#EVERYDAY WE ARE CLOSER TO GETTING THIS DRAWN

[mhaynoot]

yjh: live, kim dokja. this world will continue even without me

kdj yoo joonghyuk, you son of a bitch. i cannot continue in a world without you

[comicaurora]

hi, you seem to be drawing a lot. can you please tell me, will drawing ever become easy? or is it always a struggle?

(because for me, drawing seems like a neverending fight against artblock, and at this point, i start wondering if it's not really artblock, but instead it's just the reality of art making)

It's not so much that it becomes easy. It's more that you'll find new things about it that are hard.

Art will never become effortless because you will start finding new challenges to wrangle with, but the act of wrangling them is a good part of the fun. Finding new visual effects you struggle to capture or comprehend the shape of, let alone put down on paper. You might start off struggling to render shadows on a figure, and then as you progress you start wondering how to do shadows of foliage, or caustics of light projected through water, or how glowing eyes would cast shadows on a face, etc. New complexities reveal themselves as old struggles are mastered.

If you're struggling with something that feels like artblock, the problem might not be in your hands, but in your eyes. What to draw is at least as much of a challenge as how to draw it. If you notice your eyes snagging on small details or vistas and you catch yourself trying to work out how to capture that effect, that's your artist eyes at work, and the better you get, the weirder your artist eyes will make you.

There's an exercise my mom recommends that she got from her old teacher: three life drawings a day. Of anything - a chair, a glass of water, a tree, someone's dog, your own hand. I think this is less about honing your techniques and more about honing your eyes, training them to snag on everyday things and observe their complexities, the nuances, the way they really look, not just the way you think of them looking.

When you're a kid and you're drawing your first landscape, it's probably a house and a tree under a yellow sun in a blue sky. The tree looks like a lollipop, the house looks like a box with a hat, the sun is an egg yolk surrounded by lines, the sky is the bluest crayon you have. Maybe it has fluffy clouds in it if you were thinking ahead, cuz it's hard to draw white crayon or pencil over already blue drawings. This hypothetical drawing is a pure manifestation of art without artist's eyes; it is made entirely of what you understand things to look like, not how you see them. No real tree looks like a green lollipop. The sun is a blazing white ball that shades half of the dome of the sky in painfully bright white, and the sky is only blue in the loosest sense - even without clouds or sunsets confusing things, the sky will always fade to a lighter shade closer to the horizon. It is never uniform blue. Clouds usually look like shredded cottonballs around the edges, not fluffy rounded boubas.

This awareness extends to more complicated things. We know glass is clear. When we draw something made of glass, how can we capture that clarity? Do we just draw the outline, maybe some token specular highlights to show that it's catching the light? Or do we render the way it bends and distorts the image passing through it? We know gold is yellow and shiny; do we draw it as a yellow sparkly thing, or do we capture how it reflects the space around it? We know that water is blue and reflective. Do we draw it like we would draw a shiny blue car? Do we render a glass of water like a blue raspberry icee?

Actively perceiving the world as it is takes work and practice, but it's a vital component in all art - even completely fantastical art that is not at all drawn from life references. Skin has a particular luminosity to it, subcutaneous scattering of light that is inobvious if you just know that Skin Looks Like A Color. Even if you're painting a goblin or a mermaid or a centaur, capturing how the light hits their skin can make the difference between them looking like an action figure and looking like a living thing. If you're painting a landscape that isn't earth, it helps to have observed what earth's clouds and atmosphere really look like, how they catch and scatter the light. You have to know the rules in order to break the rules.

I can honestly say it never gets easy, but it does become a lot of fun, and if you're currently struggling to find the fun of it, it will get better the more you hone your eyes.

[awriterinthenight]

"I Might Even Be In Love With You"

requested: anonymous

words: 1233

warning: swearing, that's really it besides the two idiots being oblivious af

summary: Fred Weasley is obsessed with you, a Hufflepuff student, but he's too afraid to admit it, and you're too afraid to admit you love him too

If you looked up the word 'obsessed' in the dictionary, you would find a very distressed picture of Fred Weasley. Fred was obsessed, and every synonym for the word. His entire day revolved around a Hufflepuff girl, who was now the only reason he believed the world still spun. Fred now truly believed nothing mattered before he met her. All that mattered was that she was here now and it was as if he was attached by a red string that kept him tethered to her.

You were everything to Fred and he made sure to keep a firm grip on you. He would be damned if he let you be the one that got away. He might've taken this a bit too literally, since he always had a hand on you.

When you sat together at breakfast when you snuck over to the Gryffindor table, Fred either had his arm around you, or his hand on your thigh, which was becoming more common the longer you knew him. When you hung out with your friends his arm was either around your waist, or he was holding your hand. In class together he would move your chair closer to his, once again resting his hand on your leg, or his arm on the back of your chair.

Fred was notorious for being late to class, but you didn't know that. Fred would walk with you, his hand on the small of your back to guide you through the corridor, to all your classes.

"Aren't you going to be late to your own classes?" you would ask, concerned he would be late, even though he'd rather skip class just to be with you, but this was his best option.

He knew you'd tell him to stop walking you to class if he told you the truth, so he continued to lie, "My class is just down the hall, it's fine, love," he would say, starting to call you 'love' more often.

You reluctantly accepted that he would walk you to class everyday as long as he wasn't late for his own classes. Fred had become your own personal shadow, which you didn't hate. You enjoyed Fred's presence, and how wherever he was you were immediately drawn to him. It was his laugh, or the way he made everyone around him laugh. The smile that was always on his face, or the way he put a smile on everyone's face. Everything about him was perfect to you.

He made you smile, laugh, feel safe around him, and every time he touched you in some way it gave you butterflies. You had the biggest crush, if it was even that anymore, it was more like you were irreparably in love with him. The only thing was that even though it seemed obvious, you still didn't think Fred returned your feelings for him. Anyone sane would say it was obvious, but to you Fred was always laughing and joking with everyone, the same way he was with you, just maybe less touchy, so you didn't know if he liked you or not, and decided to play it safe.

Luckily your friends were also fed up with you and Fred doing the world's most complicated dance to avoid saying your feelings for each other while also putting them all on display for each other. Angelina was currently trying to knock some sense into you, as the two of you hung out in her dorm room that you snuck into.

"When will you accept that he's obsessed with you, and you both are crazy in love with each other, and will one day be married with 5 kids," Angelina said, annoyed by how you were so blind to all of this.

You let out a sigh, "We don't actually know that, and shut up with the whole 5 kids thing, I swear you add one more each time we have this conversation," you told her, putting your head in your hands.

Angelina was moments away from knocking some sense into you, literally, but lucky for you Katie walked in the room, "Katie, please tell our oblivious friend here, that Fred Weasley is in love with her, and there's no denying it," Angelina said, desperate to get her friend to finally come to the realisation.

Katie looked like she'd just been told the most outrageous thing ever, which she just had, "How do you not see that he's completely in love with you. I mean he's late to class almost everyday because of you-" she cut herself off, but not fast enough to realise her mistake.

Your head sprung up, shocked by her words, "What do you mean he's late to class because of me?"

"Well, the thing is," Katie started, looking a bit nervous, "He told us not to tell you because he knew if you found out you'd stop him from walking you to class, so he had us not tell you," she explained, looking apologetic for letting the secret slip.

"Wait, but why would he do that unless," you said, the lightbulb in your head finally turning on, "I'll be right back," you were not going to be back actually. Angelina was finally relieved that you finally realised, so much so that she was on the verge of throwing a party.

You found Fred talking to George in an empty corridor. Fred saw you and ushered for George to leave, so that it was just you and Fred, "Hello, love, what can I do for you?" he asked, leaning against the wall with his trademark smile on his face.

"You lied to me," you stated, causing him to look confused, then realise what you were talking about.

Fred continued to smile at you, but pushed off the wall moving closer to you, "I'm sorry, love, but I just knew if I told you the truth you'd make me stop walking you to class," he defended.

You crossed your arms, "But why did you do it?" you asked, needing to confirm the truth before you said it out loud.

"Lie to you? I told you why, you'd make me stop-" he said, deflecting from the question, since he knew what you truly meant.

"No, I mean why did you walk me to class even if you knew you'd be late."

Fred let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding in, "I-I, I don't know I just like walking you to class, since I-I," he said, continuing to stumble a bit, which was unusual, "I really like you, I might even be in love with you," he confessed.

You were shocked and at a loss for words, but tried to pull yourself together as best as possible, "I really like you too, love you even," you confessed also, beaming from how overjoyed you felt.

Fred moved even closer to you, wrapping his hands around your waist, leaning in a bit, "There's usually something two people do when they're in love with each other," Fred hinted at playfully.

"Oh yeah, and what's that," you teased. Fred wasted no time connecting your lips together. Your hands found the back of his head, running them through his hair, while his hands stayed on your waist. Both of your torments were finally over. You could be in love forever, and in the words of Angelina get married and have 6 kids.

[vidavalor]

Aziraphale Learning "Everyday"

I love how when Aziraphale has only ever heard "Everyday" as sung once or twice by Gabriel in the bookshop earlier that day, he mashes up two different lines of it when singing it for Maggie to identify. It shows what parts of the song stood out to him.

Aziraphale remembers the "Everyday/It's a-gettin [x']" hook that everyone remembers but he doesn't remember the "...closer/Goin' faster/Than a rollercoaster" bit because his mind was more drawn to the other part of the song that Gabriel was singing.

The other bit of the song is "Every way/Love's a little stronger" and that's what Aziraphale related to in the song and why he mentally substituted the word "stronger" for the word "closer" when first singing it to Maggie. The two things he initially remembered about the song is the primary musical hook of it/core of the song that everyone remembers... and the bit where it talks about how everyday, in every way, love is growing stronger.

I wonder why Aziraphale might relate to that? 😇

After Maggie gives him the record and we see Aziraphale listening to the original song a few times, he now can remember the lyrics with more confidence, and he sings the first line of the song correctly to Crowley later on. By then, though, we know that we were already shown that his initial reaction to the song was to relate to the lyrics about a love that just keeps getting stronger.

[appleblueberry-pie]

yandere miles 42 when a guys asks you out to prom yk like where they make a whole scene a cardboard box cut into a square and it has will you go out to prom with me 😭😭 and says the most cheasy thing making you cringe and a large group of ppl are surrounding you two but we reject them and they get mad and you tell miles all abt it ^^ i love your posts btw🙏🏽

[Come back home to me.]

You knew something funny was gonna happen when people were smiling your way, giggling and whispering about you. And the further you trekked down the hallway, the more crowded it was. You tried to keep your eyes to yourself as you slithered through the crowd. Clutching your backpack straps harder. Phones were out and on you, you felt a little nervous. This day has been hard enough for you. Long, grueling hours in class, people chatting up a storm in your ears, a mind-blowing headache that you've had all damn day that you could only take medication for just 30 minutes ago. You were tired.

"Hey, Y/n!" You tense up before sighing, shoulders dropping. How much happier would you be if you just ignored the call of your name and dealt with the backlash tomorrow, instead? You recognized the voice, and knew that if you ignored him...you'd be dealing with the consequences forever. You decided to turn around.

There goes Travis. His dark brown complexion and well-maintained dreads make him stand out. They were pulled back into a low pony, probably because he knew these videos would be the talk of the school for a while. He always loved the spotlight. A junior, like you, giving you that smile that all of the girls bothered him to give to them. It's directed right at you while he holds a beautifully made sign. It's humongous. And pink. And purple. Colors that you don't remember telling him were your favorite. Your head begins to hurt again when you notice your name drawn in amazing detail and care, followed by something among the lines of "prom" and "love of my life."

Somehow in the time span that you scanned your eyes over the sign that determined your possibly inevitable doom, a perfect circle was formed by the students who stood and watched you two like hawks. The flash on phones made you calculate that these videos wouldn't leave the internet for at least a month. Great. A month of reminders. A month of prodding and picking at your sanity from a place you have to go to damn near every day for an education. And a month of replays of a rejection.

You're not telling him yes.

Travis's homeboys hoot and holler to encourage him. "Y/n..." He starts, taking a step closer to you. A fake smile wobbles onto your lips and you stare up at him. "......yes...?" Everyone suddenly goes silent as you two begin to converse.

The way he stares at you makes you feel like....what he's looking for in you isn't something you'd give up for any high school boy anytime. Because what he wants, you know it isn't genuine love. So it makes you nervous the way he seems to tower over you during his, so called, "profession of love".

