make our caring hollow. this confession of effort chafes against the notion that empathy should always rise unbidden, that genuine means the same thing as unwilled, that intentionality is the enemy of love. but i believe in intention and i believe in work. i believe in waking up in the middle of the night and packing our bags and leaving our worst selves for our better ones.” - leslie jamison.

🫖 ) LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO. domesticity, and family, and growing, and trying your best, and singing without thinking about it, and cooking for eachother, and existing in the world as a participant. being housebound on and off for years has not been good to me even as being happily married and content in my triangle has been a massive act of healing. somewhere in between the two i’m holding on fiercely to celebration of the things i can still do together with them and trying to believe that it can be enough.

🍫 ) BITTERNESS. kind of discourse, kind of venting. i’m not overly invested in collating my opinions daily any more, but i have been saying certain things for actively years now while waiting for the wider zeitgeist to catch up to me and it’s always a pleasure to see a widely accepted and welcome new take from the last three months that i got into a fight in my 2018 dms for suggesting. sometimes i just want to hit people i have blocked with a car. being a sex worker who has to ebeg will do that to otherwise perfectly lovely friendships more than you’d think. sometimes you are all just so, so illiterate. essentially a dump for anything that pisses me off.

🔖 ) AUDIENCE ASIDES. this one is for “reblog and tag yourself” memes and is functionally an about me tag that i fill up only with uquiz answers, disjointed facts from my childhood, and either/or games. they’re fun! not everything has to be complicated. scroll around this tag for interaction bait or just to hang out. maybe one day i’ll port my vent app “which major arcana are you” tag meme over here as a uquiz of some kind. that’d be fun, i think. (i’m the moon, btw. just in case you were wondering. mine was the moon.

🫕 ) BESTIES. this is a catch-all tag for my assorted friends to opt-into that is 110% just about being, yknow, kind of a cunt. all of the references to insane internet-specific drama go here, all of the polycule jokes go here, all of the “hey i know you’re high so i invited a thousand people over” jokes go here, and so does all of the sweet stuff. fondue emoji because that way people can dip in and choose to be included in it or not, and also i am too lazy to tag for each individual 🌈/🐰/🎲/📿/🐱/🐻/fruit code/tumblr mutual/etc vibe.

🕰️ ) FIRST FOLIO. because despite the lobotomy i am in fact a washed-out imitation of both english and art history qualification-havers, and sometimes a bitch wants to talk about the way the world shaped a colour choice or a turn of phrase or an adaptational choice between book and stage or stage and dance. constantly fellating the macmillan romeo juliet choreography, my own imaginary staging of ibsen’s fruen fra havet, and prospero’s final lines in the tempest. this is a dump tag for anything that i would pin to a board like a butterfly if given the chance to do so together with my loved ones.

🌪️ ) OIL ROOM. oh, hey, a normal tag again. an art tag, even, for things that rattle around in my brain for a few days after, or things that i’d spend useless hours trying to dig back up on pinterest to add to a board for a fictional character that has (in a similar manner) started to haunt me. probably going to lean more modern sculpture than traditional oil, but to be fair that is because traditional oils find their way into my other tags and didn’t need an invented catch-all for me to skim back through circa pinterest o'clock in six weeks when i get back to that.

🍳 ) THE AI-KYŌGEN. nice little oc tag for my brats. a truly insane overabundance of girls who are crocodiles in the rivers of their own narrative, girls who are self sufficient because they were grown from seed in total darkness, boys who damn themselves and then damn the world in revenge for it, girls who wear their lives wholecloth like a costume every morning until it fits or it kills them, girls who were too young for the tasks they were trapped with and succeeded anyway, girls who died but didn’t because they only remember how to get back up. and clumbo, my orc detective.

📚 ) DEAD INTERNET. short stories, flash fiction, and other pieces i am trying to scrounge up via the wayback machine. i'm an unabashed pirate who lived off of e-begging for 5 yesrs solid and do not have the money to support authors i like. what i can do is collate every short story i've personally cared for onto an un-searchable blog and cross-index my thoughts on them here.

🧦 ) BULLDOZE VENICE. disability talk, encompassing everything from my mental health conditions / sanism to physical disability justice, marriage equality, institutional ableism, and how developmental disability is treated by the wider populace. i don't believe in "mental age" and i don't steal the terms nonverbal/nonspeaking for autistics with high support needs who suffer the most under the pseudo-aba assumptions that you can make yourself speak if needed.

🍱 ) TEXT POSTING. basically the same as my audience asides tag but for posts i personally am making to bitch about running a blog, or changes i am midway through making on this one, or polls about which of my previous tagging system sections i should port over to this blog en masse that day.

📟 ) MIXTAPE. i know i run ostensibly a sideblog for music but i do also like specific songs i want to put here and cross-reference into other tags. since the ancient websites i used to use to listen to just the songs on my rp blogs in another google chrome tab has gone totally under i will have to make that possible another way (that isn't using spotify, because i'm lazy sometimes).

🎫 ) TO REMEMBER. quotable bits that i am going to drop for years into bios. i used to try to run this as a sideblog on its own for cross-referencing but porting the entire mountain goats lyrical discography was hard and i quit. i still need somewhere to store the "spit his cum back at him like a camel" post that has haunted my dreams for a thousand years.

[codegeassfacts]

Ichirou Okouchi Interview in Continue Volume 42 (October 2008)

(This interview was done shortly before the release of the last episode of R2 and was released after the ending; You'll get some information about the making of the anime, the characters, the relationships, the ending, and much more) It's lenghty but definitely worth the read !

A chaotic and shocking final episode. What becomes of the world now?

-----Congratulations on the completion of "Code Geass"!! It was a shocking final episode; did you have a difficult time writing it, Mr. Okouchi?

Okouchi: No. The last episode wasn't difficult at all; in fact, it was the middle parts of R2 that turned out to be rough going. For the final episode, [I'd/we'd] already decided on the ending when writing the script for the first episode of the previous series. Episode 1, Episode 25 (Episode 1 and the final episode of the previous series) and episode 25 of R2 -- these episodes did not deviate much from our original plans.

-----When did you submit the script for the final episode?

Okouchi: In May, 2008.

-----So it was pretty smooth sailing.

Okouchi: That's true. Still, it takes quite a bit of time animating what's in the scripts for "Code Geass", so I wanted to have finished writing [the scripts] earlier, to be honest.

-----How did you feel right after the completion of the scripts?

Okouchi: I wasn't really aware of it, but I suppose I was sentimental about it in my own way. The sub-series compositionist, Mr. Yoshida, told me "This is the first time I've read a lyrical script from you, Mr. Okouchi." It's not about the contents, though; the flow of the writing -- the stage direction had a lyrical touch to it. Where I'd usually write "And Lelouch turned around.", I wrote in the style of "Lelouch turns around. His face is brimming with melancholy." instead. Suzaku, wearing Zero's mask, shows up in the middle of Lelouch's parade... the succession of scenes in that climax was written in a lyrical manner.

