#But she did serve an important purpose nonetheless

[faithandfairies]

Re-visiting Antoinette

So, I've been re-watching the show and it has me coming back to Antoinette. Which, I think I always come back to Antoinette because she is important, just not in the way a lot of people think.

The thing is, Louis and Lestat don't communicate properly so you have to look at their actions to figure out where they are at mentally and emotionally at any given time. And painting a more complete picture of Lestat's actions in relation to Antoinette and her purpose according to Lestat does that.

You see, I think by the time Antoinette enters, Lestat feels like he is losing Louis. Their relationship is going down the drain because they're not communicating properly and on top of that Louis isn't feeding well so he doesn't have energy for the parts of their relationship that do work. Louis' lack of proper feeding though is tied to his feelings, his humanity. And his shame of what he is, for which Lestat partly blames himself because of how he handled Louis' turning and their relationship.

And so Lestat starts trying to re-write history to get Louis back. Fix the mistakes he made in the past that Louis holds against him to get Louis back in the present but also as a way to remind Louis of the good times. And he uses Antoinette to do that.

As such Lestat casts Antoinette in the role of Ernesto. Because that's where everything started to go wrong in their relationship. Louis being disgusted with how and why Lestat kills. In Louis' opinion Lestat should never have killed Ernesto. At the very least not in the way he did.

Just like Ernesto Antoinette is a musician. And just like with Ernesto as she leaves Lestat is looking at her like he wants to drain her but he doesn't at that point even though I believe he wants to.

He then also uses Antoinette to remind Louis of his courting period with him. I think Lestat's intention with Antoinette is for Louis to miss him during that two week period as he lavishes all of his attention on someone other than Louis only to then try to seduce him at the end of it, recreating the first time he and Louis slept together after their two week courting period with Antoinette in the role of Lily. Also using the fact that Louis is hungry to try to get him to feed.

I genuinely think Lestat would have killed Antoinette if his plan had worked here. Drained her with Louis most likely. Ernesto's death, but with different circumstances. No humiliation, no torture, just pleasure and lulling her into a false sense of security so Louis can feed. Trying to listen to the objections Louis had to the way Lestat killed. Because the killing itself is non-negotiable, but the circumstances can be negotiated. Lestat is willing to hunt for Louis, and in whatever way that will make it more likely that Louis will feed human.

Lestat's genuinely trying to find viable alternatives for Louis to feed on. Because Louis isn't opposed to feeding on animals. But that isn't a sufficient diet. So what is the human equivalent of an animal to Louis? Louis is opposed to feeding on black people because he considers them his people. Louis is also gay, attracted to his own sex, so all men might be off the table. So I think Lestat goes, would white women suffice? Would that be impersonal enough? Or do you need it to be more personal? Would a white woman that looks like me make you angry enough to feed if you can direct your anger at her? Since male criminals don't do the trick? Or do you need variety of the sexual sort? Do you need to have sex that then devolves into you draining your victim in the heat of the moment?

And I mean, Lestat hit the nail on the head too, you've got to give him that. He knows Louis very well. Because Louis in Paris feeds on humans when he hallucinates his victims as Lestat and directs his anger at them. And in San Francisco Louis sleeps with his victims then drains them. They need so much therapy by the way.

But then here that doesn't work. Louis leaves to feed on animals instead of joining Lestat and Antoinette. So Lestat's like okay, I've got to go back even further. Fix every mistake I've ever made with Louis. Not kill Lily, not turn Louis two weeks into knowing him and use Antoinette to represent that. And so he continues to cast Antoinette in the role of Lily and adds Louis-stand-in and doesn't kill or turn Antoinette. Instead he continues a relationship with her as a human.

But I think Lestat's also realizing it won't make a difference, even if he has learned from his mistakes. I think his relationship with her devolves into a form of self-flagellation through her then. Because he can't turn back time and not turn Louis after only two weeks of knowing him, ease him into things so that Louis doesn't hate Lestat and himself for what they both are. So that he doesn't want to hurt himself and Lestat for what they both are.

I think Antoinette also ended up becoming a way to bridge the gap between Lestat's vampirism and his humanity to save his relationship with Louis when Louis became hard to reach, because Lestat stopped being able to read Louis' mind to understand him and because they didn't communicate well. And because Lestat kept making missteps that created an increasingly larger chasm between them.

Because that's one of the problems, although Lestat understood where Louis thought he went wrong enough to try to fix it I don't think Lestat fully understood why Louis thought certain decisions Lestat made were wrong, why Louis saw things the way he did. Lestat acts on instinct a lot, having been a vampire for as long as he's been by the time he meets Louis and having embraced it as he has. He just doesn't think about things the same way Louis does or at all.

He left Antoinette human as long as he did because it was beneficial to him, because it meant she could help him understand Louis' human side, to be a confidante and a sounding board, but it also genuinely offered a layer of protection to him and Louis for him to be seen with a woman when he and Louis were suspected to be lovers by the town.

Until of course it was more beneficial to have her as a vampire. And of course her love becomes a stand-in for the love he wishes he got from Louis, that he feels he could have gotten from Louis if he'd handled things differently with him.

The thing is, just like everything else in Lestat's mind his involvement with Antoinette is for Louis. It's just that Lestat being Lestat everything he does or thinks he does for Louis alone he's usually also doing for himself.

[physalian]

Humanizing Your Characters (And Why You Should)

To humanize a character is not to contort an irredeemable villain into the warped funhouse mirror reflection of a hero in the last 30 seconds to gain “narrative subversion” points. To humanize is not to give said villain a tragic backstory that validates every bad choice they make in attempt to provide nuance where it does not deserve to be.

To humanize a character, villain or otherwise, is to make them flawed. Scuff them up, give them narrative birthmarks and scars and imperfections. Whether it’s your hero, their love interest, the comic relief, the mentor, the villain, the rival, these little narrative details serve to make all your literary babies better.

Why should you humanize your characters?

To do this means to write in details beyond those that service the plot, or the themes, or the motifs, morals, foreshadowing, or story. These might be (and usually are) entirely unimportant in the grand scheme of things. So, if I wrote lengthy diatribes on pacing and why every detail must matter, and character descriptions and thematic importance, why am I now suggesting go free-for-all on the fluff?

Just like real people have quirks and tics and beliefs and pet peeves that serve our no greater purpose, so should fictional people. Your average reader doesn’t have the foggiest idea what literary devices are beyond metaphor, simile foreshadowing, and anecdote, but they can tell when the author is using motif and theme and all the syntactical marvels because it reads that much richer, even if they can’t pinpoint why.

And, for shipping fodder, these tiny little details are what help your audience fall in love with the character. It doesn’t even have to be in a book – Taylor Swift (whether you like her or not) never fills her music with sexual innuendo or going clubbing. She tells stories filled with human details like dancing in the refrigerator light. People can simultaneously relate to these very specific and vivid experiences, and say “not that exactly, but man this reminds me of…” and that’s (part of) the reason her music is so popular.

What kinds of narratives need these details?

All of them. Visual media, audio, written, stage play. Now, to what degree and excess you apply these details depends on your tone, intended audience, and writing style. If your style of writing is introspection heavy, noir character drama, you might go pretty heavy on the character design.

But even if you’re writing a kids book with a scant few paragraphs of setting descriptors and internal narration, or you’re drawing a comic book – if you have characters you want people to care about, do this.

Animators, particularly, are very adept at humanizing non-human characters, because, unlike live acting, every single stroke of the pen is there with intent. They use their own reflections for facial references, record their own movements to draw a dance, and insert little bits of themselves into signature character poses so you know that *that* animator did this one.

How to humanize your characters.

I’m going to break this down into a couple sections: Costume/wardrobe, personality, beliefs/behavior/superstitions, haptics/proxemics/kinesics, and voice. They will all overlap and the sheer variety and possibilities are way too broad for me to capture every facet.

Costumes and Wardrobe

In the film Fellowship of the Ring, there’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment where, after Boromir is slain by the Uruk-Hai, Aragorn takes Boromir’s Gondorian vambraces to wear in his honor, and in honor of their shared country. He wears them the rest of the trilogy. The editing pays no extra attention to them beyond a split second of Aragorn tightening the straps, it never lingers on them, never reminds you that they’re there, but they kept it in nonetheless. His actor also included a hunting bow that didn't exist in the book because he's a roamer, a ranger, and needs to be able to feed himself, along with a couple other survival tools.

Aragorn wears plenty of other symbolic bits of costume – the light of the Evenstar we see constantly from Arwen, the Lothlorien green cloaks shared by the entire Fellowship, his re-forged sword and eventual full Gondorian regalia, but all those are Epic Movie Moments that serve a thematic purpose.

Taking the vambraces is just a small, otherwise insignificant character moment, a choice made for no other reason than that’s what this character would do. That’s what makes him human, not an archetype.

When you’re writing these details and can’t rely on sneaking them into films, you have to work a little harder to remind your audience that they exist, but not too often. A detail shifts from “human” to “plot point” when it starts to serve a purpose to the themes and story.

Inconsequentiality might be how a character ties, or doesn’t tie their shoelaces, because they just can’t be bothered so they remain permanent knots and tripping hazards. It might be a throw-away line about how they refuse to wear shorts and strictly stick to long pants because they don’t like showing off their legs. It might be perpetually greasy hair from constantly running their fingers through it with stress, or self-soothing. A necklace they fidget with, or a ring, a belt they never bother to replace even though they should, a pair of lucky socks.

Resist the urge to make it more meaningful than “this is just how they are”. If I’m using the untied shoelaces example – in Spiderverse, this became a part of the story’s themes, motifs, and foreshadowing, and doesn’t count. Which isn’t bad! It’s just not what I’m talking about.

Personality

In How to Train Your Dragon, Toothless does not speak. All his personality comes from how he moves, the noises he makes, and the expressions on his face. There’s moments, like in the finale, when his prosthetic has burned off and Hiccup tells him to hold on for a little bit longer, and you can clearly see on his face that he’s deeply uncertain about his ability to do so. It’s almost off the screen, another blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment. Or the beat of hesitation before he lets Hiccup touch him in the Forbidden Friendship scene. Or the irritated noise he makes when he’s impatiently waiting for Hiccup to stop chatting with his dad because they have a giant dragon to murder. Or when he slaps Hiccup with his ear fin for flying them into a rock spire.

None of those details *needed* to exist to endear you to his character or to serve the scenes they’re in. The scenes would carry on just fine without them. He’s a fictional dragon, yes, but these details make him real.

Other personality tics you could include might be a character who gets frustrated with tedious things very quickly and starts making little inteligible curses under their breath. Or how they giggle when they’re excited and start bouncing on their toes. Maybe they have a tic where they snap their fingers when they’re concentrating, trying to will an idea into existence. Or they stick their tongue out while they work and get embarrassed when another character calls them on it. They roll around in their sleep, steal blankets, drool, leave dishes in the sink or are neurotic with how things must be organized. They have one CD in their car, and actually use that CD player instead of the phone jack or Bluetooth. They sing in the shower, while they cook, or while they do homework, no matter how grating their voice.

They like the smell of new shoes or Sharpies. They hate the texture of suede or velvet or sticky residues. They never pick their socks up. They hate the overhead light in their room and use 50 lamps instead. They hate turning into oncoming traffic or don’t trust their backup camera. They collect Funko Pops and insist there’s always room for more.

And about a million others.

Beliefs, Behaviors, and Superstitions

*If you happen to be writing a story where superstitions have merit, maybe skip this one.* Usually, inevitably, these evolve into character centerpieces and I can’t actually think of one off the top of my head that doesn’t become this beyond the ones we all know. A few comedic examples do come to mind:

The Magic Conch in “Club Spongebob” and the sea-bear-proof dirt circle in “The Camping Episode”

Dean Winchester’s fear and panic-driven actions in “Yellow Fever” and “Sam, Interrupted”

The references to the trolls that steal left-foot socks in How to Train Your Dragon

I’m not a fan of wasting time writing a religious character doing their religious thing when Plot Is Happening, but smaller things are what I’m talking about. Like them wearing a cross/rosary and touching it when they’re nervous. Having a specific off-beat prayer, saying, or expression because they don’t believe in cursing.

The classic ones like black cats, ladders, broken mirrors, salt, sidewalk cracks can all be funny. Athletes have plenty, too, and some of them, particularly in baseball culture, are a bit ridiculous. Not washing socks or uniforms, having a team idol they donate Double Bubble to and also rub their toes. A specific workout routine, diet, team morale dance.

Other things, too. A character who’s afraid to go back downstairs once the lights are off, or fear the basement or the backyard shed. Or they’re really put-off by this old family photo for no reason other than how glassy their eyes look and it’s creepy. They like crystals, dreamcatchers, star signs, tarot, or they absolutely do not under any circumstances.

They believe in all the tried and true ways of predicting the weather like a grizzled old sailor. They believe in ghosts, vampires, werewolves, witches, skinwalkers, doppelgangers, fairies. They talk to the cat statue in their kitchen and named it Fudge Pop. They whisper to the spirit that possessed the fridge so it stops making all that racket, and half the time, it works every time. They wear yellow for good luck or carry a rabbit’s foot. They’re not religious at all but still throw prayers out to whoever’s listening because, you know, just in case. They sit by their window sill and talk to the moon and the stars and pretend like they’re in a music video when they’re driving through the city in the rain.

Haptics, Proxemics, and Kinesics

These are, for all you non-communication and psych majors out there, touch and physical contact, how they move, and how they move around other people.

Behold, your shipping fodder.

Two shining examples of proxemics in action are the famous “close talker” episode of Seinfeld (of which every communication major has been subjected to) and Castiel’s not understanding of personal space (and human chronemic habits) in Supernatural.

These are how a character walks, if they’re flat-footed, clumsy, or tip-toers. If they make a racket or constantly spook the other characters. If they fidget or can’t sit still in a seat for five seconds, if they like to sit backwards or upside down. How they touch themselves, if they do a lot of self-soothing maneuvers (hugging themselves, rubbing their arms, touching their face, drawing their knees up, holding their neck, etc) or if they don’t do any self-soothing at all.

This is how they shake hands, if they dance while they cook or work. It’s how much space they let themselves take up, if they man-spread or keep their limbs in closer. How close they stand to others or how far. If they let themselves be touched at all, or if they always have their skin covered. If they always have their back to a wall,  or are always making sure they know where the nearest exit is. If they make grand gestures when they talk and give directions. If they flinch from pats on the back or raised hands. If they lean away from loud voices or project their own. If they use their height to their advantage when arguing, puff their chest, square their shoulders, put their hands on their hips, or point fingers in accusation.

If they touch other characters as they pass by. If they’re huggers or victims of falling asleep on or near their comrades. If they must sleep facing the door, or with something solid behind them. If they can sleep in the middle of a party wholly uncaring. If they sleepwalk, sleeptalk, migrate across the bed to cuddle whoever’s nearest with no idea they’re doing it.

If they like to be held or like to hold others. If they hate being picked up and slung around or are touch-starved for it. If they like their space and stick to it or are more than happy to share.

Do they walk with grace, head held high and back straight? Or are they hunched over, head hung, watching their feet? Are they meanderers or speed-walkers? Do they cross their arms in front or lace their hands behind them? Do they bow to authority or meet that gaze head on?

I have heard that Prince Zuko, in Last Airbender, is usually drawn sleeping with his bad ear down when he doesn’t feel safe, like on his warship or anywhere in the Fire Nation, or on the road. He’s drawn on his other side once he joins the Gaang. In Dead Man’s Chest, just before Davy Jones drives the Flying Dutchman under the waves, two tentacles curl up and around the brim of his hat to keep it from blowing off in the water.

When they fight, do they attack first, or defend first? Do they touch other characters’ hair? Share makeup, share clothes? Touch their faces with boops or bonks or nuzzles and eskimo kisses? Do they crack their knuckles and necks and knees?

Do they stare in baffled curiosity at all the other characters wholly comfortable in each other's spaces because they can’t, won’t, or don’t see the point in all this nonsense? Do they say they’re happy on the outside, but are betrayed by their body language?

Voice

Whether or not to write an accent is entirely up to you. Books like Their Eyes Were Watching God writes dialogue in a vernacular specific to its characters. Westerners and southerners tend to be written with the southern drawl or dialect, ripe with stereotypical contractions. Be advised, however, that in attempt to write an accent to give your character depth, you could be instead turning off your audience who doesn’t have energy to decipher what they’re saying, or you went and wrote a racist stereotype.

Voice isn’t just accent and dialect, nor is it how it sounds, which falls more solidly under useful character descriptions. Voice for the sake of humanizing your characters concerns how they talk, how they convey their thoughts, and how they become distinct from other characters in dialogue and narration.

If you’re writing a narrative that hops heads and don’t want to include a big banner to indicate who’s talking at any given time, this is where voice matters. It is, I think, the least appreciated of all the possible traits to pay attention to.

First person narrators have the most flexibility here because the audience is zero degrees removed from their first-hand experiences. Their personality comes through sharply in how they describe things and what they pay attention to.

But it’s also in what similes and metaphors they use. I read a book that had an average (allegedly straight) male narrator going off and describing colors with types of flowers, some I had to look up because I just don’t know those off the top of my head. My immediate thought was either this character is a poorly written gay, or he’s a florist. Neither (allegedly), the writer was just being too specific.

Do they have crutch words they use? like, um, actually, so…, uh

Or repeat exclamations specific to them? yikes, yowzers, jeepers, jinkies, zoinks, balls, beans, d’oh!

Or idioms they’re fond of? Like a bat out of hell. Snowball’s chance.

Do they stutter when they’re nervous? Do they lose their train of thought and bounce around, losing other characters in the process? Do they have a non-Christian god they pray to and say something other than “thank God”? Are they from another country, culture, time period, realm, or planet with their own gods, beliefs, and idioms?

When they describe settings, how flowery is the language? Would this grizzled war hero use flowery language? How would he or she describe the color pink, versus a PTA mom? Do they use only a generic “blue, green, red” or do they really pay attention with “aquamarine, teal, emerald, viridian, vermillion, rose, ruby”?

How do this character’s hobbies affect how well they can describe dance moves, painting styles, car models, music genres?

This mostly matters when you’re head-hopping and the voice of the narrator serves to be more distinct, otherwise, what’s the point of head-hopping? Just use third-person omniscient.

If you really want to go wild, give a specific narrator unique syntax. Maybe one character is the ghost of Oscar Wild with never-ending run-on sentences. Just be sure to not go too overboard and compromise the integrity of your story.

In the book A Lesson Before Dying, a somewhat illiterate, underprivileged and undereducated minor has been given a mentor, a teacher, before they face the death penalty. At the end of the book, you read all of the letters they wrote to their teacher. There’s misspellings everywhere, almost no punctuation, and long, rambling sentences.

It’s heartbreaking. The subject matter is heavy and horrible, yes, but it’s the choice to write with such poor English that has a much bigger impact than perfect MLA format.

How to implement these details

Most of these, in the written medium, need only show up once or twice before your audience notices and wonders why they’re there. Most fall squarely under character design, which falls under exposition, and should follow all the exposition guidelines.

These details exist to be random and fluffy, but they can’t exist randomly within the narrative. If you want to have your character be superstitious, pick a relevant time to include that superstition.

Others, like ongoing speech habits or movements, still don’t overuse, especially if they’re unique. A character might like to sit backwards in a chair, but if you mention that they’re doing it every single time they sit down, your audience will wonder what’s so important and if the character is unwell.

And, of course, you can let these traits become thematically important, like a superstition being central to their personality or backstory or motivation. These all serve the same purpose of making your character feel like a real person instead of just a “character”.

Just think about tossing in a few random details every now and then and see what happens. One tiny sentence can take a background character and make them candidates for the eventual fandom’s fan favorite. Details like these turn your work from “This a story, and these are the characters who tell it” into “these are my characters, and this is their story.”

[lettersfromaphrodite]

[20.55]

― pairing : Seungmin x fem! reader ― content warnings : angst, fluff, smut, royals au, Seungmin is a Prince, reader is his most trusted knight, medieval settings, unprotected sex (wrap it up y’all), fantasy au ― word count : 5.480

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

👑 ROYALS! STRAY KIDS SERIES

Chris // Changbin // Jisung // Hyunjin // Seungmin // Minho // Felix part one | part two // Jeongin

Kim Seungmin, a name you knew far too well.

Kim Seungmin, the soon to be King; but also, Kim Seungmin, your beloved bestfriend.

You and him knew each other since you were little, both your parents deciding that the two of you should grow up together in order to develop a strong bond based on friendship and loyalty which would definitely come in hand as soon as you’d be proclaimed his personal bodyguard- since your family had always served the Royal family like that. Truth to be told, your parents expected to give birth to a boy, but nonetheless, the King decided that even if you were a girl, you would have been trained for the same purpose.

Days turned into years, and the two of you gradually grew up, overcoming together even the most embarrassing stages of your adolescence, and completely becoming inseparable. People at the King’s court did not fail to express their disagreement with the fact that the personal guard of the only heir to the throne was a woman, but anytime it happened, both the King and Seungmin stood up for you.

«She comes from a well-respected family,» the King would answer, «I have good faith in her.»

«You have no idea of what she can do!» Seungmin would answer instead.

Eventually you proved your capabilities and your talent, deciding to spend most of your free time training yourself, and so, in your twenties, you proved yourself enough in battle to being assured both the title of Seungmin’s personal bodyguard, but also the Royal army’s Commander.

The rumours of a woman being not enough qualified for the job disappeared, and people respected you, the only complain being about your too-stoic behaviour.

What they did not know, is that Seungmin was the only one to see both sides of the coin. Seungmin’s behaviour – and therefore yours, immediately changed as soon as you were alone, and you’d spend your time laughing together until your stomachs hurt, sharing blankets, cuddles, and everything a couple of friends that had known each other for their own life would do. When you were alone, you and Seungmin would often lose yourselves in your own little world, where the two of youwere the only inhabitants.

Growing up, however, you could not help but notice that your feelings for Seungmin were slowly changing, constantly transforming until they finally took the shape of a crush, which sadly, quickly developed into love.

Spending your whole day with him didn’t help you suppress your feelings at all, and so you gradually grew attached to Changbin, your attractive and witty second in command, and finding yourself seeking for comfort in his wise words of advice. «You should never, ever, tell him.» Changbin had told you one night, while pouring you a glass of wine while you were discussing important matters in his private chambers; and of course, with “important matters”, you clearly meant “Seungmin”.

«Doll, don’t get me wrong,» Changbin quickly added, dropping any time of formality when the two of you were alone; his brows furrowed as you kept staring at your glass with a dejected expression. «I honestly wish for your love to become true but, we’re soldiers.» Your eyes met his over the table, and you quickly understood what he was about to say. «Unless we suddenly adopt the Vikings mindset – which would be extremely cool by the way, our hands are soaked with blood. Seungmin’s - the King’s or the Queen’s, are not, they’ll never be. At least, not directly.» Changbin’s words did not surprise you, since you have been thinking about the same things for a while, but you had to admit that hearing them out loud from someone which wasn’t the voice of reason in your head, actually hurt.