"Your beauty and smarts is something I've always wanted in a girl." His voice is loud and clear. It echoes throughout the hallway, like he wants everyone to hear. You don't think the halls have ever been so quiet. "Everyday, I'd pass you in the hallways while you carry your textbooks and wonder what it'd be like talking to you every morning before class. What it would be like to love you the way you deserve to be loved." His vague explanation of his love towards you had you wondering if anyone else also realized how fake this whole thing was.

His dark brown eyes never leave your face and he's right in front of you now. "So, I made this sign...to show you how much I love you. And how much I want to be with you. So, if it isn't so much to ask," Travis slowly puts the sign aside and drops to one knee, taking one of your hands into his, holding it carefully. "would you please go to prom with me? And let me be your man?"

The longer he watched the live feed, the harder it was to not burn his work space to the ground. The longer he listened, the harder he tweaked his claw he was attempting to fix. He was trying. He was trying so hard to stay calm. Because it's not like you'd say yes. But at the same time, no matter how often he kills or beats niggas up, "They just keep fucking touching you, puto cabrón!" He swipes the table, his tools and broken claw flying to the ground. Miles takes deep breaths, holding his head in his hands.

He stands up, turning off his phone and begins pacing. He didn't wanna see the rest of that. Why does he have to keep doing this? Don't they understand your his? Just his??? Yes, you're the shining light that keeps Brooklyn alive, yes, yes, this isn't news. But he's always with you. So why do they keep bothering you?

It doesn't matter because he's gonna keep killing them until they get the message. The more roaches he brings into the light, the better. He suddenly rushes to his phone and quickly dials your number, chest heaving as he tries to calm himself.

Your phone silently vibrates in your back pocket and your heart drops. It had to be Miles. Because he wasn't at school today and this definitely wouldn't have happened if he was here. You're so fucked, you think to yourself as everyone cheers at Travis's speech. And it goes silent again as they wait for your answer.

Suddenly, Travis is so hard to look at. You didn't want to be stared at like that when he's gonna die in the next few hours. Miles was gonna get him and it'd be your fault. He always said it wasn't and would caress your face as reassurance, but there's no excuse when he only kills these guys at school because they talk to you. And not for any other reason. You always have to be where the line is drawn.

"No, I can't go to prom with you." You say, chest lifting of the thousand pound weight that held it down. Travis didn't even look sad, he still had that adoring look in his eyes. And you then knew that he was faking all of this. "Why not? Is it because of Miles?" He stands, still holding your hand and shakes his head. "If he's bothering you, I could....get rid of him if you want. Cause that nigga, he a fucking weirdo. And he clearly, like, has you hostage or something, cause he ain't nothing special. Any one of us is better than him." He scoffs at the mention of him and his friends laugh with him.

You shake your head and take your hand away. "No, sorry, Travis. I just....don't wanna go." He rolls his eyes and smiles at you, picking up his sign. "Whatever. That's aight." He tosses it in the nearest trash can. You wonder if he even made that himself with the way he tossed it with zero regards. He turns back to you one last time and nods. "I'll holler. Let me know when you get rid of yo little guard dog. He be stinking the halls anyway."

And everyone dispersed.

You let out the breath you didn't know you were holding. You think this city is going to be the death of you with how many times you've gotten unwanted attention based on your looks. You tense up once more when you remember that Miles was calling you. The sudden silence after multiple calls was never a good thing. You yanked your phone out of your pocket and saw the 20-something missed calls and whispered to yourself in fear.

Immediately, you began your journey to his place.

His room was dark and cold. Only the light from outside his window illuminated it. You softly dropped your backpack into the usual corner and backed up to sit on his bed, but your back softly collided with a warm wall that also wrapped it's arms around your torso. You flinched as Miles exhaled in your ear, his head resting on your shoulder. "Miles, what the hell...."

He squeezes you a little and backs you both up, until he brings you to sit on his lap on his bed. He shifts you, so that you're facing him, his hand caressing your face and rubbing your back. "Hermosa como siempre, mami. How was your day?"(Beautiful as always, mami.) He whispers it to you, to calm you down. You're visibly nervous at his actions, expecting him to explode any minute.

"Um...it was alright. I did my project in 3rd period and got a coffee drink with my lunch. And..... I got asked to prom." You stare down at him, watching him scan you up and down, and let him 'check' your pockets before resting his hands on your waist. "Yeah? Who asked?" He already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from you.

You severely struggled to tell him it was Travis. You were tired of him killing people. You were tired of the apologies from men who were beaten half to death because of you. You scrunched your eyebrows as your throat began to close.

"Hm?" He asked. You hated how calm he was about this. How he held you so dearly as you fidgeted with your uniform skirt. Tears built up in your eyes and you shook your head. Miles pulled you closer, immediately wiping your eyes. "No, no, por favor no llores, nena. No estés triste. I just want you to tell me who did it, that's all."(No, no, please don't cry, baby. Don't be sad.) You break into full out sobbing and wipe at your eyes.

"I don't- don't want to because you're gonna kill him!" You stutter and manage to spit out your words, voice wobbly. Miles shushes you and rocks you back and forth, resting your head on his chest. His voice rumbles in your ears when he speaks. "You don't have to worry about a thing when I'm here with you, N/n. All I want is for you to drop his name, and everything else doesn't matter."

He kisses your forehead sweetly, letting his lips linger for a few seconds. "Okay?" You nod and try to take deep breaths. You couldn't win against him. He probably already knew who proposed to you, and Travis's fate still wouldn't be unavoidable. "Travis." You felt immense guilt and despair the moment you dropped his name.

"Travis...." Miles repeats. Just putting his name in the air made him pissed all over again. He stays silent for a few seconds before tilting his head to the side. "I just realized why that name is so familiar," He starts. "That's that nigga who robbed and threatened you last year, ain't it?" Miles scoffs and turns to look at you. "Is that why you didn't leave when he brought up that sign? Cause of what he did to you?"

You scrunch your eyebrows at his words and sit up. "How do you know about that?" You didn't meet Miles until a month after you were robbed by Travis in your sophomore year. So, him knowing about that was weird, especially since you never brought it up to him before. Miles ignores your question and continues. "I should've known some shit was off." Miles places you on the bed and gets up, grabbing some clothes to change into.

You rush to stand in front of him to stop him. "Miles, wait! Please- please don't do this. He didn't even do anything to me. All he did is ask me out. I said no. What's wrong with that??"

"What's wrong with that is that nigga is gonna keep fucking getting at you until he can get into your pants, baby. I'm not stupid. These niggas know what they doin' riling you up and sending you back home to me crying and shit. Ain't you tired??" Miles begins to size you up, backing you towards his bedroom door, clothes clutched in his hand as he stares down at you.

"I am fucking tired. And I'm also tired of you ruining my life by making more rumors for niggas to spread about me. Nobody wants to be near me because of you, Miles!" You jab your finger into his chest and he grabs your hand. "You don't need nobody else." You hear his breathing speed up and realized you should've kept your mouth shut.

It's too damn silent for your liking. All you can hear is him and your heartbeat in your ears. "When the fuck have you ever needed anyone else besides me?.....I take care of you. I feed you, I do your fucking hair every morning, I walk you to and from school, I protect you. Es que no es suficiente?(Is that not enough?)" You don't respond and stare up into brown eyes that glare down at you. "How 'bout I show you how good you got it?" You try to pull your hand back, but his iron grip isn't letting up. "What.....? Miles, let me go."

"What's wrong, mi corazón? Don't wanna see?" Miles almost jokingly asks about your sudden concern. He steps into your space once more and firmly grabs your face. "Look at me when I tell you this,"

He shakes his head. "You don't know how to protect yourself. I'm the only one who knows how to keep you safe in these fucked up streets. When was the last time you felt protected before you met me? Huh? Cause I know you haven't. I'm meant to be here with you! I'm protecting you from the horrible fucking things that are happening out there that could've been happening to you, baby. You heard?"

You struggle to remove his hands from your face and he makes no move to stop the distress he's putting you in. "Okay, okay, Miles. Just...please stop."

Miles places a kiss onto your forehead before holding you in his arms. You sigh relief at the release of pressure and let him hold you. "Volveré pronto, okay? And then we can do whatever you want."(I'll be back soon) You allow yourself to relax and your eyes flutter shut. Sometimes you wonder how much it'll take for him to stop taking his obsession out on Brooklyn.

[broidobe]

𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔨𝔲𝔯𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔟𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔩𝔲𝔡𝔢

requested!

⁎⁺˳✧༚80s-90s rock masterlist

kurt loves late-night, deep conversations, talking about everything from music to existential questions.

he would be drawn to someone who could match his intellectual curiosity, challenging him while also making him feel understood and supported.

do you think we’ve lived other lives before? like... maybe we were a couple of lost ghosts?

kurt would enjoy quiet, low-key dates, like going to record stores, exploring small art galleries, or just hanging out in a cozy café.

he’s not big on big parties or flashy outings, preferring intimate moments that allow him to connect deeply with someone.

kurt would appreciate someone who’s comfortable in their own skin and doesn’t try to be perfect.

he’d find comfort in someone who, like him, is a bit of a misfit and embraces their flaws and quirks.

music would be the core of kurt’s relationships.

he might write songs or share obscure records with you, using music as a form of communication.

he could be shy about expressing his feelings directly, but would pour his heart into his lyrics.

wrote something today... it reminded me of you. wanna hear it?

he randomly picks up a guitar and starts making up silly songs about everyday things, like your messy hair or how you always steal his socks.

why do you steal his socks though..?

like do you have a crown of his socks?

while he’d be protective and caring, kurt might also pull away at times when the pressure gets too overwhelming.

he'd need space to process his emotions, but he’d always come back with a new understanding of how much you mean to him.

i’m not always easy to be around... i get it if you need space, too.

in relationships, he’s so tender,

especially when you are feeling vulnerable.

he would be someone who would deeply understand emotional pain and would offer comfort, even if it’s just in small, quiet ways.

come here. i need you closer than close.

his ideal partner would need to accept and support his struggles, but not try to fix him.

he would appreciate someone who understands the dark, difficult parts of him and still

chooses to love him anyway.

and you are that person.

he’s never felt safer with a single soul other than yours.

you make me feel like it’s okay to just... exist. and that’s rare for me.

he grabs a hairbrush or random object and pretends to interview you like a journalist.

so, what’s it like dating the most misunderstood genius of our time?

always makes sure you’re at the shows.

he’ll tug you onto the couch and playfully say,

you can’t leave until i get my good luck kiss,

before going on stage.

if he’s feeling nervous, he leans into you and mumbles,

you’ll still love me even if i screw up, right?

mid-song, he makes eye contact with you in the audience and grins or winks, just for you.

[acerathia]

efflorescence || Qi Yu | Rafayel

Summary:

During a walk, you both encounter a Wanderer. One easily defeated, yet its attacks have a lasting impact. There's only one way to solve this...

Wordcount: 3.5k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Qí Yù | Rafayel / Reader | MC

Tags/CW:

Minors and Ageless Blogs DNI!! pwp, aphrosidiacs (by accident lol), finger sucking, breast sucking, cunnilingus, orgasm denial, overstimulation, begging (just a tiny bit), orgasm without touch, marking, body worship (implied), making out, both being brats lowkeyy, piv, cockwarming, and ofc, filled with love waow

Note:

literally don't talk to me 🚬🚬

With a controlled swing, you get off your motorcycle, having parked it just at the gate, a couple steps away from the door. There’s barely any time for you to store your helmet away, before the door clicks open and a shadow falls upon you with almost silent steps.

“A wonderful day, isn’t it, Miss Bodyguard?” a familiar voice sounds, and you immediately turn around to be welcomed in a warm hug.

Rafayel leans closer to you to give you a soft peck, having missed you terribly. And so, he’s reluctant to let go of you, but you manage to wiggle yourself out of his grasp (not that the resistance was big to begin with), but keeping your fingers interlocked.

Raising his hand to your mouth, you kiss his knuckles, and giggle as his ears tint in a delicate hue of red. “Every day is a wonderful day in your presence, Mr. Rafayel. Shall we?”

“There’s no need to lay it that thick, is there?” A pout pulls on his lush lips, but he doesn’t pull his hand away or refuse your suggestion to finally go on that promised walk together.

You only grin. With a couple of steps, you both easily find the all-too-familiar pace, walking side by side over the path winding through the scrubs and bushes. And even with the way you’re used to each other, it continuously feels like a tug of war, your eyes glancing at the other, mesmerized by each other's mere existence, yet resisting that silent pull, no matter how much you want to gravitate towards each other. This time is supposed to be spent doing something outside, to take a fresh breath of wind, especially with Rafayel staying inside for days at a time with his inspiration occupying his everyday life.