-----I'd like to ask some questions about the shocking end: in the climax of the second half of the series, the person standing in Lelouch's way was his brother, Schneizel. Under normal circumstances, without there being a war, [Schneizel] would have been a wise ruler, wouldn't he?

Okouchi: Had Lelouch only not existed, I think that, in Schneizel's lifetime, at the very least, there would be an end to war. However, he does not have "emotions", or rather, he has nothing possessing him. This is why he is incapable of creating a "tomorrow".

-----Still, isn't it possible that defeating the wise ruler Schneizel, the person who was supposed to have brought order to the world, might lead to some [viewers] interpreting it as a Bad End?

Okouchi: That's true. There are probably a lot of people who think of it as a Bad End, a tragedy, considering the protagonist's, Lelouch's end as well. However, Lelouch says in the first episode: "Only those prepared to be shot are allowed to pull the trigger themselves." If you were to think of that as his pride, then I think his getting shot (killed) in the end was a logical end. Of course, I understand that not all of the viewers will accept this ending. There were people who wanted a happier ending, after all.

-----Was there a dispute among the staff members regarding the ending?

Okouchi: No. It was decided fairly naturally. During the "Code Geass" script meetings, there are many cases in which there were a number of disputes, but there were barely any when it came to the scripts for (the previous series's) episode 25 and the final episode. I think everyone felt the same when it came to the end of the character that is Lelouch.

-----Why were you so bold as to choose this ending when the viewers might see it as a Bad End?

Okouchi: Bold... yes, we were so bold as to chose this ending. Perhaps the show that is "Code Geass" ending up this way was decided the moment Director Taniguchi and I teamed up. I suppose you can call it our sense of aesthetics, or perhaps a part of our psychological makeup.

-----Would it be possible for you to elaborate on this?

Okouchi: In the intial planning stages, "Code Geass" was being developed as a show meant to be aired in an evening slot. The contents [of the show back then] were completely different as they are now; it was more of a regular mecha show, and the protagonist was an exceptional pilot.

-----However, the time slot shifted from an evening slot to a late-night one.

Okouchi: That's right. At that point, we already had the structure of the series [completed], and the script for the first episode had also been written. Which is why even with the time slot change being final, "This show is plenty interesting, it'll do fine in a late-night slot", "We've already come this far, let's just go ahead with what we have" had been the general consensus. While it was certainly true that we didn't have much time, I was against it. There are shows and strategies more fitting for late night slots, and when I expressed this, I found that Director Taniguchi felt the same way. Even though it was difficult, and there was no guarantee of it being a success, [I/we] decided to create a different project more suitable for a late-night slot.

-----At that time, Lelouch and the Geass...

Okouchi: Did not exist. However, the things we'd already discussed regarding the project and the results of our research did not go to waste, of course.

-----This reminds me of Lelouch's line in the final episodes of "R2": "It may be difficult, but even so, I want a better tomorrow."

Okouchi: I hadn't realized it when I wrote those lines, but it certainly describes our [real life] situation. To go back to the drawing board obviously means a lot of time and effort, and moreover the chances of it failing were high. Even so, I thought it would be better for it to become a better show. To put it in a cool-sounding way, we chose a "tomorrow" we hadn't seen yet over "today". Having completed the scripts and watched the visual product anew, I thought that the mentality of the creators end up reflected in their works. At the same time, I was both surprised and happy to find that the same applies to me.

------I see. So Lelouch's decision was also your, Mr. Okouchi's, and Director Taniguchi's decision.

Okouchi: Which is why I think of both our and Lelouch's decision as Happy Ends. I believe that there will be better things in the tomorrow awaiting Nunnally, Kallen, and the rest who have been left behind. And surely Lelouch, who was able to make this into a reality, can only be happy [about this].

The Tyrant Emperor Lelouch: A Modern Day Hero Figure?

-----How long have you been involved [in the project], starting from the time spent on the evening slot project, and ending with the completion of "Code Geass"?

Okouchi: About 5 years, from the planning itself and up until the airing of the final episode. This year marks the 10th year since my debut as a scriptwriter; this is the longest I've ever been involved in a project, I think, and I doubt I'll ever come across anything like it ever again.

-----In the first episode of "R2", Lelouch declares: "I'm not the one at fault; the world is." In other words, "Code Geass" is the story of the side attempting world domination, isn't it?

Okouchi: It's the opposite of your usual anime set-up, isn't it? A demon king instead of a hero. The leader of Evil instead of the ally of Justice. I think this set-up was made possible thanks to the shift to the late-night slot. If it had been an evening slot, we wouldn't have received the "OK" for this. Although starting with "R2" the show is now being aired in an evening slot, it only came to be because of the results obtained in its late-night slot. The set-up being a complete 180 meant it was something worth doing for me, as a scriptwriter, and it was fun. There being nothing else like it, it's impossible to predict what's going to happen next week. In my opinion, it being an original work was an advantage, and we were able to make the most out of it. If it had been based on a pre-existing work, you'd inevitably find out what's going to happen next.

-----I've heard that Lelouch, the character who was eventually labeled The Tyrant Emperor, was born from the results of careful research. Is this true?

Okouchi: It's true that it came in handy for Lelouch's character, too, but the research was actually done during the planning stages. It's not like we went to Akihabara, or asked the readers of anime magazines what kind of anime they want to watch, though. It was more general; we researched what the younger generations of today are thinking, and what it is they wish for.

-----Can you give some specific examples of what you did?

Okouchi: There [is a / are] magazine(s) in which the lyrics of recent songs are compiled. [I/we] bought [it / those] and checked out which words are often used and what sort of theme was more prevalent. We polled school teachers as well, and that was informative, too. I've heard that Mr. Taniguchi visited schools for research purposes during "Zettai Muteki Raijin-oh", but this was the first time I did it.

----What did you ask about?

Okouchi: Values, mostly. What's "cool" in their eyes? What can they never forgive? Things like their future dreams, and what the teachers feel has changed between now and back then. Having heard their answers, I felt that things have changed since my time. At the same time, I thought that there were things that have not changed much, like the universal feeling of wanting to be acknowledged, and the impatience and the idealistic views the young possess. This show, "Code Geass", embodies the modern spirit, and although the set-up is the complete opposite of your usual anime, that is exactly why, as a story, it has all the right ingredients. Lelouch's enemy is his father, he treasures his family (younger sister), and harbors righteous indignation against the world...... Whenever youths are mentioned in the news, there is a tendency to put the spotlight on only a certain group of the them, like those who are arrogant or violent. In actuality, the ones giving up their seats to the elderly on trains are, more often than not, young people, and not middle-aged men and women.

-----Now that you've mentioned it, Lelouch, too, is kind towards the weak. After all, the reason Shirley fell in love with Lelouch was because she saw him help an elderly [couple] in trouble.

Okouchi: Helping the weak is the characteristic of a hero, and it's an aesthetic value that hasn't depreciated over time. However, I think that setting out in a showy manner, defeating the powerful who are abusing the weak, and being thanked by the weak in return is the "cool" thing in the past, while the heroes of today are "cool" because even when they've saved the weak they simply leave in a cool manner, and don't make a big deal out of it.

