#I think I know like two people who remain the same person on a daily basis

[atangeledskein]

Ever since I watched Tennelle Flower's video analyzing Chikai and Don't Think Twice a few months ago, my mind felt like an egg that had been cracked open, leaking yolk all over my writing and my daily life. I'd heard these two songs through my Utada rotation on Spotify over the years, thought they were pretty, never thought to look up the Japanese lyrics, etc. I think even if I had, without the context of being songs written specifically for Kingdom Hearts, I would have remained blissfully ignorant, never knowing just how much they could inflame the torch I carried for SoRiku in my heart.

Link to the video, for reference -

All my thoughts after watching this video were stuck between two, major and immoveable truths -- one, that I 100% agreed that Chikai was from Riku's point of view (on top of the perfect lyrics, it played first the first time during his reveal trailer, after all), and two, that as much as I wanted to agree with Tennelle, I couldn't think of Don't Think Twice being from Sora's pov with the same conviction. I thought it could make a neat inspiration for fanfic, being so full of longing and portraying an unfulfilled connection between two people. It clearly expresses a desire for closeness, a gratitude for being a part of this other person's life. But underlying all of it is a bittersweet frustration that their feelings aren't being returned, that even after making promises to change they are practically begging for any hint of affection from the other person. It made no sense to have two people, mutually declaring their love and a desire to stay together, being framed in one of the songs as having unrequited feelings.

So I sat on it, listened to it, sang it, watched more videos, and finally came to a different realization. Don't Think Twice is from Kairi's point of view.

And all the puzzle pieces fell nicely into place.

How did I live in a kingdom of thieves And people who say things they don't really mean - Kairi's early life in Radiant Garden

You're only everything I ever dreamed Ever dreamed of - Kairi's desire for Sora in her life, his steadfast companionship, is a balm to her lonely soul

I want you for a lifetime So if you're gonna think twice, baby I don't wanna know - Sora's initial rejection and hesitance over sharing a paopu fruit with her; she doesn't want to know the real reason, or how he feels, she just needs him to take it and give her peace of mind

If you want to take it to an even higher level All you gotta do is say the word, you know I'll follow - She's still waiting, hopeful for some word of affection, some sign that Sora is willing to give her a chance and take the next step in their friendship If you want to make it happen, nothing's impossible All you gotta do is say the word, the walls will crumble If you want to make it happen, nothing's impossible - Kairi's unrequited longing is so clear here, how desperate she is for a chance to be what Sora wants, even though he is still giving her no sign that it's going to happen.

This block of lyrics is really where I started to doubt that this song was from Sora's point of view. The line "nothing's impossible" and all the sentiment around it feels really naive, like a schoolgirl with her first unrequited crush. A relationship of mutual affection isn't built on breaking the laws of reality, on forcing something that's impossible to become real. This struck me too heavily with a feeling of, "I'll change, I'll be anything you want, just say the word and I'll be everything you need, I promise." But why should there be a need to change in the first place, unless they know deep down that their feelings aren't returned?

I won't go deeply into Chikai's lyrics, since I think it's a given that it's from Riku's perspective. But I do want to point out the contrast between the two songs and how difficult it is to think that they're being offered as the sentiment of two people that have the same feelings for each other. Chikai is all about the awe and wonder of discovering that their secret feelings are actually mutual, that their self-perception of unworthiness hasn't chased away the other person or gotten them rejected. And from that point onwards it's nothing but pure conviction, an outpouring of their deepest feelings, and a declaration to keep their lover close for the rest of their lives. It's a vow of everlasting love.

And who has always been at the center of the love triangle between the Destiny Islands trio? Sora, of course.

So it makes sense to me that both of these songs are being sung TO Sora. One, wishing for more but knowing deep down that their romantic feelings are unrequited. The other, expressing their disbelief that they were chosen, and then charging full-speed ahead without hesitation (I love you too, I want you in my arms forever, let's get married).

And there's my analysis. SoRiku is endgame.