Yet, this time of quality, shall too be interrupted sooner than later, as a wanderer seemingly appears out of nowhere. Immediately, you pull out your weapon of choice, Rafayel with his swift daggers by your side. This shouldn’t take long to resolve, you think to yourself.

A gust of air fans over your face as Rafayel lands gracefully on his feet, having dealt the defeating blow on that stray Wanderer. It had surprised you both on your walk through the outskirts of town. But despite this slight advantage, it was nothing for you and Rafayel to defeat. There was a familiar coordination between you, an ebb and flow, as intimate as the waves that meet the edge of land with every sway. A dance between lovers, tension within your bodies as each strike moves with the beat of something only you two can hear ( – your heartbeats, synching up with every glance at each other, pupils expanding).

You step next to him, your bodies barely apart, as you watch as the Wanderer slowly begins to crumble. And normally, this would mean its death. But before any of you can react, it moves abruptly, an attack shooting out of its body, using its last life force to deal damage to the beings it hates the most. The light reaches Rafayel’s body before any of you can react, and you shout his name, your voice cracking as you reach out to him. He stumbles, his hands pressing against his chest, a groan vibrating too loudly underneath your skin.

Considering the proximity between you, it didn’t take long until your hands meet his, adding to the pressure he’s putting on his wound, trying to keep the aftermath to a minimum. You’re scanning his face, the way a flush has begun to rise to his face, eyebrows drawn together in a frown, an expression so similar to one of pain and confusion. His eyes seem to be glossing over, barely able to focus on you. Even after you tried to talk to him, trying to get him to tell you about how he’s feeling, you avoid looking at the wounded place directly. Until you do. And you’re expecting bright colors, wetness, a nauseating smell. But none of these appeared.

You frown, blinking a couple of times, even closing the distance to his torso. And there’s nothing. No gaping wound, not even a speck of dirt is marring his soft button-up shirt. Still, you keep your hands on his, even if you’re lessening the pressure. Once again looking up to Rafayel, his gaze seems to be on you, but almost like thoughts you cannot dare follow are swirling in his gem-like eyes. The flush is deepening, covering his neck in heat, and you can’t deny that his skin feels too hot to the touch. Hotter than the usual instances you’ve grown to know. But you suppose that the usual methods might still be of help.

So, you tuck your arm over his back and under his arm as you support Rafayel all the way back to his home. Luckily, despite staggering a few times, he seems to be pretty stable otherwise. But even if he did collapse, you’re confident in your abilities to carry him if necessary.

This way, it takes you some time to finally arrive, but once you do, you let him rest onto his couch, carefully propping him up, to avoid him keeling over at any moment. Once you have made sure Rafayel is still alright, you straighten up to head towards the bath, planning on preparing him something to cool down with. But before you could even take a step away, he’s grabbing you by the wrist.

“Don’t go… Don’t leave me…” he murmurs as he brings your hand closer to his face, his breath warm against the tips of your fingers, lips barely a distance away.

A gasp lodges itself in your throat, and you can’t help but push your fingers onto his plush lips, pressing ever so slightly against them, his teeth scraping against your fingertips. Your breath quickens a tad, but you snap out of it.

“Fine, but Rafayel, we need to do something about this weird fever…”

For a moment he just looks at you from between his eyelashes, his once bright eyes taking a darker shade. Instead of answering, Rafayel pulls you closer to himself, only to trap you between his hot body and the soft give of the couch as he flips his body over. You gasp.

His lips are hovering over yours. “I am doing something about it…” he murmurs, a kiss meeting the corners of your open mouth.

His hands grab your waist, slender fingers tracing the edge of your shirt, hot skin against warm skin. Your own hands grab his neck, his hair, reaching for a kiss, yet his lips avoid yours as Rafayel continues to let his mouth travel. Your cheeks, your jaw, the soft spot underneath your ear. Immediately, he latches onto the sensitive skin, letting his tongue glide over it, almost like he’s tasting you, like he’s having an appetizer, as he nibbles and caresses.

A whimper escapes you when he slips his hand underneath the clothes covering your flushing skin, fingertips tracing unknown ways like an artist letting the brushstrokes speak his mind and emotions. You barely notice that he has pushed your shirt up until you feel the cold air against your chest as he’s tugging your brassiere to reveal your hardening nipples.

Rafayel looks up to you as he kisses your collarbone, teasing the soft skin with his teeth until he latches at your chest, his tongue snug against your skin, teeth catching on your nipple before he starts sucking on it. His hand has found your other nipple, fingertips gliding in circles over it, touch so feather-light.

Your body subconsciously presses itself closer to him. “W-wait–,” you stop the moment you notice him straining in his pants, even without any effort on your part. And the realization dawns on you. Licking your lips, you lock eyes with him, feeling your chest heave as the mere thought gets you worked up. “I suppose, this is a way to solve this…”

A chuckle. “Have you just noticed my true predicament, my love? I thought we were supposed to be lovers, soulmates even. I’m hurt,” Rafayel murmurs as he nuzzles into your chest, breath hot against your skin. Yet, he pushes himself against you, allowing you to feel him fully and truly, even if behind a barrier you have to overcome.

A wave of heat washes over you, making your thoughts swirl in a pool of need and desire. You trace his eyebrows with your fingertips, admiring the softness of his expression, of his features. You let your touch wander over his nose, his cheeks, almost like you’re trying to memorize a sculpture solely with your touch. And once again, your fingers find his lips and he kisses them oh so softly. After allowing him to spread kisses over your knuckles, you press against his mouth, pulling slightly on his lips, letting your pads press against his teeth.

Immediately you feel a sting as Rafayel puts pressure onto your skin, letting his teeth catch on it, allowing his tongue to lap over the tiny mark left behind, as if to console you. And you thought that might be it, but before you could pull your hand away to let it wander, his lips cover the tip of your finger. His tongue swivels around it, tasting you, sucking on your digit as if to extract more and more of you than you had thought possible. Slowly, Rafayel works your finger deeper into his mouth and you can’t help but let your pad run over his molars, marveling at their structure. You might imagine it, but it feels like his teeth are sharper than they're supposed to be.

But you barely had the chance to think about it, as sudden pressure and a sting surprises you. As it turns out, Rafayel has taken the liberty of biting down on the base of your finger. This time strong enough to not only leave marks, but to develop some coloration later on.

He looks at you, his tongue slipping into the space between your fingers, and you shiver. A slight smile is grazing his face, yet his eyes tell another story. They look at you like Rafayel wants to devour you, to possess you, to cradle you close to him, shielding you from everything else, forever.

Only after making sure that the mark is going to last for some time, he pulls his head away. He kisses your palm, tongue gliding over it, wet and messy. Once Rafayel arrives at your wrist, he once again digs his canines into your skin, and this time a whimper slips from between your lips.

This seems to spur him on, as he lets go of your arm, only to dive right back to your chest, finding the sensitive spots and biting on them. Everytime you feel the pinch, you feel yourself tense up, heat flowing through your veins. And with your hands now free, you let them discover every inch of him in your reach. Your nails scratch at the back of his neck, over his shoulders to finally grasp the buttons holding the smooth shirt together. Barely reaching the end of it, you were tempted multiple times to simply ripping it open, but you know how much he cares for his clothes, so you exercise restraint.

Once he’s laid bare before you, you let your eyes enjoy the sight for a moment, watching the muscles tense and move. You let your fingers travel over his throat to his chest, feeling the firmness barely hidden underneath his everyday clothes.

“Well, you seem more surprised than you should. Maybe I should show you this more often, don’t you think, cutie? Do you want to see me strip for you? Put on a show just for you?” Rafayel teases you with a cock of his head.

“Well, I surely wouldn’t mind that,” you grin, grabbing his chin and pushing his head to look at you.

His eyes lock onto your lips, darkening with each moment, and you can’t help but plunge towards him, diving to catch his lips with yours. To let your tongue dance with his, teeth scraping, pulse racing. You feel his hips push against yours, his bulge close to where you want, need him to be. Just this simple contact makes you clench around nothing and you hiss, biting down on his lip.

This creates some distance between you, but he doesn’t seem bothered by the bite, rather, the desire in his eyes swirl and take as much of you in as possible. And instead of kissing you again, Rafayel sinks towards your torso, kissing the peaks of your breasts, their underside, and continues to spread open-mouthed kisses over your stomach. Reaching the band of your pants, he tugs them down, looking up to you while doing so.

“W-wait, shouldn’t we take care of you first?” you gasp, his lips kissing the juncture between your hips and legs. Despite your protests, you grab his hair, as if on instinct.

At your protest, he nuzzles your thigh. “My love, I need to drown in you to breathe…” His words hot against your skin, a warning before he bites down onto the soft flesh.

You curse, your complaints dissolving as he kisses you through your underwear, feeling hotter and hotter, burning in the flame he seems to be confident in handling.

“And drown I will.”

Rafayel lets his tongue run over the soaked cloth, letting a groan vibrate against you the moment he tastes you. He takes his time, sucking and licking your clit, savoring the taste in his mouth. His hands have grabbed your thighs to hold you in place, as you have begun to buck your hips towards him, needing more and more of him. At some point you end up with your legs crossed behind his head, trying to press him closer and closer. But he doesn’t let himself get hurried by anything, not even your moaned complaints.

“Fuck, Rafayel, c’mon– this sucks–,” you groan, narrowing your eyes as you struggle to keep looking at him.

A huff cools the wet cloth, and you shiver. “So you want me to stop?” he asks, looking up to you, making eye contact with a challenging glint in his eyes.

You whine. “Fuck you, too.”

“With pleasure,” he grins, watching you as he pulls your underwear to the side, revealing your core and throbbing clit.

Another breeze hits your heat and you curse. Soon his tongue meets your clit again and he barely applies any pressure, just letting it glide over it over and over again. This deprivation is driving you insane and you start begging for more.

“Please, just a bit more–,” you whimper, trying to buck your hips, but his grasp is firm.

Despite your pleas, Rafayel doesn’t concede. Rather he begins to avoid your clit, letting his tongue run at its sides, through your folds, teasing your entrance with the tip. This only gets you more worked up, and you start pulling on his hair. Frustration is building up and you need to experience more, to experience some relief.

Only slowly does he return to your needy clit, pressure building up until he’s sucking and flattening his tongue against it. His own moans vibrate through you, getting you hotter and hotter. The built up he has worked into you, begins to tighten with each touch of his, with each time you glance back at him and see him watching your every reaction. Until everything unravels.

Everything in you goes slack as you throw your head back, moaning. “Ah, fuck, Rafayel.”

Even with your climax, he does not let up, letting his tongue lick everything you spill with meticulousness, with eagerness and desire. Your sensitive clit aches and you feel yourself tense once again, still feeling the high of your release, and steadily working towards another one. You pull at his hair, trying to get Rafayel to slow down, still feeling tender.

And only after making sure he has gotten every last drop, does he crawl back to you, littering your body in kisses and bites, making sure to not miss a single spot free of his markings.

Immediately, you reach for Rafayel, pulling him into a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. Your hand caresses his shoulders, dragging your nails across them and over his back. At the small of his back, you let your hand grab his butt, groping it, pushing him closer to yourself. Only to feel his length against your thigh. Eager to get your hands on him, your fingers wander underneath the waistband of his pants. To discover wetness spread over the cloth.

Before you could get the chance to fully grab him, he seizes your wrist, pulling your hand out of his pants. “Now, this isn’t what you’re supposed to do, yeah?”

“Hm, but I wanna help you…” you pout, trying to break free of his hold and sneak it back into his pants. Especially now that you know what mess he has made of himself simply by burying himself in you.

Instead of letting you go, he brings your hand to his face, nuzzling your palm, but not without licking the remnants on your fingertips. “Did you forget already? I’m aware of my skills to blow your mind away, buuut I’m in control here, cutie.”

At his words, you feel yourself clench around nothing, and simultaneously the need to get more. So, you raise your leg to press it between his thighs, just enough pressure to get Rafayel to moan for you. Such a pretty sound from his swollen lips, just for you to hear.

“Fine, show me control then,” you grin as you begin to rub your thigh against his length, your other hand sneaking down to rip his pants open and to shove them as far away as you can reach, taking his briefs with you on the way down.

“C’mon, pretty boy,” you coo, just a moment before he overwhelms you with a hot kiss, pressing himself as close as humanly possible, his tongue caressing the inside of your mouth, trying to get more and more.