Lelouch and Suzaku: The Ultimate Relationship

------In "Code Geass", there exists a powerful, special power known as the Geass: "if you look into your opponent's eyes, you can make him/her carry out your command once and only once." However, Lelouch wasn't over-dependent on it, and overcame his problems using tactics and strategies instead. It didn't become just a superpower show, which made it distinctive from the rest.

Okouchi: If I were to explain this from the perspective of the character settings [we came up with], the power that is the Geass was an unknown power to Lelouch. He had no idea how long the effects could last, so it was dangerous [for him] to be over-reliant on it. Lelouch is a character with a skeptical side to him, you see. He does not consider the idea of fighting with just the Geass as his weapon. On the other hand, explaining this from a creator's point of view, this show has supernatural powers, scheming politics, mecha, school [life], mysteries..... [I/we] wanted to make this a show that can be enjoyed on many different levels, which is why we didn't turn Geass into an invincible power. This is why it has a one-use-per-person limit, and has no effect against enemies in Knightmares.

------Now that you mention it, Lelouch is weak when it comes to mecha battles. A mecha show with a protagonist who isn't a brilliant pilot was a refreshing change.

Okouchi: In the scriptwriting stages, he actually had average skills, but the [other] staff members, beginning with Mr. Taniguchi himself, joined in and it ended up like that. That's what's interesting about the group effort that is anime [productions].

-----Lelouch doesn't undergo the [character] growth most mecha anime protagonists go through. There are no special moves to remember, and it's not like his mech powers up either.

Okouchi: In Lelouch's case, the expansion of the Black Knights serves as [his character growth]. From the very beginning, it has been a fascinating aspect of the show, a small organization expanding with every victory, and various commanders coming to lend a hand like in the Annals of Three Kingdoms or as in the case of Oda Nobunaga. I wanted to introduce this flavour to this show, too. Consider it the pleasure of seeing your deck of cards grow, if you will.

-----I suppose it feels like "Pocket Monsters" or trading card games to today's highschool students.

Okouchi: Something like "I tap Zero's card and hereby summon Staff Officer Diethard's card." (laugh)

-----When watching "Code Geass", one gets the feeling that Lelouch's growth as a character has nothing to do with using the Geass or the strength of his mech, but rather the psychological strength he obtains. Even when he's facing "the deaths of many people", he takes it all in.

Okouchi: "Code Geass" has, in a manner of speaking, all the essentials of a stereotypical story about growing up that has been around forever. A young boy who has nothing obtains a power one day, goes up against the world and ultimately surpasses his father. The decision Lelouch made in the end was one he could make because of what he experienced in the preceding 50 episodes. It was because of his psychological growth, and not his physical growth or the development of his abilities.

-----I think many viewers thought there would be a Geass battle with the Emperor at the end.

Okouchi: This was something we discussed in the early stages, but we didn't want to end the show with mysteries or mysterious powers. The final enemy being real world enemies, Schneizel and Nunnally, and not those related to the Geass, the Emperor and Marianne, had to do with our not wanting to have Lelouch conclude his battle in another dimension. [I/we] wanted [the show] to end with a battle between humans, and Lelouch's decision as a human being.

-----In the final episode, the person Lelouch entrusted his "Zero" mask to was his childhood friend Suzaku. The things their relationship had to go through to get to that point... there were some awful things. Episode 17's "The Taste of Dirt" was especially shocking. Lelouch got down on his knees to plead, and Suzaku stepped on his face. The protagonist gets down on his knees! The protagonist gets his face stepped on!!

Okouchi: In the initial script, Lelouch got down on his knees before Suzaku and that was it. Having read that, Mr. Taniguchi said we should go as far as to have [Suzaku] step on his face.

-----.....Hahaha. What sort of conversations do the both of you, Mr. Taniguchi and Mr. Okouchi, have regarding the scripts?

Okouchi: Mr. Taniguchi is someone who allows you relatively more freedom when writing the first drafts. It goes without saying, though, that before that, we've already talked about and decided upon the necessary elements before hand, like having to explain the world in this number of episodes, or making sure the protagonist's objective is understood [by the viewers]. Once I've written the first draft, it works like what your usual anime shows, in which the director, producer(s), people from the TV station and the distributor all get together for a "scenario discussion". In the case of "Code Geass", what's different is the fact that Mr. Yoshida, the sub-series compositionist, Mr. Morita Shigeru of Special Settings, Mr. Murata Kazuya, assistant director, Mr. Teraoka Kenji of Concept Design were part of the meeting too. In the beginning, Mr. Kimura Takahiro was involved as well.

-----That's quite a number of people. Why is that?

Okouchi: [I/We] wanted to make a multi-layered show, so I wanted to hear opinions seen from differing perspectives, such as directing, animation and script. So I assembled all those I trusted, and asked them to speak their mind freely. I had them read the script, and then tell me, without reservation, their doubts, feelings, opinions and desires.

-----And with that..... Lelouch ended up with his face getting stepped on.

Okouchi: That's right (laugh). At that time, everyone, with their grasp of what "Code Geass" is all about, got really pumped up and excited and things accelerated in the direction of the face-stepping. Finally, even Producer Kawaguchi [joined in and] said we ought to make "The Taste of Dirt" the subtitle for this episode.

-----After that, Lelouch and Suzaku got over their conflict and became accomplices working towards a common goal. Lelouch became the Emperor, and Suzaku, as Knight of Zero, became the Emperor's sword.

Okouchi: It's a relationship you can't describe in a word. To simply call it friendship isn't quite right.

-----It was quite the relationship, after all, what with their shooting at each other with guns and getting down on their knees to beg (laugh)

Okouchi: Exactly. And it's not just about their having mutual interests, either. It's impossible to describe it in a word, but it's a very strong bond. Lelouch as a kid, Lelouch in school, Lelouch as Zero -- only Suzaku sees all of it. Kallen, Nunnally, C.C., even -- none of them sees all of [Lelouch]. Playing together, running away, living, killing each other, even the knowledge of their having killed their own fathers. In terms of revealing who they are, only these two are completely naked. This is probably why the two of them were able to team up in the end.

-----Why did you have to push them so far just to get them to team up?

Okouchi: I suppose this is what you call the creator's touch. Not mine, though, mostly Taniguchi's. If I had been the lone creator, this might have become a gentler story. I feel that anime..... group efforts are truly wonderful in the sense that I was able to go places I wouldn't have been able to reach alone. If I only wanted to tell a story there's always the novels option. This is why I'm fascinated by the job that is anime scriptwriter. And the other staff members involved in the script discussions, too -- without them, "Code Geass" would never have become what it is now.

The mystery behind the creation of "Geass Lines"

-----In the previous interview (Continue vol. 33), you, Mr. Okouchi, talked about your being particular when it comes to the dialogue. In R2, there have been many shocking lines as well. For example, there's "I'm going to squeeze out every last usable drop out of you before throwing you out like a tattered rag!".

Okouchi: I didn't write that with any real intention in mind, though. The line came out fairly naturally, there wasn't much thought in it. However, everyone else around me found it very much amusing, while I myself was just in a "Huh?" state of mind. Is it really all that funny?