«We’re like the Sun and the Moon,» you sighed, finally sipping from your cup of wine. «How could I bring together two worlds when they’re so different?»

Changbin’s eyes locked with yours, a drunken smile on his face. «An eclipse.»

«Why are you so unfocused today?» you questioned, as you effortlessly planted both Seungmin’s hands on the floor rather roughly, your body hovering above his.

Training together was a daily habit, over the years you both memorized the other’s technique so that it was actually a challenge to win against each other, but today Seungmin was definitely not himself. He let you disarm him during the first ten minutes, and even let you pin him on the floor without a fight. «What’s wrong?»

Seungmin sighed, the cloud of thoughts that enveloped his mind dissipating at your softer tone. He rolled the two of you around, so that he’d be the one to pin you on the floor. «Battle strategy, I won.»

You narrowed your eyes, «Seungmin,» you warned, and his hand hovered above your cheek, the ghostly touch sending shivers on your skin. Something was definitely wrong; it wasn’t unusual for the two of you to cuddle or hug, but if was definitely unusual for Seungmin to run his fingertips along your cheekbone as if he was almost scared to touch you, as if such a simple act was actually forbidden. Seungmin’s gaze bore into yours with an intensity you’ve never felt, your heart picked up pace as his face imperceptibly drew closer, and you instinctively tensed up.  

«My father wants me to get married, soon.» he mumbled with a strained voice, looking as if he was totally opposed to the idea for a moment.

«Oh.» was all you managed to answer. Seungmin arched his brows, definitely not used to his bestfriend being so quiet about important matters like this, especially regarding him. «What do you think about it?»

Despite the feeling of Seungmin’s body pressed flush against yours, your heart sank in your stomach, and you repeatedly tapped his side as soon as you managed to sneak one of your hands out of his strong hold, «Come on, buddy, training’s over.»

Seungmin’s confused expression only deepened, but he let you move him off you, so that you could stand up and gather your things as quickly as you could; you felt his eyes bore into your shoulders, since he probably was still waiting for an answer.

«You knew that it would have happened, sooner or later.» you answered, more to yourself than to him, hoping not to burst in tears since it would have been rather inconvenient to explain why you were crying.

With quick steps, you walked out of the training room, leaving a confused – and hurt, Seungmin calling for your name.

A month had passed rather quickly, and you hated to admit that Seungmin’s fiancée was unquestionably beautiful, charming and adorable. The worst thing was that you could not bring yourself to hate her, since she had only been kind and respectful to you; even if you didn’t know it, yet, the two of you were more alike than you could originally have thought.

In fact, both you and the Princess would have given anything to be born with a different social status.

«I admire you so much,» she confessed with a tiny voice after she had approached you – standing on the side of the room, during a ball. «You’re a warrior! You must be so strong and elegant, too!» her eyes became as wide as child’s which was talking about her favourite tale. «I’d love to be in your place, even for a day.» you couldn’t help but sigh at her words, as she gently linked her arms with yours.

«Me too, Princess.» you admitted, your eyes scanning the room and immediately glancing at Seungmin, busy laughing with his friends; you and the Princess kept talking for most of the night, and she never failed to notice you and Seungmin stealing glances to each other.

The Princess started scheming an intricate plan that same night, her pretty doe eyes narrowed and a smug smile adorning her lips as she held your still linked arms closer to her frame in the same moment she saw her soon to be husband looking at his personal guard with the same adoration you’d look at your lover.

Contrarily to what you expected, you and the Princess became friends. She was easily entertained, and loved to hear the stories you have experienced on the battlefield; you also became friends with her lady in waiting, following her Princess like a shadow and you had to admit, sometimes you brought yourself to wonder about the bond the two of them shared.

Despite the fact that you were technically befriending your enemy on the unforgiving battlefield of love, you knew that you could never win and so, you gradually started to find happiness in the fact that for the first time in your life, you had a friend that wasn’t a boy.

Seungmin, however, started giving you mixed signals. He was happy that you and the princess got along, but he also felt extremely dejected; the realization that he’d have to get married, made him realize that the only woman he wanted to give his heart to, the only woman he wanted to be faithful to, was you.

There were days where Seungmin would run away from his meetings in order to spend time with you next to the river, pretend to be a fortune teller and reading your hand.

«A majestic Prince will swipe you off from your feet, one day.» he’d say, refraining from the instinct of intertwining his fingertips with yours and never let go.

«Seungmin,» you laughed, «I’m not qualified enough.» you mocked the words you’ve been hearing for years but this time, they held every bit of truth. As you were about to retreat your hand from Seungmin’s, he tightened his hold, falling silent as he silently held your hand and wordlessly stared into the water, his jaw clenched and looking somehow as if your words managed to hurt him.

Other times, Seungmin would treat you as your relationship was strictly business related; talking to you only when it was strictly needed or coldly dismissing you as soon as the both of you reached his personal’s chambers room. You silently went along with him, loving and cherishing every moment of kindness he showed you, but also hoping for your feelings to definitely dissipate into thin air before the engagement was officially announced.

Another month had passed, and for your Kingdom, things dramatically changed; the King sadly announced you that you would lead the army in order to suppress a riot, which had quickly turned into a guerrilla, and consequently, couldn’t be solved peacefully anymore. The nearest Kingdom was attacking; declaring war to yours and taking advantage of these riots to furtherly increase the number of their soldiers.

«No.» Seungmin interrupted you; as you were about agree on the mission. Both yours and Changbin’s head turned to him at the speed of light, and your gaze locked with Seungmin’s intense one. «It’s too dangerous for her.» he spoke, his eyes never faltering from yours with such a desperation that almost made it difficult for you to breathe.

With a hammering heart, you furrowed your brows, confused by Seungmin’s strange attitude; you knew the possibilities to come back alive were almost inexistent but they have always been, and still, Seungmin never objected, not once. At least, not during an official meeting.

Changbin’s knee softly bumped against yours under the table, and you snapped out of your thoughts, noticing how everyone was staring at you.

«It’s my job, your Majesty.» you tried to keep a composed voice despite the whirlwind of emotions running into your soul, referring to Seungmin by using  his title, like every other time you were in public. Seungmin’s eyes widened in surprise and his brows furrowed; he wanted so desperately to convince you not to go, but the words died in his throat.

«The meeting is dismissed.» the King nodded at you and Changbin, «You’ll leave tomorrow in the morning.» he dismissed the both of you, but asked Seungmin to remain.

«The hell was that?» Changbin whispered at you, tightly gripping your elbow as soon as you were outside the council room.

«No idea.» you mumbled back, watching Changbin sneakily placing his ear against the heavy wooden door in order to hear what they were saying.

«They’re yelling!» he mouthed, aggressively pointing towards the door. The guards standing at the sides curiously glanced at him, but then decided to remain silent, knowing better not to get on Changbin’s bad side. «I can’t understand anything, for fuck’s sake.» he furrowed his brows, bending his knees as to try a better angle.

«Maybe near the keyhole…» he whispered, and you shook your head before grabbing his ear and starting to walk away, ignoring his pained whines.

Seungmin asked to meet you in his private chambers few hours later, and you gladly accepted, always preferring to stay away from the busy preparations of war; Changbin would have done everything superbly anyways. Seungmin didn’t tell you what he and his father talked about, and you did not ask, knowing that he would have eventually told you as soon as he was ready.

The two of you laid together on his big mattress as you did every time you’d be about to leave, Seungmin holding you impossibly close to his strong chest at the point where your breathing synchronized, and probably did your hearts, too.

«Promise you’ll come back,» Seungmin’s quiet mumble broke the peaceful silence of the room.

«I always do.» you mumbled back immediately, unaware that you’d cut Seungmin’s sentence halfway.

«To me. Come back to me, please.» Seungmin’s arms tightened around you, and you widened your eyes, confused; your heart picked up pace, and you shuffled, removing from his tight hold in order to sit on the bed and face him instead.

«Seungmin,» your heart was hammering in your chest at the point you felt it was getting hard to breathe, but you proceeded; you knew better than anyone that, despite your promises, your return was never granted, and with an imminent war coming up, you would rather face the enemy with a furious broken heart instead of a heavy heart full of unconfessed feelings. «I… Love you.» you mumbled, suddenly unable to look at him in the eyes.

«I love you, too.» you felt the bed shuffle, and Seungmin sat in front of you, mirroring your pose and reaching out to hold one of your hands; with a breathless chuckle, you shook your head, a lump forming in your throat.

«Not like that, Minnie.» you tenderly looked at him, calling him by the nickname you used when you were still kids. «I love you in the way I’m not supposed to, like a woman loves a man.» you finally managed to lock your gaze with Seungmin, which was looking at you like he had seen a ghost; his eyes were wide and his lips were slightly parted. Seungmin remained silent, and your heart sank deeper by each passing seconds, until you closed your eyes, sighing loudly.

«It’s okay, your Majesty.» you politely smiled at him, your walls building up by themselves, «I knew that, already.» you reached out to affectionately ruffle his hair, before climbing down the bed and taking your leave.

That night, Seungmin’s and the Princess’ engagement was publically confirmed.

Needless to say, being his bodyguard, you had to be there too, a fake smile plastered on your face as you congratulated them, Seungmin’s eyes looking anywhere but you.

That night, you broke down crying in Changbin’s arms, which remained silent, patiently caressing your hair and wiping your wet cheeks as you cried yourself to sleep.

The following morning, you and Changbin sat on your horses, leading the army as the Royal Family and the villagers were ready to wish you good luck, accompanying you all the way through the city’s gates.

No matter how many times Seungmin tried to make eye contact with you; you kept your gaze strictly in front of yourself, your eyes swollen and your heart heavy.

«That was hot.» Changbin told you once you were far enough from the Capital. «Cool, but also hot.» you scoffed, sad smile on your face.

«It wasn’t. I’ve been an idiot.» you sighed, shaking your head at the thought of what happened the day before.

«I don’t think so,» he shrugged. «You didn’t look at him, but I did. And let me say that-»

«Changbin,» you turned towards him, and he immediately shut up at the sight of your teary eyes, mimicking to close his mouth with a lock and throwing away the key. «I’d rather talk about our upcoming duties.»

For the following three weeks and two days, Seungmin did not show up in your thoughts, not even once; the situation on the battlefield was alarming, and to say that the problem had been underestimated was a euphemism.

The enemy’s soldiers outnumbered yours, and you had spent your days restlessly fighting and protecting the small watch out defensive forts you managed to occupy. Both you and Changbin had been changing up strategies day by day, and the both of you grew stressed easily, also noticing that the soldier’s morale definitely weakened due to the unbalanced situation.

«If we get back alive, I’ll start a riot myself.» Changbin said, putting all his effort into keeping a calm surface when he probably wanted to set fire to the whole Castle out of spite. «That bastard of a King sent us out here on our funeral.» he spoke, his hands balled in fists and his knuckles almost white; you chuckled, humourlessly, agreeing with him.

It was indeed a suicide mission, and you allowed yourself thinking about Seungmin’s strong arms holding you close, one last time, before gathering your things and getting ready to join your soldiers on the battlefield. You were glad you and Changbin were on the same page: today’s battle would have been decisive for the decision regarding your retreat.

Swinging your sword, you managed to neutralize yet another one of your opponents, helping one of the soldiers that had been surrounded by enemies. Deep in your heart, you knew you would never win today’s battle; the soldiers were too tired, and the enemy clearly outnumbered you. As much as you hated declaring loss, the options were simple: retreat and have a small chance to get back home, or die on the battlefield. Your sword effortlessly sank in the stomach on another man, and you kicked him to the floor with a strained groan.

«Fall back!» you shouted at the top of your lungs, glad that the soldiers near you immediately repeated your command, and so you all quickly retreated. Hastily, you glanced around one last time, and Changbin appeared next to you with a worried shout, which did not reach your ears, as it should have.

Everything started to get blurry, and you gradually got dizzy; your grip around the sword’s handle loosened, and you glanced down to see a short blade perfectly lodged into your abdomen. Pain and darkness surrounded your senses and you collapsed, aware that Changbin was ready to catch you once again.

Seungmin essentially spent the majority of his days staring outside of the window, waiting to see you coming back with a triumphant smile on your face as you leaded the army back home, as you always did every time. Once again, he shifted his position on his chair, before he heard one of the guards outside his door announcing that his fiancée was about to enter the room.

«Seungmin, we have to talk.» she told him, an unusual distressed tone in her voice, and he shifted his gaze on her. «I know you don’t have feelings for me.» she reached out, placing her hand above his on the chair’s handles.

Seungmin scoffed, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips as he threw his head back on the chair. «And?»

«And I don’t love you, either.» she finished with a polite smile as his head shot back and their gaze locked. «I’m in a relationship with my lady in waiting.» she carefully whispered her confession. «I’ve been cheating on you even before meeting you!» she smiled widely, and he faintly returned her smile. «I came here to tell you I want to help you, as soon as she comes back. We don’t love each other, but we’re still friends.»

«Thank you.» Seungmin said, placing his hand on top of hers, gratitude evident in his eyes. Seungmin couldn’t wait for you to come back home to confess his love for you, and so, he and his fiancée spent the entire morning creating a plan that could allow their Kingdoms to maintain the newfound peace, but also allow them to realize their love without suffering any further. She was about to answer, when a guard entered the room, informing you that the army was now crossing the castle gates, and Seungmin ran.

Seungmin rushed through the castle’s corridors like a mad man, and as soon as he was almost at the Castle’s gates, he was met with Changbin, riding on top of his horse and staring ahead with a dark look on his face. Seungmin’s eyes shifted on your white horse, pain squeezing his heart in a tight grip, as he did not catch any sight of you. You were not riding your horse, you were not walking among the few remaining soldier, and you were nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, a small, wooden carriage that both yours and Changbin’s horse were pulling along caught his attention; an arm was dangling from the wooden surface, and Seungmin petrified.

Even if that person’s identity was hidden thanks to a blanket placed over their shape, Seungmin would recognize that armour anywhere, since he gave it to you as a present.

«Move.» Changbin’s tone was rough. It did not show empathy, nor respect. Seungmin could feel the pent up rage that was boiling in the boy’s blood.

«Is she-»

«I said move,» Changbin repeated, as if he was talking to a captured enemy soldier and not to the future King, the dark circles under his eyes now more evident as he finally returned Seungmin’s gaze. «Or she might as well be dead.»

You woke up feeling as if a whole army had been using your body as a carpet to walk on; you couldn’t entirely remember what happened on the battlefield, but there was a white bandage covering up you abdomen, and the pain you were feeling was almost unbearable.

«You’re lucky you’re alive.» Changbin said as soon as he heard the news that you woke up. «That blade was poisoned.» he said, squeezing your hand as he sat on the small, wooden chair next to the bed.

«Well, that was an adventure.» you muttered, still feeling weak and already hating the feeling of the bandage around your abdomen.

«Adventure? I was so worried for you, I almost got fired!» Changbin whined, and you giggled.

«I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to almost die.» you sighed, and your friend simply leaned in to quickly kiss your forehead.

The second visit you received was Seungmin’s. Cowardly, you pretended to be asleep for half of the time he had been there, until he sighed, and hesitantly reached out to hold your hand.

«I can’t wait for you to wake up,» his voice gently said, as his thumb caressed your knuckles. Even if your first instinct was to intertwine your fingers with his as you always did, you prevented yourself from doing so, settling for enjoying the feeling of Seungmin’s warm hands holding yours. «So that I can confess to you properly, hoping to be still on time for you to say yes.» your heart picked up pace at his words, but you still kept your eyes closed.

«Truth was, you caught me completely off guard that time, and I had been talking with my father about annulling the engagement, because I love you. The marriage… It won’t be cancelled, but me and the Princess found a way to make everyone happy, guess how?» he chuckled, «The Princess has-no, I want to see your expression as I tell you but, long story short, we both love someone else.» you had to bite the inside of your cheeks not to smile. «And now, you can’t stop pretending to be asleep.»

Your eyes shot open with a groan, «I was good at acting!»

«You’ve always been terrible at it.» Seungmin smiled at you, tightening his hold around your hand.

«Tell me about the Princess.» you eyed him curiously, as your fingers finally interlocked together.

«Oh! She has a girlfriend.» he said, smiling at your eyes widening while an incredulous smile spread on your face. «Her lady in waiting.»

«No way!» you exclaimed, excited and happy with the news. «Now help me up, and tell me everything.» With gentle hands, Seungmin helped you in a sitting position, and told you that he and the Princess both decided to get married, but live their own sentimental life behind closed doors.

«I guess me and her maid will sink our sorrows in the wine that will be served at the wedding, then.» you sighed, and Seungmin held your hand a little bit tighter.

«Is that a yes?» he asked, hopeful eyes searching for yours.

«Yes, Seungmin.» you smiled, with a nod. «A thousand times yes.» Seungmin leaned in, kissing your lips with a soft peck, before smiling widely and mumbling a sweet «I love you.»

One long year passed since that day; your wound totally recovered, and in exchange, you got yet another scar adorning your body. Seungmin saw you naked a countless times by now, and yet, he’d still take his time to kiss every scar on your skin, his gentle and soft lip making you shiver in reflex.

The guerrilla had been won thanks to the Princess’ Reign landing you their military forces, and you and Changbin came back from the battlefield with wide smile on your faces. Needless to say, as soon as you told Changbin about Seungmin’s plan, he couldn’t stop talking about it.

«What did I tell you back then?» Changbin smiled, hugging you close and spinning you around few times. «You needed an Eclipse!»

«Changbin!» you laughed, «It makes no sense, and you were drunk back then!»

«Tipsy. And still a genius.» you were glad to have Changbin as your friend, since sometimes you felt like he was happier than you were about it. Truth was, deep inside you knew that you risked your life on a daily basis, and the thought of not coming back to Seungmin made your heart sink in your stomach.

Seungmin and the Princess got married approximatively seven month after you came back injured, and you couldn’t help but giggle as the Princess’ lady in waiting gently elbowed you as they swore each other fidelity. Seungmin managed to glance at you as he spoke his vows, and you rolled your eyes at him, tilting your head and hiding a smile from unwanted eyes.

Seungmin and the Princess both insisted to re-arrange the dispositions of the rooms, so that yours and her lady in waiting’s would be at each side of their shared chambers; meaning that they both could sneak out to meet their lover without anybody knowing. Therefore, that’s how you spent your time. During the day, you would be occupying your position as Seungmin’s personal bodyguard, ignoring Changbin’s knowing gazes as you were trying to maintain a stoic posture, while at night, you were Seungmin’s lover.

Seungmin was both a gentle, passionate Prince as much as he was a gentle and passionate lover; whatever he did, he always made sure not to hurt you, and he always put your pleasure before his. At first, his hand would be draped over your mouth to muffle your too loud moans, but eventually, the King found out about your secret relationship as one day, a loud cough interrupted your make out session behind one of the Castle’s columns in the hallways. Seungmin had you pinned against the wall, one legs between yours, and you couldn’t be more embarrassed about it. Of course, the Princess had been called up immediately, and they both decided to confess.

The King’s face paled for a minute, before dismissing you all with a wave of his hand. «I want an heir. I don’t care how, but at least make me become a grandfather before you make me die of heart attack.» since then, he never said anything else about the situation, but indeed, he had been paying a little more attention to the four of you, finding a new source of entertainment among the court.

Your nightgown danced around your legs as you walked over to Seungmin’s desk chair, his eyes travelling on your body since the nightgown’s fabric did not hide almost anything. With attentive hands, you grabbed Seungmin’s crown, admiring the precious stones adorning it, before placing it on top of your head and turning around to meet Seungmin’s gaze, still looking at you while leaning against the doorframe which connected your rooms.

«Does it suit me?» you asked, smiling at how Seungmin was looking at you. Seungmin was indeed taken aback, utterly dumb at the sight – at the sheer insolence of it, at the impossible beauty. His crown suited you perfectly, he thought. With slow steps, Seungmin moved closer to you, and you furrowed your eyebrows at his lack of answer. Seungmin’s careful fingers adjusted the crown on top of your head, and as you met your gaze, you felt almost devoured by the sheer lust and love you saw in them.

«Don’t ever let anyone but me see you like this.» Seungmin mumbled, as he admired once again the girl he has loved for his whole life wearing his crown and looking definitely too insolent, too beautiful – and entirely his.

Standing on your tiptoes, your hands sneaked around Seungmin’s neck as you hastily captured his lips in a passionate kiss, and he quickly held your waist, turning you around so that you would partially sit on his desk. Seungmin’s hands travelled along your legs, lifting your nightgown as they reached higher, and quickly scooped you up in his arms, causing you to squeal in surprise against his collarbone, which you were busy marking up. Seungmin effortlessly walked to your room with you in his arms, blindly closing the door behind the two of you. 

Seungmin laid you on the bed as your open-mouthed kisses set the pace for the rhythm of taking off each other closes, and that night, Seungmin let you ride him while wearing his crown on top of your head. Seungmin was sitting on the bed, balancing his weight with his left hand stretched out behind him, as his right one occasionally gripped your thigh, strained moans accompanied by nails sinking into your skin, or either to cup your jaw to connect your lips as the feeling of you moving so perfectly on top of him and leaving scratches along his back and his chest made him feel on cloud nine.

Needless to say, you felt the same; Seungmin’s hooded eyes would follow every move, looking at you like you were some sort of goddess, while his hands caressed your body, fondling your breasts or gripping your hair just to roughly connect your lips. Seungmin’s gaze went downwards, and you followed it; your wetness was spreading all over Seungmin’s hipbones, and you could not help but let out a moan at the sight of his length continuously disappearing inside of you at the pace you set.  

«So perfect,» Seungmin mumbled against your neck, voicing a strained moan as your orgasm unexpectedly washed over you as now both his hands were playing with your breasts. You sank down on his length, your head falling in the crook of his neck as you hugged him tightly, his crown falling on the mattress. The continuous feeling of you clenching around Seungmin triggered his orgasm as well, and he came with a low moan.

«Let’s use your crown every night from now on.» you panted, reaching out to toy with the jewel as both of you were still recovering from your post orgasm state. Seungmin chuckled over the sweaty skin of your neck, and you shivered.

«Give me ten minutes,» he mumbled, lifting his head to bite your earlobe. «And we can use it again.» your answer came under the form of a breathy, needy whine, as his hands roughly pulled your body against his.

all works © lettersfromaphrodite

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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[raccoonspooky]

I got a wonderful commission to write Bubba going ham over some tig ol biddies in a dead by daylight setting, so I sure did write the FUCK out of that. This is just a ton of fun. Big boy gets feelings so very quickly. Listen. The first time you're given free reign over a nice pair of tits, you're gonna lose ur fkn mind ok.