As his moans reverberate inside you, you feel the tip of his cock pushing against your cunt, his hips buckling as he lets his length glide over your folds, teasing your swollen clit with each move of his, and you whimper against his lips. You lose count of how many times he just ruts against you, grinding against your sensitive spot over and over again. All you could do is try to get more and more by moving closer and closer towards him.

Breathless, Rafayel breaks away from you, a string of saliva still connecting you. “I wanna make you feel good…” he murmurs as he lets his head sink against your shoulder, kissing your skin softly.

Instead of answering you cup his face and bring him closer for another kiss. One filled with everything you cannot verbalize, with everything you keep inside your heart. And that’s when you feel it, feel him spreading you open oh so slowly, pushing himself deeper into your hole, the very one filled with desire with him. With careful movement, he fills you bit by bit as you moan his name.

This simple sound seems to spur him on, as his flow gets interrupted by a sudden thrust into you, hitting a spot in you at such an angle, you begin to see stars and you clench around him. All you could do is feel him in you, completing you with such ease.

For a moment, he just stays like this, hip to hip, both of you enjoying the feeling of closeness, of fulfillment, sharing kisses and whispers of promises like the depth of the sea. Until you begin to want more of him and roll your hips against his to get the slightest bit of friction. This elicits a moan of your name out of his mouth.

Soon, he finds a steady pace, one to hit your needs and wants. Meanwhile Rafayel has led his hand between you, letting his delicate fingertips stroke your clit, and the pressure inside of you begins to build up with each move of his, with each flick and caress. He knows you so well, what gets you going and what excites you, in control of everything you feel. So, it’s no wonder that you reach your climax in a short time, feeling the waves crash against you, overwhelming you with him and him and him.

“Ah, Rafayel!,” you moan, clutching his shoulders, digging your nails into them as you clench around him, keen on keeping him close to you.

As you tighten around him, he loses that delicate control he had over himself and his thrusts grow sloppy, moaning your name with desire and need. Until he releases, the tension flowing out of him as he buries himself deeper and deeper into you.

Slumping into your embrace, he sinks into your softness as everything in him mellows out and wraps his arms around your middle. Your hand finds his hair and you begin to scratch his scalp carefully, kissing his brow.

He begins to hum a familiar melody, and you close your eyes to simply listen to him. To enjoy the moment, this life you both have carved out of nothing, a warm flame slowly nurtured to blossom between you, a promise to last forever.

[kumiaku]

Kinktober Day 20 - Oral Fixation (Laios)

Kinktober Day 20 - Oral Fixation, Laios Touden x Reader, Dungeon Meshi

Masterlist

Misc. Tags - gn reader, blood is drawn but dw its just a nick from a knife, in true kumiaku fashion cannibalism is mentioned, oral fixation, finger sucking, comedy, shenanigans, laois is implied to be a virgin, cunnilingus/ass eating - hole is used for gn-ness, praise

WC - 1,135

Nsfw under cut

It was day two of being separated from the rest of the group, no Marcille, no Senshi, no Chilchuck, you were stuck with Laios. It wasn’t too bad, he was a very genuine person, but listening to his voice could become a bit grating after a while. You scrunched your mouth to the side as you continued to peel the potato looking thing you picked up, whilst Laios was busy telling you how it related to the man-eating plants and the ways in which it might’ve traveled down floors. 

You almost let out a sigh, closing your eyes for a moment, some ache on either side of your temples felt as if your head was being squashed together, then your knife slipped - and you sucked in a sharp breath. A line of red cut diagonally across your finger tip, it didn’t hurt too bad, but it’d be hell until you could get it patched up by Marcille. Holding weapons, spoons, opening doors, every meaningless everyday task would be impeded by the slight ache. 

Laios paused his infodumping, your name leaving his lips as he walked over, peering at your bloody finger, “oh, that doesn’t look too good.” It was closer to a murmur than anything else as he grabbed hand with his warm hands and raised it up, holding it over your head. “You should keep it over your head, I think.” 

You nodded, turning your head to search for the bandages you had in your bag, “yeah, I got some bandages in my pack. It’ll be fine, ‘s not too deep.” 

It really didn’t hurt too badly, just felt warm, searing almost, and strange that the same sweltering liquid began to run down your finger. You looked back over briefly, only to see a slightly panicked look on Laios’ face and in the next second, he pulled your arm backwards and up, trapping your bleeding finger in his mouth. 

You let out some indignant squeak, anger blistering under your skin as you turned to him - only for it to be raked over the coals and instead leaving some low and slow simmering heat in your stomach. His mouth moved around your finger, tongue dragging across the cut and collecting the blood, scratching just enough for it to pinch but enough that it didn’t hurt. 

Whatever words you would’ve shouted left your mouth with your breath, lungs emptied as you stared at him, face burning with blood but not anger. Maybe it was some underlying admiration for Laios and his borderline unhinged knowledge and fascination for monsters, or maybe you were simply starving for touch after the past couple months, but damn that was hot. 

You openly stared at him, mouth ajar, until he opened his eyes and looked at you quizzically, pulling back and licking his lips... before speaking. “I thought you were getting the bandages.” 

If you were flushed before, you were glowing now, fumbling with your back and one hand quickly grabbing the bandages as if you weren’t just openly, and hungrily, staring at Laios. “Ahah, yeah, here!” You hand them off to him, hoping he doesn’t ask anymore questions - wait. 

You purse your lips as you watch him wrap the bandages around your small wound, most of the blood already cleaned up by Laios’ lips. Did you want him to ask more questions? This moment would surely haunt your dreams, so did you just want to take the chance given? 

You eyed the unfinished lunch preparations, then the small smile on Laios’ face. And a weight settled in your stomach as you sunk your decision into place. “Hey, Laios. How hungry are you?” 

“Hm - oh well, pretty hungry I’d say.” He released your hand and looked down at the preparations already made, “though a good amount of our ingredients were with Senshi, we were lucky to stumble upon those man eating plants earlier, but we have to skin all of them to prepare them, dice them, then use the-” 

“That sounds like a lot of work.” You interrupt him, pressing your lips out into a pout and your voice more secretive and sultry, “Y’know, you could eat me instead.” 

Laios paused, he slowly turned his head to the point where you could hear the gears grinding, tilting it then having the audacity to ask, “isn’t that cannibalism?” 

“NO!” You shook your head, hand coming up to your forehead, flush on your cheeks almost too much to bear, but you chose to just bear through it, you’d already come this far after all. “I meant - I meant like in a sexy way.” 

“Oh.” Laios closed his eyes and let out a semi-relieved sigh, then he paused, opening his eyes and locking his eyes to yours again. “OH.” 

It was like a switch had been flipped and his expression morphed into one of open mouthed redness. You watched him, letting the idea steep in his mind for a second, shifting your legs slightly from where you sat. 

“You mean - like -” Laios again tried to clarify, his shocked expression not exactly gone yet. 

You sucked in a breath and more confidently nodded, “yup, that’s what I mean. It’s up to you, of course, but it’s something I think I’d really enjoy.” 

“Wait - what brought this up?” Laios’ flush died down somewhat as his hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, his eyes having a hard time focusing on just you. “I mean - I would, will, I will but -”

“Your tongue.” You tap your finger to his mouth again, a small bit of pain resonates beneath the bandages, more than it hurt earlier, but dulled through sheer warmth settling in your lower stomach. “It was hot.” 

Laios nodded like he was studying your response, but it didn’t take long for him to sink to his knees before you, hands on your knees, spreading them with you. You positioned yourself accordingly, settling your weight differently but still trying to keep an eye on Laios as he removed your undergarments. 

He almost seemed to look at you for guidance for a couple seconds before resolving himself and experimentally flicking his tongue around your hole. You watched him with stifled breaths, before realizing that it would probably be better if you gave him more verbal encouragement. “That’s good.” You nodded, voice only a tad more breathy than usual. 

Your idea of praise did seem to work, as he was a bit more forthcoming, soft instructions from you leading to more vigor on Laios’ part as he worked to settle into this position. It wasn’t long before that accursed tongue of his truly began to take action inside of you and his voracious appetite was truly pushed to the front. His mouth seemingly a black hole devouring you and the moans that slipped from your lips.

[dunmeshistash]

in regards to skin tone variation in DM, i do think a lot of it is colorism/racism too. theres a few characters of color, but not many (just like how theres some fatter characters, but none of them are main characters (even senshi & other dwarves arent really depicted as fat)).

ryoko kui has surface representation for these people, but it lacks much substance, and the brown characters she does draw arent given brown facial features, and are almost always colored with very ashy skin. a lot of them just look like a recolored white person (especially cithis, kaka, & kiki). her random portraits of characters who dont actually appear in the series otherwise tend to be much better about this, but the actual characters that show up and play a part all seem to suffer from this issue.

im not saying kui is like, super-duper racist and we all need to stop reading DM etc etc, but i think its important to recognize and point out everyday/usually-overlooked colorism & racism when we see it, and i know im not the first or only person to point this out about her character designs. if she can draw fat people and actual brown people as part of the portraits, why cant she or wont she do the same for any of the featured characters in the series?

(i know the orcs are fat, but its not a good thing the only consistently fat people are the ones who are a fantasy race based off of violent racial stereotypes, who are also pig people, while none of the main cast of "real" humans are fat except *maybe* the dwarves, who still have small waists and flat stomachs, and the lord of the island, who is depicted as corrupt & decadent)

Well yeah.

I'm just a lore blog so I don't like to get too into real life issues or make assumptions about how the author feels about these subjects. What I talked about on the skin tone post was assumptions as to why she thought it would be important to show skin tone variations on certain races as a character design choice. (In the sense that her character design is very purposeful)

I realize some people over praise Kui's designs when most of it is pretty safe for what it is, but even if it's just a step closer to better representation it's something that's rare to see in anime. So I understand why some people get so excited about it.

It is important to realize this isn't the ideal either (Dark skinned characters with the same features as the others, mostly well build characters on the thinner side) but I personally don't like to criticize these type of stories on what it "could/should have been".

As someone who is fat and not white, I'm happy we get some diversity in dungeon meshi. I hope this opens up the possibility of better character design in the future even if what we got now wasn't perfect.

It shouldn't be the case that this piece of art filled me with so much joy I teared up cause I had never seen someone with a similar body to mine drawn with so much respect and objectivity. But unfortunately that's the world we live in and I don't think it's wrong to be happy for what we get for now while acknowledging it's not perfect and that it should be better.

I'm also super happy the anime chose to make the dark characters even darker.

[vii0so]

[BSD 120] Theory/Analysis

These are my first thoughts on parts of chapter 120. It includes my personal interpretations and theories of certain things.

Warning: Spoilers ahead

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1. Akutagawa & "True strength"

In my previous theory, I believed Rashoumon was in control of Aku's body (hence the old speech and clothing choice).

In BSD, abilities are the soul. "True strength" and "within yourself" could point to Rashoumon.

It could be that Akutagawa has inherited the purpose of his ability (Rashoumon). Therefore unlocking its full potential and or memories. Hence the drastic change that Atsushi sees.

The "purpose" stuff was another thing I briefly mentioned in my previous theory. In short: Purpose = job (e.g. the bookmark)

"This blade serves the heavens"

This blade = "I" (Akutagawa/Rashoumon)

The heavens = probably "the book"

"This soul follows the path of righteousness"

This soul = Rashoumon

This would mean: Rashoumon is righteous.

"The path of the knight"

Knight = Protector/Defender

This could mean Rashoumon is the book's protector.

So his purpose could be the book's "Knight", just like Atsushi is the book's "Bookmark".

If we want to say it in book terms, it'd be the book's cover.

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"Idea. Will. All are empty."

This is directed at Akutagawa. Saying that he has no individual thoughts or will, he is just an empty shell.

I believe this can be seen as saying "You're a puppet."

This could mean that the current Akutagawa is like this because his role as the "knight" is needed (A god-level threat to the book has appeared and needs to be dealt with).

Meaning, it could very well be his soul's (Rashoumon's) purpose (the knight) has taken control. Making him a puppet with the only thing moving him being his purpose.

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2. The higher dimension

First off: If we think of the real world where we are, then the BSD universe would be a "lower dimension" to us.

In BSD, the book can change/shape their world and therefore is part of the "higher dimension"

Basically, anything that doesn't follow the law of abilities and/or our everyday normal earth standards, can be considered as a higher dimensional being/thing.

As Fyodor explained: Stabbing a page will "kill" the character drawn on it. No matter how OP they are, they will never be able to perceive our dimension (reality) and therefore will not be able to stop it.

To make it easier: An author can write a story where the mc faces an enemy and dies. The author controlled the story/fate of the mc. The mc would never be able to stop that from happening.