[As an aside, I have to thank the existence of MDZS for even more firmly cementing Chikai being from Riku's pov. I think I would have fallen into that uncertainty that our fandom is often plagued with otherwise, because SoRiku is built on context clues rather than explicit narrative, and we deal with a fan-majority that is indifferent to or outright hates any mention of homosexuality in the game. But if I had been presented Chikai without knowing it was from KH, and been asked to think of a character it could have been written for, I would immediately pin it on Lan Wangji and his feelings for Wei Wuxian. The instant change from, "Wait... you feel the same as me?" to "I love you too, I will promise you forever, let's go get hitched," is too on-the-nose to ignore. I wonder if Utada is a secret MXTX fan...]

[delicate---bones]

it’s so funny how some people make you feel genuinely insane and half the time I don’t even think they know they’re doing it

[wilwheaton]

When you watch The Curse, you are watching two children who were abused and exploited daily during production. No adults protected us.

This was originally published on my blog in August, 2022.

I had a wonderful time at Steel City Comicon this weekend. It was my first time at this particular con, so I didn’t know there was such a huge contingent of horror fans, creators, and vendors who attend.

I love horror, and I was pretty psyched to be in the same place as John Carpenter and Tom Savini, across the street from the Dawn of the Dead mall. Pittsburgh feels like one of the places horror was invented, at least to me.

A number of these horror fans came to see me, and asked me to sign posters and other things from a movie my parents forced me to do when I was 13, called The Curse. I had to tell each of these people that I would not sign anything associated with that movie, because I was abused and exploited during production. The time I spent on that film remains the most traumatizing time of my life, and though I am a 50 year-old man, just typing this now makes my hands shake with remembered fear of a 13 year-old boy who nobody protected, and the absolute fury the 50 year-old man feels toward the people who hurt him.

I told this story in Still Just A Geek, and I’ve talked about it in some podcasts I did on the promo tour, but I’ve never put it out in public like this, in its entirety.

I suspect someone at the publisher would prefer I tease this and hope it drives book sales from people who want to read all of it, but I honestly don’t want to have another weekend like this one where everything is awesome, except the few times people who have no idea (and why should they) put that fucking poster in front of me, and all the fear, abandonment, and trauma come flooding back as I tell them that I won’t sign it, and why.

To their credit, each person was as horrified as they should have been, told me they had no idea (if they didn’t read my book why would they), and quickly put the poster away. They were all understanding. I am grateful for that.

But I really don’t need to tell this story over and over again, so here it is, with a child abuse and exploitation content warning, so I can just tell people to Google it.

After Stand by Me, everything changed. The attention from entertainment journalists, casting directors, and especially teen magazines came pouring in. The movie was a generational hit, beloved by critics and audiences alike, and every single one of us could pick anything to do next.

River’s parents and his agent got him Mosquito Coast, with Harrison Ford, as his next movie. I also auditioned for the role, but I knew even then that River was going to book the job. He was perfect, and I’d have to wait a little bit for my opportunity to come along.

I went on a lot of theatrical auditions after Stand by Me. I had tons of meetings with directors and the heads of casting at every major studio. It was all a very big deal, and I felt like we were all looking for something really special and amazing as my follow-up to Stand by Me.

At some point, a couple of producers contacted my agent with an offer to play one of the leads in an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space.” The script was titled The Farm. (It would, of course, be changed when the film was released).

I read it. I did not like it. It was a shitty horror movie, and I saw that right away. It was the sort of thing you rented on Friday when the new release you wanted was already out of the store.

My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

I told my parents I didn’t like it and didn’t want to do it. I clearly recall thinking it was a piece of shit that would hurt my career.

It wasn’t the first thing that had come our way that I wanted to pass on, and every other time, it hadn’t been a very big deal.

Sidebar: I was cast in Twilight Zone: The Movie, in 1983. The film tells four stories, and I was cast as the kid who can wish people into cartoonland. It was a GREAT role, in a movie I still love. (Note that Twilight Zone had four directors. One of them got three people killed. The segment I was cast in was not that one. I mention this because too many people zero in on this to deflect from what this whole thing is actually about.)