(Rated E. 9k words. x Fem reader. DBD setting. Mild mommy kink. Sub!Bubba. Porn with feelings. Bubba POV. y/n device is not used in this fic.)

First few paragraphs and other links under the cut!

It’s not often that the cannibal thinks of home. The Entity doesn’t spoil him with free reign of his memories and it tells him it is a good thing. Spare the rod, spoil the child. The sentiment rings in his thoughts and it speaks in his grandma’s voice, giving him a little taste of something he once loved so very much. In the fog, he does not dwell on hurt. If his master does not want him to remember the bloody end of things that brought him here and the heartbreak and fear that he used to carry with him, then he’s glad for it. The Entity rewards him for his understanding. He’s a good boy, a smart boy and so willing to submit. The Entity’s talons are entwined with his very soul and it feels like love. Feels like family.

Little whispers tell him that he’s meant to be here and he’s welcome to all the spoils his heart desires if he serves his purpose. The saw is the only family he has left and the Entity is kind in never keeping it far from his person. He is a tool to the all-knowing, something much much larger than Texas and he is happy to follow its commands.

He sleeps, dreaming of all the wonderful things the Entity spoils him with and he’s a glutton for the sense of warmth and sunshine. It doesn’t matter if it's fabricated. He loves it nonetheless. There’s fresh laundry on the line, shirts billow in the breeze—, Grandpa’s withered hands feebly shake as he deals out another round of cribbage. Mama’s still alive, she’s workin’ on her stitching in a rocking chair that has floorboards creaking with her movement. His brothers are at the table and no one’s bickering. He has no bruises, no one snaps at him for gurgling out his happiness and the kitchen smells like apple pie. Bubba would do anything for more of this, he’d do anything to stay right here forever— but he can already feel the pull of the Entity’s call.

It’s a gentle thing. It tells him to wake up and put on his tie. There’s work to do and it needs him to put on a brave face. He is a killer. He is a weapon and it needs him to slaughter the little bugs that have weeviled into its endless fields of fog. Rot starts small. One maggot becomes many in just a few hours. Fresh meat starts to turn the moment it’s left to sit. It's a big place in this world beyond and he’s so glad to be given such an important job.

Soon, he comes back into contact with his body and his fingers tighten around the handle of his saw with purpose. The world around him feels like a soft quilted blanket that’s pulled up to his ears, he’s safe here. Loved even. The Entity loves him and he loves it too. It saved him from the bad people who woulda killed him, who killed his brothers and left his home in ruin. Go on now, it whispers, using a voice that makes the hair on his arms stand on end. Its tone has him feeling small. Show ‘em what you’re made of. Don’t disappoint me.

He knows what realm he steps into before it stitches itself together, the air turns crisp but it’s dead in his lungs. A metal gate creaks on its hinge and dry corn stalks whisper to each other, sharing secrets in the distance. He’s in a barn and the remnants of the fog tickle his ankles as if asking him if he understands its joke. He doesn’t understand, but the licking sensation has him giggling nonetheless. This place is one of his favorites, it reminds him of home. The air’s colder though and the farmhouse that looms across the cornfield is not at all like his.

At the edge of all this, there's a sense of hunger that has his tongue anxiously rubbing against the roof of his mouth. There’s movement all around him, cold breeze sneaks through his clothes. The Entity leads him like a shepherd, pointing him in the direction of where to go and its guidance is almost chastising. He should know this by now, he should know what it needs of him. Something implores him to pivot on his heel and his anticipation is met with a metallic BANG that cuts through the realm’s relative quiet.

In an instant, hesitant trepidation cuts to rage. The Entity is hungry, it’s always hungry. It’s the Cannibal’s job to provide all that it asks for. What good is he otherwise? He charges toward the noise while tasting iron at the back of his throat, he can smell the trespassers on the wind. With his weapon raised above his head, he turns a corner to meet two strangers. His saw barks and snarls like a hungry dog. He’s snarling too. Violent, animal noises strangle out from his throat in greeting toward a man with a funny haircut and a pretty girl who scream in startled terror. The generator they were working on sputters black smoke that assaults Bubba’s nostrils and he grunts in displeasure. He’s not a fan of the smell and it adds to the sense of violence that urges him into attacking.

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[valeriefauxnom]

Hey big fan. How tall do you think the androids in DL are?

Not gonna lie, it's always a bit shocking to hear one has made anything to earn a 'big fan', but thank you very much nonetheless!

As for your actual question, though, I think they're roughly about human height, judging by art? Of course I've gone over how art sometimes varied wildly in height, but as mentioned in that post if you have seen that, Dragalia did seem to try and keep a 'comparison heights' straight, at least. They might not have kept straight if Euden was 4'11 or 5'9 but he was shorter than Ranzal and Luca, etc.

And what we see in the wyrmprints, they seem consistently human in size:

(Well, these are both with sylvans, but sylvans are human in height as well, ears notwithstanding, so the point stands).

As funny as it might have been if every android was big or really tiny, I think it probably makes sense that, being created and wished for them to be 'humans' by Maestro, they resemble humanity as much as possible.

Now, just because Laxi, Mascula, and the androids from their era are human sized, others might not be.

They're a recreation of the older models in another case of Dragalia's humans trying to resurrect older tech, the same tech that made the dragons Very Displeased 1k years ago.

Now, Eireene and Finni, who unfortunately have among my personal least favorite designs in Dragalia, don't really give any indication either of being a wildly different size than Laxi or Mascula. Like this art here, where they are about the same size as Laxi and in a similar 'dwarfed by Ranzal' category most everyone falls into to varying degrees.

That doesn't mean there aren't standouts.

Anassa, for example, seems to carry a much bigger presence in her art. Being something of a commander and command center for the 1k year old model androids, it stands to reason she might have more weapons built in, more data processors, or other things in greater quantity. While we don't have a model or comparative art to truly say for certain that she is bigger, she certainly looks it.

(Does she even have legs??? Is she a roomba that would be foiled by anything over a 15° incline or a sudden height change, ex, stairs??? I mean yeah, doesn't she fly and drop down the one time, but even then, there's any number of environments that might make it awkward or impossible to use it to navigate a hazard.)

Ahem. Anyways, the point is that the general androids, be it Maestro's recreations or their elder Nier:Dragalia -er, Ex Machina, a part of the Humanoid Liberation Agency/the ones living in the sky, seem to be human sized. But there might be a few special model ones out there like Anassa who serve a unique and important purpose to justify the time, energy, and resources designing and creating them to fulfill their goal.

Now, admittedly, androids in Dragalia would be a weak point in my general knowledge since they never really quite struck a chord with me enough to inspire a fixation on them, but yeah, as far as I can tell, they're human-sized with perhaps some rare exceptions. The most I can say that might not be wholly normal is their apparent tendency towards a sort of gaunt build, which, to be fair, it's not exactly as if they can build muscle to change that.

Hopefully that answered your question satisfactorily!

[miramilocamimira]

You're Important

———-

Very, very rarely does Zeus stay very long at these parties. Hera, however, made him promise that he would stay until everyone else left. And, in the arms of both his drunk brothers, he deeply regrets it.

How did this happen? Well, it's simple. It starts halfway through the celebration where his children and siblings started having a drinking contest. Dares and bets and a couple of destroyed statues later, he gets to watch most of them drunkenly stumble out of the room and to wherever they wished.

He had refrained as he was using the chance to check over the paperwork of a couple of things. And now, add on the proper forms to get things restored. Delightful.

Now, this is where it always gets annoying.

His wife was talking with a rather flushed Demeter when he suddenly felt arms wrap around him. Saltwater and a fishy scent are what he smells as Poseidon decides he needs to know what Zeus is doing. His cheek is squished as his older brother leans in to attempt reading the documents.

Poseidon mumbles something, truly incomprehensible, but Zeus starts reading the papers aloud and feels the Sea God nod his head. He sighs as Poseidon situates himself to be more comfortable and apparently, that means he needs to be petted. Still, he keeps reading as the hand starts going through his hair.

With a quick glance around the room, he notes that Hades is still next to Persephone and Amphitrite. Good, he thinks as he glances back down to make sure he's reading the papers right. Because the last thing he needs is for him to get upset that his favoring Poseidon. As though he had a choice in it. Nonetheless, it's just easier- and where did Hades go?

He looked away for just a moment! Zeus catches Hera’s eyes and sees a glint in them. The crafty witch. She starts gathering and pushing the other immortals out of the room as Hades practically glomps onto his left side. He can't move without upsetting them and she knows he hates this type of intimacy.

Sex is different, okay. It's either used to help relieve stress or repopulate. This horrible action of physical contact serves no purpose whatsoever. Hades starts, predictably, complaining that Zeus should like his eldest brother more.

Poseidon, of course, has to disagree. He stops petting and Zeus can no longer concentrate. Not because of the arguing but because it turns nonsensical really quickly.

As in they slur their words too much and suddenly Hades has a highlighter and Poseidon is attempting to hold him down.

“Important” he hears them both mutter in between their gibberish, agreeing, and he just sighs and lets them draw. It takes a while but once he's marked well enough that they are satisfied they’ll go back to cuddling and petting.

When they sober up they'll go back to disliking him and he won't bring it up.

———

Hera smirks at her brothers the next day. If they would just tell Zeus the truth then they wouldn't have to use being drunk as an excuse to show affection.

[scereplop]

portrait of a lady of fire (yay movies)

The reason why I decided to watch ‘The Portrait of a Lady on Fire’, or even found out about it in the first place, is because of a citation in the footnote of a fanfic. The movie had been rotting away in my ‘to watch’ tab group for months, and when I’d finally gotten around to actually give it a go, I wasn’t as interested in that particular fanfic as I was at first. I feel that a huge reason for this is that I actually quite dislike the very ship it is about, however I liked it a lot back then, and with every morsel I got I was bursting at the seams. It doesn’t change the fact that it is still fairly well written, but upon rereading it, the spark in me failed to burst into flames. I blame the characters, not the writer nor the idea. The important thing, however, was for me to be as impartial as possible when watching the movie (I can never be fully unbiased but I can try my best to. I’m also far from a trained film critic of any sort, so feel free to take any of this with a pinch of salt. But I’ll really try my best.) and so I didn’t read any reviews of any sort before watching the movie or writing this, and I had no clue what I was in for. I also had completely forgotten which scene from the movie that part of the fanfic had been based off of, so I really was going in helpless. And honestly, I was and am glad of it. It’s always best that way. (Warning: spoilers ahead)

Of course- the cinematography. I don’t think I have to say much because the gorgeous shots throughout the entire movie speak for themselves. I’m sure that there’s some deeper meaning to the placement of the characters in each frame and an art to the delicacy of the lighting that I am sorrowfully unfamiliar with, but to me it was simple, it was plain and there for me to see. And there was a charm to that simplicity. It felt like I was watching it through the eyes of the very characters in the movie. I was never bored, each pause was purposeful. It felt like life. It felt real. When I wake up on holiday, I have no backing track as I brush my teeth or walk along the seashore. I have no special effects or superhuman powers as I play in the sea. I have the the sounds and things I and the people around me make. The movie never really was silent, just like life never is. There was the sound of the sea cushioning sparse dialogue, and with the sparsity of dialogue I treasured every word, I mulled on them and I understood them like they were spoken to me. There’s always the risk of me getting incredibly bored when I watch these kinds of movies, but I am so glad that I wasn’t with this one. Not once.

Then there was the fire. There was the portrait itself on fire, there was her dress on fire, the very image of Héloïse that Marianne had remembered, and not just remembered but held so dear to hear that she had to see it again, had to paint out and stow away, there was the bonfire that boomed with song and the art done by candlelight. It felt like an ever pressing, omnipotent presence throughout the film, but despite its destructive nature, never once did it feel threatening. Just like fire, I don’t think it ever stood for a specific, concrete definition, never bloomed for specific purpose but served one nonetheless. A means of communication, of warning, of foreshadowing. To share a pipe, it must be lit first before two pairs of lips can touch the same mouthpiece. To see faces (or the lack of one) in the dark passion of night, we must play with fire to keep those impassioned stares held no matter the destruction it may bring. Because fire is bright and burns with a hope that demands attention, it was a perfect constant because it never felt constant- it grew, like their love with time, and longing too.

Even though I’m not a huge fan of the horror genre in films (mostly because most of the time all it composes of are jump scares and no substance that disconcerts me at my core), when included in subtle amounts in films that you’d think have no reason to have it really is the cherry on top. I don’t know if these scenes would even be considered horror per se, but it really did give me fucking chills because of how unexpected it was, even though I wasn’t scared out of my skin. The white garbed vision of Héloïse that appeared before Marianne twice in the film before the actual scene from which it was from (before she left for good), felt like some sort of warning. It always appeared right before a key moment between the two of them like some ghost of futures past and was genius. Whatever it was meant to do, I think it did perfectly.

______________________________________________________________

from here on out i kind of went a little mad and and completely ditched paragraphing and sentence structure and grammar laws and any sense at all. i don't know what happened because i wrote this like ages ago and left it to wither and die for some reason that has now escaped me, and i'm way too lazy to figure out what on earth i was trying to say. hopefully it makes sense for someone out there!

______________________________________________________________

their relationship. the secrets. the fights. the PIANO i mean harpsichord scene. the OTHER FIGHT. the whole dynamic in relation to the rest of the film. ever moving never stationary

THE STORY. the looks back. that was so genius and the new take on it n stuff DAWG

(i suspect i was talking about the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. i do remember that there were so many overlapping themes in the film itself, and every time i managed to pick the likeness of one of them out, it was so satisfying. and especially for this theme in particular. i had only vaguely heard of the myth before but after watching it i think that story has been seared into my mind for good. and i agree with past me- it was such a genius move to have the story be a reflection of their life. the shots of their last goodbye were STRAIGHT OUT OF THAT STORY. fight me. and the uncertainty of it all. LITERAL GOOSEBUMPS.)

the ending and teh conceert! is it a sad ending it s not happy but typica l sad ending - someone dies boo hoo but no theyre alive and they seem well but the thought of what couldnve been if if if

it just lies dormant and with these kinds of things you cant really forget (LIKE THE MOVIE NUOVO OLIMPO - where no one dies and theres no tragedy but instead this slow descent into, not madness, but like sadness and stuff and like you can do somethig but you cant at the same time and like UGUGUGUGUH)

[dmagedgoods]

5, 6, and 11 for Sal for the KC asks please! 👀

5. Did you have a fixed team? If so, who did you take, and why? Salvadore took the people along he needed and / or trusted most. Daeran: Not only did he strongly enjoy his company from the very start, he always was highly useful and capable within his fields of expertise and beyond. Aside from this, of course, Salvadore’s feelings for him grew serious quite fast and he wanted him at his side to talk to him, to hear his opinions, and spend time with him. Daeran was in the group always. You can’t expect Salvadore to leave without his Field Attaché. Regill: Salvadore often wished he could multiply him. On one hand, he needed him in charge in Drezen when he himself had to go on missions, on the other hand, he wanted him present during those missions as well. In the end, he left things in Drezen to Irabeth and Anevia quite often, because he cherishes and wanted Regill’s company, experience, skills, and advice. Woljif: All those chests would have stayed locked without him and it’s far easier to walk ahead with your nose as high as Sal’s if you are warned of each and every trap. Furthermore, Woljif is a skillful fighter making excellent damage. More importantly: Despite admitting it quite late, Salvadore always enjoyed having him around and missed him a lot during the short period (when he ran off) he wasn’t in the group. Arueshalae: Those arrows are deadly! She was highly valuable in battle, but Sal mostly took her along because of the friendship developing between the two of them. Cassius: Of course, Salvadore always has his beloved leopard with him. The last member in the group changed, depending on quest and whose knowledge and skills would come in most handy. Usually, the place got filled by Wenduag, Sosiel or Greybor, Ember on missions not too dangerous to take along a child. Very rarely, it happened that Salvadore changed the team completely if there was an important reason: During Daeran’s act V quest, for example. He only picked those of his companions who would keep the existence of the Other and the fact that Daeran had served as their portal secret – even after everything would be resolved. 6. Did they intervene in Pharasma’s court? If so, what did they decide? Salvadore’s emotions towards Areelu are quite complicated. I wrote a lot about them here. Despite her terrible deeds, he always felt that, on a personal level, he owes her a lot. Without her, he wouldn’t have reached what he did to the same overwhelming extent, Knight Commander, ruler of the Wounded Lands and Mendev, celebrated hero and savior, celestial being. Furthermore, he saw guidance in some of her actions and words. It may be connected to the complicated relationship with his own mother and his struggle to get her attention when he still was a child, but it hurt him when eventually, he got to know that the hint of pride and affection he had recognized in her behavior was about Areelu’s actual son, never about him. Nonetheless, he spoke in Areelu’s favor when she stood in front of Pharasma and cleared his debt. 11. What did your KC think of the Hand of the Inheritor? His very first thought, not without jealousy: Impressive wings. I found it kind of entertaining (for that very reason) that eventually he got his own. While knowing that he wasn’t Iomedae’s chosen one long before he found out about the actual origin of his powers (being an atheist with no connection to the goddess at all), he liked to use this rumor in his favor and the presence of the Hand of the Inheritor served this very purpose even further and his radiant reputation in front of his soldiers, allies and enemies alike. Now this sounds cold, doesn’t it? Salvadore saw more in him than a political tool, of course. He cherished him for his principles, his honor, and ideas of goodness they shared. When the Hand of the Inheritor stood firmly at his side during Galfrey’s unsuccessful attempt to strip him off his title, Salvadore thought that a friendship could develop from mutual respect and loyalty between the angel and him. All the more, he was sincerely hurt when the Hand of the Inheritor turned his back on him the moment the truth about his powers got revealed. Suddenly nothing he had done, nothing he had accomplished, seemed to be of any worth to him anymore, all things he had praised him for were meaningless now. If you betray and humiliate him like that after he already decided to let you close, it’s very hard to regain Salvadore’s trust. Of course, he gave him back his heart. But it was a patronizing gesture, to raise above him while he lay on the ground. When the Hand of the Inheritor apologized, Salvadore – being on angel path – would have had the chance to forgive him so fully that it would have allowed him to return to Heaven immediately. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t forgive him yet. The Hand of the Inheritor decided to live among mortals for a while, to study them and learn. Salvadore genuinely hopes he’ll meet him again. He will be ready to forgive him then.

[blackrosesmatron]

The Hall of Bones

The very first moment in that place, all the colors of life were drained from her skin. Then, she noticed what lay before her. The sight alone was enough to freeze the woman in terror. Her body refused to move, her muscles betraying her. She couldn't even tear her gaze away from the structure in front of her. Tears welled up and streamed down her cheeks, marking her face permanently.

"This is my domain. My Hall of Bones," her master's voice echoed from behind. Beside her stood another living being who shouldn't have been there either. Much smaller in stature than the sorceress and trembling uncontrollably. "My fortress, the very one you both helped me to build. In appreciation for your services, you are the only ones who will see it without becoming part of it…" There was a pause, and she could sweat she heard him finishing it with an 'yet'.

LeBlanc was never a truly good person, nor particularly evil. Her morals were questionable at best, and often the idea of thinking about the collective before thinking about herself was set aside when it interfered with her desires. She came from humble origins, aspiring to be someone of importance. She possessed magic in her veins and knew that with it, she could achieve more than the life others had laid out for her.

Her ambitions would ultimately be her downfall, many years later, when she learned of Mordekaiser. LeBlanc can't quite explain how she convinced the Iron Revenant to accept her among his followers; the memory eluded her. Nonetheless, she succeeded, and under his leadership, she learned more than she could have ever imagined. This did not come without a price.

After being taken to his domains while still alive, LeBlanc was permanently changed. The otherworldly realm drained her colors, leaving her skin as pale as if she were one of the deads. The tears she shed in the world of the dead stained her face. The chorus of cries, screams, and pleas from the thousands of people who had met their end at Mordekaiser's hand filled her ears for years. She couldn't be certain whether she ever stopped hearing them or if she had grown so accustomed to the constant whimpering that she no longer noticed it.

If that weren't enough, she later discovered that the "visit" served another purpose besides making them both understand their place in their master's plan. The souls that constructed the walls, floors, roof, and columns of Mordekaiser's realm were collected by the Iron Revenant himself or his leeches. By bringing both her and the yordle to his domains, he marked them without alerting either of them. He marked them so he wouldn't have to worry about ending their lives himself because he knew that not even his best leeches could compare to the powers of LeBlanc and Veigar. Regardless of what may come to pass, he was determined not to let the souls of his finest followers go to waste.

They swore to serve him, and serve him they would. The sigil, His sigil, glowing on their souls was there to ensure it.

[lightlycareless]

First, it hurts— Chapter XXIV [part 1]

(part 2)

Naoya Zen’in x Fem!Reader

While arranged marriages are not uncommon in the jujutsu community, it was strange to receive a proposal from none other than the Zen’in’s, nonetheless your clan accepted and before you knew it, you were married off to Naoya.

Your new purpose was clear: to serve and submit, to be seen and not heard. To forget any sense of individuality in favor of obeying your husband.

Will this marriage ever flourish into something else? Will it change…for better or for worse?

Chapter warnings: (most for part 2) slight body-shaming? non-con, mentions of sex, the actual act of sex, mentions of adultery, slut-shaming, fingering (vaginal and anal) slight penetration (anal), misogyny, abuse, mentions of abuse, and a bunch of inner and external struggles 😥

A/N: not much 👀 hi!

Without any further ado, happy reading! 🥰

Masterlist ➸ Chapter 25

Ao3 link.

There are moments when you wake up and the first thing that comes to your attention is the uneasy sensation that something's… different, odd. As if something were preparing to happen, but you're unable to pinpoint it down to anything but… well, your own imagination.

And today seems to be that kind of day.

You try to avoid giving this unfounded worry much space in your mind, for you believe it to be nothing more than the natural aftermath to the emotional agitation of past events, starting with your poisonous cycle of abuse, which developed some kind of anxiety addiction due to the many despondent occurrences you were dragged through upon arrival to the Zen’in estate, to the eventual gracious introduction of Mai and Maki, liberation and closure of your feud with Mariya and finally… the realization of your feelings for Naoaki.

A situation you weren’t able to give much time to think about either, for your initial assumptions gained sturdiness upon seeing the servants frantically running around from one side of the estate to the other, hurrying to complete a task you were ignorant about.

Some were carrying cleaning supplies and incense to clear the ambience of any lingering hunches, while others took care to tend the gardens by cutting off extra branches and withering leaves, turning the whole estate upside down while at it.

Skepticism of something important happening behind the scenes began to cultivate in the back of your mind as you and your ladies—minus Mariya— showed to be equally mystified by the roving staff.

“What has gotten into them today?” Haruko would be the first one to pry as the three made their way towards the kitchen for the first meal of the day.