...Actually this example would be closer to what the book does...they are a similar plane of existence but not the same. Fyodor's example is better for Ame-no-Gozen though.

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Let's think of it the other way around to better explain:

In short: if you were to write/draw a character, that character would never directly be able to harm you or interact with you. That's because we're in a higher dimensional plane of existence.

Stories may just be fiction to us but to the characters they are real, just like life for us is real.

When a character becomes aware that there is a higher dimension/they are in a story, they still can't physically/directly interact with our world. The most they can do, is "break the 4th wall" and indirectly interact with the audience (e.g. talking to/looking at the camera/us).

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Random:

The book is a higher plane of existence than anything in the BSD universe. Hence why anything written in it becomes the truth.

Ame-no-Gozen is a lower dimension than the book.

Therefore, if someone wrote Ame-no-Gozen out of existence in the book, it would be considered true and he'd be gone.

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3. Fyodor's Plane

This entire "plane to board" thing has had me worried since the previous chapter.

I know they want us to think of this:

But it still feels odd. He gets on that, becomes undetectable. Is that what he's really planning to do though?

He says it's not his concern (whether they live or die) but it seems like a definite lie. In one way or another, it matters.

He seems to be in a hurry. It doesn't seem fake, in actuality it seems like he's trying to hide how urgently he needs to leave.

He completely dropped the whole "Dazai wasn't it so I'll just take Atsushi" and switched to "I don't care whether any of you die".

Honestly, he probably decided to drop the "other half" stuff when he realised Atsushi didn't have the same thoughts as the tiger.

And the "idc what happens to you lol" is more like "I need to leave quickly so let's stop here" which shows urgency.

Which means, Fyodor has somewhere to be...and fast.

Okay, this next theory is a long shot even for me, but what if he needs to get to Sigma before he wakes up?

Don't ask me why, I'm not sure. But it sure is something to think about. It's time-sensitive and we're aware that Sigma hasn't woken up yet. It seems to fall into place with the urgency.

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███████▒▒▒

4. Fukuzawa's Survival

This seems like a challenge to battle but Fukuzawa knew there was no way of fighting Ame-no-Gozen. So who is he challenging?

Fyodor.

Yep, Fukuzawa will fight Fyodor...

All the people (including me) that believed Fukuzawa will die at some point in the story, might be right after this battle.

Why does he say it like that?

And why does he look like he hesitated?

I checked the Japanese and it's: 特には (toku-ni-ha)

Which means:

Note: The "ha" (pronounced "wa") is a particle.

Fyodor, what do you mean?! Is it that you care about his survival "in particular" or "not particularly"? (...I should just leave this to those who are fluent in Japanese. I'm overcomplicating stuff again.)

Anyway, I feel like there's more to this than what we're seeing (Or maybe I just forgot something...)

─────────────✧

5. Where's Rampo?

...no, seriously, where is he during all this?

He's probably doing stuff in the background to help fix this situation but we haven't even seen a glimpse of him since Fyodor came back.

Maybe we'll see him during the Fyodor vs Fukuzawa fight.

─────────────✧

██████████ Completed!

TLDR:

Akutagawa is basically Rashoumon right now.

Akutagawa is the book's "cover" (protector/knight)

Higher & lower dimension = Pretty much the same difference between us and any character in BSD.

Fyodor may need to get to Sigma before he wakes up. Hence the urgency to leave the fight.

Fukuzawa might die fighting Fyodor.

[trilobitepunch]

In Essence, the Behavior of Siblings

The Grounds were more than what the simple name implied. Formally it was known as Ma no Michi, or "The Way Between," but over time it had been considerably nicknamed and shortened for the common ground that it was. 

It was a small town that stretched between two worn torii for less than two miles. The structures that flanked either side of the street were of wood and looked much like a typical town, interspersed with market stalls and a general busyness that gave the place an overall constant festival atmosphere.

The strangest thing about the place was that it was entirely populated by yōkai; merchants, residents and most of those passing through. Indeed, there at times could be seen actual humans amongst the visitors, a rarity to be sure, but there were some whom yōkai had been able to trust, and having this link helped them, especially those who only wished to live peacefully in a land where human influence continued to grow.

Not any human could enter the Grounds. Most avoided the torii path, rumors that some unwitting wanderers vanished once passing beneath the flaking red gates. Others said that there was nothing on the other side, just as empty a stretch of road as what one perceived from before and beyond, but it was an unsettling stillness that plagued them until they reached the opposite gateway. They had no 'key' to truly open the way.

"You all have your omamori?" Yoshi asked, turning towards his unusual sons as they drew closer to the torii. A chorus of confirmations came and he smiled before turning, tucking away his own charm into his sleeve. 

The sensation was a bit disorienting when you possessed a 'key' and stepped through. The world beyond the torii was full of life and sound as one would expect upon entering a town. Leaving was just as strange, releasing a person back into the stillness of an otherwise empty roadway. 

Sannan disliked passing through the gates. Yoshi always waited until his second youngest came through, always last, shoulders hunched up in preparation, shuddering once he had stepped through and flicking his tail as though to fully disperse the feeling. He claimed it felt like something crawling over him. Jinan told him he was just crazy.

"Here we are, my sons," Yoshi said, laying a reassuring hand upon Sannan's shoulder as he guided him along after the others. He had to be quick before Yotsuo would go wandering off. "We will meet back here in an hour so that we can all get a meal together."

"Haaaai!"

"Of course, otō-sama."

"Got it, oyaji."

"We'll see you later."

Yoshi watched as the four went off with a quirk of a smile as Yotsuo abruptly went dashing off as something inevitably caught his attention. Sannan gave an exasperated sigh before he went after him. The boys enjoyed these outings, so Yoshi was more than happy to give them the opportunity to explore before they got down to business matters. As he was about to turn, he caught Chōnan's eye upon him and he paused, giving him a nod. Just because this was a place of yōkai, it didn't mean they should entirely let their guard down.

~~~

"Uuuuuwaaaa! Look at that, San-nii! It looks like ice!" Yotsuo marveled as his eyes fell upon a curious plate amongst a mismatched collection of ceramics. As annoying as it was feeling like he always somehow ended up having to watch his little brother, he didn't mind it too much. Yotsuo often tended to find the most interesting things in the marketplace.

"Don't touch it," he said as he came up beside him to see what had drawn Yotsuo's attention. "It's very delicate. Glass, I think."

"Right you are, little Hamato," chuckled the vendor, which made Sannan involuntarily tense. He didn't like that they were so identifiable, even though he knew that many who resided in the Grounds looked to the Hamato whenever trouble occurred. "Not very practical for everyday use, but it is very pretty to look at."

Yotsuo made a disappointed sound as Sannan caught his hand just before he could lift the plate's edge with a claw. "Thank you," the latter said with a bow of his head towards the vendor before guiding his all too curious brother away. He was fully prepared to counter any complaints but largely unsurprised when that familiar look passed across Yotsuo's face, a sure sign that he'd found something else to investigate. Sighing, again Sannan prepared to follow, pausing however to shoot a look towards the nearby rooftop with something of a scowl, but he wasn't long in drifting after the youngest.

~~~

From above, Jinan watched the two. He had an hour and they'd just got here, so he wasn't in any particular hurry to look around. Besides, it was funny watching Sannan get dragged about by Yotsuo, and Jinan was simply glad that it wasn't him. He ducked back against the roof with a grimace when he saw his twin turn his head right in his direction. 

"Tch, how does he do that?" Jin muttered.

As his brothers wandered out of sight, Jinan turned to pick his way across the shingles before dropping down to the street. 

"Oh! Where did you come from?" 

The voice made him jump, and he spun around to see a peddler stooped beside her box of wares. She smiled as she removed her broad straw hat. "Ah, I have returned the favor, I see."

"-sorry, guess I should have double-checked where I was landing," Jinan murmured as he scratched the back of his head, giving an awkward sort of bow.

"No harm done. I haven't set up yet, but I did not think anyone would be passing by from above," the peddler said as she resumed pulling things from her box to set out at the stall there on the corner. He'd heard that traveling merchants were able to rent a space if they wanted, and the marketplace at the Grounds was a popular place to find unusual and interesting things. "What are you selling?" he asked.

"Incense," the peddler replied, smiling enigmatically as she set a shallow dish down, holding up a slender stick. She didn't seem particularly bothered as Jinan's expression flattened along with his equally disinterested, "Oh."

"It isn't for everyone," she admitted, continuing to put out her wares. Samples and tiny censers, small bundles of sticks. She paused in pulling more items out long enough to light one of the sticks and set it in a bowl of ash, gently blowing out the flame and leaving a wispy trail of smoke that snaked lazily in the air. Jinan caught a whiff, humming thoughtfully as she watched him almost expectantly. "It's nice, but yeah, not my thing. Good luck in your sales," he said, waving a hand as he went on his way.

~~~

"Great job, Chō. How're you supposed to keep an eye out on your brothers when you can't even find them?" the big yōkai sighed at himself. It had scarcely been two minutes and he'd somehow lost sight of all of them at once. In his distraction to catch sight of at least one of them, he'd also lost track of his dad. 

"It's fine. They've all gotta be around here somewhere. This place isn't that big." He started along the main road, for that was the only way to go.

"Oh, Chō-chan! Looking for your brothers again?" an elderly yōkai greeted him with a gentle chuckle. This was hardly a first-time occurrence. 

"A little. You haven't by chance seen any of them?"

"Hmm. I thought I saw the little one head towards the pottery stalls."

"Should have figured as much. Thanks, baachan," Chōnan sighed, giving a quick bow before he started in that direction.

"Ah, before you go, at least take something to nibble on. Have to keep up the energy if you're going to catch those brothers of yours," the old one cackled, holding out a red bean-filled pastry. Some of the anxiousness from Chōnan's face relaxed as he accepted it, smiling that snaggle-toothed smile of his that hadn't seemed to change despite the years. And then off he went, taking care not to completely shove the thing into his mouth.

He caught a face full of incense smoke as he rushed on by, nearly choking as he tried to save his precious bean-paste bun. His clawed hands flailed about in the air as he juggled the thing while simultaneously trying to wave away the smell before successfully managing to cradle the little pastry in his palms. An amused sort of sound caught his ear just then, and he flashed a sheepish smile at the vendor at the incense booth before he continued on his way.

~~~

"Do you like this one?"

"No."

"How about this?"

"No."

"Well I'm sure you'd approve of this one at least!"

"Not even close."

"Oh come on, San-nii! Why won't you pick any?" Yotsuo pouted, tossing his hands up before he tucked them tightly beneath his armpits in that sulky pose only a little brother scorned could pull off.

"Lack of use, for one. I think you'd definitely need hair," Sannan pointed out, having long built up an immunity to such looks as he poked a clawed fingertip at the dangling ends of a delicate kanzashi. It was a very pretty hair decoration, at least that much he would agree on. 

"What about for Karai-obasan?" Yotsuo pushed, head lifting with just a touch of hopefulness. It was quickly dashed by a pragmatic shake of Sannan's own head.

"Obasama doesn't need those sorts of things. It'd just get in the way. If you really want to get her something, let's look for something useful," he suggested in order to allay his little brother's anticipated objections. It did the job of getting him to stop sulking at the very least.

"Okay! That does make sense. What do you suggest then?" Yotsuo asked, reaching out to tug his brother along. The sooner they started moving again, the sooner they might find …whatever it is they might be looking for!

"A knife is pretty useful…"

"Saaaaaaan…."

Yotsuo dropped his brother's hand as his pout returned. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised at the suggestion. Sannan was pretty practical about those sorts of things, but then that did explain why Sannan usually still had something to spend later on when the rest of his brothers ended up with strange trinkets and stomachs full from snacks.

"-oh wait, what's that smell?" And off he was bounding again, as though their previous discourse hadn't occurred, another reason Sannan hadn't really worried about truly upsetting his brother. This was all rather typical, after all.

He caught up to Yotsuo at what appeared to be an incense vendor. A traveling merchant, Sannan guessed, as he by now knew most of the regulars, and there weren't many who specialized in such a thing here in the Grounds. The woman at the stall smiled amiably at the two, a humanoid yōkai so far as he could identify, the sort who could easily pass among humans without garnering suspicion. "Greetings. Do feel free to sample my wares. I have prepared them all myself," she said.

"Ohhhh, this one smells nice. You might not like it though, San. It's a little strong."

"Hn," Sannan replied, but he took a polite sniff anyway, if only to satiate his curiosity. "Sandalwood," he guessed, inwardly proud of himself when he noticed the slight lift of a brow from the merchant. She smiled wanly, nodding. "So it is," she confirmed, looking on with interest as Yotsuo instantly took this as a sign to test his brother's skill, picking up one of the incense wafers from another dish.