-----It's a line you don't usually hear, I think. Moreover, I was surprised that tattered rags actually exist in the world of Code Geass.

Okouchi: Lelouch lived in the Kururugi family's storehouse when he was young, so he used a worn-out, tattered rag back then. I'm sure of it (laugh)

-----So, does that mean that the famous quotes in Code Geass weren't actually planned?

Okouchi: No, some lines were calculated, of course. Code Geass was written in the style of an opera, so there was a conscious effort to write over-the-top, theatrical lines. However, I'd call these "Geass lines", rather than "Okouchi lines". I wouldn't be able to write lines like these for other shows. Many of these lines everyone has been kind enough to consider "famous quotes" were lines this show, Code Geass, has given me the opportunity to write.

The bonds obtained at the end of a 5 year journey

-----In the final episode, the lives of the characters after Lelouch's death were shown in the style of an epilogue.

Okouchi: The epilogue, Kallen's monologue and so on were the realization of not only my own "dream" but also that of the rest of the staff members involved [in the project]. When we discussed the script, I asked each of the staff members what they would like to see happen to the characters. When you've been involved in a single project for nearly 2 years, you tend to form attachments and wishes. It goes without saying that we weren't able to fulfill everyone's wishes, but we did try our very best. I thought that would be the best way to end a show that was made possible by way of everyone's efforts.

-----Some unresolved mysteries still remain.

Okouchi: From the very beginning, [I/we] never planned on explaining everything. In fact, if you ask me, I think we might have overdone the explanations. While it's undeniable that Lelouch's story has ended with a full stop, the other characters' stories are still on-going, and it's not like the world [of Code Geass] itself has come to an end either. [I/we] didn't want to end it by closing it up for good.

-----Well then, do you, Mr. Okouchi, have any unfinished work remaining?

Okouchi: Right now, no, I don't.

-----Now that you've finished your work on "Code Geass", which has spanned almost 5 years, what kind of show do you think it's turned out to be, Mr. Okouchi?

Okouchi: Starting with Mr. Taniguchi himself, I think the staff members for Code Geass were a 2-Years-Only Dream Team that can never be assembled again. For example, in the art department, we have CLAMP, Mr. Kimura Takahiro, Ms. Chiba Yuriko, Mr. Nakatani Seiichi, Mr. Yasuda Akira, Mr. Nakada Eiji, Mr. Teraoka Kenji -- usually these people take on whole projects by themselves, and yet we have a number of them here. Mr. Yoshida, the sub-series compositionist, was my junior back in university, which was why I was able to casually ask him for a favour, but under normal circumstances he would be the head series compositionist. I'm thankful to be able to have been part of such an extravagant production.

-----I'll be blunt: Are you thinking of a sequel?

Okouchi: This is a show that's produced great results, so it's certainly true that there have been some suggestions [for a sequel], but for now there are no such plans. As of now (this interview was held September 2008) the final episode still hasn't gone on air yet, so I don't feel like thinking about the future yet. I'd like to think about it once the final episode has aired and I've heard what the fans have to say. I don't intend to deny the commercial side of anime productions, of course, but I'd like to decide only after knowing what the customers think. Which is why for now, I'm eagerly anticipating the airing of the final episode.*

Translation curtesy of Celiss Galvea**

Hope you enjoyed ~

[bonesandthebees]

I’m going to give myself one more day to try and get my stars thoughts coherent and if that doesn’t work I’ll be a coherent dump cuz I just can’t figure out how to organise or structure it. I think you might have broken me because there’s so much content and so much I want to talk about. Either that, or we can blame the exams. One more day and I have survived the 2/3 of my exams in a row limbo I’m currently in. Who made this stupid schedule.

Anyway, have some random Glass Devine thoughts. I really love this rewrite. Everything feels more polished. More development has gone into the world and it shows. I love Clara and Kristins statues being opposites. It’s a nice parallel to show that they are like two halves of the same coin. I feel like there’s supposed to be a balance between the two. Anyway, it’s just nice. Also I feel like there’s some significance in Wilbur not feeling like Clara’s face is familiar. Maybe it’s being depicted wrong? Idk. Doesn’t really matter right now.

Also, there are a lot of things I want to talk about, but I feel like that’s spoilers for people who haven’t read the first version, so some thing I’ll leave out for now and others all be vague about. I like the foreshadowing on Wilbur’s backstory. Or the little bits and pieces we get. It makes sense if you know what it is, but if you don’t it just makes you more concerned (like Tommy hearing that he’s spelt in worse places). Similarly Tommy’s breathing. I haven’t read Someone else’s dream in a while, so at first I was confused what it could be, because it seemed weird that Tommy would be claustrophobic, but then the memory snapped into place and it’s just some nice foreshadowing for something Wilbur doesn’t know yet.

Also, rewrite things is like: all of Glass!Charlie. You always do such a good job with this character and his specific brand of weird. Yes he totally has a normal amount of bones. [“See you later, Tommy from Downstairs and Tommy from Downstairs’ new friend!”] I’ve only had Glass!Chalrie for a day and a half, but if anything were to happen to him I would kill everyone reading this fic and then myself.

They can see in the dark! It’s because of the prosthetic eyes right? I didn’t realise Tommy had them because his eyes are blue (I think), but he must have, right? The light bugs! I think they were just orbs in the first iteration. I could be wrong, but I love them anyway. The entire new layout of the base, they have a back door now? Also the fact that there’s an extra door and guard.

(1/2)

-🌲

answering this ask late but lmao very understandable if i broke you with the stars epilogue sorry there was a lot going on in that one

first off thank you so much!! yes the rewrite feels so much more polished and that's partially because when I wrote the og I knew it wasn't going to be anything very long, so I wasn't really trying to make it super coherent or well thought out. it was just kind of for shits and giggles. now it's the start of a much longer story, so I've had a lot more time to think things through and I'm really happy with how it's going so far

yes there is supposed to be balance between clara and kristin! although clara is more often associated with time/the future, she technically is also representative of life itself. so clara = life, kristin = death. they're two sides of the same coin. that's why clara's statue looks up, while kristin's statue looks down.

I won't spell out the exact reasoning but the significance in wilbur feeling like clara's face isn't familiar actually has more to do with his own faith in clara as opposed to something being wrong with the statue, if that makes sense. it's an internal problem, not an external one.

eh don't worry too much about spoilers for the other version because we're deviating pretty hard from the og very very soon. as in, I finished chapter 3 tonight and i'm gonna post it tomorrow morning and that gets us basically to the point of someone else's dream that i'm rewriting. everything deviates after chapter 3 into entirely original new plot (for the most part).

ok true on tommy's breathing though. that is a nod to something in the og so that kind of is a spoiler warning I guess. it's going to become plot relevant in a few chapters so ;)

lmao thank you I had so much fun writing glass!charlie. idk what it is but every time I have to write charlie in a fic the spirit of The Slime just possesses me and he says the funniest most unhinged shit.

also, uh ngl I didn't make the connection that people would assume the stairs bit was tommy having cybernetic eyes because that's not the case. tommy has normal eyes. the stairs thing is literally just that he's gone up and down those steps so many times he has them memorized and doesn't need light to go up and down them. this gets mentioned in the chapter i'm posting tomorrow tho so there you go.

yes the layout of the base is similar but so different at the same time! the most important change is that it's a temple and not just some random cavern, which I am really proud of and has given me a lot of room to design a very cool layout. I'm literally considering making a blueprint online just so you guys can understand the layout of the entire place bc I feel like it's really confusing to explain.