“Who knows?” Hitomi queried back, skeptically eyeing the few servants that greeted their lady as they passed by. “Termites?”

“...I don’t think so” Haruko shakes her head “It’s getting too cold for them”

“They’re active all-year round, so it might be” Hitomi would correct “What do you think, Lady Y/N? Did Mariya-san tell you anything?”

“No…” you admit, for all that your prime lady-in-waiting had done beside waking you up and getting you ready was to tell you to go ahead and get something to eat while she dealt with something exterior, nothing unusual when it comes to her routine. “But I’m sure Junko-san will keep us up-to-date when we see her”

But not even the austere mother of two was sufficient to give you the clarification you sought after. 

When the mysterious woman approached you to seemingly assign your duties for the day, you were received with the startling directive that you’re to do… nothing.

Nada.

Zero.

Just sit there and… look pretty, for a lack of better words.

Junko also didn’t waste time to inform you that her daughters would be away, to seemingly oversee another angle of their duties—presumably the servitude side of their upcoming lifestyle.

It’s at this point that your assumptions stopped being theories, and rather, foundations of something enigmatic happening underneath their noses.

But unable to dig up any additional information, you begrudgingly agree to play the role of sitting duck and eat breakfast instead.

It felt weird to not have anything to do for the day, which made you wonder… When was the last time you actually had nothing to do? Ever since you arrived at the Zen’in estate… Well, that never seemed to be the case. 

Junko had made sure to drill you down with the same mentality that fast-paced environments proudly carried around, and that is: there is always something to do, something to fix. Whether big or small, it didn’t matter, something always needed to have your attention and it was your responsibility to know what.

You could argue that the most dull days of your life had to be back when you were nothing more than a student at jujutsu high due to an imposed quarantine via exterior forces as well as being the only student in your class that forced you to stand still.

However, the main difference is that even if you carried the deep-seated sensation of uneasiness that has your mind continuously ticking, you knew the reason why back then.

Today, you were left in the dark—and your ladies were not insensitive to it either. 

However, you soon realize that there was no point in ruminating on the unfathomable, and if there is something that your short-lived life has taught you, is that everything will come to the light in due time, thus, you decided to enjoy the fact you had no duties to perform as well as the free time you get to spend with your ladies, now under better circumstances.

“It’s been a while since it’s just been the three of us.” you say as you take another bite of the meal that Haruko prepared for you—a salmon filet, rice, and miso soup— while enjoying the panorama mother nature offered through the camelia garden before you.

“It has.” Hitomi agrees, taking a seat beside you, but not before a random servant that was casually passing by approaches you with a bowl of green apple slices and places them on the tray near you, earning them a mild unamused scowl from your seamstress.

“Good morning Lady Y/N!” the woman greets with a bow and a wide smile on her lips “Such a wonderful morning today, hmm? Be sure to dress appropriately today though, the weather forecast for today is awfully cold, and I would hate it if our beloved lady got sick!”

The servant then vanishes without a word.

“What the…” Hitomi cautions, eyeing the bowl before her and then up to her sister, shooting her a glance that said did you see this?

But her sister wasn’t caught off guard by the servant’s sudden behavior, and not because she wasn’t attentive to it, no, she was all but distracted by this woman’s clear attempt of flattery towards you, but rather… her attention now dwelled on the approaching figure that appeared on the corner of her eye, soon to reveal itself to you and Haruko in a simple matter of seconds.

"I'm here, I'm here!!” Mariya announced breathlessly, agitated for having to rush through the many halls and corridors of this large estate towards your location. 

With hair slightly disheveled and cheeks painted with a vibrant red shade, it's a sight that only adds another layer to her hastiness and commitment, nonetheless, fixable thanks to the nimble swipe of her fingers that put the mislaid locks of dark hair back into place. “Sorry, sorry—that took me longer than I would’ve liked, but I’m here now” 

The sisters blinked, one, two—no, three times out of surprise at their superior’s unusual cursory behavior against her always collected demeanor, believing that she had undergone a trivial task which they were ignorant about, and thus, regretful for not being able to offer their support.

Your mind, however, was in a completely different place thanks to the small… conjugal revelation on one fateful night, leading your face to swap from surprise into one of a mischievous know-it-all that has Mariya squinting her eyes, as if warning you to not start now, Y/N .

You silently chuckle, understanding her message and it seems that your subtle interaction between two ends without much more to say, but not overlooked— certainly not to your perceptive seamstress Hitomi, who has long caught wind of these small back-and-forth jabs between you and Mariya from one day forward, and while she’s glad that your asserted dispute with her is over… she can’t help but wonder how that came to happen.

But regardless of how it came to be, if there was one thing she was absolutely sure of, is that she was happy to see you this comfortable with her, and vice versa. 

You both deserve each other's friendship, it's the least after all the obstacles both had to endure. 

“Ah, these servants…” Mariya comments as soon as she glances over to your tray of food and finds a clustered amount of snacks and drinks grouped alongside the breakfast she knows Haruko to be the sole author behind it. And while it wasn’t the first time she or the sisters had seen offerings of this nature, it doesn't mean they would eventually grow accepting of it. “They’re going to leave us without a job if they keep doing this”

“Should I start looking at applications?” You jest, and Mariya smirks.

“Of course not, Lady Y/N” She responds “I’m confident enough in our skills to defend our positions” she then proceeds to lean down with the intention of separating the items she considers… unnecessary. “However… there is something I want to know—how long has this been going on?” 

Haruko and Hitomi glance at each other and shrug, revealing to be on the same page as Mariya. 

The question now befalls you, and you recoil at their sudden interest, forcing you to plunge into the endless recollections of past days. 

If you have to set a date… it must've been right after you sent the first letter to your sister. 

“For a few days now” you admit “It started out of nowhere, continued on for a few days… but I thought they would stop by now, after all, where do they even get all this food to spare?” Surprisingly, you’re still unable to find a connection between the righteous act of protecting the new hire against Meiko, and the subsequent acceptance of the staff. Maybe because you think it was the right thing to do, thus, not deserving of such exorbitant recognition?

“And where does it go after they give it to you?” Mariya ponders on, and a hot streak of shame spreads across your cheeks.

“Oh—um” You stammer, looking away. It seems like you’ve miscalculated your words, ignorantly showing that you’ve forgotten the fact that your diet was a heavily monitored aspect of your new life, thus, something that your ladies would not be appreciative of you going ahead and foiling their diligent work by eating outside of your planned meals.

The seed of discord was sowed, gaining you a one way trip to their scolding.

“I’ve… eaten some of it—mostly fruit, of course” you attempt to ease the blow “It… shouldn’t be a problem with it, right?”

You don’t even want to think of their reaction if they ever get to know you actually ate a whole box of mochi.

However, as strict as Mariya could be, she’s also very understanding, far more than she lets on actually. And once she catches your inner turmoil via the stammering of your words, she rushes to fix her misunderstanding 

“I’m not angry at you for eating it or not, nor did I intend to shame you for that'' She justifies. After all, she's been on the receiving end of shameless comments regarding her weight, and it’s not of her personal liking, thus, she wouldn’t do unto others what she wouldn’t do unto herself. “I’m just… disapproving of the fact that they’re dumping you with all this food without consideration that it might be too much for you to eat, forcing you to feel some kind of responsibility towards their gesture, or forgetting that if it doesn’t get eaten… it’s just getting thrown away! Seriously, their lack of awareness is outstanding” she groans, rubbing her temples and showing how frustrated this whole topic had her feeling. 

And like clouds after the rain, your nerves start to dissipate. 

It was almost comical that you thought Mariya capable of denouncing you, considering this was the woman that had sought for your well-being since the very first day. You had to be a bit more trusting of her!

Besides, after all was said and done, Mariya was also glad that the servants had finally started to get a liking to you, specially after the small altercation she had with Meiko due to abrupt decision to stop informing her of the upcoming events pertaining the household, as well as the servants deliberately working against her (and subsequently, you…) just to show their solidarity towards the masters,

Junko had been the only one that remained somewhat… cognizant enough to recognize that this was no way to handle a clan and its affairs, if it were to keep on functioning correctly, thus she ignored Meiko's pettiness and kept working with you and your staff.

She'll still have her exceptions of course, just like today. 

And talking about today…

“By the way, do any of you have any idea what’s happening today?” Mariya asks, taking a seat just beside Hitomi, who after the unforeseen distraction with that one servant, finally took her place next to you. “I saw Junko-san a few minutes ago, and all that she told me was to clean your clothes and keep you presentable, Lady Y/N”

“You… don’t know what’s happening?” Haruko fearfully asks, the notion of Mariya, her fountain of knowledge, her go-to person regarding the successions around the estate seemingly going dry… Well, she imagines this must be what being abandoned by god feels like. 

“No… and neither do… you?” Mariya apprehensively asked back, now referring to you.

“No” You shake your head “We saw Junko-san too and asked her about it but… she just told us to not worry about it and, well, do nothing. Apparently all of my duties will be overseen by her so there’s that. Oh! And also told me I wouldn’t be able to see Mai and Maki today. How… strange” you wistfully sigh, and Mariya understands how forlorn you must’ve felt for this notice.

“Must’ve been awful to hear that” Mariya consoles and you nod.

“Ah, well, I can’t hoard all their attention” you attempt to reassure yourself with a chuckle, as well as wanting to avoid thinking about what they were possibly doing right now 'cause you already had an idea it would only get you angrier to discuss it further.

“But they sure can yours!” Haruko’s quick banter manages to pull you out of the solemn pit of Mai and Maki’s absences, making you agree with a laugh. “Gotta give it to you, Lady Y/N. I don’t know how you keep up with them, just by looking at you I get tired!”

“We missed having you around, Lady Y/N” Hitomi suddenly adds, cool and straight to the point as she always was, but with a warm edge that shows her sympathy towards your situation.

If there was one thing this whole situation brought clarity to, is that you were never alone to begin with.

"At one point we wondered if we even had a mistress to care for…" she adds, and you purse your lips together.

“Ah, I know” you lament, ashamed by all the time you mismanaged by placing preferential treatment on the twins (and Naoaki for that matter), naturally leading you to regretfully neglect your staff. But that no longer matters, you’re here now. “I hope you can forgive me”

“All is good , no worries” Haruko dismisses you reassuringly “I’m just surprised, you get along well with them, and they seem to get along with you too. Whenever I tried to approach them, they just ran away from me” She sighs “Oh, let me guess! You were the playful one of your siblings, right? It’s only natural that you would get along with them"

“Hmmm, now that I think about it… I was the one that struggled to keep up with them!” you confess, and you’re suddenly besieged with nostalgia “And not because they were too fast or rougher, or anything like that, although Hinata was always the most athletic of the three of us… but rather, because what they liked was always so… different. In that sense, Mai and Maki get along way better than me and my siblings”

Or from what you've been able to see. They were very contrasting in nature, Maki giving you the impression to be the one always in charge, with Mai simply tagging along. 

Well, either would’ve already complained of this arrangement if it wasn’t to their liking.

But now that you thought about it… why weren’t you able to get along with them in the very beginning?

Conflict often ensued when Ren's preference to listen to music and watch T.V., clashed with Hinata's inclination for outdoor activities. 

You’d be dragged from one activity to the other by both of your siblings, and you’d try to spend equally distributed time between the two so as to avoid one of them feeling less than the other, but since they were so… different from one another, and demanding from time to time, there were occasions more often than not where you wished you could split yourself in three—this way, you would be able to do what they wanted, as well as what you wanted, because even if you were their younger sister, you still were a person of your own.

“I think it’s when we started training in jujutsu that we kind of found a middle ground to spend time together, as well as maturing and realizing that there were better ways to do what we wanted” you muse “Although it wouldn’t take long before it became obvious that Hinata was the most intense out of us when it came to physical training—not even my brother, whose specialty is strength, can compete with her sometimes!” you chuckle. “Maybe that’s why I’m able to keep up with the twins…?”

Haruko doesn’t understand much of jujutsu, what it entails, or even if it’s something to be understood, however, judging by the glimmer in your eye and the grin on your lips, she knows that you’re sharing a memory that brings you great happiness. And wanting to partake in this sentiment, she decides to share an experience of her own.

“Hitomi and I would always get in so much trouble when we were younger” Haruko says “In our case, our mom was the one that had trouble keeping up with us—oh, she always had to apologize on our behalf for all the things we did. Schools hated us, I think we even got secretly banned from one”

“ Huh?! ” Hitomi gasps loudly, causing you to flinch, as if her sister just spewed the most outrageous thing she has ever heard in her life,

And it might as well be  

“What are you talking about? You’re the one that always got me in trouble! I was just there because I tried to stop you from making a bigger fool of yourself, so don’t act like you and I are the same!”

“What do you mean? I clearly remember you following me everywhere, by your own volition must I add!” Haruko counters. “What about the times I took the fall for you?” she snaps back. "Like when you broke mom's vase because you were chasing me??"

“I—I don’t recall such a thing” Hitomi cries back, feeling more offended than before. “Besides, you just proved my point! I was always trailing behind you because I disliked seeing you getting in trouble, and being scolded by our mom, or anyone else for that matter! You like messing up things, I don’t, we’re not the same, we were never the same, so don’t compare yourself to me.” She groans “Besides, why would you even bring this up, if not to embarrass me in front of Lady Y/N? Of all things that you could’ve shared…” she concludes, looking away as to hide the evident change in her now ruby-red face and put an end to this whimsical expose of her sister for once and for all.

“Oh, don’t worry about me at all!” You chuckle, feeling right at home with their interaction. “I know what it is to grow with siblings, so I’m familiar with how they can be. But… it surprised me Hitomi, I never thought you had it in you to be naughty”

“Of course not, Lady Y/N” Hitomi would stammer, fearing that the clean and proper image she worked so hard to maintain for you had been finally stained by her sister's antics, or perhaps… unwilling admittance of her childhood misbehavior? “I mean, I guess I must’ve done something when I was younger, who hasn’t? But I was always a well-behaved child, and my grades were the perfect example of that—I was always the star student”

“Or more like the teacher's pet…” Haruko mumbles under her breath, and you quickly dart towards her, surprised that she’s saying such a thing.

However, seconds pass, and the laughter you’ve been holding on for a while finally comes out to its full splendor, with Haruko soon joining it.

You’re confident enough to understand that Haruko was putting up nothing more than an act just to get a rise out of Hitomi, while the last, would fight back with a play of her own, a pursuit to erase her past and act as if she’d always been the goody-two-shoes she presently claims to be, but it's for naught, for you’ve discovered both’s truth.

Hitomi isn’t amused by your clear demonstration of alliance towards Haruko (or so that’s what she interprets) by the evident icy gaze of judgment in her face, however, this also proves to be nothing more than a ruse, for she's aware enough to not take herself too seriously and make this situation any bigger than it deserves, soon partakes in your cheerful exchange with a giggle.

After all, could they really call each other siblings if they didn’t entertain senseless bickering like this from time to time?

“And what about you, Mariya-san? Were mischief prone?” You muster through chortles and hiccups “Or maybe any siblings that took on that role?” you say, looking now at your main lady-in-waiting, who silently observed the scene unfold before her with a tender smile, only pulling back to reality once she realizes you were now referring to her.

“Oh, no. I was an only child” She reveals with a sigh. You’re unable to define her reaction as one of relief for having the fortune of skipping all these silly affairs when growing up (but still having to deal with them now with Haruko and Hitomi) or mournfully longing for the family she never had the misfortune of having.

“That’s… interesting” You respond, hoping to pull Mariya out of the latter topic “I never really thought about it… but now… it makes sense”

“Why is that? Do I give the impression of being an only child?” Mariya chuckles.

“A little bit” you confess “Only children are supposed to be natural leaders on their own, diligent, independent, as well as considered mature for their age—things that I consider you to be” Hitomi and Haruko nodded along, seemingly in agreement with your descriptions.

“Sounds like something you got out of a magazine, or horoscope” Mariya notes; she doesn’t think that you’re particularly right, since what you described are adjectives that often fall in the realm of generalization (and she believes that taking them might be a bit… presumptuous) but it was still interesting for her to hear your perspective “I never thought you’d be into that”

“Not really, but they’re entertaining!” You added “It’s nice to think that there’s some kind of omnipotent force pulling the strings, kind of gives you the chance to sit back and relax, let the universe do its work—although… I think there is such a thing in the jujutsu world, so… that might not be that far fetched”

“Ooooh, the mystic stuff!” Haruko gasps. Ever since you briefly introduced to the world of jujutsu through your experience back in the library, she has been fascinated about the whole subject and has been wanting to get to know more about it, but there was no one willing to quench her curiosity. Fortunately… her prayers are to be heard right this moment. “Are there like… clairvoyants in your community? Or what’s it called, psychics? Magic crystal balls? Tarot?”

“That’s not… entirely how jujutsu works” You laugh, a common misconception “Although seers were part of the history of jujutsu at one point, with some even being able to talk to the dead”

“Is there even such a thing as horoscopes in your community?” Hitomi asks, quick to gain the understanding that most of the supernatural occurrences happening inside the civilian society to be originated from sorcerers (which they were). Although, just as Mariya, she’s not overly fond of the generalization of the masses by simple coinciding factors, such as birthdays and the alignment of the planets, but that doesn’t mean she can’t indulge in the buoyant thinking of how much the jujutsu world influenced hers.

“...No… I don’t think so? Or maybe there is…” you think, not having really given that topic much thought, since your role as a sorcerer was to exorcise curses and nothing more… “But all that I know about the stars and whatnot come from a magazine I found at a convenience store one time I was hanging out with my friends, we thought it would be fun to see if it was true, or guess which category we fit in”

Satoru suddenly comes to mind.

It’s baffling to know that Mariya and Satoru are in the same only-child category, and yet, couldn’t be any more different.

Although, in his defense… Satoru is someone that many would consider an overachiever; whatever he put his mind into, he would do it. To the point that he actually had not to do anything just to give others a chance because he would just not fail.

Condescending in a way, but if you break it down… it’s the truth. He is considered to be the strongest for a reason, regardless of how spoiled he liked to behave from time to time, and basically held the balance of the Japanese jujutsu community in the palm of his hands. That was just the kind of role he was given by those around him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

How… contrasting. Compared to Mariya, that is, who seemed to be an arduous believer of the hard work beats talent thinking. Or even Geto, in that case…

“And what about you?” Haruko chirps in “You’re the youngest, right? The baby! People always say that the youngest one gets to be the most pampered of their parents, as well as everyone around them”

“How would you know?” you laugh.

“Because our baby sister is that way” Haruko reveals.

“Wait—you have another sister?!” you gasp. How come you didn’t know that?!

“Yes” Hitomi nods “She’s just 5 years old”

"Oh, and she's the cutest thing! I wish I had a picture to show you" Haruko quietly laments "oh well! Maybe next time" She shrugs "But tell me Lady Y/N! Did I get it right?"

"Well… they did come in the article and it said just what you did…" but at the same time… there’s always two sides to a coin.

While many, just like Haruko, place their agreements in the popular belief that the youngest of the family were blessed with the most attention and care from their parents, to the point of being considered spoiled , they were also highly susceptible to the contrary.

Simply because the parents, at that point, had gone through the same ordeal over and over again with their other children. 

For example, why would they be impressed that their youngest would eventually learn how to walk, talk and read, when the others already proved capable of it? 

Their achievements would cease to be impressionable, repetitive even, and could even lead them to increase the amount of pressure they place on their youngest if they ever get the impression that they’re not… well, at the same pace as the others, inwardly wondering why they aren’t capable of catching up faster.

You, however, don’t think you ever felt this way—at least not from your parents. 

But you have experienced a somewhat similar disposition from your siblings whenever they would try to push you into doing more, apply more effort, try harder, don’t give up… simply because they’ve already gone through that challenge and overcome all obstacles in their way, completely forgetting the fear of a first-timer and expecting you to behave as the polished version of them.

And you don’t even want to talk about the jujutsu community, on their reaction when you finally decided to enroll into the jujutsu technical school in Tokyo (which they knew was to happen in due time) and when your skill was revealed to them. They considered it practical… but disappointingly not of the same caliber of uniqueness as your sister’s.

It was fine, really. You knew that you weren’t special compared to Hinata, but that didn’t bother you much. As long as you were capable of completing your 4 years of school, sailing by as you performed your duties as a sorcerer—with the occasional unrequited comments from the elders of your clan— with a somewhat regular life… you’d be fine.

That is, until you got married.

To say that it was such a cultural shock to be suddenly received by the Zen’in clan as the future Lady of the House —a title you’ve never dreamed nor longed to receive in your lifetime, less from a clan as prestigious as this one— and all the responsibilities and attention that went with it… was an understatement.

From being considered good enough, to suddenly be pushed to the highest of expectations… Well, it’s easy to say that you were like a fish out of water.

Attention that you in no way considered to be good, taking into account that it came from a misogynistic, stuck-in-time clan, but you just couldn’t seem to run away from it, and less to actually get used to being in the spotlight.

You were so… out there , it seemed that every little thing you did was worthy of being in the front page of their publications. 

You wondered if Hinata ever felt this kind of pressure from the Gojo’s back in the day, gaining a new understanding of the duels she had to overcome by herself from a very young age.

“Eh, but it really depends on how you grew up” you shrug, not wanting to unwind once more the long monologue you’ve just detailed in your mind “You can have loving parents that will treat all children equally, or those that have preferences for one. I’m glad to say that my family never made me feel… like I wasn’t loved. Sure, we had fights here and there, but at the end of the day, I know I can trust them”

It’s now Naoaki’s and Naoya’s turn to enter your mind.

Oh , Naoaki... 

Even if you’ve made peace with his background, it doesn’t mean it hurts any less. Considering all the things he had to go through in his youth, his life could’ve taken a drastic turn, and yet… it didn’t. Instead, he decided to go down the path of becoming the person he wished he had when he was younger, and support his siblings.

Yes, even Naoya , whom he couldn’t get along with no matter how much he tried, has been on the receiving end of his caring nature and expressed to be somewhat happy that he got to achieve what he was never capable of doing so.

So different from the brazen Naoya who you were sure had never tasted what suffering is, obtaining whatever he wanted simply because he was born in a more privileged position.

And to think that you both were the youngest of their families… you even want to laugh at how different you were from Naoya. You’d rather throw yourself over a cliff than turn into someone like him. An ironic thought, considering that you’re married to him.

“I’m glad that you had a good family” Mariya says, assuring that you’ve always spoken highly of Hinata and Ren, and also of your mother on the few occasions that you allow yourself to talk about her “It must be so… difficult to miss them”

“...Yeah” you murmur. And while your homesickness became  tolerable thanks to the companionship of the twins, your staff, and Naoaki… well, it’s not the same as having them physically there with you. “But it’s ok—as long as I have them in my heart and the happy times we’ve spent together, I’ll survive”

“It’s not fair that he doesn’t let Lady Y/N contact her family” Haruko curses, deliberately letting out the name of your husband out of the equation, for in her mind, she’d be doing him a favor to even name him with her priceless breath, and that wasn’t about to happen any time soon.