Ah, this one he knew well, even if it was a little overstated, but he supposed that was the point of incense. He managed not to wrinkle his snout. "Wisteria," he said, thinking of the wild grove he liked to retreat to when he wanted some space for himself.

"You are very skilled in identifying these," the merchant laughed. "You would do well at incense gatherings. Now, how about this one?" She brought up from behind the booth an incense stick that had already been lit, standing in a bowl of ash, and with a fanning of her hand, sent the wisping trail of scent towards them. 

Sannan looked a little put off at the fact that the merchant seemed to be getting in on this game Yotsuo had started, but he sniffed at it all the same. He squinted, shaking his head as he snorted out a breath. Too perfumed for his tastes. "Some blend of aloeswood," he said, unable to keep from wrinkling his snout then. It didn't seem like his response had offended the merchant at least, but her attention had seemed to shift to Yotsuo at that point.

"That is the main part of it," she conceded, looking back at Sannan and somewhat startled to find him already eyeing her intently. He frowned a little, nudging Yotsuo with an elbow. "Come on, Yo-chan. If we keep stopping at everything then it'll already be time to meet back with the others."

"Huh-? O-oh!" Yotsuo blinked, shaking his head a bit before he smiled brightly at Sannan. "You're right. Um, thank you," he said as he turned his attention back to the vendor with a bow of his head. Sannan dropped a hand on his shoulder to steer him along after offering his own bow, his attention lingering just slightly longer until they were caught along in the next flow of foot traffic.

~~~

"All right, what kind of junk did you buy this time?" Jinan asked as he rested his elbows on the low table before them. He yelped as Yoshi swatted them off, straightening his posture before the man could go off about manners and this not being their house.

"Nothing," Yotsuo pouted before the words sunk in, and he shot a glare across the table at Jinan. "And it's not junk! They're just…things that don't have any immediate usefulness," he said, doing his best Sannan impression. Even Jinan had to laugh at that, as did Chōnan. Yoshi was doing his best to hide a grin behind his hand, coughing into a fist when his second youngest shot him a look.

"That's fine, it just means we have more to spend on food," Chōnan said eagerly, which surprised absolutely no one at the table.

"Only you would be able to still be hungry despite the amount of handouts you've likely accumulated." Sannan could be ruthless when he wanted to be, but his tone bore no edge, so he was clearly teasing as only he could. It really wasn't any big secret that their eldest brother was a favorite amongst the old snack and pastry artisans, and to some extent they were a bit jealous.

Yoshi waved his hands with an exasperated sigh. "Okay, okay, that's enough! You'll have time to look around again afterwards, but first, I think we could all do for something to eat." He went ahead and made a request for their food, then took up his teacup once Sannan had poured for them all. His son still disliked tea, but he felt that he was still partaking somehow by at least helping serve it.

"So, what's the job, oyaji?" Jinan asked, swirling his tea around. "Do you need us?"

Savoring his own tea, Yoshi shook his head. "Minor tsukumogami case. I might need you though, Chō. Supposedly we'll be dealing with a large, cast-iron pot."

"What a perfectly good thing to let go to waste," Sannan commented. "No wonder it's upset. Maybe it'll calm down if Jin gives it a good scrubbing."

"Oh please-"

"Actually, that isn't a bad idea. Jin, you come with us too," Yoshi decided, sipping his tea while Jinan tried to decide who to be angry at. In the end he closed his mouth as he worked out this clever trap of his twin; if he objected then Sannan would likely be voluntold for suggesting it, and then that would mean Jinan would have to accompany Yotsuo in his wild marketplace browsing. It really was a no-win situation as far as Jinan was concerned, so he grumbled something that was neither agreement nor protest and that was that.

Yoshi was however right in one thing; a good meal certainly did the trick in lightening the mood and sour spirits. At least, temporarily.

~~~

"Did you see anything you wanted to look at?" Yotsuo asked as he and Sannan once again found themselves wandering the main road. 

"Not particularly," Sannan replied, even as his eyes drifted over the various stalls, seeking out guest peddlers. They often brought the most interesting things, or at least had some interesting stories to tell.

At least there was one stall they always made sure to stop by. Sho-ojiisan liked when they brought back some senbei, claiming they were the best rice crackers he'd ever had. The boys secured a box and were given an extra treat apiece, crunching on the savory sweetness as they continued their marketplace perusal.

They passed the incense seller again, and she smiled brightly as she beckoned them over with a hand.

"Are you closing shop already?" Yotsuo asked, noting that much of her wares had already been packed away. 

"Oh, not just yet, but the heat is a bit much for me and the scent doesn't carry as well now that the sun is so high. Mornings are so much better for sales." She gave a small shrug. "I did wish to ask a favor of you both. Particularly you, young sir, for I'd like the opinion of your sharp nose."

Sannan frowned a little, more so as Yotsuo echoed, "Sharp nose, hehe..!" He shut his brother up with a sharp elbow. "What sort of opinion? Surely you know the scent of your own wares, so I doubt it's for identification."

"A sharp tongue and wit as well," the merchant laughed. "No, I would like to know what someone might think of a new scent I've been working on. I'm trying to get the mixture just right, and I think it's close, but I need something more." She gestured to the building behind her. "I am renting a room at the back. The screen is open, so if you wouldn't mind helping me carry these there at the very least?"

The brothers looked at each other, the smaller one smiling brightly while the other sighed. "I suppose we have time to help," Sannan conceded, Yotsuo already bouncing over to pick up some of the merchant's things.

It didn't take too long, especially when most of it was packed in the box, which Sannan picked up and was silently impressed that anyone would walk around with it on their back. The weight wasn't unmanageable, but he imagined it added quite a burden to anyone traveling distances for any amount of time. He set it down in the room, a small space suitable enough for sleeping in. Yotsuo had already invited himself to sit there at the edge while the merchant eventually joined them. She had a few bowls of what Sannan guessed were ingredients, laid out on the tatami. 

"Please make yourselves comfortable. This will not take long," the merchant said as she sorted through things. "Little one, please pull that screen closed. Not all the way," she added, catching Sannan's eye. "I just don't want to dilute the fragrances too much. Here," she said as she held out one of the bowls to him.

"Aloeswood is too strong," Sannan was quick to comment after a whiff. He glanced over as Yotsuo took a sniff. "Is it supposed to be different?"

"Oh dear, I barely added any aloeswood. I was hoping it would accent the scent rather than overpower it. I thought perhaps some fresh senses would be able to pick it out," the woman frowned. "Perhaps it will blend better once it is lit. Sometimes it takes on a different characteristic. I have a sample stick."

She slipped it out, setting it in a holder before lighting the end with a flame and quickly putting it out, fanning it with her sleeve as the thin white wisp unfurled from its tip.. 

Both boys dutifully took a sniff. "Hn…  No, the aloeswood is still prevalent," Sannan admitted, brow furrowing. "But there's…something else. Kind of bitter-smelling. I can't…"

His vision blurred and refused to clear no matter how much he blinked. This…this is… Alarm flashed in his mind, and he shot a glare at the incense maker as he lurched to his feet. They gave out from beneath him before he could even pull them into position, his vision swimming as he hit the floor, but he could barely make out the yōkai woman who had slipped on a cloth mask.

"Breathe deep, little Hamato," she said quietly as she stood over him. Sannan in fact tried to do the exact opposite, his muscles tensed but otherwise struggling to follow through with what he wanted them to do. His head felt like a lead weight as he tried to lift it, trying to push himself up. Beside him he was vaguely aware that Yotsuo had also collapsed, his brother's gaze unfocused as he lay there.

"Hm. Perhaps I did not use enough, or your resilience is just that much more impressive." Her cold tone was at odds with her words and a striking contrast to how she had spoken to them earlier. "Well, no matter. I will be done soon enough." She stepped back towards her things, picking out another slender stick of incense, which she stood in the bowl of ash and lit, placing it between the two.

Sannan couldn't even move his mouth, every muscle quivering with the effort. The scent that replaced the first was unfamiliar to him, but it reminded him of the heavy scents that hung about human temples. The smoke from it seemed thicker, suspended there as it wove itself through the air of the small room. It wreathed him and Yotsuo like some alive thing.

"You know, my brother was one of those who had answered the call and gone up to the mountain, long ago," the incense merchant said, speaking as though they were all still holding such a normal conversation. Even though his mind felt as foggy as the bluish smoke that swam about the room, Sannan recognized the sound of metal ringing, as a blade pulled from its sheath. His eyes widened into slits, his mind screaming at the rest of his body to cooperate.

"He went up," the yōkai woman continued, unaware of the boy's internal struggle. "But he did not return. As did many. I told him not to go, but he was proud. Arrogant. Weren't you, ani-ue?" She sighed, watching the smoke that came up from the incense stick as she thought of her brother. "This will reveal what I have lost. Come back to me, my brother. Come back and I will set you free from whatever has bound you to these…"

She had turned to look between them then, and Sannan tried desperately to grasp at the dots to connect the information she was imparting. The mountain…the disappearing yōkai. A sacrifice and a blood red moon...

Every muscle protested, every nerve felt like it was on fire, but Sannan felt himself moving finally. He wasn't the only one surprised, barely registering the merchant's shock through his hazy sight before he collided with her. Distantly he thought he heard the blade fall to the ground.

"How-?!" she started to exclaim, her hands closing around his shoulders to push him off, only to stop as she stared past the younger yōkai. "No… Why isn't it… But he has to be…!"

For a moment longer she stared at the stream of smoke that filled the room as though to discern some sort of secrets from it. In truth, there was nothing, nothing at all but the smoke. 

His eyelids were heavy, but that stubborn part of him clung to consciousness by a thread. He felt something warm and damp soak into his hood, and he thought he heard a sob from the woman. It was with far more care than Sannan expected of her when she resumed moving him from off of her. Every touch felt like pins and needles, all his limbs felt like they weighed as much as the logs his eldest brother would help carry in preparation of the winter storms. He heard the sound of the screen being pushed open again, a breath of fresh air coming from outside, dispersing the smoke and the cloying scent of the incense. 

"I am sorry…" The apology was so soft that it could have been a dream, that line of reality blurring with each second as he found it harder and harder to stay awake.

~~~

Yotsuo awoke with a gasp, pulling himself up so abruptly and instantly regretting it. "Careful, careful my son," a familiar voice said beside him, warm hands guiding his head back to the pillow he had been lying on. Yotsuo winced, the light feeling like it was stabbing at his eyes, and he squeezed them shut again with a whimper.

"I am sorry," he heard another somewhat familiar voice say. They sounded farther away, and Yotsuo felt his father's hand pause for but a moment where it had moved to stroke his head. "I used a stronger dosage because I thought… I did not realize that they were actually children…" 

"They are my sons," Yoshi said, his voice carefully level as he shifted his gaze between his youngest boys. Sannan had been in and out of consciousness, his head cradled in Jinan's lap as his twin held him protectively, not bothering to hide the glares he cast in the incense merchant's direction. Chōnan sat between them and the woman, but Yoshi could tell that it was as much to keep his younger brother from doing anything irrational as it was to intimidate the other yōkai.

"I have only heard rumors. I did not know what to believe. But I had hoped that my brother…that something of him still existed. I thought that they were trapped, those souls, those yōkai who had disappeared in the mountains. And these two reacted to my special blend of incense. My brother always favored it. I thought…" 

She flinched away at another glare from Jinan, and Yoshi raised his hand towards his son before he nodded at her to continue.

"...I thought his spirit might dwell in one of them. I wanted to free him, bring him home," she said sorrowfully, her head bowed. "I saw how these two cared for each other, but I thought I had come too far to abandon my brother now. …but nothing manifested in the smoke. His soul is not here." She hesitated, lifting her head to force herself to meet their eyes. She owed this much to them.

"They hold no souls of the past. It grieves me to admit it, since I do not know what has become of my brother's, but so far as I can tell, your sons are no one but themselves. Again, I am sorry," she said, prostrating herself to underline her sincerity. 

Jinan glanced at Chōnan, and the two looked to Yoshi then. He had to wonder if his sons had ever thought about it before. Indeed, a small knot was loosened in his own chest that he hadn't realized had been there. Yoshi turned his own eyes back to the incense merchant, bowing his head in silent acknowledgment for what she had told them. He could not quite offer her a thank you, not after she'd threatened his sons, but this was still more than what he thought they would come away with. And still he could not allow himself to be completely at ease. If one yōkai had been so convinced that his sons might have some connection to one of those who had been used in that terrible ritual, then there could be others…

~~~

Sannan hadn't woken up until the following morning, groggy and unable to get to his feet, complaining that every movement made him feel prickly. Yotsuo was only slightly better, still subjected to dizzy spells to the point that Chōnan insisted he carry him and Sannan. While it wasn't the first night they'd spent over at the Grounds, Yoshi didn't want to stay any longer than necessary, and the boys would be more comfortable and safe back at home. He did not however look forward to having to recount what had happened.