[olivereactsaboutgarbage]

Higurashi When They Cry - Arc 1 Chapter 12

Did you see? Did you see the punchline?

Well, punchlines aside, there’s an obvious first order of business I need to get to here: Whichever part of the Kaiji Joke was the weird fetishy one.

Rena HAS been touched before and not reacted negatively. Keiichi’s head has touched her legs and nothing bad happened at all. If you will permit me to use a meme format to reveal the truth that this has allowed me to reach...

Darkened Mind: This means Rena doesn’t have trauma related to being touched. Glowing Mind: This means Rena isn’t a robot programmed to automatically freak out upon contact with human skin, which doesn’t mean she doesn’t have trauma related to being touched. She still could, especially for when people touch her using their hands. Ascendant Human: Regardless of whether or not Rena has trauma related to being touched, she obviously can’t be boiled down to a formula of If x Then y. No human being is that predictable. Anyone can deviate from their own behavioral patterns based on any number of factors. As for what Keiichi’s head touching Rena’s legs means: Ryukishi sometimes includes creepy anime bullshit in his stories.

As for other concerns on the agenda... I’ll get to those as I go through the events of Chapter 12.

I guess I kept jerking off and nodding awake in a panic all night...

I’m not gonna add every line of narration that confirms my biases to this post because that would be every line of narration.

So... I already know that the 1st arc of Higurashi is coming to a close, but... Keiichi’s attempts to “adopt the ideal, most cautious new behaviors” and also “be so normal no one will be able to accuse him of being cautious” are so... unsustainable in the long term. You can’t just say “I happened to switch up my routine a bit today”, “It just coincidentally happened again” and so on for a month straight. ...I mean, I guess that’s where at some point Keiichi would say “I formed a new habit. No it’s not sad that I formed a habit of being more distant from you. I’m normal.” If he’s even thinking that far ahead.

This narration correlates to a specific bias I’ll mention later.

Now is that because she doesn’t want to talk about it or because she doesn’t remember.

If Keiichi hallucinating were to become an extremely common trope throughout all 8 Higurashis, lines like this would probably be essential. Or I’m overthinking things due to the nature of visual novels. In fiction, the medium is just as essential to the audience experience as the content within the medium. Even things like a “lack of content” can become content. The gutters in a comic, the negative space in an image-that-hasn’t-been-split-up-into-multiple-panels, page turns when reading a book, the week-long wait between episodes of something that gets released weekly... all of these can be narrative tools, not for conveying what happens, but for controlling the way the audience perceives the fact that it happened in the first place.

Besides character sprites, backgrounds, and audio, the thing that distinguishes a visual novel from a book is how much more frequently you need to click to advance a visual novel’s textbox compared to how frequently you need to turn a book’s pages. It renders every sentence worthy of thoughtful consideration, which could combine with the fact that writing this blog already makes me try to ponder the things I’m consuming more thoughtfully. The result would be me overthinking things.

Luckily I don’t see any evidence around here of me having overthought anything!!! (<--Keiichi moment) (Even if you assume my conclusion that Keiichi isn’t perceiving reality correctly is wrong, that means the needle he found definitely existed, which means he lost track of a needle which was literally evidence, so the sentence I just said, then pointed at while saying “Keiichi moment”, WAS a Keiichi moment in BOTH potential readings of the narrative! Keiichi IS a fool who DOES fail to see obviously visible evidence! “Of what” is left to be determined for now. I’m a writing genius, and like I said earlier today, I should be the one writing One Piece instead of Oda.)

Those were three cool paragraphs to write instead of ever at any point clicking past the sentence pictured above them. With regards to the fact that I wrote those three paragraphs,

Ah, she’s lying, like an abuse victim. I was going to say “well that answers the question of whether or not she remembers” but no it doesn’t!!! Ascended Human: No It Doesn’t

Oh, this is the first instance of Mion screentime I’m witnessing post-Third Eye Opening. I’m gonna be honest that before my Third Eye Opening, Mion was the only character I particularly liked, because I didn’t feel like I “got” the rest of them. Turns out just because I now care about everyone and am rooting for a world in which they all turn out okay doesn’t mean Mion’s not still my favorite. People who’ve been reading my One Piece posts would have read me mentioning the Effect of Reverse Santa!Carmen P. Sandiego being present in a panel of One Piece: A brief moment in my brain where all other processes took a backseat to basking in the glory of a character I really liked.

Same thing’s happening with Mion. Maybe the point of commonality between Reverse Santa!Carmen P. Sandiego and Mion is that they’re both old, and they’re both girls.

You know, because Mion is an old man.

You know, because Mion is a teenage girl.

Mion... :(

Mion wants Keiichi to quit screwing around with baseball bats. She’s taking this desire of hers seriously enough to actually be feeling insecure about her intelligence, rather than her usual confident bluster that was present even in the scene where Keiichi was admonishing her for her bad grades. Or, alternatively, she’s evil. (<--I guess you can just mentally append this sentence to the end of any paragraph I write that involves a girl. Do my “unless I’m wrong”s manually in your mind from here on out.)

Hm... she does seem genuinely bad at coherently expressing her feelings. Also this:

For once I don’t think there’s any reading possible of this where Keiichi is actually wrong.

Unless you wanna be a fucker and say that Mion is actually an alien masquerading as human and all her actions are arbitrary.

Hmm... thinking again about the Side Story where Mion is like “Hey Rena, Ooishi is a harbinger of death” and they both laugh.

Hmm... ALSO thinking about the links drawn between Rena and DID.

Keiichi is yelling. He’s yelling loud words. He asks Mion whether it was her or Rena who “did it” with the mochi. Mion says it was her.

Hmm... trying to remember... was there some detail about the mochi Keiichi threw at the wall leaving a bright red trail? It doesn’t really matter if the answer is no, and it doesn’t really matter if this line of narration is arbitrary, but it would be deeply funny if this narration was super non-arbitrary.

Keiichi finally gets bored of acting normal as a ploy to not get murdered. He decides to make his thoughts and feelings explicit to Mion.

(Took a break here because something “more important” (equally unimportant) came up--which is also why this post is past-midnight. But it still totally counts as me not having broken my streak of on-time posting, because I haven’t slept yet! Ignore the problems with that logic.)

Mion cries. Keiichi almost feels bad, but then remembers to feel good.