Oh, right.

Because even if you’ve gotten closer to Mariya, Haruko and Hitomi… you have yet to reveal that you’ve been writing to Hinata.

It’s still… risky to do so, and even if they’ve earned your trust, there are two things holding you back: starting with the promise you made to Naoaki of not telling anyone, regardless if they held your trust, and… the fact that there are many external influences you have yet to consider.

A compromise of this nature was no easy task to keep, less when considering getting more people involved. Regardless of how much effort is placed to maintain its discretion, the possibilities of it falling in the wrong ears is higher, and detrimental to your position, and you weren’t about to take that risk just yet.

You trusted them greatly, but for now, it will remain confidential. 

Hopefully when Hinata’s eventual reply comes, you’ll be able to tell them.

“Obviously he wouldn’t. He’s afraid that Lady Y/N will snitch on him and that he’d actually have to face consequences for the first time in his life” Hitomi rolls her eyes, and your eyes widen at the essence of her words.

You knew Hitomi to be somewhat stern when it came to it. But it’s the first time you’ve ever heard her talk so openly of her distaste for your husband. And to think that she was the most reserved of the three…

A sad thought trails your mind as you come to the conclusion that she was probably the one that despised you the most when you were still on bad terms with Mariya. 

But that was nothing more than a fallacious thought, product of your self doubt. 

The truth was, Hitomi was the one that worried the most about you, evident by the way she rushed into your arms the first day you stepped out of your room after the scare of your unresponsiveness, and all the other things she’s done, and she’d continue to do so.

“And while I do agree on your sentiment, Hitomi-chan” Mariya continues “I think it’s better if we keep these thoughts to ourselves for now. There’s many ears across the estate… and something doesn’t feel right about today”

“Right” Hitomi agrees, eyes dropping to the floor beneath her, before they find their way to your now empty plate “Oh, Lady Y/N, you’re done with your food” she notes, making quick work to stand up and pick up your tray, hoping that her current efforts will dissolve the fact that she’d forgotten to check in on you, seemingly too enthralled in your conversation “Would you like something else?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.” You look at Haruko “My compliments to the chef, delicious as always!”

“My pleasure!” She grins, theatrically bowing before you as a blush appears on her cheeks “Let me get that out of your way—”

“I’ll take it” Hitomi interrupts, quick to move the tray away from her sister, but to the latter's displeasure “Why don’t you help me put the rest of the food away instead?” she nudges at the leftover unopened food “ And maybe keep a few for ourselves ” She whispered, evidently solely for her sister to hear.

“Ok” Haruko whispers back before looking at Mariya. If she noted this small exchange between the sister’s, she did not show. “We’ll be cleaning up everything then! Where shall we meet up after we’re done?”

“Ah, well…” Mariya falters, she hasn’t given much thought to today's itinerary now that it was effectively blank, falling in the belief that you’d be able to fill in the blanks. However, there was still something that she wanted to check with you, so… “Go ahead for now, I’ll let you know when I come up with something”

“Ok! See you around Lady Y/N!” Haruko and Hitomi bid their farewells, and vanished into the labyrinth of the estate.

Now in the solitude of the garden, with nothing more than the sounds of nature and your closest friend, Mariya, you take this as a moment to openly talk to her about what you wanted to jab her with.

“How is Tatsuro?”

“Oh, you” Mariya rolls her eyes “You knew it was him I was going to look for, didn’t you?”

“It’s so clear to me now” You laugh “How could I not see it?”

“Discretion comes with the job, I’ll take it as a compliment” Mariya grins “But he’s fine, thank you. A bit… shocked that we made up”

“Ah, I think Haruko and Hitomi are too”

“Within reason, within reason…” she nods.

“But… it’s good” you smile, inching closer to her “it’s like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I can finally be comfortable with the ones closest to me—and it should’ve always been like that… I always should’ve kept you three close to me”

“We’re here now” She reassures you “And that’s all that matters… and keeping Tatsuro a secret from them” Mariya reminds you, and you nod. It’s such a mystery to you why she hasn't told them, but holder of your own secrets, you decide not to pressure her. “By the way… do you really not know what’s happening today?”

“Not a clue” you shake your head “It’s… quite unnerving, don’t you think?”

“It is” Mariya agrees. “Not even Junko-san has told me anything about it, and she’s the first one to talk. Odd”

“...Do you think somebody died?” you eventually conclude, because… well, what else could assemble this kind of franticness from the staff?

“I… don’t think so” Mariya tries to think of a sickly Zen’in clanmember, or even an elder one (which were many) but… no, that couldn’t be. News of it would’ve graced her ears by now and you, as current representative of your husband, would be expected to be present in the ceremony. Thus, a theory that’s promptly scratched out “Ah, well, it’s no use worrying about this. The only thing I know is that you have a free day to do whatever you want—so… is there something you want to do for today?”

“Actually…” you pause, mind going back to your room and the small white envelope resting underneath your pillow “There is something that I need to do first. See you at the pagoda past the living quarters?”

Mariya doesn’t need to ask more.

The smirk on your face is all that she needs to see to understand the intentions behind your words… and who you’re seeing. 

A conclusion that has her heart aching with distress because she can’t deny that this peculiar man has brought you immense happiness, to the point of returning the beautiful glint in your eye, and possibly even being the starting point for her to rekindle a friendship with you.

But at the same time, it’s like playing with fire. 

Naoaki was Naoya’s brother at the end of the day and… well, she… There's much that she’s seen during the duration of her employment at the estate to have her on the edge of her seat whenever you’re around him. 

In a way, it was shocking that nothing bad has come out from this relationship, considering the turbulent behavior Naoya seemed to carry around his brothers, and Naoaki’s awareness of this.

There was no denying that the oldest of Naobito’s sons was a mystery when it came to you and his reason to approach you in the first place… something that she has never been able to discover due to the aloof nature of his behavior with those outside of his circle.

But unable to do much but to agree to your conditions and bid you farewell, Mariya limits herself to offer you a silent prayer as she observes your figure distance from her, until your footsteps vanish into thin air, hoping that whatever succession fate was preparing for today… didn’t involve you, or Naoaki.

If there was one thing that today's worries you couldn’t deprive yourself from, no matter how intrigued you were, it would have to be Naoaki.

Not even when you saw the sprinting servants frantically going from one corner of the estate to the other, as well as the investigation that ensued between your staff and you, or the absence of your impish twins… was it enough for Naoaki to stay out of your mind, And for obvious reasons.

Ever since you arrived at the eye-opening culmination of your feelings that dreamy night, it seems to be all you could think of.

No, scratch that. 

Saying such things makes it seem like you were more than happy to come to this conclusion in the first place, when in fact, you still went through the necessary stage of denial, thinking it to be nothing more than the excitement of getting your favorite sweets as well as saving your relationship with Naoaki.

However, fluttering hearts don’t do that just because , and it wouldn’t take long before you understood that… Well, it was the beginning of something new, something beautiful .

And once you finally made peace with your newfound revelation, that’s when you were able to see things you’ve previously failed to recognize: from the way he chewed his food, to how he played with the sleeves of his garments whenever in deep thought… it was safe to say that you were effectively struck with deep seated admiration for the oldest of the Zen’in siblings and wanted to do nothing more than spend most of your time with him and get to know him even better.

Everything new about him seemed so… fresh, so different, and you even dared to say… like the missing pieces of your puzzled life.

But as much as you were enthralled to dive into the waters of Naoaki’s persona, a part of you was afraid of ruining what little there was between the two, for until now, you’ve considered Naoaki to be nothing more than kind, with you being the one to first develop feelings for the other. Thus, unknowingly began to change the way you acted around him in hopes of not appearing… weird to him.

When you were once quick witted, sharp in returning his jabs with ones of your own creation, and avoid taking his bait… you now found yourself to be hesitant, coy, falling down to the role of silent listener as your heart painfully thundered against your chest to the point that was all you could hear, just to prevent doing something stupid that could push him away and throw your friendship out the window.

Nonetheless, that didn’t stop you from actively seeking him, and once you successfully retrieved the secret envelope from the sanctity of your chambers, you ran onto the usual rendezvous point of this unique friendship—careful to not bump into the working servants, but swift enough to not waste much time where you did not need.

Oh, if only he didn’t have a prior commitment, you were sure this could’ve turned out to be the best day of your life.

Now, not to disregard the fact that you’re still going to make the best of this situation, it's just that… well, you think it could’ve been even better alongside him.

Guess you’ll have to make it up in another way, but for now, you’ll wait for him at the lily garden.

And as the distance between you and your destination narrowed down… that’s when you saw him. 

Naoaki, just… standing there, seemingly enjoying the view of the garden before him as he waited for you, just like he always did whenever you were to meet up.

Your heart soared at his presence, lips parting into a heart warming grin as you picked up the pace and ran even faster towards him; the noise of your approaching footsteps causing him to swirl towards your direction, a smile gracing his face soon after upon noticing you.

But his presence wasn’t the only thing that had your heart skipping a beat or two, although it could be the overwhelming majority, but rather… how he presented himself.

For today, he decided to wear a black leather jacket with a black turtleneck beneath, accompanied with ripped dark jeans, slightly ripped, and beige boots. His dark hair was styled in the same parted way as always, but somehow, it made him look… different, more handsome if you must.

He looked completely different, so contrasting from the usual indoor kimonos or hakama sets he would wear. And while you wouldn’t go ahead and say that you haven’t seen him wear casual attires like this before… this whole conjunction of garments was… well, you can’t put any words into it, except that he looked ravishing .

And his different choice of cologne for today does nothing to stop your beating heart from trying to escape the confines of your tightening chest when a breeze of hair makes it apparent to you—making you wonder if there was a special reason behind his choices.

“H-hey, Naoaki” you say upon coming close to him, immediately regretting the stammer in which your words came out, believing to make you seem… Well, silly. Unprepared. And in a way… you kind of were.

“Hey, Y/N” He greets back, with a smile that has you swooning on the spot, completely oblivious to the inner turmoil going on in your head. “Good morning, did you sleep well?”

“Oh… yeah” you say, nervously chuckling as you take a quick glance to the ground, before circling back to him “And… you?”

“Fine, a bit too cold if I must add” Naoaki shrugs, a tremor making way through his spine, as if to add another layer of veracity to his words “I hope you had better luck, did you have a cold night?”

“No” you shake your head, a streak of red appearing on your cheeks, and when you would’ve added something more… your answer ends.

You might be oblivious to your change of behavior, but that wasn’t the case with Naoaki. 

He noticed every single change that you’ve undergone. 

From the way that you would stammer every few words, to how your gaze would seem to linger elsewhere when talking to him, or how you’d remain quiet whenever he was telling you something, unusual behaviors that he noticed to have started ever since he gifted you the box of mochi.

Naoaki doesn’t want to think ill of the moment he considered sweet and the salvation of a relationship he dispiritedly thought lost but… the saboteur inside him is taunting him with a different version, one that tells him that the combination of timing, as well as the reason that pushed him to be at your bedroom’s door so late at night, could’ve be misinterpreted as trespassing your limits, and subsequently, disrespecting your persona. With you simply accepting his words because… well, he imposed you to do so.

He dreaded to think that was the reason behind your actions, and now, you’ve grown upset enough to not trust him anymore.

Or perhaps it’s all in his head? Because you still continue to see him, and he has to admit that although your character has grown to be a bit more… quiet, he’s still seen your lovely smile and twinkling chuckle from time to time.

You were… odd, to say the least, but that doesn’t stop his fondness for you. 

He soon assumes his worries to be nothing but fragments of his imagination, and if he continues to show how much you mean to him, you’d eventually go back to your usual self.

…

…

…

Right?

“Are you… ok?” He asks, the worry of his last question now evident in his voice, causing you to believe you’ve somehow upset him.

“Yeah!” You cry back “I’m fine, what about you?”

“Good…?” he responds… again, You seem to be a bit more distracted than usual today, and assuming that you allegedly had a cold night… were you perhaps sick?

Well, if that were the case, he was sure the twins would’ve gotten sick as well, after all, if not with your staff, or him, you’re with them. However… They haven’t shown any signs of the flu or the normal every-winter cold, and neither has Junko, so that was out of the question.

Besides, if you were sick, he knew that your hard-working ladies would’ve quarantined you into your bedroom immediately , and… well, you’re here before him—with big round eyes that he can’t help but stare at them with awe.

Perhaps you were barely starting to show the first symptoms?

“It’s quite cold today, Y/N” Naoaki says, hoping to alleviate his concerns as well as the rising tension between the two with the typical ice-breaker “And you do look a bit underdressed… Do you want me to get you something else to wear?”

“Oh, no! It’s fine really” You shake your head, finding his concern cute, but unnecessary. If anything, you should be worrying about him since he’s the one leaving! “What about you? Are you cold?”

Naoaki can’t help but chuckle at the third time you’ve asked him the same question, although through different words. Guess there’s something keeping your attention away from the conversation at hand. 

Oh, was it the commotion happening around the estate that made you feel uneasy?

“I’m fine” He smiles, placing his hand over your head and gently palming it “You seem distracted, is everything truly alright?”

“Yep!” You cry out of fearing of appearing as some kind of creep , and the man widens his eyes out of surprise for your unforeseen squeak “Oh, sorry”

“Don’t apologize” He chuckles “You’re not the only one acting a bit… too odd today, or the other days too”

You blush. What does that mean? Have you been acting differently with him?

Nah, of course not. You’re trying your best to not make your feelings come in the way of this friendship that you value so much and make him uncomfortable, weird, you know?

After all, you’re still unclear if he has feelings for you… even if he’s treated you in a way that makes you feel so…. special…

«He’s just being nice, Y/N.» you say, grounding you back to earth «He’s nice with everyone»

Yeah, but never to that extent of going to your room and apologizing , as well as implying that you’re more than a friend to him.

You shake the ideas out of your head before you stray too far from reality, and instead, focus on the amusing matter of Naoaki being on the same page as you when it comes to the antics of the servants, and Junko’s if you think about it.

An opportunity to quiet down one intrigue that has plagued you and your ladies presented itself, and you were not about to let it pass.

Besides, you can always get back to knowing him better afterwards.

“Do you know why they’re acting like that?” you ask, shifting the conversation onto this new topic.

“Ah, that” Naoaki frowns “I don’t know. Father seems to be busy, when not drinking of course, as well as my cousins, although I don’t think it’s necessarily related to this since they’re always busy. But outside of that, I haven’t been told anything else, so I simply assumed it wasn’t my business to inquire any further”

You frown. You could understand being intentionally left out of the loop when it comes to certain subjects around the estate, for an infinity of sexist reasons if you must.

But Naoaki ? The man that continues to serve them in more ways than one? The same man they continue to berate for seemingly unfulfilling their expectations, but are unable to admit that he’s still necessary as part of many gears that make the Zen’in clan work?

That’s just… inexcusable. And terrifying at the same time.

But it’s a system neither you or him can fight—Naoaki has long made peace with that fact, much to your dismay… thus, you won’t force him to go back into a situation he’s clearly wanting to avoid at all costs.

“Well, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your work… I guess it’s fine” you conceded, now looking at the lily flowers found in the garden. Now that this topic was… essentially over, you jump onto the one that has bothered you for the past few minutes, one that would reveal the special occasion behind him getting all dressed up “... where are you going today?” 

“Just to do some paperwork” he responds honestly “I have to go to city hall to oversee the last details of that owner-name typo and I’ll be finally free of that problem” He sigh in relief, expelling all that stress that he’s been dragging for months now and enjoy the notion of a documentless future! Ah, he could almost feel the pen in his hand! 

No more wasted days for having to visit city hall, dealing with humorless secretaries, listening to the complaints and bickering of other visitors, pressure from his relatives to get this problem done as fast as possible…!

That is, until another problem arises, but for now…

“Maybe go to the movies with Naohiko, but most importantly…” Naoaki steps closer to you, and the narrowing of his presence causes you to jolt his gaze back to him “I was hoping to get some more mochi for you”

“Na—Naoaki” your blink, of all things, you certainly didn’t expect him to bring that ! “You… you don’t have to” you say, having done so one time was dangerous enough, but twice? Now that’s just abusive!

Oh, how are you not supposed to feel this dreamy about him?!

“There’s no way I’m not going to, now that I know which ones are your favorites—taro, right?” he guesses, and you reluctantly nod.

“But aren’t they too far from where you’re going?” you wonder, assuming distance to be one of the limiting reasons for him to bring you more sweets. “I don’t want you to worry about me, just go and spend some time with your brother”

“Not really” He shakes his head in denial “It took me a while to get them because I didn’t know which store to go to, but now that I’ve found one of your liking, it’s my duty to bring you more”

“You’re making me look like I’m forcing you to do them” you murmur. “...but you really don’t have to”

“But I want to” Naoaki reiterates “Can’t I spoil you?”

“Jesus, stop it” you pout, looking away “Besides, where did you even get them?”

“There’s a small store in Kyoto. It’s pretty rustic, but very cozy. I think you would’ve liked it…” he says, seemingly implying how he would’ve liked to take you there personally, instead of ordering take out.

But that will remain nothing more than a nice thought.

“Maybe one day” you reassure “For now… there’s something else that I need to ask from you”

“Want something different besides taro?” Naoaki winks, and you roll your eyes yet again. It’s nice to see you at ease with him once more, especially after he saw you act so weird with him these past few days. 

Guess he just needed to bribe you with mochi in order to get you to be the friendly self he’d fallen for.

“...Perhaps” you twist your lips “...but it’s something a bit more confidential ”

At the mention of that last word, Naoaki is quick to understand what you mean, and he proceeds to quickly drop the playful act to scan the surroundings before signaling you to be free of unwanted onlookers. 

You make haste to get the envelope out from your obi and pass it over to Naoaki, which he takes in the same nature of your swiftness and puts it away in one of the pockets inside his leather jacket, securing it away.

It’s not necessary to detail any further instructions, but you deem it necessary nonetheless to confirm your request.

“It’s another letter… for Hinata” you whisper, glazing one more at the seemingly empty halls and rooms around you, coming with the conclusion that you were still alone “If you can… of course. If you have time”

“Of course” he replies. 

Naoaki already suspected that you were attempting to write a second letter to your sister due to the time that has passed from the first one being sent as well as your request for more paper, it's just that your availability never aligned with the right circumstances. 

But during one sleepless night and with the extra care of not flashing your bed light towards the hallways, to avoid announcing that you were awake to any passerby or lady-in-waiting, you managed to write up another letter for Hinata. 

“I was planning on checking if she sent anything anyways”

“... I hope so” you sigh “I worry that… well, ah, never mind. It’s not important”

“It is to me.” Naoaki says, as if inviting you to open up to him. You look away, and that’s all that he needs to understand your thoughts. “That she doesn’t care?”

“Yeah” you press your lips together “I didn’t want to say it, but yeah, that was it”

“She cares” Naoaki proceeds to reassure “I know that much. And your brother does too. Take it from me, I care for my brothers even if some of them don’t really like me” he chuckles.

Oh, how you want to hug him….

If they’re not appreciative of their affection, you are!

“Thank you, Naoaki” is all that you limit to respond, knowing it was not the appropriate place to engage in physical gestures, giving him the letter being risky enough. 

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel your affection, evident by the way you now made him blush.

“You always know what to say to make me feel better. I wish I could do the same” you add.

“Really?” He asks, vibrant redness further evident in his face. “Well… I guess I’m just saying what you make me feel, and… you already make me happy with just being here”

You blink—did he just…? Is there perhaps something more behind—??

“I have to go now” Naoaki interrupts your thoughts before they could spiral down into your dreamland of infatuation, and because you were cut so abruptly, your mouth unwittingly blurts out:

“Do you really have to?” 

It almost sounds like a plea, and alongside your big round puppy eyes that he’s unsure if you know that you’re playing that trick on him…  Naoaki’s heart skips a beat.

“I have to” he reluctantly repeats “I want to finish this job soon, and… well, I already have the tickets for the movie”

«But if you ask me again, I’ll stay»

“Ah… right” you say, glancing away out of embarrassment for your imprudent remark, and your willingness to accept his poor excuse twists his heart. “...I won’t stop you then. Have a nice trip. Take care, Naoaki. See you soon?”

“Don’t wait up for me” he attempts to step away from the sadness of your acceptance by jumping back to his cheerful banter, made successful by the way your lips part into a smile via his next words “I won’t bring you mochi in the middle of the night anymore”

“Silly” you scoff “As if I’ll let you interrupt my sleep again”

“I wouldn’t dream of dealing with a grumpy Y/N anymore” he taunts. Although… he imagines that waking up next to you must be a—.

“Goodbye Naoaki” You say, interrupting his thoughts.

From here onwards, all that he has to do is turn around and leave.

But he can’t seem to force himself to do so, not when his gaze falls from your eyes and onto your lips.. Lingering on them for a few seconds, as if appreciating the delicateness of them, it’s shape, it’s color. Had they always been this… tempting? There’s a desire inside him that’s pushing him to lean down and take them with his own on a—

Naoaki stops himself upon remembering his surroundings, quick to shake away the intrusive thoughts from his mind and finally taking route towards the exit, hoping that you haven’t seen this short moment of weakness whilst he berates himself for taking advantage of the situation. You’ve just opened up to him about your sister, why did he think it was the right time to do anything else but support you?

Giving you one last farewell with the wave of his hand and soon, he’s out of sight.

And luckily for him, you don’t seem to have noticed anything outside of the unusual (thanks to the predisposed desire of having Naoaki remain for a bit longer) although… there was a magnetic force engulfing the two of you asking you to do… something.

But, as much as you wanted to stay behind and make sense of it, this wasn’t the right time to do so. 

Now that one of your many burden’s is cleared, and wanting to share this newfound piece of information (which really didn’t show you anything new, except that not even Naoaki knew what was going on) you decide to make way towards the pagoda where you know your ladies to be patiently waiting for you.

It certainly feels weird not having Junko to follow you around… although it was often you who did the following around.

Eitherway, this unusual sensation is likened to something you consider being able around without restraints, with the freedom of choosing whatever you want to do—within the optimized list of things a woman of your rank has to do, of course.

Should you continue with your knitting project or continue practicing your calligraphy? Oh, this way, you can give Naoaki a scarf for the upcoming winter!

Or maybe you can take this time to practice your cooking and learn a few things from Haruko? It has been a while since Junko got a day off, or your ladies for that matter. You want to show your appreciation for them once more. Or maybe a few sewing tips from Hitomi? There must be a sewing machine somewhere, would it be Singer or Brother? Maybe one of those vintages one, those are certainly a relic of the past, similar to the outdated ideals of—

“You seem rather cheerful for today’s event’s Lady Y/N”

An unknown voice queries from behind you, halting you in your tracks. 