"Aaaah…what a mess," he muttered, running a hand through his unkempt hair. He held the bundle with Sho-jiisan's senbei, leading his sons back towards the torii. 

The incense merchant had left earlier than they had, her wares packed up and the little room she'd rented, completely vacated. Although they'd parted on neutral terms, Yoshi knew such news would travel, for better or worse. There would be some who wouldn't be pleased with what she had attempted. But there would be others, he suspected, who would be just as interested.

"What a mess," he repeated under his breath. 

Birdsong and the buzzing of bugs replaced the morning hum of the Grounds once they passed through the gate, depositing them back on an empty roadway. 

"I'm sorry, otōsama."

Yoshi stopped, turning to look over at Sannan, his second youngest curled tightly against the oldest's chest. His eyes were open at least, his senses slowly readjusting, a far-away look on his face, although Yoshi could guess that those thoughts were turned inwards. Yoshi's own expression softened.

"It was not your fault, Sannan," he said as he raised a hand to rest on his son's arm. He suppressed a frown as he saw the slim yōkai shudder under his touch. The incense maker had said the effects should wear off, the paralysis not meant to be long-term, but it had only been proven on pure-blooded yōkai. He let his hand fall away, but continued to walk beside Chōnan, Jinan flanking his brother's opposite side as he kept an eye on their surroundings. Laid back as his second oldest tended to be, Yoshi knew he could always count on him, especially when the safety of his brothers had been threatened.

Sannan had fallen silent again, not particularly reassured, but he moved his head slightly as he felt another hand slip over his own. He looked across at where Yotsuo practically nestled in the crook of Chōnan's other arm, his little brother offering a smile as only he could, one that never diminished in brightness no matter what bad things happened. Sannan took it as forgiveness for failing to keep him safe, even though he knew Yotsuo wouldn't have faulted him for any such thing. As tiring and uncomfortable as it felt to put any effort into moving, Sannan curled his webbed fingers around his brother's hand.

Yoshi smiled faintly. This was another lesson learned, and he was only thankful that nothing worse had happened. He and his boys would all return home, and while there were still some lingering concerns, that was something that they would all get through, together.

"Come, my sons. We still have a ways to go."

[voidspiraling]

I gotta get this done before Valentine’s Day

Omg omg guys r u ready for pain an heartbreak this Valentines!!!?!?! I’m not. I just saw the teaser and I’m freaking out!!!!!!!!

I’ll keep this short cuz we’re gonna get the full video anyways I just wanted to point out a few things.

The first scene is MiziSua!!! They’re in a class it seems talking to each other and looking cute. It seems to show a mundane everyday scene from the garden. The thing that stood out to me is the shadow cast against Sua. It’s overall a bright scene but the shadow cast on Sua hints at the darker aspects of Alien Stage. It could also show how Sua is in a dark place, and how she sees Mizi as her sole light. You can tell because of how bright Mizi’s hair is at the right part of the image. Sua is turned facing the right direction and away from the shadow. Like Mizi is the light at the end of the tunnel. Tunnel vision on a single person isn’t healthy but you can see from this picture that this where MiziSua is the happiest.

The second scene we are shown after this first image is the twins!! This shot is more closer in fact you can barely see the background. This to me shows an intimate scene between family where you just focus on your time together. They’re both shadowed by the bright light behind them showing how ephemeral this moment is. It reminds me of a flashback in a movie to show innocence and purity of a character. But overall generally cute and wholesome.

The next scene tho….

Oh man this scene is so eerie. So what my eye was drawn to was the corner of the room. Now whenever we see images of the garden it seems more open and almost warm. We usually see them from the perspective of the other characters so the garden looks big and comforting even though we know that everything is fake. The trees are fake, the fish are fake, the fake flowers have cameras in them. So we know the garden isn’t a safe place. But this shot of baby Luka shows that the garden really is just another cage made to look pretty. It felt like my safe space transformed into a horror scene XD.

Another thing that’s scary is baby Luka himself. Now normally Luka looks angelic and elegant. He looks so beautiful and soft in all the other videos. But even though he’s a baby here I can’t find him cute. The sweaty and dirty face paired with his purple fingertips looks creepy. But what really scared me were his eyes. This is the most emotion I’ve seen on him his wide pale eyes and his outstretched hands and his flushed face, it feels like he’s about to do something with dire consequences. Maybe this is before he gets into that accident with hyunwoo? Whatever it is it’s so unsettling.

Alternatively it could be that what he’s reaching for is shown in the next and final scene I wanna talk about.

IvanTill my babies!!!!!!! We only see the back of their head tho 💔 but it’s ok I can still feel the cuteness coming from them! Look at how small Till is he has to stand on his tip toes to draw ;-; I love him so much. And man the really upped the colors in this teaser his hair almost looks cyan :0 it feels almost fairytale like.

Anyways let’s talk abt what this could potentially mean. So here we see Ivan looking intently at Till drawing on a white wall with a pencil. Till is reaching as high as he can to draw on the wall. And he moves from the left to right, this scene has the most movement and is also the only scene where we don’t see their faces. They’re also farther away from the viewer it feels like an outsider looking in.

Considering that Till is drawing on the wall I think this ties into my earlier post where I compared Tills wall mural to freedom. In this scene we don’t see any part of the fake garden instead we see art of a real garden, a garden created from Till’s imagination.

I think this is what Luka wanted to reach for, freedom and creativity. IvanTill have always been distinct in this way as they show how escape is possible and how humanity thrives even when outside forces tries to removes it from you. Till shows this be always rebelling and always staying true to himself in his art and music. Meanwhile Ivan is always so human in the way he loves Till. Even though he knows how to thrive in the system he still risks his safety to comfort Till when he’s passed out. He throws the match to save the one he loves even though he knows it’s futile. They’re both so tragic and human it makes me cry every time I see them together sigssisbjssbjabxhxgcgdjsis.

Last thing I wanted to mention was that there’s a lot of motion from left to right in the teaser. I think this conveys moving forward into a hopefully brighter future. Maybe there will be a happy ending after all?

[agaypanic]

They're open yay omg!! Ok I had a cute idea for Rodrick Heffley if you're up for it! :)

Rodrick x Male!Reader where reader sings him 'boyfriend' by Big Time Rush the same way that Rodrick sang 'baby' by Justin Bieber for that one girls birthday (I literally don't remember her name lol but also it doesn't have to be his birthday) but like, it doesn't end as badly as it did for him lmao

Idk if they should be an established relationship between him and reader or if this is like readers confession so ill let you choose what you feel like writing for!

Boyfriend (Rodrick Heffley X Male!Guitarist!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: While waiting for your friends to show up to band practice, you decide to show Rodrick a new song you’ve been working on.

A/N: this is my first time writing for rodrick so pls lmk how i did! au where reader wrote ‘boyfriend’ instead of btr (with a few tweaks). rodrick and reader are in the talking stage (i dont wanna say situationship but ig that works lol) but their friends dont know about it. the only instrument i know about is the violin so sorry if i get anything wrong. also i think doing singing in stories/fics is kinda weird/awkward but whatever lol

***

You always cherished the few minutes you had alone with Rodrick during band practice. Sure, you liked your other friends. But there was something about being able to watch Rodrick not put on the whole ‘bad boy rocker’ persona that he was used to wearing. Around you, he felt like he could wind down and not think as much.

Although, he didn’t think too much in the first place.

“I think we have a real shot at winning this talent show,” Rodrick said, drumming a beat on your thigh as he watched you tune your guitar. “We just need to practice more.”

“Well, I think we sound fine right now.”

“We don’t need to sound fine; we need to sound great!”

“Chill out, Roddy.” You said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a month away; we have plenty of time.”

“Don’t call me that.” Despite his words, the corner of Rodrick’s lip twitched up at the nickname. You were the only one who called him that. At first, he didn’t like it; it wasn’t a hardcore rocker name. But soon, he found himself getting giddy at the softness of it. “I guess you’re right, though.” 

Rodrick strummed his fingers across the strings of your guitar, laughing when you slapped his hand away.

“Work on anything new lately?” He asked, looking up at you from his hunched-over position. Along with being the guitarist, you were one of the main songwriters in Löded Diper, having many one-on-one writing sessions with Rodrick. That’s how the two of you grew closer, going from childhood friends playing on slides to somewhere between friends and something more, playing songs. Secret handshakes turned to lingering touches, and loud laughs turned to whispered jokes.

You were a bit hesitant to answer. You had been working on some new songs, but they didn’t exactly fit the Löded Diper brand. They were love songs, most, if not all, written with Rodrick in mind. 

“Kind of.” You finally say, picking at a frayed edge of your jeans. Rodrick perked up, always loving your new material.

“Yeah? Show me!”

“It’s not exactly like the stuff we play.” You argue, a bit anxious at the thought of Rodrick hearing what you had been toying with recently. “Besides, it’s not finished.”

Rodrick just shrugged, leaning back in his seat.

“Show me anyway.”

You hated how you could never say no to those eyes. You sighed and finally agreed, fiddling with your guitar while trying to remember the chords.

“No laughing.” You say.

“When do I ever laugh at you, Y/n?”

“All the time.” With that, you started playing. You gave Rodrick a nervous glance before clearing your throat and singing.

“Have you ever had the feeling you’re drawn to someone?

And there isn’t anything they could of said or done?

And everyday I see you on your own

And I can’t believe that you’re alone

But I overheard your friends and this is what they said”

Looking over at Rodrick, you saw him intently listening. Any other time, you’d be prideful of the fact that all his attention was on you. But right now, it made you wanna run. But you stayed planted in your seat and continued with the song.

“That you’re looking for a boyfriend

I see that, gimme time, you know I’m gonna be there

Don’t be scared to come put your trust in me

Can’t you see all I really want to be

Is your boyfriend

Can’t fight that

Knock me down you know I’m coming right back

I don’t care at all what you done before

All I really want is to be your

Boyfriend”

You let the last chord ring out before you set your guitar down and cleared your throat.

“So, yeah…” Rodrick kept staring at you. “That’s… the song.”

Rodrick scooted closer to you, and you lifted your head to face him eye-to-eye.

“Did you write that about me?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. You bit your lip, watching how his hair fell from the movement.

“Depends.” You say, taking a deep breath. “Did you like it?”

Suddenly, Rodrick laughed. It made you stiffen, but you soon relaxed when he put a hand on the back of your neck.

“You’re so corny, dude.” He said before closing the gap between you. 

After the shock washed away, you gripped at his hair and ratty t-shirt, wanting to keep him close. You had come close to kissing Rodrick a few times, mainly while drunk at parties that you shouldn’t have been at or during writing sessions that eventually got interrupted by Rodrick’s younger brother Greg. But those close moments didn’t prepare you for how good the real thing felt.

When you parted, you rested your forehead on Rodrick’s as the two of you caught your breath. You opened your eyes and moved back a bit so you could see him clearly.

“So…” You start, not knowing what to do from here. “Are you looking for a boyfriend?”

“Sure.” Rodrick snorted before kissing you again.

[magicaguajiro]

Caribbean Folk Saints and Mighty Dead: A Precursor

We all have family members who take on an almost Mythic quality after they pass on. They may have been a character in life, or a perhaps a spiritual practitioner. Maybe they were known for their generosity, or lack of it, or their strength or brilliance. Nonetheless, it is someone who, even in death, still makes an impact. In personal practices, we may work with these ancestors for guidance and healing, but what happens when their influence spreads past your family, into the local community or even entire country? This and many other strange circumstances often explain the origin and powers of Folk Saints and Elevated Dead. I will be going into the various Folk Saints and Deified Ancestors of the Caribbean, (including Florida), but before I can do that I need to explain where these spirits come from, and why they are so potent in our everyday lives.

What are Folk Saints and Mighty Dead?

Folk Saints and Mighty Dead are spirits of dead people who were either elevated in life, or became elevated after death. Their elevation often is then connected to their ability to grant various petitions made to them. Some of the Folk Saints I will be talking about were used to disguise other figures who were outlawed by the Colonial government at the time, while others are various figures of marginalized communities who gained sorcerous or otherworldly reputations after death.