But I was CONVINCED by my parochial school teacher that if I worked on The Twilight Zone, which she had determined was satanic, I would go to hell. (This woman and her bullshit played a big role in my conversion to atheism at a young age, but when she told me that, I was all-in on the supernatural story they taught us in religion class.) I was so scared, more scared than I’d ever been to that point in my life, I cried and wailed and begged my parents to not make me do the movie. And I never told them why, because I was afraid my dad would laugh at me for being weak and afraid. My agent tried to talk me into it, and I wouldn’t budge. It’s the only thing I deeply and truly regret passing on, and I really hate I made that choice for such a stupid reason.

Okay. Back to The Curse.

This time, when I told them how much I hated it, they wouldn’t listen to me. My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

That is, until they made me take a meeting with the producers of the movie, in their giant conference room on the top floor of a tall building in Hollywood. All I remember about this place was that it was huge; the table was way too big for the five of us who spread around it, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows on three of the walls, but the room was still dark. There was a weird optical illusion in the center of the table, this thing they sold in the Sharper Image catalog, made from two reflective dishes with a hole in the top of one. You placed an object in the bottom of the bottom dish, and it made it look like that object was floating above the whole thing. They had a plastic spider in it. What a strange detail for me to remember, but it’s as clear in my memory as if I were sitting in that room right now.

One man, who I presumed was the executive producer, was European or Middle Eastern (I didn’t know the difference then, he was just Not Like People I Knew), and I was instantly afraid of him. He was intimidating, and seemed like a person who got what he wanted.

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

I don’t remember what they said to me in their pitch or anything other than how uncomfortable and anxious I was to even be in that room. I tried so hard to be grown up and mature, but I — and my parents — was way out of my depth. I’d done one big movie and that was it. We didn’t have my agent with us, who had lots of experience and would have known what questions to ask.

No, in place of my experienced agent, my mother had decided she was going to be my manager, and she tackled the responsibility with an enthusiasm that was only matched by her absolute incompetence and inability to go toe-to-toe with producers the way my agent did. She was outwitted, out-thought, and outmaneuvered at every turn.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

At some point, this man, who is represented in my memory by big Jim Jones sunglasses under dark hair above an open collar, said, “We are offering you a hundred thousand dollars and round-trip travel for your whole family. We will cast your sister, Amy, to play your sister in the movie.”

It all made sense, now. I was only thirteen, but I knew my parents were pushing me so hard because this company was offering me — them, really — more money than I’d ever imagined I’d earn in my life, much less a single job.

I knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, was to say no. There would be other opportunities, and it was stupid to cash myself out of feature films for what I thought was, in the grand scheme of things, not very much money.

It’s incredible to me that I knew all of this. It’s incredible to me that I could see all these things, plainly and clearly, and my parents couldn’t (or, more likely, chose not to).

So after this man made his offer, all the adults in the room ganged up on me, selling me HARD on this movie.

My mother said, “Don’t you want your sister to have the same opportunities you’ve had? Wouldn’t it be fun and exciting to go to Rome? Think of all the history!”

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

I don’t think about this very often, because it’s super upsetting to me. Right now, I’m so angry at my parents for subjecting me and my sister to this entire experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In that moment, I felt bullied and trapped. All these adults were talking to me at the same time, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to go home and get out of this room. I just wanted to go be a kid, so I did what I’d learned to do to survive: I gave in and did what my parents wanted.

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

But here���s the thing: when you watch The Curse, you are watching two children, me and my sister, who were abused on a daily basis. The production did not follow a single labor law. They worked us for twelve hours a day, on multiple film units (while I work on First unit, second unit sets up and waits for me. When I should get a break to rest, they send me to Second unit, then to Third unit, then back to First unit. I was 13.) without any breaks, five days a week. I was exhausted the entire time. I was inappropriately touched by two different adults during production. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared and ashamed, and I felt so unsupported, I didn’t tell anyone. I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother would blame me. Anything to keep the production happy, that’s what she did. That was more important to her than the health and safety of her children. The director was coked out of his mind most of the time, incompetent, and so busy fucking or trying to fuck one of the women in the cast, he was worse than useless. He was a fading actor who was cosplaying as a director, as in over his head as my mother. My sister and I were never safe. Instead of harmless atmospheric SFX smoke, they set hay on fire in barrels and blew actual smoke onto the set. They took buckets of talc, broken wood, bits of wallpaper and plaster, and threw it into my face during a scene inside the collapsing house. My sister is in a scene where she goes to get eggs from some chickens, and they attack her. So they hired Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror master, to direct her sequence. His idea, which everyone was totally on board with, was to throw chickens at my sister. Live chickens, live roosters, live birds. Just throw them at a nine-year-old girl. Oh, and then tie them to her arms and legs so they’ll peck her. All of this happened under my mother’s observation, and with her full participation.

Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

If just ONE of the things I can remember happened to someone I loved, I would have grabbed my kids, gone to the airport, and flown home. Fuck those abusive assholes in the production. Let the lawyers sort it all out. Nobody hurts my children and gets away with it.

My mom says she “had some talks” with the producers. She claims that, once, she wouldn’t let us leave the hotel. (God, what a fucking dump that place was. It was just slightly better than a hostel.) I have no memory of that, but honestly the entire experience was so traumatic, I’ve blocked most of it out.

The movie was the commercial and critical failure I knew it would be. My parents spent the money. I don’t know what they spent it on. I got to keep fifteen cents of every dollar, so . . . yay?

My sister and I hardly ever talk about this. I suspect it was as upsetting and traumatic for her as it was for me. I told her I was writing about it, and asked her if she remembered anything. She told me she’d been lied to her whole life about this movie. Our mother let her believe she had been cast on the strength of her audition. “I was excited to work with you,” she said. She reminded me about some stuff I’d blocked out, including a scene where my character’s older brother (played by an actor named Malcolm Danare, who was kind and gentle, and made both of us feel safer when he was around) shoves my character into a pile of cow shit. When it came time to shoot the scene, the mud they’d put together to be the cow shit looked an awful lot like cow shit. When Malcolm pushed me into it, we all found out it was real cow shit. I was FURIOUS. The director had lied to me and had allowed me to have my entire body shoved into an actual pile of actual cow shit. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember he treated me the exact same way my father did whenever I got upset: he laughed at me, told me I was being too sensitive, reminded me that he was the director and he wanted to get a “real” performance out of me, and concluded, “If it bothers you so much, we’ll get you a hepatitis shot,” before he walked away.

My sister also recalled that, after she survived the scene with the chickens, it was the producers’ idea to give her one as a pet.

Okay, let’s unpack that for a quick second: you’ve been traumatized by these birds, so we’re going to give you one as a pet. That you’ll somehow keep in your hotel, and then will somehow get back to America. It will shock you to learn that neither of those things happened.

She remembered, as I do, the huge fight I had with my parents in our kitchen, where I told them I hated the script and I hated the movie. I didn’t want to do it, and I hated that they were making me do it.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

“This is the only film you are being offered,” my mother lied to me. She made me feel like, if I didn’t do this movie, I would never do another movie again in my life. I had to do this movie. As my father bellowed, I had no choice.

Both of my parents denied this argument ever happened. Can I tell you how reassuring it is to know that my sister, who was also there, remembers it the same way I do?

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them.

But one thing she told me, the thing I did not know, the thing that makes me so angry I want to break things, actually managed to make the entire experience even worse than I remembered it.

There’s a scene after her chicken incident where I check up on her in her bedroom. She’s got cuts and bruises, and I guess we talk about it. I don’t remember and I can’t watch the movie because I’m terrified it will give me a PTSD flashback (I’ve had one of those and I recommend avoiding it). Here’s the thing about that scene: she has some cuts on her face, and those cuts are real. They are not makeup.

I’m going to repeat that. My nine-year-old little sister had actual cuts on her face that were placed there by an adult, on purpose.

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them. My sister told me our mother wasn’t in the makeup room when this happened — honestly, it seemed like our mother was strangely and conveniently absent when most of the really terrible things happened to us on the set — and when my sister told her what they’d done, she “lost her shit” at the production. She was pissed, I guess, which is appropriate and surprising. I wonder what would have to have happened for her to put us on a plane and get us home to safety? I mean, her son being abused daily didn’t do it, and her daughter being CUT IN THE FACE ON PURPOSE didn’t do it.