Curiosity for this sudden approach causes you to carefully turn around and face the one behind the call. 

Judging the color of their garments as well as the style of confection of the same, you come to the conclusion that the person before you is none other than a servant you have yet to gain the fortune of making your acquaintance.

However, that wasn’t what caught your interest or surprise, but rather the tone that followed her remark. One that immediately provokes you to seek answers.

“What do you mean?” You ask, slightly pressing your brows together. 

The woman reacts… astonished by your attitude, deep in disbelief, almost as if she couldn’t even fathom the idea of you not knowing the trivial reality happening around you.

Her face only serves to confuse you even further, and your mind is quick to dive into the worst possibilities.

Has somebody actually died? Even if you were on bad terms with this family, you wouldn’t go ahead and mistreat the dead. A funeral is a serious matter, and you should’ve prepared accordingly. 

“Do you really not know?” She insists, and your concern begins to weigh heavier on your shoulders.

Hopefully, your ignorance doesn’t come off as carelessness.

“Not… really” You shake your head. But if it was a serious occasion, why were you purposely left out? Naoaki would certainly know if someone of his relatives died .

And her face doesn’t offer much help as if offended by your insensitivity, leaving you to continuously dive into an ocean of endless somber possibilities.

What could possibly be, that has her and the rest of the servants acting so errantly?

However, her answer would be the darkest possible yet, one you’ve completely forgotten in favor of enjoying the newfound happiness you’ve created in the flimsy foundations of Naoaki’s security, the twins companionship, and Mariya’s friendship, easy to crumble down and pulling you back to your cruel reality once she uttered the following words.

“Naoya-sama is to return today”

It might as well be your funeral.

“We’re to arrive in 30 minutes” The chauffeur announces and the young Zen’in heir is prompted to lift his face from his phone, golden eyes falling on the scene out the glass window. 

He’s lost count of how many days he’s spent in Tokyo getting ready for his exam, taking the actual exam, and subsequently waiting for the results to be deliberated.

But it’s finally over, and now, he is just a few miles away from home.

He takes this time to look back to past days' successions.

The food at the jujutsu school in Tokyo was tolerable, certainly no better than the one in Kyoto, and absolutely nowhere near the level to the ones from his cooks. He was certainly glad to have left behind whatever it was that they served him and get something deserving of his character.

The flight was tolerable, to say the least. He got a first class ticket but he’s seen better seats in other flights, and don’t even get him started with the food.

Not like he actually expected a 5-star meal on a damned plane, but for his money’s worth, he just might’ve demanded so.

And the car trip back to the Zen’in estate was… ok. Certainly more comfortable than those crammed seats at the plane, and with the ability to stop wherever he wanted, because he wasn’t particularly fond of sitting down for seemingly hours on end, thus, taking any opportunity to stretch without second thought.

However, he was glad that the one in charge to pick him up, his usual chauffeur, was punctual. The airline was punctual with his baggage as well, so there was no need to go and complain to the floozy attendants who would probably give him the same bullshit response they gave everyone of we’re working as fast as we can to get your bags , because they were trained to not think, just regurgitate whatever booklet they were given.

In fact, everything had been punctual, with the exception of his exam, rest of the applicants for that matter, and his subsequent deliberation. It’s the reason why he was forced to stay behind in the first place instead of just leaving when he was done.

But of all things considered, he’s sure of one:

He’s glad to be back home.

Like the prodigal son, his arrival at the Zen’in estate had been rather… glorified. But it was nothing that he didn’t expect. After all, he was gone for god knows how long, and returned with good news.

The servants seemingly demonstrated to be happy for him as well as they portrayed to be all too eager to pick up his things and set them in their respective places back in his room, while others offered him all kinds of drinks and food to partake in for a good recovery.

And while he was glad to have been received as triumphantly as he was, he still couldn’t find it in himself to be appreciative of their work, which became apparent by the sneering smirk that painted his face which came from him realizing just how easy it could be for him to set a bad word for them if he desired so.

A rush of power he’d become addicted to.

But as much as he would’ve liked to toy with them and accept their endless requests of pleasing, he had to reject them for his immediate attention was required elsewhere.

In fact, he had to postpone many of his concerts in favor of this particular issue that he knew had to deal with as soon as he stepped foot into the Zen’in estate.

Which he would be guided to by none other than Junko herself.

“Welcome back and congratulations, Naoya-sama” She would greet, bowing in the respective and graceful manner that always accompanied Junko’s actions “I never doubted you’d complete your exam with outstanding performance, proper of the Zen’in heir”

Oh. Right.

The reason why Naoya was so high in his arrogance, only heightened by the seemingly supportive behavior of his servants was because…

He passed his exam.

Or the first part at least.

“It’s good to be back” He states, disappointment evident in his eyes once he realizes a familiar figure is absent to receive him. Naoya doesn’t linger on that thought for much longer, limiting himself to assume that there is a reasonable justification behind your nonattendance, (and he hopes it's an unproblematic one for he would hate running his celebration) which he expected to be brought up by his aunt in due time.

His attention then passes onto the cheerful servants, whom he had to note as being unusually… lively, considering how he left the estate many days ago.

Either way, he can’t deny that he’s basking in it. And his small mind can’t fathom there being another reason for their behavior than his return and the criteria in which he left Tokyo. “The estate seems to be in good condition”

“It is” Junko agrees “Your absence was noted, and we wanted to make your return as enjoyable as possible”

Naoya knows this to be a rubbish response from her aunt, but what can he expect? Just like them, she’s eager to obtain favor from him. She knows which words to say, what buttons to push, to… well, live another day. Thus, he shouldn’t be surprised that she’s trying to pour honey in his ears. 

However, he can’t help but feel that her words might not be as inclusive as she thinks they are.

“Has it?” He ponders, making way to use his suspicion against her “Even by my beloved wife? Where is that vixen by the way?”

Junko’s face might’ve remained emotionless, but the rest of her body wasn't evident by the way her shoulders seem to tense,, if only for the slightest of seconds, but not away from Naoya’s watchful gaze, which he takes with morbid interest.

“Yes… even your wife” She eventually responds, stern and direct. “She’s at the pagoda, inside the allowed premises. She’s been adjusting well to the life in the estate”

Naoya smirks. To hear your dutiful following of his limitations makes him… happy, to say the least. As if you’re slowly accepting your role underneath him—which he knew you would accept eventually.

However, he’s doubtful of Junko’s choice of words, considering how you were the last time he saw you.

Was she perhaps attempting to hide something else?

Ah, isn’t that wonderful ?

Either way, he can’t wait to see you again and relish Junko's continued efforts to make you into the proper woman to be by his side—even if there were a few flaws to oversee. After all, as your husband, he still has to do something when it comes to you, doesn’t he?

But he’s not going to go any further than that; it’s not the right moment anyways. Thus, he allows the conversation to temporarily die, but not placing a mental note to go back to it later.

“Is everyone at the meeting hall already?” Naoya moves onto the next topic—completely uninterested in Junko's opinion— the matter of his so-important meeting that he desperately has to oversee first before moving onto the best part.

“Yes, your father and the elders are waiting for you.” Junko replies.

Naoya frowns; he knows his father to be there simply to follow protocol; the old man was probably intoxicated out of his mind, unable to speak through anything but slurred words and will most certainly forget whatever it was discussed in the meeting as soon as it’s over.

But even then, he doesn’t care.

Not when his results speak louder than whatever the elders had to say—he’s just fulfilling a formality at this point.

“Do I have any correspondence?”

“No”

“Where is the hei ? The kukuru unit?”

“At the training grounds”

Naoya’s eyes then go somber.

“Any news from… Ogi regarding that ?”

“None”

And his questioning ends.

Once at the meeting hall, Junko stands aside and opens the door for Naoya, allowing him inside and closing the door in the same quiet manner she opened it once inside.

Just as she described, the meeting hall was filled with the attendance of all 5 elders… and his befuddled father evidently struggling to sit up straight.

Naoya wanted to show his distaste for the older man, but in the presence of the other 5 geezers , he decided it was best to play along the role of dutiful young heir and take his place before them.

“Welcome home, my son” Naobito is the first to speak upon finally realizing his youngest to be in the same room as him. The older man attempts to reach for his son, perhaps to give him a father-son embrace and show his appreciation, but fails so miserably, further evidence that he has been indulging in the company of alcohol.

Naoya swears he can smell the stench of his breath all the way to where he’s standing.

“Thank you… father” Naoya responds, uninterestedly.

“You were gone for quite a while...” Naobito slurs “Did you have fun? Did you go fooling around to celebrate the great successes of your exam?” he snickers.

Naoya wants to scoff, but “I know” is all that the youngest limits himself to respond with. He doesn’t allow his father’s senseless words to rile him up anymore… at least, not as much.

It’s obvious that he’s longing for a position that he no longer has, or never had to begin with, trying his hardest to compare himself to him—but they were never even the same to begin with.

And the elders seem to be on the same page as Naoya. They weren’t… enthusiastic about having Naobito present in this meeting, considering his addiction to alcohol, but just as Naoya assumed, they were required to bring him in due to tradition. 

If it were up to them, they would even alienate him of his title just to avoid any more situations like this one, but that would be far too precarious. Besides, even if he was a common drunk, they could still acknowledge that Naobito was one to achieve results—and that’s all that matters with the Zen’in.

And now, it seems that Naoya is en route to that same prospect.

“Naobito, I’d appreciate it if you limited yourself to drinking outside of meetings” One of the elders snaps as soon as they see Naobito take another large gulp of alcohol from his sake bottle.

Naobito scoffs, pulling the rim of the bottle away from his lips, a drop dribbling from the corners of his mouth and onto his chin.

“Gah—whatever” he groans, placing the bottle back on its previous place and wiping the remnants out of his chin. “Not like I haven’t done this before”

“Naoya” another man calls, attempting to circle back the attention of this body to the important topic at hand. His gaze goes through a paper of indistinguishable contents, but judging by the nature of this meeting, Naoya assumes them to be none other than the results of his exams.

“Your results exceeded our expectations” he says what Naoya already knows, still looking through the papers he received directly from the Tokyo school of Jujutsu, the same ones that signaled his return in the first place. “You received the best grade of your generation”

If it wasn’t clear that he was relishing on the continuous strokes of his ego, his countenance stepped up to the job by the grin that now appeared on Naoya’s face.

“If you continue on like this” another one adds “You’ll be the youngest sorcerer in the clan to have achieved rank 1”

And he probably would’ve achieved way earlier if it wasn’t for the ongoing crisis, however, this doesn’t stop Naoya’s ego from growing bigger.

That’s a title not even his brothers, uncles, or cousins , were likely to achieve in their lifetime

After all, he’s the heir. Did they expect any less?

“All that’s left is the second part of the exam, isn’t it?” The first elder asks, and Naoya nods.

“Yes. The practical exam in Kyoto” Naoya clarifies.

“When is it?”

“Two days from now” He responded “I came back to oversee the functioning of the estate before going back” Naoya lies, he could really care less if the estate was in shambles. There was only one thing that he cared about, besides his career—and one could guess who .

“I see” another one breathes, pleased by his feigned commitment to the clan “Once you receive this rank, the Hei will officially pass to be under your jurisdiction, as well as the ownership of certain cursed tools in the warehouse”

If there is one thing that Naoya considers to be a bit unfair about this whole ordeal, is that even after all the endeavors he’s done to upkeep the Hei into top shape (something his uncle has failed to do so), they still aren’t recognized as his.

Well, that’s going to change soon anyways. It’s only a matter of days before he’s finally where he has to be. From there, special grade is only a matter of requesting it, and maybe, with enough persuasion… he can finally demand the title from his father.

“We just wanted to remind you that” The last elder, seated on the far left, speaks upon noticing to have gone through all pending points “Congratulations on your half promotion, Naoya. Dismissed” the man derisively applauds, as if trying to lower the young heir's ego, but to no avail. Naoya was already too high in his own arrogance to care what a bunch of old people had to say about him, his eyes were solely set on the prize .

“Thank you. I will not fail you” The Zen’in heir bids his farewell diplomatically with a bow, and without further ado, exits the room.

If his arrogance wasn’t big enough when he left the city of Tokyo, it was now through the roof.

And all because he believed everything in his life was starting to align, just where he wanted it to be, starting with his career.

The exam had to be postponed various times due to the small insurgency created by this well-known curse user. Many of the schools thought it to be a bit risky to be holding such ceremonies, since sorcerers had to travel from one school to the other and this could be inviting to anyone who sought an opening to infiltrate these safe havens, thus, forcing them to stop them until further notice.

But now that the crisis has calmed down (as well as headquarters' desperate need of more sorcerers in their alignments) applications were to be received once more, and Naoya wasted no second to file his. 

Delegation of the results was a bit… trivial, seemingly for not being completely prepared to handle the large quantities of applicants each school received, but even this didn’t falter Naoya one bit.

He knew he was an excellent sorcerer, he had his talent and everyone around him as evidence. He just stayed behind to play along with his respective sorcerers and maybe even mock those that didn’t pass the theoretical exam.

Secondly, the status of the estate.

Because even if he really didn’t care about the body of the clan, he knew that he couldn’t act that way if he was to be responsible for it in due time.

When he expected to come down to a broken-down house, filled with chaos and discord, he was pleasantly surprised to see that it kept on working as if nothing ever happened—in fact, it was even better compared to how he left it in the first place.

And while he knew that the servants would have to go on with their jobs, or risk getting fired… There was one variable he knew was also affected by this sudden change of atmosphere, if not the origin of it all.

You .

Because why else would the estate be in such a good state, if you , the main perpetrator of its turmoil, hadn’t finally accepted your role as his wife?

Yeah. That had to be. You finally succumbed to your expectations, and now, the gears started to work as they were always intended to do so.

His delusional, arrogant filled mind didn’t allow him to think of other possibilities, no. Of course not. He would never comprehend that maybe, the estate started to behave this way because you were the difference they needed, instead of the other way around.

For Naoya, it was all or nothing—but there were still suspicions nonetheless.

Sure, he somewhat trusted Junko to fulfill her work and break you to the clan’s liking, but her earlier interaction gave him the understanding that there was something happening going on.

Well, just as he stated before, he couldn’t be too angry at her. You were his responsibility after all, weren’t you? His wife. And he would hate it if anyone took this from him.

He wouldn’t have to wait that long to discover the truth either, because he knew there was one person in this whole household that held all of the truth. The reason why he didn’t bother to ask his aunt any more questions about you, not when he could get a better rendition of the truth, and with full detail.

His small spy, his friend . The cheerful Ranta who had rushed to see his friend just minutes after hearing of his arrival, was more than ready to celebrate his successes alongside him.

“Congratulations on your promotion!” Ranta beams as he abruptly stops just a few feet away from him, but Naoya, who was never one to partake in the silliness of his friend, would simply scoff at his ignorance.

“I haven’t been promoted yet” He explains, and the young man’s cheek flushes out of embarrassment “I just completed the first part”

“Oh… right” He laments. Ranta feels a bit silly for having committed such a mistake, but as someone like him, who never had the opportunity to go through the ranking system as Naoya did, it was only natural that he would be uneducated in certain aspects. “But you still passed, didn’t you? Congratulations!” 

The long haired man would then proceed to pat Naoya on the back, and while the heir wasn’t one to thrive on the physical affections of others that weren’t his wife, he could agree that it felt nice to be appreciated.

“Thanks” Naoya eventually acknowledges, much to his friends' delight.

“Shall we celebrate later?” Ranta cheerfully suggests, and while it does sound exciting to partake in a celebration of his achievements, it’s at this point that Naoya feels he’s intentionally avoiding a subject. After all, he was assigned the diligent mission to keep a close eye on everything surrounding a certain… special someone, why else would he call him for?

A secrecy Naoya is all too excited to uncover the reason why.

“Now, that sounds alluring , Ranta” Naoya says, carefully circling the first foundations of the direction this conversation is to shift to, like a predator preparing to pounce on its prey, making the young man quietly shiver on the spot. “But you know there’s something I wish to know before that”

“Really?” Ranta nervously plays the fool “Ah, but wouldn’t it be better if you got comfortable first? After all, you just got back home after a long trip and you must be—”

“ Ranta ” Naoya cuts, direct and straight to the point, making Ranta freeze.

He swallows. Ranta should’ve known it was futile to sway Naoya’s interest one his mind was set on it—in fact, he hoped that the small meeting with the elders would’ve been enough to postpone his investigation, if only for a few moments, before having to face the demands of his responsibility.

But the cat’s finally out of the bag, and there’s no reason to try and hide away the valuable information he held in his custody, not when he acted foolishly to the point he basically gave away that he was indeed hiding something.

Ranta shouldn’t be blamed.

Everyone knew of the young man’s precarious ways when it came to what belonged to him, especially so if his brother’s were… involved. Thus, wanting to do everything in his power to avoid the subject all together.

But unfortunately for him, and you for that matter, these two variables were present in the same equation.

With no excuse to hide behind, Ranta silently hopes that the positive receiving of his exam will be enough to sway his temperament, at least to a more tolerable demeanor, as he prepares to speak.

Well, should he start with the negative, or the positive?

Naoya’s judgmental eyes don’t allow him to dwell on the question for much longer, and opting to ease the blow, starts with the positive.

“She’s… fine” He begins, afraid to look Naoya in the eye for a second before regaining his composure—acting all hesitant and demure will not help his case in delivering the shocking news at the end and survive through it. “Somewhere around the estate”

Naoya frowns, and he can’t help but consider Ranta’s answer to be of a mocking, deceiving nature.

“I mean!” Ranta shrills, quick to fix his mistake “She's been adjusting well to her new duties, with Junko-san following her around and all that…”

The Zen’in heir had a nasty habit of drilling those underneath him just to get what he wanted, regardless if they carried what he sought, to the point of making others crumble under the pressure, a terrifying sight that always brought a morbid satisfaction to him—Something that Ranta is all too familiar with, and in hopes of avoid being in the receiving end of his twisted games any further, does his best to push forward yet again.

“The servants have also taken a liking to her” Ranta continues on “They always greet her every morning, and give her food or drinks from time to time… as if she didn’t have staff of her own to care for her”

“Is that so?” Naoya ponders; in the short amount of time that passed from his arrival to the present, he’s been able to note the fleeting glances of his servants and their seemingly brighter behavior, all reactions that he thought to be because of his triumphant return—but never because of their personal affinity towards you .

He wonders what could’ve happened to gain this kind of behavior from his staff, more so when the last thing he was aware of was their distaste for you, which brought unrequited comments towards your little death scare —which he now found ridiculous.

Ah, it’s nothing important anyways. The staff was so underneath his concerns anyways, that he considered it a waste of time to lower himself to their level and ponder what was happening in those little pathetic minds of them—if it was someone’s duty, it was Meiko’s.

There were bigger fish to worry about anyways.

“Is that all?” Naoya asks, skeptical to believe that this was all that happened during his absence. And not to be pessimistic, but he hoped you would’ve done more while secluded away from the clutches of your husband.

Had you really been that willing to settle down once and for all? All that it took was his father’s threat and a bit of his absence to make you fall in line?

If so, perhaps he should reward you.

But that’s not where the truth stops, and Naoya soon comes to that conclusion upon seeing the faltering gaze in Ranta’s countenance.

«Ranta knows something, and he doesn’t want to tell me» Naoya correctly assumes, and in the deepest part of his mind, a fire begins to ignite «Just what did you do, my silly Y/N?»

Being a master of obtaining what he wants, Naoya decides to give him a little push into the right direction and persuade him to reveal all that he knows, unless he wants to see his best friend angered.

And that’s no way to receive him after days of absence, right?

“What a boring life, Ranta” Naoya derides, a smirk on his lips “I kind of feel bad for my poor wife , unless… there’s something more?”

“She—She’s been….” Ranta stammers, dreadfully resenting the fact that he’s to be the messenger of bad news. But such was the task that he accepted, and slowly but surely, his displeasure shifts towards you and your nerve to perform such occurrences.

Ah, if you’d only behaved appropriately, then maybe he wouldn’t be stuck in this predicament.

“She’s been spending time with the twins, but—but she also had her period!” Ranta attempts to use the second statement as bait to divert his attention from the first and onto what he considers perhaps the most important subject when it comes to you, and for the Zen’in as well, but it’s all for naught. Once he brought along the presence of Mai and Maki, Naoya’s attention was set.

Because if there’s one thing that he likes the most when it comes to the clan, it is the macabre drama surrounding its members.

And the glimmer in Naoya’s eye upon the mention of his cousins is proof enough to confirm Ranta his efforts were for naught. 

He’s finally entering uncharted territory, a mine filled landscape where the slightest misplaced word will end up in him getting detonated.

No, that couldn’t be right.

With this wording, it implies the possibility of finding a safe spot in Naoya’s indignation, when in reality, there’s no such thing. The heir’s mind is filled with dark motives and solutions, not a single space offering preservation.

And God help the poor soul that finds themselves trapped in the realm of Naoya’s thoughts.

“The girls?” Naoya scoffs. “Ogi’s daughter’s?”

Ranta nods “The same ones…”

Well, isn’t that an interesting story?

Why is his wife , a woman of undeniable rank and prestige, wasting her time by intermingling with the disgraceful members of the Zen’in clan?

He could argue that they’re involvement surged due to their future roles as his staff, (an agreement that he had no involvement in, and neither had interest in dissolving due to the twins literally having no other use) but he sure remembers specifically ordering Meiko to assign exclusive staff for your care, to avoid you relating to them or anyone else for that matter; after all, why would he allow the putrid excuses of his cousins to come near the woman who is to carry on the next generation?

Naoya doesn’t know if their deficiency is capable of being transferred to his wife via aura, presence, atmosphere, or whatever other bullshit sorcerers like to talk about, but he’s certainly not going to sit aside and find out. Seems like a conversation with Junko is due in—

Oh .

Wait a minute.

There’s a thought that suddenly crosses his mind.

Could it be…?

Was Junko perhaps…. Trying to bribe his wife with the attention of her walking bad omens, appeal to your motherly side, just to obtain some kind of favor? Secure a better position for her wasteful children?

If that were the case… Naoya considers himself suitably intrigued—he never thought his aunt to be the kind of person willing to bend the rules to obtain something for her personal advantage! After all, she was cut from a different fabric from you and she had learned her place amongst the ranks of this clan, even before she arrived at the estate, it's why Ogi took her as his wife in the first place.

But you… you’re different, an outsider, and a weakness if he must, to these people. Something that could’ve given her the wrong impression to seize the moment and attack… why the servants took great interest in you as well!

Oh, and you must’ve flourished when Junko finally made her move. After all, why would you pass up the opportunity to gain attention? Leverage? Especially after behaving like a spoiled brat once you considered his attention unsuitable for your taste.