Cuba and Florida are Lands of diaspora and syncretism. Many different traditions abound and each tradition has multiple lineages, so the classification of spirits differs depending on the worldview of the person explaining. Some practitioners work within a framework of Catholicism, some use elements and some flat-out reject Catholicism completely for decolonization purposes. For this reason, I have differentiated Folk Saints from the Mighty Dead.

Folk Saints will include those spirits who are worked with in a Catholic context, but are usually not canonized or not at first. On the other hand, the Mighty Dead will include spirits who are venerated amongst Indigenous and African traditions in Cuba as well as the surrounding areas, as to not group them under a title created by Colonizers. If you are Cuban or Caribbean, these Folk Saints and Mighty Dead offer power at a closer degree because they are more proximal to your Spirit Court, and may even already have bonds with them.

It is important to note, spirits like Orisha and Cemí have very specific protocols, manners and taboos when approaching them, so this is best done with the help of a priest, such as Oloricha or Babalawo, or a Taíno Behike. These are not energies you simply feel drawn to and work with. Orisha and Cemi are in some cases Deified Ancestors and others Personified Forces of Nature, among other things. This varies from the Ancestors and Spirits I will be discussing in this series.

Benefits of Working with The Mighty Dead

Folk Saints and Ancestors give us a closer connection to the divine through their proximity to the Divine and their individual virtues and personalities. As with all spirit relationships, you will get out what you put in.

Folk Saints who are related to the Land you live on, such as Uncle Monday or Bessie Graham for us Floridians, can help to deepen your connection with the local community. They can help you to further your relationship with the Earth and introduce you to other Land spirits.

Spirits related to your Ancestry can help to work through generational issues. Some ancestral spirits, like José Martí or Guamá for us Cubans, are related to ideas of War, Rebellion, and overcoming oppression. These spirits can be worked with for the same pursuits of defeating oppressors in the modern day. Each spirit has a story and is multi-faceted, so it really depends on what your connection is to the Spirit and what you are capable of offering them.

How to Work with Deified Dead

Working with these spirits is individual to each spirit, based on what their heritage is, as well as their personal tastes. When starting out, it’s best to keep things simple. Instead of going and creating an entire altar dedicated to a spirit, begin by praying about it at your Bóveda or ancestral altar. Here, you may find that a spirit is not compatible with your current situation, or doesn’t want to work with you ever! Should the omens be good, however, and you may begin establishing a connection to that spirit Research and talking to other devotees can give you great insight into what a relationship with that Spirit can look like.

My formula for reaching out to these spirits is always different, but I follow basic principles. I always begin with a representation of the spirit, a small offering and a candle. The representation can be anything, from a statue to a printed picture or even just their name on some paper. The offering is in most cases water until the spirit makes other wants known to me, but when a spirit doesn’t take water I offer food or tobacco instead. The candle is something I was taught helps to enhance spirit communication, carrying messages between the worlds. It is helpful to research about whoever you are attempting to communicate with, and if possible you should speak to other practitioners who work with the same Spirit. Often times, this is someone-you-know’s father or grandmother. From here, you should sit with whatever entity you are contacting, allowing yourself to experience a personal relationship with them. I will share individual experiences of what each spirit has been like in practice for me, or people I know, but for beginning this is a good basic way to start out.

I look forward to sharing more about these incredible figures who influence my favorite corner of the world to this day.

Paz y Progreso 🕯️

[dichromaticdyke]

SKWISGAAR DOESN'T HAVE A TYPE AND I'M TIRED OF PRETENDING HE DOES

yeah, yeah, he's the guy who loves fat women and gmilfs. but he's not. fandom greatly overblows skwisgaar's "type" in women, and as the CEO of skwisgaar i won't stand for this anymore.

reminder before we get started, i'm not denying that skwisgaar is attracted to fat and elderly women, because he is. instead, this is a response to the way in which fandom acts like those are the only women he's attracted to.

because i have no life, i scrubbed through every episode and kept track of every woman who skwisgaar expresses interest in, whether with sexual comments, sexual encounters, making them his groupies, or giving them children. (no screencaps because i WILL go above tumblr's image limit). i might have missed some, but this is a large enough sample size to prove my point.

01x01 "The Curse of Dethklok": 1 (elderly/fat) 01x09 "Mordland": 1 (elderly/fat) 01x16 "Dethkids": 2 (1 elderly/fat) 01x18 "Girlfriendklok": 2 02x07 "Dethwedding": 2 02x10 "Dethgov": 3 (elderly/fat) 02x13 "Klokblocked": 4 (1 elderly/fat) 02x14 "Dethsources": 2 (elderly/fat) 03x05 "Fatherklok": 48 (8 elderly/fat) 03x06 "Fertilityklok": 54 (6 elderly/fat) 03x10 "Doublebookedklok": 18 (7 elderly/fat) 04x06 "Writersklok": 2 The Doomstar Requiem: 3 (1 elderly/fat)*

TOTALS: 142 young/thin women: 111 (78.17%) elderly/fat women: 31 (21.93%

*note: for DSR, since so many of the visuals are meant to be taken non-literally, i only focused on the ones that seemed to be direct representations of reality or of his genuine feelings. in this case, i focused on the beginning of Partyin' Around the World with the band at mordhaus and his fantasy in How Can I Be a Hero where he dreams about being married.

so. what does this tell us? more often than not, in canon, skwisgaar is depicted as having sex or sexual feelings towards thin women who are closer to his own age. despite this, even in canon, an emphasis is drawn to his attraction to gmilfs and fat women, most notably with him demanding to be put in charge of "dems old ladies" in florida.

i wanna draw attention to this interview, notably at timestamp 2:14

transcript:

Dethklok Minute Host Graham Hartmann: What is it exactly that you love about the-the larger and more elderly ladies? Skwisgaar: I thinks beautiful womens—what peoples calls "beautifuls womens"—amn'ts, uh...gets uglies after a whiles, you gets sicks of them, like eatings the same meals everydays, and you starts to turns to more exotics things that ams nots on the mains menus. So, uh, that would explains that. [underlines added for emphasis]

he doesn't have a type for fat or elderly women. he just can get any woman he wants whenever he wants, and since he does see beauty in all women, he wants to appreciate all women lest he get tired of them.

so, why is there such this hyperfixation on the elderly and fat women as objects of skwisgaar's attraction? as evidenced by both canon and his own words, he doesn't have a preference for them, he simply enjoys them as he would any other woman.

i'm gonna put it bluntly, this is where my silly skwisgaar analysis goes into actual feminist critique: it's because people still find it unusual at best or fetishistic at worst to be genuinely attracted to older and/or fat women. that's the whole thing. everyone—from fandom to interviewers to even the show (by making his attraction to older and fat women an inherent joke aspect of his character)—focusing on this aspect of his attraction does so because, on some level, they cannot fathom a young(ish, depending on what age you headcanon him to be), thin, conventionally attractive man being attracted to women who don't fit that mold.

and, in some ways, there is some reality to this—women's beauty is still held up to an insanely high standard, and generally it's more accepted for average-looking men to have attractive female partners than for average-looking women to have attractive male partners. societal standards for women's beauty and expectations for what men should find attractive is what this joke hinges on, and honestly? it's really frustrating to see this reiterated so often in the fandom. because skwisgaar never really acts particularly fetishistic towards any of the women he's attracted to. you could argue the "exotic" comment was, but he was still talking in terms of his food metaphor, and he's not exactly the best at expressing himself in english.

he loves all women. he genuinely does, his attraction to them has no size, race, or age—any consenting adult woman is game. i don't know about you, but it's fucking refreshing to see any kind of character like that. lesbian skwisgaar rights who said that

[pricetagofficial]

Day 25: Christmas

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

Warnings: Language, fluff and Jason is a slight menace here

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! If you don't celebrate Christmas, Happy Holidays and if you don't celebrate anything, Happy Wednesday! I hope you all have a great day! Here we are on the final day of this challenge, and I can't thank you all enough for supporting me this last month. Maybe I will do another in the future? Header by me, and divider by @cafekitsune

Masterlist

It had finally arrived, it was Christmas Day.

You and Dick had stayed over at Wayne Manor the previous night because he really wanted to spend the holiday with his family. It was a rare sight to have everyone under the same roof, including some other friends.

Of course, you had the normal residents like Damian, Cass and Bruce, plus Jason and Tim and Duke who frequently dropped by. However, there was also the extended family, like Stephanie, Barbara, and even Selina.

The day was going to be special, you just knew it.

Everyone was old enough to not believe in Santa, but everyone still made stockings for each other as part of their gift exchange.

Every year, everyone's names would be thrown into a hat and then drawn. Whoever you drew, would be the person you got a special gift for, and help stuff their stocking,

This year, you were lucky enough to get Dick.

The man may be a certified genius and world class detective, but he was still dumb as hell.

In fact, you did quite a bit of his Christmas shopping in front of his face and he was none the wiser.

Wrapping yourself in your robe, you and Dick slowly made your way down to the kitchen for the first cup of Christmas coffee. Alfred already had pastries, and other sweet treats galore ready to be eaten.

Wrapping an arm around you, Dick pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

"Merry Christmas, Dickie." you smiled, pecking his lips.

"You have to do that here? I think I'm gonna hurl."

Dick looked up to see Jason, fake gagging into his coffee with a donut in his other hand.

"I will kill you," Dick paused. "Again,"

Jason laughed as he took a bite of his donut. "Many a goon have tried wonder pants, and many a goon have failed."

Dick just glared. "None of them are me, so shut up."

That's when Duke showed up and pushed Jason out of the room before he was murdered again. "You'll thank me for this later,"

You rolled your eyes and grabbed a plate, and filled it before joining Dick on the couch by the tree and the fireplace.

Everyone was gathered, idle chatter filling the room as Bruce came in with Selina at his side.

"Merry Christmas, everyone." he smiled, taking his seat as Selina sat on the arm of the chair.

Gifts were passed around, stockings were dumped, and paper was ripped open. Exclamations of excitement were all around as everyone was in awe at their gifts from each other.

Getting up, you grabbed Dick's stocking and his present from you. Looking to your right, you saw he grabbed your stocking and a small box as well.

What were the odds that you got each other?

Sitting back together on the couch, you handed Dick his stuff and watched with a smile as he opened it. You had gotten him new hair care stuff, a personalized watch to go on his wrist and even a cheap Nightwing mug for him to take to work everyday, at the police station.

Dick chuckled as he went through is stuff, before getting to your bag that you had wrapped for him.

Gently he pulled out the paper, and saw that it was a framed poster from a long time ago.

You had found one of the last Haly's Circus posters that featured himself along with his parents, and framed it.

If you didn't know Dick so well, you would've missed the slight tear he expertly blinked away. Instead he surged forward and pulled you into a tight embrace.

"You are amazing, how the hell did you find this?"

Scooting closer, you looked at the poster with him.

"Read the bottom,"

Dick looked a little confused until he looked.

It's been a while kid, I'm glad to hear you're doing great. When your girl came to me asking if I had anything, I knew just what to give you. This is the last one I owned, keeping it safe for a moment like this. She's real special, Dick. Don't do anything stupid, you hear?

Love your old friend, Haly

Dick turned to you in astonishment. "You found Haly and his circus?"

"You talk about him all the time, so I wanted to get you something really special. He just so happened to be in Midwest City last month, so Wally and Barry helped me get down there so I could meet him," you explained.

"Haly really is a great guy, I can see why you loved his circus so much."

Dick hugged you tightly, not letting go.

"This is the best present I have ever gotten, thank you, baby."

Beaming up at him, you smiled. "Your welcome, Dick."

Rubbing the back of his head, Dick handed you your stocking and present. "Now I feel kind of lame, with what I got you."

Taking his hand, you smiled. "Nothing from you is ever lame, Grayson."

Dick smiled, holding you close as you emptied your stocking. It had new bath stuff, complete with a bath bomb, soap, body spray, and a candle all in your favorite scent.

Getting to the bottom, you pulled out a pair of fuzzy socks that had the Nightwing logo across it.

Letting out a laugh, you leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Now, I will always have you with me,"

Dick smiled, watching as you opened the little box.

Inside was a custom designed necklace and earrings. They had a beautiful gem on them, in his signature blue.

"Oh, Dick. This is gorgeous," you exclaimed taking it out. "I love it!"

Dick took the necklace as you turned, to help you put it on.

"It's amazing."

"An amazing gift, for an amazing girl."

You leaned up and kissed him softly.

"Merry Christmas, Dick."

Merry Christmas, my love."