I just . . . I can’t. I can’t understand or comprehend allowing your own children to be physically and emotionally abused. They were literally selling my sister and me to these people, like we were some kind of commodity.

This was a tough conversation. My sister’s experience with our parents is very different from mine. My sister and I love each other. We’re close. I know it’s hard for her to hear that her brother, who she loves, was so abused by her parents, who she also loves. I was really grateful she made the time to talk to me about it, and grateful the experience wasn’t as horrible for her as it was for me.

As we were finishing our call, Amy also remembered one man, a young Italian named Luka, who was our driver for the movie. I haven’t thought about him in thirty years, but I can see his face now. He was kind, he was friendly, he taught us how to kick a soccer ball, and in the middle of an abusive, torturous experience, he stood out as a kind and gentle man. I mention him because she remembered him, which made me remember him, and goddammit I want at least one small part of this thing to not be awful.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares.

Ultimately, as I predicted and feared, this piece of shit movie cashed me out of respectable films forever. I got offers for movies, but they were always mindless comedies or exploitative horror films. They were never the serious dramas I wanted to work in after Stand by Me. The industry looked at me and River, wondering if one or both of us would become a breakout star. They quickly saw that River was doing real acting work, and I was in this piece of shit. For River, Stand by Me was a beginning. For me, it would turn out to be pretty much everything, at least as far as film goes.

There are thousands of reasons film careers do and don’t take off. Maybe mine wouldn’t have taken off anyway. Clearly, it’s not where my life ended up, and I’m super okay with that now. But when all of this happened, it hurt and haunted me.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares. Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

This annotation is the last thing I wrote before I turned this manuscript in, because opening these wounds is hard and painful. I put it off as long as I could, and I feel like I’m still holding back, because just this small glimpse of the experience has taken me a week to write. I can’t imagine trying to go back and unpack the whole thing. (Note that is not in the book: I’ve made an EMDR appointment to work on this because the nightmares have come back after the weekend).

Fuck The Curse, and fuck every single person who exploited and hurt two beautiful children to make it. You all participated in child abuse, and you all knew better. Shame on all of you. I hope this follows you to the end of your life. I hope that living with what you did to innocent children has been as hard for you as it has been for me, because you deserve no less.

[gossippool]

every day i wake up and think about the fact that wade was special forces. and no there is not going to be any singular coherent point to this post this is just every thought and headcanon i have ever had about it

but like he will never not be a soldier in every single way. there are things he's learned that he's had to do like how to shoot and clean guns and how to survive torture and how to stake out a place and address medical emergencies, but there are also the other things like focus and discipline and communication, right. and this absolutely has an effect on many things that he does

in the case of an emergency, he can lock in and focus on the task he needs to do no matter what. wade as a person is very in touch with his emotions, but he can switch that off when necessary. we saw this when he was protecting vanessa in deadpool 2, and that was before vanessa was even physically injured—if he has to deal with a severe injury of a loved one, his special forces training would override any personal emotions he feels. and wade is intrinsically selfless, but his training has definitely helped hone that mindset: leaving no man behind, service before self. he was literally trained to put his life on the line for others and this is a theme we have seen in every single movie. doing the experiment for vanessa over actually caring about his own life, literally dying for russell, sacrificing himself so logan can live.

and even in daily life he is very attuned to his surroundings and body language. he knows how to carry himself, can change the tone of a conversation through the subtlest shift in body language. if he's angry or displeased, his tone could remain as lighthearted or nonchalant as before, but the air will shift ever so slightly to let you know that he's serious. and that is Scary. he can be so intimidating when he wants to be

also ! his identity as a soldier itself was protection for him. this is more symbolic than anything but Look at this:

this is by no means the special forces uniform or even a military uniform in general but this outfit choice was definitely meant to mimic it (vanessa is also wearing the same army green). it's literally armor for him in preparation for receiving bad news. like a soldier going to war

all this to say that he is an incredibly capable man and a soldier at his core and did not need protecting even before he became deadpool. not only that, but he is often the most qualified and skilled person around, which necessitates him doing the protecting most of the time. but just because he doesn't need protecting, it does not mean he doesn't need protecting on a mental and emotional-connection level. this is why logan is so good for him, because he's one of the only people in the world who understands this and can actually do something about it and will take a bullet or two for wade just because he can

[suplicyy]

look at me hq oneshot iS SO GOOD AKFHSKJDBFJW TSUKKI PART GOT ME SQUEALING LIKE AGRBGRGRHR WJ

can u write for osamu and kita? thank you!!