I don’t know what that sounds like but I would have described the voice acting moreso as “neutral, almost coldly so--just slightly, not overwhelmingly, menacing”. The voice acting also clued me in to the fact that what the localization translates as “so that’s how it is” is merely, y’know, the word “souka”. In other words, because I have voice acting and don’t speak Japanese, I’m not getting the untainted Higurashi experience!!! (<--takes when they cry entirely too seriously)

(”Please infer: Mion definitely doesn’t have DID” yeah okay whatever fine I’ll do that)

WAIT LMAO??? WHAT DID SHE DO

...Did Rena and Mion look you in the eye? Did the Toddlers speak to you?

So, first of all, very funny for Keiichi to be like “THERE’S NO GOOD REASON FOR RENA TO HAVE AN AXE” when the Rena-holding-an-axe CG is literally reused. Like. I’ve seen it before. Back in the part of Higurashi before things were Messed Up. I almost feel like it’s boring for me to go “yep, another instance of me being correct that no one’s evil” whenever literally anything happens, but honestly I forget how Rena behaved in the Chapter 12 Rena-has-an-axe scene so maybe I’ll just read further for now.

...what an insane thing to say. as a murderer it serves no tactical advantage. as a non-murderer it. um. serves no tactical advantage. ... it serves no tactical advantage.

Okay, well, Rena’s answer to “Why do you have a weapon?” is “Why do you have a weapon?” and her response to “Because I’m Normal, I’m Normal, Look At Me I’m Keiichi The Normal Guy” is “Because I’m Normal, I’m Normal, Look At Me I’m Rena The Normal Girl”

So Keiichi is definitely wrong about Rena being a cunning murderer, because look at how idiotic the things she’s saying are. She’s saying things only a complete fool would say. I’m really embarrassed for her!

Just because Keiichi is wrong about her being smart doesn’t mean I should, or necessarily even can, assume her intentions are pure. I realize that in my last post I kinda ended up latching onto one thing as if it was the only thing and gradually shifted my own goalposts from “none of the five kids are evil” to “Keiichi is the only character who behaves maliciously” which I think was a mistake. He’s obviously not. Even if he is the only character within the core fivesome who behaves maliciously, which is honestly a heck of a reach, he’s not the only character who behaves maliciously, I think I was inadvertently too trusting, of all things.

Hmm... Ryukishi obviously had the concepts down for all the main characters of the series before he started writing, right? Should I assume that if Keiichi’s paranoia being the first small crack that leads to an already-fragile situation crumbling is the central concept of the series, the reason Rena is its poster-girl is that she’s the one who comes closest to warranting his paranoia? I don’t know if I like that as a writing decision if Mion and the Toddlers are relatively mentally sound. Seems crass to add to the heap of media where “crazy people are bad”. Emphasis on the word relatively because I guarantee if the word relatively weren’t there I would have absolutely nothing to be concerned about.

THAT BEING SAID... well, I’ll get into it once I reach that part of the plot.

Heh, it’s kinda cute that he’s still bothering to give her the time of day in a situation like this, instead of just like, taking off in a nonstop sprint.

...Never thought I’d ever call Keiichi cute, and I have read this before.

With the one singular exception of the way I just looked at it.

So... hmm... how viable is it to split Rena up into having “one personality who repeats the last words of her sentences, and one personality who doesn’t do that, but has a weird laugh”? (Wait I think the term these days is “alter” not “personality”. Unless it changed again. Terms always change!!) Keiichi said something about her weird laugh being a third thing from those other times Rena was different from Rena, but he’s way beyond being an unreliable narrator (if I’m right). That being said, for this concept to hold true at all, it must be assumed that “Ren-alter Ellipsis Alter” swapped to “Ren-alter LOL” mid-walk, between being all like “Keiichi, you seem to be hiding. Was it just a prank bro?” and being all like “Keiichi, you don’t seem to be hiding.”

...Wait is the same girl who said “You wouldn’t do something awful like touching me non-aggressively in a normal context, correct?” now saying “By the way, were you just joking around when you mutilated my fingers?“? When I ask that, I’m not assuming the answer is no. I’m merely... asking it.

Hmm... can the selfish side of me who wants Mion to be someone I can adore unabashedly... and the selfless side of me who wants Higurashi to have as few ableist implications as possible... reach a compromise?

Oh, Rena just did her word-repeating thing. Nothing really seems to have changed as far as I can tell... I’ll have to be on the lookout for if she’s still laughing.

Nah, she only did her word-repeating thing once, transitioned immediately into really not liking dishonesty, then laughed. Dunno if this is the right angle to approach the character from. Although assuming alters have a minimum amount of time they have to spend “being the face” (IS THAT THE RIGHT TERMINOLOGY???) might be a little silly on my part?

Maybe you just have no skills, man. You ARE the Everyman Anime Protagonist Guy.

Alternatively if this were merely a hallucination of Rena I guess no movement speed would cause Keiichi to not perceive her. I guess just like I shouldn’t be making assumptions about minimum amounts of time any given Ren-alter needs to spend as The Face if she has DID, I also shouldn’t be making assumptions about the maximum extent to which Keiichi could be far-gone if he has paranoid schizophrenia. Although only one assumption needs to be wrong. (Ascendant Human: Both Can Be Wrong)

Okay I guess uh,

Okay I guess those three lines of narration are a bit too much to ignore. They have to exist for a reason. There’s like, no way this isn’t a hallucination. Which maybe means all that Rena character analysis I just did was pointless.

...Then a-freaking-gain, suddenly all she’s saying in this scene is “I don’t want things to be like last time, please talk to me so it can be better this time” which, if Ryukishi is trying to obscure the reality of the fact that the girls aren’t evil, is SUCH TAME DIALOG TO GIVE TO A HALLUCINATION, maybe it really IS just that Keiichi is a little wimp with no athletic skills???

Crap it’s like the 80s and Keiichi uses his corded phone all the time, I know he doesn’t have a cell phone. For a second there I was asking myself if he was unknowingly talking to Rena over the phone while hallucinating her physical presence. Nah, that’d be a bit much even if cell phones were around...

*narrows eyes because i’m facing towards the sun and forgot to wear my golf visor*

So Rena keeps saying Satoshi transferred and Keiichi keeps freaking out about the ambiguity of that phrase. Is Satoshi just in a mental institution and talking about it transparently is just REALLY TABOO? ...It is the 80s. Also Japan. Were there countries where that’d be way less taboo in the 80s than in Japan in the 80s? I dunno I don’t live in Japan and I wasn’t alive in the 80s.

So... Rena’s not her given name. There was that whole Side Story where, like, Mion or Toddler 02 or whoever it was, was like, “Listen Keiichi. It’s not a big deal or anything, but like, she’s not [whatever her given name was], she’s just Rena, it’s that simple.” And she never hates dishonesty or laughs (assuming there’s three alters?) and she always repeats herself, in scenes containing anyone at all other than Keiichi. So is repeating herself called “Rena”, and... not doing that is called...?

...Maybe Mion and the Toddlers really are super normalbrained. I can picture that being what’s up here. If this is Super Duper A Period Piece. If a major plot point here is “Didn’t society suck EVEN MORE THAN IT DOES NOW when it came to mental health, back in the accursed 80s?”