Ah, maybe he miscalculated the force of your influence—he’ll have to deal with that issue with Ogi when he has the chance.

However, it couldn't be all bad.

With his father's teachings, he's long learned to see that every little succession always bore a positive side, and in this occasion it boiled down to the innocent nature of their interference and what could be of benefit for him.

"It'll serve as an experience for when Y/N finally becomes a mother" is all that Naoya concludes of his informer's statement, and while he was somewhat… Irritated by this unexpected course of events, he thinks about Ranta's reaction as out of proportion—your interaction with Junko and the twins is nothing more than women bickering with other women, part of their nature, and nothing more. "Is that why you were so worried about Ranta?" Naoya asks, going ahead and passively mocking the young man's face of concern.

Ranta wishes he could go ahead and say he's relieved for seemingly surviving this precarious stage of his deliberation, but he can't.

Because compared to what is next to come, this was the easier part to traverse— Mai and Maki were always under Naoya’s radar anyway, in route to being his servants simply because Ogi wanted to remain in the good graces of the clan and keep his image as clean as possible by giving them some kind of use, so it was within reason that he wouldn’t react so outrageously when it came to it.

It's what comes next that has him riddled with affright, a premonition of the dangers to come. He’s seen all kinds of conflicts happen between the siblings, for a wide range of reasons, simply because Naoya felt they were starting to step on his toes or because they looked at him weirdly—but this is unexplored territory for all of the siblings; the addition of a woman in their circle, his youngest brother’s wife … Well, many knew better and decided to keep away.

With the exception of one.

And casually, the one Naoya got along with the worst.

«Well…. He’s going to know about it one way or the other» Ranta muses as he mentally prepares himself to go on with the most difficult stage of his testimony «Maybe it’s for the best that I be the first one to tell him about it…»

“There’s…. Something else” Ranta softly says, looping Naoya back into his attention. The Zen’in heir stops his desultory walk across the estate and turns around to face the averse man with captious eyes.

“Is there?” Naoya gibed, impatient to see what else you’ve hidden under your sleeve. And without a second to waste, the young man forces himself to finally confess…

“She’s been hanging… with your brother” And he swears to feel the temperature of the atmosphere drop to freezing levels.

The consuming silence between the two is quick to suffocate Ranta, to the point he finds difficulty to breath through the tightening constraints of his chest and the resounding noise of his heartbeat in his ears. He doesn’t even need to look up to Naoya’s eyes to know that he will find the familiar glint of a killing intention in his eyes, proving that not even the triumphant results of his examination was enough to moderate the extent of his reception.

“Which… brother?” Naoya darkly queries, and Ranta wishes he could just disappear, preparing himself for impact.

“...Naoaki”

It was only a matter of seconds before the young Zen’in heir would make his thoughts known, followed by angrily demanding your presence to be brought upon him and repeat the successions of the day you and your husband came back from the doctor; it’s by pure luck that Naoaki had been out of the estate when his arrival took place, almost as if he knew this was about to happen and made the run for it. 

But you weren’t about to be blessed with the same possibilities, and certainly, Ogi wouldn’t step in once more to save you.

 As the one left behind, you’d be the sole responsible to pick the broken glass of this ruptured relationship, with no one to uphold your innocence.

The clock is ticking, and Ranta knows that Naoya’s mind is machinating all kinds of gruesome punishments to grace his wife with, if not to hasten Naobito’s verdict.

But when Naoya finally decides to open his mouth and reveal his next move… Ranta’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach.

It’s nothing of what he expected, in fact, he doesn’t know if he prefers the initial outcome he had in mind.

Because what Naoya decided to do was…

Laugh.

The blonde-haired man was cackling , almost feloniously, seemingly amused by the antics of his older brother, and his wife in that matter.

“Ah, Naoaki, is it?” Nayoa derisorily queries “The imbecile of my older brother?”

“Y-yes…?” Ranta nervously agrees. Of all Naoya’s that he’s seen, this has to be the most unnerving one.

“That’s incredible!” Naoya boasts “He really thought he was doing something, wasn’t he? Oh, and my stupid wife fell into it”

Ranta frighteningly wonders if Naoya is seeing something that he isn’t, perhaps a clue that he overlooked, or maybe even the words that he said? 

And all things considered, that was the truth.

The combination of Naoya Zen’in’s arrogance and delusional mind brought him to see a side Ranta failed to recognize, the alleged clarification of the actions of his older brother’s actions:

Naoaki was using you.

His beloved failure of a brother was using you to get back at him one way or the other, he’s always been the jealous one out of the two, thus, it made complete sense!

Naoya could see it now. He probably approached you with sweet nothings and actions that would make any cornered woman fall into his arms after realizing how out of place you felt, and falling straight into his trap.  

And while he wasn’t all too happy with the route his father had decided to take regarding your infertility , that's how things worked in the Zen’in estate and you either eat, or risk to be eaten.

However, that didn’t mean you had the right to seek comfort in the company of another man—regardless of the other’s intentions.

Well, it seems there were still a few things to iron out between him and you. Not everything could be perfect—but Naoya doesn’t mind.

In fact, he was relishing the fact that he had something to work on, you were his wife after all, and he liked being your husband. And putting you back in place during these matters was a role Junko couldn’t possibly play.

“The nerve of them to disrespect me… it’s adorable really” Naoya says, regaining his pace and continuing walking across the estate, eventually arriving at the pagoda garden where he manages to see the familiar figures of your staff…and you.

“I—I don’t think they’ve done anything…if that’s what you’re implying” Ranta adds, hoping that his words would halt whatever direction he was going, but it was too late, Naoya already made up his delusional mind and assessed ways to deal with this situation.

“I know” Naoya darkly reassures him. Besides, if anything had occurred, Junko would’ve been the first one to cry wolf—she knows better after all.

The misconception that his brother’s wouldn’t act out of line due to the power he represented was greatly apparent through his laughter and his subsequent reaction—it’s why he was comfortable leaving you around the estate, but not without restraints, of course. They feared his anger too much, because his brothers knew better, right?

But he fails to realize that he’s being blinded by his own arrogance (due to his outstanding performance, no question about it, as well as rank) to the point that he’s lost touch with the reality of his surroundings, the depths of your feelings, and now, Naoaki’s.

Naoya is playing the live, accurate representation of a popular saying that goes: The higher they climb, the harder they fall, and Ranta knows that this is about to happen. 

After all, his friend has effectively broken free of all restraints thanks to the lightness of his response, a crucial ingredient for the recipe of disaster.

And if his fear regarding him and his future actions were already on alarming levels, he now thinks to have broken the scale.

Excitement pumped through Naoya’s veins as he looked forward to revealing all the secrets of your flourishing relationship with Naoaki, to see just how low you could go, have his fun… After all, you’ve denied him for far too long—and that’s no way to live.

“Do you… want me to call her?” Ranta asks upon noticing the gaze of his friend stuck on your figure for more than a few seconds, giving him the impression that he desired to reach out to you at this very moment. 

However, the young heir simply chuckles, and you are suddenly inundated with the heavy sensation of someone observing you, forcing you to look for the author behind this feeling.

Naoya watches the way your head swirls towards your sides, until it finally falls in your direction—it’s here that he finds himself admiring the way your eyes go round in shock when his and your gazes cross paths—confirming that your husband was indeed, back in the estate. “No…” Naoya says with a smirk as he takes one last look at your frightened face before going back to his way, ignoring the murmurs of your concerns ladies, as he heads towards his room; at least you’re aware that your little ruse has been discovered, and he can’t wait to remind you just who you think you’re toying with. 

Or who Naoaki is messing with.

“I think I’ll have dessert after dinner”

(part 2)

[bisexualmikisayaka]

like... okay, being trapped in several layers of your own dreams is not a trope exclusive to this movie and has actually kind of been around forever, but the casca dream sequence that takes over all of 372 is a little perfect blue-esque, no? like that part where mima keeps waking up after increasingly unreal action sequences? there's also something to look at there with casca's own fractured identity as a result of trauma and the persona that gets created for her in absence of the "true self," shall we say, which isn't quite the same in PB but the themes definitely parallel each other. anyways big unpacking of 372 under the cut because i love a casca mini-arc!

once you get to the dream sequence itself it's quite interesting - casca is totally mute for the first "loop", and dressed up and paraded around in this illusion of a noblewoman's life. here we're going back to two major parts of her character - the first obvious reference is her life as "elaine" and the behavior she exhibited as a result of how extremely her trauma impacted her, i.e. not being able to formulate words anymore. the second is the corridor of dreams, and casca viewing herself as a broken doll, which is pretty heartbreakingly self-explanatory, but it's echoed here in her being moved around by these presumably illusory handmaidens and having no control over her own dress, movements, or life. she is, for all intents and purposes, a doll. the only time we see the true casca before the bath scene is when she cries at seeing the band of the hawk. the handmaids believe that it's because she's scared of the soldiers, which we obviously know is not true lmao. the one possibly good thing about this scenario is that casca, in her own altered state of mind due to whatever the fuck is being done to her, finally has a way to grieve the losses she experienced during the eclipse without relapsing into her trauma because of the memories that grief brings up. also her taking care of kids makes me crazy insane especially because of Everything with griffith and the moonlight boy but i'm glad she got to be happy and nurturing for two whole panels.

then we get the bath. again, here water serves as a vehicle for truth - just as casca's tears represented her knowledge that at some level, she knows what she's experiencing isn't real, being submerged in this water triggers her memories of farnese, schierke, and dannan plus everyone else on elfhelm. side note but i love that it's the girls that she immediately sees, it is so important to me personally that casca gets to have meaningful relationships with other women. anyways here's when demure, voiceless casca completely shatters with her waking up in the chair (beginning the second "loop") and screaming. i would need to reread quite possibly the whole manga to figure out if there's a deeper meaning to the setting that she awakens to so put that on pause for now or if you've got a theory, drop it in the notes!

here, we are introduced to something of a combination of cascas that the readers are intimately familiar with. her outfit in the simple white dress is pretty similar to what she wore for a while as "elaine," and you can tell that she's reacting out of pure instinct in combat situations much like "elaine" did. but even amidst her panic it's still clear that she's operating at the cognitive level of the golden age/restored casca and her confidence in her abilities to incapacitate and get past the guards is one hundred percent normal casca. nonetheless, i don't want to completely gloss over casca's emotions during this scene - she's scared. you could honestly make a case for her being terrified here. she is one hundred percent fighting off the flashbacks she suppressed during the first loop and does not want to be in this combat situation. it's clear that this is a casca who is traumatized by violence - that reflection of the sword in her eyes after she chops off that guy's arm is once again heartbreaking, and honestly probably warrants its own paragraph if not its own post - but ultimately it is a necessity to achieve her goals of escaping and getting back to guts.

and then she falls. this panel is pretty small so it doesn't get a ton of visual (and therefore emotional/narrative) impact, but i think it is really interesting that casca's final waking moment in the second "loop" is on her hands and knees, collapsed, surrounded by soldiers. i think that has the potential to be an incredibly triggering situation for her, when she's already very triggered by the violence she enacted onto someone else, and thus warranting her passing out. interesting to not emphasize that moment, but then we get the third and final "loop," which seems to be what's actually happening to casca. hazy-eyed, she looks at us once, before drifting back off to sleep, clearly artificially induced by irvine. it's difficult to tell if casca actually managed to wake up and attempt escape before being recaptured, but it's certainly a legitimate possibility. i would also not rule out everything being a dream, and irvine's mention of her "flight" could be her internal struggles to break free which he's currently stopped and put her under for good (for now).

breaking away from the girl of all time, briefly, i want to talk about zodd in this scene. he is away from the rest of the apostles, who are all gathered behind griffith, near irvine when he reports. he's not even by griffith, who he's supported throughout this entire endeavor (he was the one who flew him and casca back to falconia!). zodd's alone, arms crossed and with an interesting expression on his face - it honestly seems like he's eavesdropping. i think his expression is ambiguous enough that you can interpret it a number of different ways, but i'm choosing to see it as him experiencing some form of internal conflict. zodd is the only apostle who knew casca before, uh, everything happened. she's never really been of interest to him, but she was there when he first met guts and griffith (iirc, she's the one who starts launching the volley of arrows that enables them to buy some time during that first battle), she's there when he kills wyald, and she was the other survivor of the eclipse when skully spirited her and guts outta there. while his primary focus has always been guts and griffith, it would make sense for zodd to have at least noticed casca always being around. of course he's gonna support griffith in his abduction of casca (for purposes still unknown, probably to piss off guts but nothing's really been confirmed yet as casca seems to have been allowed some degree of privilege and autonomy while she was being mind-controlled but had no interaction with griffith or the apostles whatsoever before breaking free, which is honestly pretty interesting) coz he'll do whatever griffith tells him. but there's something about this situation that seems to have caused tension between him and his group. idk, i wonder if he's gonna bust casca out, or at least play a pivotal role in getting guts back on his feet and ready to go after her again. i guess we'll have to see where 374 brings us because things are certainly getting crazy on the ship in 373!

[zealouscanonindeer]

The Pipe Problem

Dr John Watson:

And what course of action are we employ further?” I questioned.

Holmes had filled me in with the details of the day, I felt nervous at her sudden disappearance. 

“I shall think upon the matter, hopefully we shall have more clarity by tomorrow morning.”

I knew Holmes would not sleep a wink that night. Attaining his usual position, heavy smoking and intense meditation, he would slip into solitude as the hours wore on. Even he admitted, his findings were meagre and could not make for much but I had enough belief in his abilities for both of us. 

The next morning as I made my way to breakfast, I witnessed Holmes neatly dressed, busily writing something. He was in much better spirits that yesterday. It seemed his penance had yielded a beneficial clue.

“Aha, morning Watson. Which one would you say more suited?” he thrust two letters at me. Before reading them, I put forth my queries.

“Well, it is clear enough that she was writing a letter to me, the words my dear Holmes, sherlock, apologies and understand could culminate in that respect. Maybe she wished to inform me of her absence but though better of it.”

“The sherlock need not be in your letter, she could have mentioned you to a third party”

“Good Watson, very good. That is true enough. Now for the wrong and deliberate, they hint at a mistake or ill intentions and they’re deliberateness. Understand also is too loose to be clubbed into one category. The father could show her describing her father’s recent travel. The appreciate I cannot place.”

“It seems easy enough. She appreciates you understanding her absence.”

“But that’s the thing. Both the words are too far apart, with understand on what one could make the second line of the letter while appreciate does not appears until the very end of the page.it could serve a similar purpose, nonetheless.”

“What of the letter she supposedly received from you?’

“The most acceptable conjecture would be thus. She received a letter, one that was to deceive her but she realised the hoax and wished to unfurl the person behind this. She did as per the letter, making her escape in the night. Her attempts of the letters are more difficult to explain for she would undoubtedly inform me. She must have used her father’s departure as an excuse to mask her own.”

“How about she was being watched and her attempts of contact denied”

“That does not explain the sheer amount of discarded paper. If she was being watched, only a single letter would be burned. No more likely she struggled with her next course of action, often vacillating between outcomes.”

“Who would know of the lady’s presence in my life and its importance to send her a letter on my behalf, knowing she would certainly act.”

He closed his eyes, eyebrows ruffling in agitation, his forehead wrinkling as he thought deeply. After a few moments, he got up making his way to the coat rack, pulling on his overcoat and securing his muffler around his long neck.

“Watson, if it pleases you, I shall be grateful of your company. ”

“Don’t you wish for me to read these prototypes first?”

“If our endeavours are successful, we shall some original documentations. Now come along Watson, the game is truly afoot.”

We made our way to Mrs crofts establishment, Holmes intently studying the times columns. He, as per his custom maintained silence.

We were let in by a small parlour maid with an alarmed expression over her thin countenance. Holmes nodded at her and silently made his way up the stairs into the third room to the left. His nimble fingers, handling a smallish hatpin worked away at the lock until it gave open.

No sooner were we in than he had once again turned into a creature of frenzy and unduplicable energy, his hands working on every crevice and his trained eye unable to miss even a slight detail. However, his search yielded nothing concrete.

Next, he tore open the closet, dresser drawers and every other surface was rendered open but to avail. He then, with visible displeasure conceded,

“Oh, Watson, I suppose everyone has their limits as I have been painfully made aware of mine. I wonder what I have missed…. I must have…. surely…. By Jove! There it is!”

He lurched at the morning dress placed on the settee and dug into its deep pockets and his whimsical smile returned once more.

“Not yet Watson not just yet.”

He procured a curious little piece of paper, a crisscrossed one, the columns filled with unusual numbers. 

“What is this then Holmes?”

“Beats me, another night in tobacco ash shall be needed. Come now, we must swiftly take leave before Mrs croft is made aware of our presence.

With immaculate detail, the room was left as found and two gentlemen slipped noiselessly out of the women chambers. 

[retaliationrp]

If I’m honest, it’s like the older I get feels like I’m more of a mess. Tear my heart out my chest.

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: Mia Fleming 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 & 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒: cis woman & she/her 𝐀𝐆𝐄: 33 𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:  owner of Aroma Mocha 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:  Wild Coyotes 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊:  Enforcer 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌:  Phoebe Tonkin

+ clever, loyal, caring - secretive, impulsive, reckless

The sweet life of Mia Fleming, the youngest daughter of John, would be one paved with grief and sadness. A happy child, surrounded by a stable family, despite her father being the president of the Wild Coyotes, things started to change for her when she hit 11 years old and her mother up and left without saying goodbye. It was not because of the life her father lived, nothing to do with the motorcycles that roamed the streets of Lancaster or the criminal activities he indulged in. Mary Flemings was fickle, always looking for more, a greedy personality and after meeting another man that promised her a better life, she simply left. Having children had never been something she really wanted and she had only done it to please her husband. John grieved the woman he had thought was the love of his life and Mia didn’t shed a tear, turning her back on the woman who gave birth to her.

As the Flemings' children grew, it became clear that John expected them to follow in his footsteps and join the ranks of the club. Mia had always been clear on her stance about the Wild Coyotes. She understood her father and why the coyotes existed but she wanted no part in it, at least not actively. She did not wear the patches or attend the meetings but she served a purpose nonetheless. Opening a small café, the place also doubled as a money-laundering scheme. And every year, Mia took a month-long trip to the south and central America in order to select the coffee for the year to come. But it was not all she did while away as she also strengthened relationships between her father and other criminal groups.

When one of her brothers died two years ago, Mia was devastated. Family was the most important thing in her life and her brothers had always been a rock to her. The fact that he was murdered did not help her process this loss.  There were very few things the woman wanted more than for the town to be safe and for the criminal activities to vanish, if possible. When her brother died, a part of her wanted revenge, wanted someone to pay for it, and after a few dark weeks, she knew that she could no longer watch from the sidelines.

That death changed Mia. Her optimism towards the situation in Lancaster and the other clubs in Arizona died with her brother and overnight she was seen wearing the club’s patches, something she always refused to do before. She was now an active member of the MC serving as their Enforcer. Despite that tragedy, there was still happiness and the bond with the Wild Coyotes only grew stronger. They were all taken by surprised when the Sinful Ones moved to Lancaster and the grief of loosing her father by their hands has left Mia even more broken. She wants one thing only now, for the deaths of her brother and father to be avenged and she will stop at nothing to get to the bottom of it.

[armed-with-a-waffle-iron]

Ooo, I have a few thoughts here. Numbered list time if you’re interested.

Can Steph cook?

Cooking does come up in Steph’s story, preboot. In Batgirl (2009) #3, she serves her mom some slightly charred waffles and in Gotham Gazette: Batman Dead, her mom tells her to make dinner.

So yes, Steph CAN cook.

2. Fending for Herself

And importantly, her 90s appearances, particularly Showcase ‘95 #5, loved to emphasise that Steph Brown is a latchkey kid; her dad was always in jail and her nurse mom was struggling with a drug addiction. For a long period in Steph’s life, she did not have a parent that took care of or made time for her. In fact, Steph even found herself taking care of her mom. She’s probably no gourmet chef but she probably cooked all her home meals for a long time in her teenage years. Maybe that’s why waffles are her comfort food, easy and quick to prepare.

3. What Waffles Mean to Steph’s Relationship with her Mom

In Batgirl (2009), Steph and her mom, Crystal, are in the process of properly mending their relationship. And there’s weight to the fact that Crystal cooks waffles for her as a way of bonding, even if Steph shrugs it off. This suggests that it was probably mostly Steph using the kitchen before her “death”.

And maybe waffles, Steph’s comfort food nonetheless, were less her favourite food as a teenager but more an easy to prepare staple of her diet which she’d maybe even have for dinner sometimes. Maybe her mom doesn’t really know that.

Crystal’s just trying to get closer with her daughter by making her the food she always eats but the reason her daughter always eats that food is because Crystal never cooked for her and it was the easiest thing to prepare. So Steph appreciates that but is kinda urghhh about it initially because the irony is painful. But she wants to have a good relationship with her mom and grows into her chances throughout the Point of New Origin arc. So it’s important that we see Steph meeting her mom halfway at the end of the arc but cooking her the same waffles (panel above).

4. Reboot Rubbish

Reboot Steph’s background is thinly developed because in 2011, DC decided legacy, history and character development don’t sell. Moreover, the writers of Batgirls literally thought Stephanie is a 14 year old and was clearly unfamiliar with Stephanie’s preboot history (and glory).

Also, DC are massively desperate for comic sales and they’re doing a Netflix by employing all these weird middle-class millennials to write stories that are hyper-relatable and end up producing stories which are just hyper-relatable to the weird middle-class millennial writing it. The writers knows young people who can’t cook and likes boba or thinks that young people can’t cook and like boba or can’t cook and likes boba themselves so guess what? Steph can’t cook and likes boba now.

Hyper-focusing on the “relatable-ness” of a story normally ends up alienating a large portion of readers and sacrificing THEME because nothing is relatable to EVERYONE and if the purpose of the story is to get someone to say “this is so me” then the story forgets to actually say something.

Anyways I don’t like Batgirls but Batgirl (2009) is the best comic run ever.💜

Stephanie Brown cooking skills

Batgirls (2022-2023) #11

Okay so I'm still a novice in comics and generally slowly learning the details of history of these characters, and I'm also aware there's been like continuity reboot things over the years. But from what I understand, her backstory involves having a father who is both a deadbeat and a criminal who has done prison time. Her mother meanwhile is both a nurse (a rather time-demanding job) and also addicted to drugs.

Robin (1993-2009) #3

So maybe this is a bit of a nitpick... but Steph feels like someone who should be rather self-sufficient given her circumstances and at least know how to do some basic cooking to feed herself when her parents aren't available or unable (such as not screwing up cup noodles).

Just feels like the kind of backstory which would lead to someone learning life skills in one manner or another at a young age to make up for parental lacking.

Although to be fair, thing might not necessarily be that bad and even if it were then there's still ways for Steph to get food without having to cook it herself.