Look At Me!! (≧□≦)

Haikyuu boys x Artist!Reader

[part 1] – [part 2]

— Summary: You're from the art club, and for a project involving the volleyball club, you need to draw someone on the team, but that someone isn't him, and he definitely doesn't like it.

— Characters: Kita, Osamu.

— Warning/Notes: Jealous crush, misunderstanding.

— Fluff

— Gn!Reader

You are part of your school's art club, and since the president of your club has several connections around the school as he was the former president of the student council , they agreed to a collaboration between the two clubs with the aim of making a special project.

Each member of the art club would be tasked with drawing a picture of a volleyball team player, and at the end, the drawings would be displayed throughout the school; One of the main objectives of doing this was that this project could attract more people to want to participate in the clubs involved.

And to avoid conflicts between several people wanting to draw the same person, the president of your club decided that he would choose who each person would draw.

But this unfortunately meant that you were unable to make an art of the one that remained in your thoughts for a while. That's right, your crush was part of the volleyball club, but you never had the courage to reveal your feelings to him, because you thought he wouldn't feel the same way about you. But little do you know that he would be bothered by the fact that you "chose" to draw someone other than him... (he doesn't know that you actually wanted to do the project with him)

Shinsuke Kita

Even though the project was ongoing now, it did not stop him from continuing his peaceful routine, which is considered his "sacred ritual". But something seemed to be taking away his concentration at the moment, and that something was you and Aran doing the project together.

He really didn't understand why when he saw you together, he stared at you more than usual. He really doesn't understand this unpleasant feeling that is growing inside him. That certainly wasn't good.

No matter what he tried to do, Kita couldn't get the image of you laughing with Aran out of his mind; most of the time he didn't understand the jokes his team told him, but what would his friend have told you for you to give him such a bright smile?

He really wanted your smile to be directed at him.

Kita tried to be discreet about it, but his intense stares directed at you already gave everything away. And everyone on the team realized this, of course, but it was only the twins who had the courage to confront him about it.

"Hey Shinsuke, you’re starin' too much…why don't ya go talk to them?” says Atsumu, giving his signature smile. "Why are ya speakin' as if ya are an expert on this?" Osamu says to his brother, laughing in his face. "Gimme a break Samu!"

As the twins begin their daily argument, Kita thinks about Atsumu's words. There's no harm in him trying to talk to you, right? And with that thought, he walks towards you, who is alone now since Aran needed to go to the bathroom.

When you see him, you wave to the boy, giving him a smile that makes his heart flutter slightly. "Hi Kita! I'm sorry I didn't talk to you sooner, I was talking to Aran about the project!" "Ya don't need to worry about that." he says in a polite manner, then directing his gaze to the court, watching his teammates doing the project and training.

You stand side by side in an awkward silence, not knowing what to say to each other, but the silence soon dissipates as you begin to speak. "You know... it's really cool to draw Aran, but I think it would be even cooler to draw you." with those words, Kita looks at you with a surprised expression, but soon composes himself.

"The seriousness you radiate is always fun to see, you really were made to be the captain of your team." you look at him and gives him a smile, which makes the boy blush slightly. He soon gives a small smile too, and looks at the ground, feeling a little shy all of a sudden.

"I say the same. You're certainly a great artist, if it were me, I'd be flattered for being drawn by ya."

You laugh lightly at his words, feeling embarrassed by the compliment Kita returned to you. Everyone noticed the light flirtations you directed at each other, thinking about how you two were made for each other.