Keiichi “I’m So Scared Of Rena” Maebara is right next to Rena and just watched her raise an axe above her head, and he’s engaging her in conversation rather than mustering the additional 10% hidden in the 110 percentage points of strength he has... yeah, he’s definitely cute... this is definitely... Keiichi MOEbara...

Oh, nostalgic. Although if Oyashiro-sama is the perpetrator, I do hope Oyashiro-sama isn’t like that genocide person from Danganronpa. That’d be so hard in the opposite direction from non-ableism. In fact, given the disposition of a certain YouTuber, and the fact that they have a video about how they don’t dislike Higurashi, I doubt I need to give that possibility even a moment’s consideration.

Gelid is a nice vocabulary word. I feel like there must be other words also about ice that have the same root word, because something about the word gelid meaning icy feels so unsurprising to me, but... I can’t think of a single word that explains why gelid meaning icy doesn’t surprise me. Regardless, there’s no way I remember that the word gelid even exists 24 hours from now. Unless the fact that I just wrote this entire paragraph causes the word gelid to stick around in my brain like an unwanted guest.

Wait, pardon? Why are barrages of apologies coming up here in this Oyashiro-sama Discussion? If barrages of apologies are an Oyashiro-sama Thing and Oyashiro-sama isn’t a Rena Thing, was the opening scene’s apologizing woman whose unheard conversational partner annoyed Keiichi very Very relevant? WAIT, SHE HAD A CELL PHONE!!! Hmm... if Keiichi stole her cell phone, that would explain this entire sequence!

Keiichi, why would you steal a cell phone? ...Ugh that feels like the lead-up to my beloved Usopp Punchline from my One Piece posts, but Keiichi isn’t Usopp, so now I’m left feeling blue-balled.

Uh... okay, um, I’m gonna... um... I’m gonna file that away to mention later... since the rest of what I’m saving for later factors into what I wanna say here...

...could Keiichi really have been that bamboozled...?

WHEN RENA SAYS THINGS LIKE THIS SHE’S SAYING “WE’RE THE ONLY TWO PEOPLE [PRESENTLY] IN HINAMIZAWA WHO [PRESENTLY] HAVE MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES” RIGHT?! WHY THE HELL IS THAT! WHAT THE HELL IS THE PLOT OF THIS VN!

So if Mion doesn’t have mental health issues, and Ooishi is a cop, and Ooishi doesn’t realize Keiichi has mental health issues, and Rena has mental health issues, and Mion told Rena Ooishi is a bad guy who’ll cause bad things to happen to Keiichi, and they laughed like it was just a joke, but there is someone Mion hates, and it seems like it’s Ooishi,

I feel like that gif of the math swirling around the woman but all the math is replaced with rubber ducks and the woman is replaced with me.

Alright fine, if it’s going to come up again, I guess I’ll ask now. Is there some sort of “Normal Society” --oops you’re insane time to get exiled to--> Hinamizawa --oops you’re insane time to get exiled to--> Uh Oh, This Place Sucks pipeline? And Keiichi’s stated reason for why he moved to Hinamizawa is wrong because he’s been lied to? Why would there be such a pipeline? Especially since Hinamizawa is full of mentally sound people?

WAIT, IS THAT WHY THE TEACHER HAS CHARACTER SPRITES? SHE’S SECRETLY A PSYCHIATRISTEACHER? No one who’s not a psychiatrist would EVER have character sprites!! I’ve cracked the code!!

Afraid FOR her, right? They didn’t want anything bad to happen to her? Ugggh give me DETAILS

Yeah okay Ooishi has confirmed the boys were her friends. I already inferred THAT detail, give me a DIFFERENT additional detail!!

No witnesses, huh. Huh. Huh.

Ooishi and Keiichi are talking more and more about the incident. It’s boring so I don’t care about it. When I said I wanted more details I actually lied, details fucking suck. I’m moreso wondering why Toddler 02 told Keiichi it was good that he had a baseball bat. Rena told him it was bad. Mion told him it was bad. Toddler 01... hasn’t been plot-relevant since that moment. Why’d Toddler 02 tell him it was good.

Hmm, it’d be funny if there were some hilarious reason, like Satoshi McAlsoparanoid telling Toddler 02 specifically a way-too-sentimental lie that caused her to get emotionally attached to his baseball bat. Or... something...???

Ugh, alright, this was the other thing I WAS saving for later: Does Hinamizawa attract mental illness or cause it? Why the hell would it do either of those things? It seems to, though.

Oh... oh, the fact that the government didn’t care if their new dam was going to flood Hinamizawa... is that because they were like “Meh, who cares about havens for crazy people?” I can see why people would passionately fight against that rather than pulling a Ben Shapiro and selling their houses and moving.

*squints yet again and loudly curses my lack of a golf visor*

Ableism?

Also “Oyashiro-sama” is “Jailor for Hinamizawans”

If Hinamizawa is a glorified mental asylum and that’s secretly the real reason Keiichi’s there why would Keiichi’s parents be like “Well, now that we’re here, Problem Solved, and if he acts weird, well, um, not top priority right now, because Artist”... maybe Keiichi’s dad really is the worst most villainous character in Higurashi.

Keiichi thinks the connection between “metal bats” and “Oyashiro-sama” is No Mere Coincidence. Can I ignore this? I’m all overthinkinged out, and quite frankly I just think Keiichi is wrong sometimes.

Aww, man... Keiichi shoved Rena. Now I’ll never know why she was holding her axe above her head rather than having her arms lowered below her head like any normal person does with their arms. Well, maybe there’s no correlation there, actually.

Keiichi engages in an epic anime battle against a couple of guys and loses.

Keiichi is in a normal scenario.

Cough

Yeah that’s the type of doctor she called

100% Guaranteed

Rena says Keiichi didn’t have opponents and isn’t a loser. Hmm... half-right, Rena!

“felt like I was”

Anyway Keiichi goes and lets Mion in. For the first time, he actually has to say “I’m Normal” about the way he destroyed his house... Rena is like “Umm... yeah... I’ll make it Actually Normal a little later”

Hmm... yeah maybe if Keiichi has paranoid schizophrenia taking him to a Sinister Conspiracy Facility and then promptly Exiting the Sinister Conspiracy Facility was the worst possible move his parents could have made. To continue the running joke of blaming his dad, I’ll pretend his mom is blameless.

IS THIS AN OPEN SECRET??? ARE KEIICHI’S PARENTS THE WEIRDEST LIARS IN THE WORLD??? KEIICHI’S DAD TRUE VILLAIN THEORY 100% ACCURATE CALLED SHOT BY ME MOMENTS???

Rena says “foreman” and ruins everything

why can’t I go two seconds without a line being baffling? What do you MEAN “happy”

...

Oh. Oh. Mion and Rena’s mutual laughter isn’t the word-repeating one, it’s the laughing one. Duh. What kinda weird games is Mion playing? Don’t be weird, Mion, I’m trying to like you...

Hmm... yeah, I can see where this would be an instance of the slightest mistake-no-ordinary-person-would-make making all the difference in the world as to whether or not something could be perceived as sinister.