Just some thoughts anyway.

Anyone with more knowledge of Steph, or the current continuity, let me know if I'm just overthinking things or not?

[bao3bei4]

fan language: the victorian imaginary and cnovel fandom

there’s this pinterest image i’ve seen circulating a lot in the past year i’ve been on fandom social media. it’s a drawn infographic of a, i guess, asian-looking woman holding a fan in different places relative to her face to show what the graphic helpfully calls “the language of the fan.”

people like sharing it. they like thinking about what nefarious ancient chinese hanky code shenanigans their favorite fan-toting character might get up to⁠—accidentally or on purpose. and what’s the problem with that?

the problem is that fan language isn’t chinese. it’s victorian. and even then, it’s not really quite victorian at all. 

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fans served a primarily utilitarian purpose throughout chinese history. of course, most of the surviving fans we see⁠—and the types of fans we tend to care about⁠—are closer to art pieces. but realistically speaking, the majority of fans were made of cheaper material for more mundane purposes. in china, just like all around the world, people fanned themselves. it got hot!

so here’s a big tipoff. it would be very difficult to use a fan if you had an elaborate language centered around fanning yourself.

you might argue that fine, everyday working people didn’t have a fan language. but wealthy people might have had one. the problem we encounter here is that fans weren’t really gendered. (caveat here that certain types of fans were more popular with women. however, those tended to be the round silk fans, ones that bear no resemblance to the folding fans in the graphic). no disrespect to the gnc old man fuckers in the crowd, but this language isn’t quite masc enough for a tool that someone’s dad might regularly use.

folding fans, we know, reached europe in the 17th century and gained immense popularity in the 18th. it was there that fans began to take on a gendered quality. ariel beaujot describes in their 2012 victorian fashion accessories how middle class women, in the midst of a top shortage, found themselves clutching fans in hopes of securing a husband.

she quotes an article from the illustrated london news, suggesting “women ‘not only’ used fans to ‘move the air and cool themselves but also to express their sentiments.’” general wisdom was that the movement of the fan was sufficiently expressive that it augmented a woman’s displays of emotion. and of course, the more english audiences became aware that it might do so, the more they might use their fans purposefully in that way.

notice, however, that this is no more codified than body language in general is. it turns out that “the language of the fan” was actually created by fan manufacturers at the turn of the 20th century⁠—hundreds of years after their arrival⁠ in europe—to sell more fans. i’m not even kidding right now. the story goes that it was louis duvelleroy of the maison duvelleroy who decided to include pamphlets on the language with each fan sold.

interestingly enough, beaujot suggests that it didn’t really matter what each particular fan sign meant. gentlemen could tell when they were being flirted with. as it happens, meaningful eye contact and a light flutter near the face may be a lingua franca.

so it seems then, the language of the fan is merely part of this victorian imaginary we collectively have today, which in turn itself was itself captivated by china.

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victorian references come up perhaps unexpectedly often in cnovel fandom, most often with regards to modesty.

it’s a bit of an awkward reference considering that chinese traditional fashion⁠—and the ambiguous time periods in which these novels are set⁠—far predate victorian england. it is even more awkward considering that victoria and her covered ankles did um. imperialize china.

but nonetheless, it is common. and to make a point about how ubiquitous it is, here is a link to the twitter search for “sqq victorian.” sqq is the fandom abbreviation for shen qingqiu, the main character of the scum villain’s self-saving system, by the way.

this is an awful lot of results for a search involving a chinese man who spends the entire novel in either real modern-day china or fantasy ancient china. that’s all i’m going to say on the matter, without referencing any specific tweet.

i think people are aware of the anachronism. and i think they don’t mind. even the most cursory research reveals that fan language is european and a revisionist fantasy. wikipedia can tell us this⁠—i checked!

but it doesn’t matter to me whether people are trying to make an internally consistent canon compliant claim, or whether they’re just free associating between fan facts they know. it is, instead, more interesting to me that people consistently refer to this particular bit of history. and that’s what i want to talk about today⁠—the relationship of fandom today to this two hundred odd year span of time in england (roughly stuart to victorian times) and england in that time period to its contemporaneous china.

things will slip a little here. victorian has expanded in timeframe, if only because random guys posting online do not care overly much for respect for the intricacies of british history. china has expanded in geographic location, if only because the english of the time themselves conflated china with all of asia.

in addition, note that i am critiquing a certain perspective on the topic. this is why i write about fan as white here⁠—not because all fans are white⁠—but because the tendencies i’m examining have a clear historical antecedent in whiteness that shapes how white fans encounter these novels.

i’m sure some fans of color participate in these practices. however i don’t really care about that. they are not its main perpetrators nor its main beneficiaries. so personally i am minding my own business on that front.

it’s instead important to me to illuminate the linkage between white as subject and chinese as object in history and in the present that i do argue that fannish products today are built upon.

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it’s not radical, or even new at all, for white audiences to consume⁠—or create their own versions of⁠—chinese art en masse. in many ways the white creators who appear to owe their whole style and aesthetic to their asian peers in turn are just the new chinoiserie.

this is not to say that white people can’t create asian-inspired art. but rather, i am asking you to sit with the discomfort that you may not like the artistic company you keep in the broader view of history, and to consider together what is to be done about that.

now, when i say the new chinoiserie, i first want to establish what the original one is. chinoiserie was a european artistic movement that appeared coincident with the rise in popularity of folding fans that i described above. this is not by coincidence; the european demand for asian imports and the eventual production of lookalikes is the movement itself. so: when we talk about fans, when we talk about china (porcelain), when we talk about tea in england⁠—we are talking about the legacy of chinoiserie.

there are a couple things i want to note here. while english people as a whole had a very tenuous knowledge of what china might be, their appetites for chinoiserie were roughly coincident with national relations with china. as the relationship between england and china moved from trade to out-and-out wars, chinoiserie declined in popularity until china had been safely subjugated once more by the end of the 19th century.

the second thing i want to note on the subject that contrary to what one might think at first, the appeal of chinoiserie was not that it was foreign. eugenia zuroski’s 2013 taste for china examines 18th century english literature and its descriptions of the according material culture with the lens that chinese imports might be formative to english identity, rather than antithetical to it.

beyond that bare thesis, i think it’s also worthwhile to extend her insight that material objects become animated by the literary viewpoints on them. this is true, both in a limited general sense as well as in the sense that english thinkers of the time self-consciously articulated this viewpoint. consider the quote from the illustrated london news above⁠—your fan, that object, says something about you. and not only that, but the objects you surround yourself with ought to.

it’s a bit circular, the idea that written material says that you should allow written material to shape your understanding of physical objects. but it’s both 1) what happened, and 2) integral, i think, to integrating a fannish perspective into the topic.

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japanning is the name for the popular imitative lacquering that english craftspeople developed in domestic response to the demand for lacquerware imports. in the eighteenth century, japanning became an artform especially suited for young women. manuals were published on the subject, urging young women to learn how to paint furniture and other surfaces, encouraging them to rework the designs provided in the text.

it was considered a beneficial activity for them; zuroski describes how it was “associated with commerce and connoisseurship, practical skill and aesthetic judgment.” a skillful japanner, rather than simply obscuring what lay underneath the lacquer, displayed their superior judgment in how they chose to arrange these new canonical figures and effects in a tasteful way to bring out the best qualities of them.

zuroski quotes the first english-language manual on the subject, written in 1688, which explains how japanning allows one to:

alter and correct, take out a piece from one, add a fragment to the next, and make an entire garment compleat in all its parts, though tis wrought out of never so many disagreeing patterns.

this language evokes a very different, very modern practice. it is this english reworking of an asian artform that i think the parallels are most obvious.

white people, through their artistic investment in chinese material objects and aesthetics, integrated them into their own subjectivity. these practices came to say something about the people who participated in them, in a way that had little to do with the country itself. their relationship changed from being a “consumer” of chinese objects to becoming the proprietor of these new aesthetic signifiers.

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i want to talk about this through a few pairs of tensions on the subject that i think characterize common attitudes then and now.

first, consider the relationship between the self and the other: the chinese object as something that is very familiar to you, speaking to something about your own self vs. the chinese object as something that is fundamentally different from you and unknowable to you. 

consider: [insert character name] is just like me. he would no doubt like the same things i like, consume the same cultural products. we are the same in some meaningful way vs. the fast standard fic disclaimer that “i tried my best when writing this fic, but i’m a english-speaking westerner, and i’m just writing this for fun so...... [excuses and alterations the person has chosen to make in this light],” going hand-in-hand with a preoccupation with authenticity or even overreliance on the unpaid labor of chinese friends and acquaintances. 

consider: hugh honour when he quotes a man from the 1640s claiming “chinoiserie of this even more hybrid kind had become so far removed from genuine Chinese tradition that it was exported from India to China as a novelty to the Chinese themselves” 

these tensions coexist, and look how they have been resolved.

second, consider what we vest in objects themselves: beaujot explains how the fan became a sexualized, coquettish object in the hands of a british woman, but was used to great effect in gilbert and sullivan’s 1885 mikado to demonstrate the docility of asian women. 

consider: these characters became expressions of your sexual desires and fetishes, even as their 5’10 actors themselves are emasculated.

what is liberating for one necessitates the subjugation and fetishization of the other. 

third, consider reactions to the practice: enjoyment of chinese objects as a sign of your cosmopolitan palate vs “so what’s the hype about those ancient chinese gays” pop culture explainers that addressed the unconvinced mainstream.

consider: zuroski describes how both english consumers purchased china in droves, and contemporary publications reported on them. how: 

It was in the pages of these papers that the growing popularity of Chinese things in the early eighteenth century acquired the reputation of a “craze”; they portrayed china fanatics as flawed, fragile, and unreliable characters, and frequently cast chinoiserie itself in the same light.

referenda on fannish behavior serve as referenda on the objects of their devotion, and vice versa. as the difference between identity and fetish collapses, they come to be treated as one and the same by not just participants but their observers. 

at what point does mxtx fic cease to be chinese? 

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finally, it seems readily apparent that attitudes towards chinese objects may in fact have something to do with attitudes about china as a country. i do not want to suggest that these literary concerns are primarily motivated and begot by forces entirely divorced from the real mechanics of power. 

here, i want to bring in edward said, and his 1993 culture and imperialism. there, he explains how power and legitimacy go hand in hand. one is direct, and one is purely cultural. he originally wrote this in response to the outsize impact that british novelists have had in the maintenance of empire and throughout decolonization. literature, he argues, gives rise to powerful narratives that constrain our ability to think outside of them.

there’s a little bit of an inversion at play here. these are chinese novels, actually. but they’re being transformed by white narratives and artists. and just as i think the form of the novel is important to said’s critique, i think there’s something to be said about the form that fic takes and how it legitimates itself.

bound up in fandom is the idea that you have a right to create and transform as you please. it is a nice idea, but it is one that is directed towards a certain kind of asymmetry. that is, one where the author has all the power. this is the narrative we hear a lot in the history of fandom⁠—litigious authors and plucky fans, fanspaces always under attack from corporate sanitization.

meanwhile, said builds upon raymond schwab’s narrative of cultural exchange between european writers and cultural products outside the imperial core. said explains that fundamental to these two great borrowings (from greek classics and, in the so-called “oriental renaissance” of the late 18th, early 19th centuries from “india, china, japan, persia, and islam”) is asymmetry. 

he had argued prior, in orientalism, that any “cultural exchange” between “partners conscious of inequality” always results in the suffering of the people. and here, he describes how “texts by dead people were read, appreciated, and appropriated” without the presence of any actual living people in that tradition. 

i will not understate that there is a certain economic dynamic complicating this particular fannish asymmetry. mxtx has profited materially from the success of her works, most fans will not. also secondly, mxtx is um. not dead. LMAO.

but first, the international dynamic of extraction that said described is still present. i do not want to get overly into white attitudes towards china in this post, because i am already thoroughly derailed, but i do believe that they structure how white cnovel fandom encounters this texts.

at any rate, any profit she receives is overwhelmingly due to her domestic popularity, not her international popularity. (i say this because many of her international fans have never given her a cent. in fact, most of them have no real way to.) and moreover, as we talk about the structure of english-language fandom, what does it mean to create chinese cultural products without chinese people? 

as white people take ownership over their versions of stories, do we lose something? what narratives about engagement with cnovels might exist outside of the form of classic fandom?

i think a lot of people get the relationship between ideas (the superstructure) and production (the base) confused. oftentimes they will lob in response to criticism, that look! this fic, this fandom, these people are so niche, and so underrepresented in mainstream culture, that their effects are marginal. i am not arguing that anyone’s cql fic causes imperialism. (unless you’re really annoying. then it’s anyone’s game) 

i’m instead arguing something a little bit different. i think, given similar inputs, you tend to get similar outputs. i think we live in the world that imperialism built, and we have clear historical predecessors in terms of white appetites for creating, consuming, and transforming chinese objects. 

we have already seen, in the case of the fan language meme that began this post, that sometimes we even prefer this white chinoiserie. after all, isn’t it beautiful, too? 

i want to bring discomfort to this topic. i want to reject the paradigm of white subject and chinese object; in fact, here in this essay, i have tried to reverse it.

if you are taken aback by the comparisons i make here, how can you make meaningful changes to your fannish practice to address it? 

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some concluding thoughts on the matter, because i don’t like being misunderstood! 

i am not claiming white fans cannot create fanworks of cnovels or be inspired by asian art or artists. this essay is meant to elaborate on the historical connection between victorian england and cnovel characters and fandom that others have already popularized.

i don’t think people who make victorian jokes are inherently bad or racist. i am encouraging people to think about why we might make them and/or share them

the connections here are meant to be more provocative than strictly literal. (e.g. i don’t literally think writing fanfic is a 1-1 descendant of japanning). these connections are instead meant to 1) make visible the baggage that fans of color often approach fandom with and 2) recontextualize and defamiliarize fannish practice for the purposes of honest critique

please don’t turn this post into being about other different kinds of discourse, or into something that only one “kind” of fan does. please take my words at face value and consider them in good faith. i would really appreciate that.

please feel free to ask me to clarify any statements or supply more in-depth sources :) 

[vampire-wizard-solidarity]

my esteemed colleague @keingleichgewicht in Pafl Meta Writing brought up an interesting topic in a recent post:

The Cube.

and i think the cube is massively interesting! and i don’t really have a comprehensive way to put all my thoughts on The Cube, so instead i’ll do a list:

1. The Cube as human/inhuman distinction.

the cube, and the purpose it currently serves, is to be a definitive proof of one’s connection to the zone. this is straight forward and explicit in canon. it glows near mutants, doesn’t glow near humans. simple. except, there’s a layer added to it, a very important one: the cube glows in sanya’s hands.

it glows faintly, but it glows nonetheless. and this brings up a ton of interesting questions, all of which could be summed up in: is sanya a mutant? because, well, she has albinism, and that is technically a mutation. it is, also, a mutation that is fairly common in humans without the influence of any sort of extra-normal stimuli (i.e. the zone). at the same time, her father was a stalker, and the implication that that is related to her condition is made explicit by the fact that the cube glows in her hands. it glows around anomalies from the zone, and that means her albinism is anomalous enough and connected to the zone enough to be considered, in a way, a product of the zone.

and so, the question of “is sanya a mutant?” is kind of unanswerable. because, sure, if you’re asking “does she have an abnormality connected to the zone?” the answer is yes, but if you called a scientist and told them to do experiments using her mutation they’d probably tell you to stop wasting your time.

so, my thesis for the cube’s purpose in this case: it is an object of thematic relevance that blurs the lines between mutants and non-mutants.

pafl is, currently somewhat indirectly, concerned with questions of humanity: can a mutant live among humans? what distinguishes a mutant from a human? does that distinction matter?

and the cube is two fold in this way: on one hand, it’s an objective reality of dima’s condition: no matter how assimilated he becomes into human society, no matter how innocuous he looks, how much he undoes the conditioning of the facility, the cube glows near him, proving he’s not human. he cannot escape.

and yet, the cube glows in sanya’s hands, too, ever so faintly, but we’re not supposed to accept that as the reality of her condition, and sanya doesn’t either: if she did, she wouldn’t need to check how it reacts to other artefacts from the zone. it glowing in her hands would be enough.

sanya is a middle ground at this point: she both understands the urge to save katya, and doesn’t want to force anyone to do it. she’s in the middle of yura learning inhumanity and dima learning humanity. she’s a mutant and she’s not. she’s both part of the reason katya got captured and part of the reason her rescue mission is facing resistance. she wants her back, and wants yura to stop his descend towards cruelty.

the cube glows faintly in her hands, and she needs something else from the zone to confirm its function.

2. The Cube as objectivity.

question: why did yura need the cube if he already knew dima was a mutant?

one could read this as an act of doubt on yura’s part, but i disagree: he was pretty damn confident throughout occam’s razor, in fact, that entire song was him building up confidence and ruthlessness in his assessments.

the reason he needs the cube is because the cube is objective. he cannot use his “feeling” as a concrete element of blackmail, but the cube? you cannot deny the cube.

and think about the difference between “sensing” mutants and using the cube: one can only recognise a mutant by making eye contact - already a relatively intimate ordeal - and the recognition comes in a form of a visceral fear. it’s an emotional experience, not just a solid analysis and identification. i’d argue one of the reasons yura is so attached to kt is because seeing her for the first time was an emotional experience for him: they make eye contact, and yura experiences a deep panic. notably, nothing indicates sergei sensed her in the same way: he notices the marks on her arms, and, presumably from experience with anomalies, deduces she’s a mutant. sensing a mutant is, in a way, vulnerable: you have to feel powerless, fearful for a moment.

first meeting kt is described as an emotional experience first and foremost: they make eye contact, the room caves in, he has to calm himself down, and yura says he felt as if he was about to die. he only snaps out of it when sanya join the fray. the loser looks in the eye of the monster, the loser weeps in the arms of the monster.

with dima, on the other hand, it’s already much more subdued: he’s talking about waiting for another sign, and that’s when he makes eye contact with dima and pauses. with kt, the moment of eye contact is described, his feelings are detailed. with dima, it’s silence. and right after he goes into analysis: isn’t this weird? this feeling is familiar.

with dima there’s already a level of detachment, but there’s still that emotional concession: his stomach ties up in knots. he pauses. sensing a mutant is still an emotional experience, no matter how you slice it, and yura cannot get out of that. it requires a level of sincerity, a level of concession of one’s feelings, etc.

if yura wants to rely on his own instincts, he has to accept feeling fear. has to accept, for a split second, feeling powerless.

with the cube, though? you bring it close to a person and it tells you if they’re a mutant connected to the zone or not. that’s it.

it’s yet another way for yura to detach himself from his humanity, ironically: he doesn’t have to feel powerless even for a second! all the power is in the palm of his hand and that power is the cube. you cannot attempt to gaslight, or reassure a cube. it’s a cube, it glows near you, so it’s a mutant.

occam’s razor is all about yura getting reassured in his own logic, and yet that does not mean by the end of that song he can reassure someone else. and that’s fine. lines like “call it my wishful thinking” go from lines that demean yura’s point of view, to lines that are downright silly and objectively incorrect. because he has solid, real, empirical proof: the cube.

3. The Cube as a symbol of Yura’s changing disposition

what’s also important when discussing The Cube, is that it didn’t start off as any of this: as a symbol of power, as proof of the zone, none of that. yura picked it up because it’s useless but kinda looks cool.

it’s the first thing he brought back from the zone. it’s nothing special, it’s just a cube that glows. it’s small, useless, and yura, at the time he took it, had no real value for it: he probably wouldn’t be able to sell it for any fair price, and he didn’t know of any of its properties that are now useful, he literally just thought it was a shape that glows.

he didn’t take it because it was some artefact he thought could be valuable in some way, he took it as a souvenir. a reminder of the wonders of the zone and the novelty of it all. it’s an almost shockingly sincere act in the context of everything that happened after: it’s an item of almost sentimental value, and he leaves it with sanya for the same reason: it’s a goodbye gift. at that time, he doesn’t even notice it glows, only sanya does.

but before that, an important thing happens: yura gets mocked. as he is brutalised by police, they mock him for what he brought back: a cube that, as it turns out, doesn’t even glow outside the zone. it’s just a plastic cube now. its sentimental value gets demeaned on two levels: by the police mocking the cube, i.e. not even recognising a valid reason for bringing back such a useless artefact, and by the cube not glowing outside the zone: it can’t even be called a souvenir, because the one property that could remind you of the zone doesn’t work outside of it.

it’s a representation, on every level, of yura’s trip to the zone being a failure: he starts it out with a new-found resolve, showing an attachment to this job beyond monetary gain: maybe there’s joy to be found in this. maybe there is meaning he could derive from the venture, maybe he can be happy with his life. all of this gets shattered when nikita gets killed, and yura pulls out his gun in turn. he can find no joy in this, because all he got out of it is more blood, humiliation, community service and a cube that doesn’t even have the single unique property that made it look cool.

yura’s lesson from this is that his sincerity is pointless. his sentimentality, vulnerability, all of that is useless. it is only useful once converted into power, into leverage to be used against others:

the cube is only useful once it’s being weaponised against those of the zone. his stalker sense is only useful once it’s being weaponised against those of the zone. olya’s sacrifice is only useful to yura once it’s being weaponised against those of the zone.

it’s, once again, a symbol of perverted sentimentality: a sentimentality that he gifted to sanya, and has since warped. the same way kt is a symbol of yura’s sentimentality. i think it’s poignant (and analytically important) that at the end of occam’s razor, yura gifts sanya the cube, and yet in the next song, he’s already taking it back to be used by him for means she doesn’t approve of.

it’s the same manoeuvre as his facade, the one he didn’t let down for sanya, and still doesn’t: the cube hangs between them as a larger representation of their relationship, even, all its thematic beats tying into sanya and yura and their dynamic with each other.

in the end, that’s the world in which the cube is actually useful. ironically, despite being mocked for its lack of properties outside the zone, its in the zone where the cube loses its use. it’s just another anomaly. the same way, perhaps, mutants inside the zone are expendable, while it’s outside where they’re able to learn humanity and have value.

To Conclude:

The Cube is, as of now, of great thematic and symbolic importance, and is specifically tied to sanya and yura, and their relationship. it is a solid representation of yura’s feelings, be it his stalker sense or his sentimental status, and at the same time, a representation of how sanya doesn’t fit into those feelings. sanya is not yura’s ally, but she also is not a pawn he’s willing to manipulate and use the same way he’s ready to do with others. she is a mutant, and she is not.

i think the cube also serves as, in a way, its own element of meta narrative. i’ve talked before about sanya’s relationship with narrative (here), but another thing i think a lot about is how ferry said that in the first half, yura is the main character of palf, while in the second it’s sanya.

i just think it’s significant that, when taking this in mind, yura passes on the cube to sanya when he gives up on his own humanity and sentimentality.