Rena... and by Rena, I mean the girl who repeats words, Rena... doesn’t normally refer to herself in third person, does she? I mean. Referring to yourself in the third person is, from what I understand, so much less abnormal in Japanese. And also, as I understand, something Gonta doesn’t do in Japanese, because he’s not a Tarzan-expy/caveman in Japanese. Or maybe he does? But if so, only because it’s less abnormal. I don’t feel like saying very much on the subject of Danganronpa though. The point I was TRYING to make before Gonta made the UNGENTLEMANLY choice to interrupt me was “Oh, is the laughing one saying ‘Rena’ instead of ‘I’ another hint?”

*watches Gonta cry while smirking, then hands him a business card that instead of my name credentials or contact information simply has the word “Golf” printed on it*

So I totally believe that Rena this orange-haired girl is restraining Keiichi, and Mion has a long and thin object in the hand that’s moving about near his face, and that they’re taunting him and ignoring his cries of anguish. I just don’t believe that the long thing object is a syringe rather than a permanent marker. I’ve actually been wondering why people always call Higurashi “slice of life mixed with horror” as though it isn’t obviously “Kaiji Joke Part X mixed with horror”, but I guess the Kaiji Joke Parts are actually a clever plot device so Ryukishi can do stuff like this. Also... kind of unoriginal, Mion. I hate to be so critical of you, my beloved daughter, but Get Creative LMAO.

Oh. Fucking, oh, that’s why she was being so unoriginal. Her unoriginality was also a plot device. I guess Camera’s death ISN’T common enough knowledge for saying this to be in poor taste, huh? That’s what the scene where people said his girlfriend must have eloped was there to establish.

Yeah I can just breeze past this whole recap of how Camera died

Wait was Mion not even a little weirded out by Keiichi saying “but the police didn’t find any drugs in his body”... he’s a freak but he’s not that much of a freak

Are there actually people who read Keiichi going “oh I was hallucinating” here 5 million times and don’t consider the possibility that he actually is prone to hallucination? Wait, that’s me 13 months ago. Unless I just forgot? It feels kinda obvious for me to miss. ...I mean, like I said before, hiding this kind of thing in plain sight can be effective, but.

Anyway, Keiichi finally notices that he’s killed Mion and Rena.

...Was the director actually going to be “happy” Keiichi was “interested in baseball”? For the same reasons Toddler 02 was? Different ones? Hello???

Wait, the two humans and the car that Keiichi engaged in anime combat with are outside his house? For realsies? Real? That just raises Actual questions!!

Also, if Mion and the Toddlers are the Three Token Sane People in this five-person cast, then the fact that there are four girls, four question arcs, and four answer arcs takes on a whole different meaning. What’s going on in this town that gives the ones without mental illnesses that much ability to be the central figures in horror-genre narratives...?

Hmm, okay, Keiichi is using a pen to write. Sorry, just planning ahead for a joke I’ll make later. ...Wait, I should actually say what he’s writing. A bunch of clues to the conspiracy he thinks exists. Which is the wrong conspiracy, because the conspiracy which actually exists is clearly more important...

He... stuck the “syringe”... to the clock...? Uh, well, I’ll, keep that in mind, for later,

Dang these “I know they were evil so why am I so sad that they’re dead” vibes’re kinda tragic from this Dramatic Irony-soaked viewpoint eh boss

Oh... and the vibes straight up do transition to “Wait, I didn’t know they were evil, what the hell is wrong with me?”

Keiichi leaves

One last apology barrage for the road

Is... Ooishi really... a normal guy who’s dangerously ignorant about this weird “let’s put crazy people where us normals don’t have to deal with them” town? What’s the deal with the town then, that the way it’s set up allows a character like Ooishi to be relevant in this story?

Ooishi really knows nothing, huh? This narration from his perspective is asking “Is Keiichi being attacked by guys?!” What fools allowed a scenario where Hinamizawa is the bunk way that it is and Ooishi knows nothing? No one thought that was bad? Mion seems to be capable of acknowledging that it’s bad, unless that’s multiple narrative misdirects.

Keiichi is telling Ooishi he’s only just now realized that the culprit is Oyashiro-sama and not any human. Has Keiichi achieved 100% conviction in the belief that he was mentally ill and not only were Rena and Mion not evil, but neither were any of the guys outside his house? If so, why is he saying something weird? If not, why is he saying something weird?

Ooishi asking Keiichi “PLEASE tell me which human it is who’s doing an evil conspiracy” is going to make me... uh, already used bang my head against the wall... already used die... already used drown... uh...

Oh, I was wrong about that previous apology barrage being the last one. ...I mean I guess it’s esoteric if you don’t know what the plot is. Except. No it’s not, even then? Yeah that’s pretty non-esoteric haha.

Why’s Keiichi’s age 1x. He’s 14 right?

So... it took this long, but the elephant in the me-remembering-parts-of-my-previous-readthrough room was in fact Keiichi dying in the same way as Camera. I guess I really didn’t comprehend the plot last time, because I don’t remember making the following theory: Maybe Keiichi, in his unfortunate state, had simply thought to himself “I know how Camera died, and I want to die, so I’ll just do the same thing.” Very inefficient, but it’s not like he was thinking clearly. I dunno man.

The real question is.

The REAL question is.

The REAL QUESTION is.

Why would Camera die like that? Isn’t he just some guy fr,

om,

elsewhere,

What was that scene where he was like “Yeah... I wish so badly I could live with you...” and Mion or whoever it was being like “He won’t succeed as an artist.” Those two lines weren’t right after each other but they kinda say a little bit.

Never mind then! I guess Camera dying how he did is a little bit consistent with my theories.

As for that bit of narration I said was “correlated with one of my biases”... yeah I have no idea what I was on about at the time.

Wait Keiichi got the bat “several days” before the incident and talked to his parents “two days” before? Is that right? I could read through my previous posts and check but that sounds like a chore. Pass!

Is this police report really from an entire police force full of people who don’t know that this place is some kind of mental care commune? Why is there an entire police force full of people who don’t know?!

Part of Keiichi’s note was redacte--

The “Crazy People Ought To Know What’s Good For Them” enforcer guys?! What’s this place’s deal!!!

Oh the permanent marker conveniently fell off the clock so Ryukishi doesn’t have to write “there was a permanent marker taped to the clock” in his police report and make his whole twist way too obvious.

Aww man I’m blanking on what the enforcer guys redacted. It wasn’t the presence of themselves and their van. Did Keiichi really write something that incriminating??? I only had the vaguest memory of something being wrong with his note, so I figured whatever was wrong with it must have been really obvious, and didn’t bother taking notes.

I like how the last line in the arc is “Hey, person reading: Figure out the mystery.” It’s not technically a fourth wall break, and it’s very Umineko. Or I guess I should say it’s very Ryukishi. Or, it’s very When They Cry? I dunno man.

Meanwhile, in Side Story Land...

Nothing!

Come back tomorrow for when I do something else instead of starting the second arc. I assume you already know what I’m referring to because why are you reading these posts if you’re a person with no familiarity with Higurashi???