Osamu Miya

One thing that people close to Osamu notice is that when he gets stressed about something, it seems like his hunger becomes greater than normal. But now it looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks.

And as if it wasn't enough that you chose his idiot brother over him, Atsumu wasted no time in sending him a face, with the purpose of irritating him even more. Why did you choose that fool over him anyway?

Did you even know that Atsumu often picks boogers out of his nose and wipes his finger under the table when no one is looking? If you knew that, he's sure you wouldn't waste any time choosing the best twin (which is definitely Osamu).

'Oh but that's not even the worst thing he does, if you knew everything...' Osamu thinks looking at the two of you, while he eat a pack of potato chips from a completely unknown brand that was on sale.

"Osamu, ya can't eat this here, Kita will come and teach ya a moral lesson sayin' that 'this isn't healthy at all'." says Suna approaching his friend, while engrossed in his cell phone.

Too busy cursing his brother in his thoughts, Osamu doesn't respond to the boy who now sits next to him, furrowing his eyebrows in disgust to the fake blonde who is purposely talking too close to you.

"I'm goin' to go over there and kick this shameless guy in the face." Osamu grumbles as he eat the chips, looking away from you. "I don't think ya'll need to go there." Suna lightly pokes his shoulder, and then pointing at Atsumu, who is walking towards the two of them, holding a... bento box?

"What are ya doin' here? Aren't ya supposed to be doin' the project?" "[Name] had to go back to their club room to get some paintin' supplies." After Atsumu speaks, a strange atmosphere remains in the air, clearly showing Osamu's irritation with his brother at the moment.

"Hey, don't look at me like that, it's not like they's excited to do the project with me anyway." With those words, Osamu turns to face his twin, with an expression of doubt on his face. "What do ya mean by that?"

"Well...It may or may not be that they did this for you two thinkin' that they would participate in the project with ya, but it seems that the universe had other plans." Atsumu says as he hands the bento box to his brother, who instantly opens it to see what's inside.

Onigiris.

Made with all the love in the world by you, they were organized in rows, and it was possible to see that each one of them was made with exceptional care. In the same second, Osamu blushed to think that you did they thinking about him.

Maybe he will now take back all the insults he directed at his brother.

— A/N: I'M FINALLY ON VACATION🙌🙌🙌🙌

It will last about 3 weeks, so I will have plenty of time to write things here, and that means I can respond to all your requests and take less time to post!! I'm really relieved that I'm not burdened with so much schoolwork, this break will be really good for me.😢

[sgiandubh]

This is a thank you, not an ask. I guess I would be classified as a lurker in the Tumbler world since I primarily only read what others write.  But I did make a comment to you once and you responded so you made me feel comfortable enough that I could send this to you.  Shippers have unknowingly been helping me stay sane these past few years.  My husband has Alzheimer’s with Aphasia and I have been his sole caretaker for a long time.  Having this responsibility is not for the faint of heart. One day in early 2019 I stumbled across Outlander and like a lot of others, was in, hook, line and sinker and Jamie & Claire and Sam & Cait became part of my daily life.  Last week I had to place my husband in a memory care facility.  It was an agonizing decision and I prayed for a sign that this was the right move.  As stupid as this may sound, I think my prayer was answered.  On the second day he made a friend.  His name is Jamie.  Only in the Outlander world would this have any meaning, but we've now got a sweet Jamie in our lives.  You may officially call me crazy.  Thank you to you and all the other shippers for all the smiles and happiness you've brought to me and many others. It kept me going.

Dear @jovialchaoslover,

By all means, do not thank me, even if I felt incredibly moved and honored by your submission, on behalf of the entire OL Shipper community. In fact, I should thank you, because for all those name calling and finger pointing Anons, you get to read something as genuine, moving and personal. These moments are rare and precious (and should remain so). They make you feel useful, in a very unexpected way.

You are one of those daily life unsung heroes and I want you to know that you are probably way stronger than you would ever think. I can only imagine the kind of experience you are now going through, even if I am (like many daughters, all around the world) only too aware of the cruelty with which old age sometimes disfigures beloved family members. I have only a remote idea of my own grandmother's quick descent into dementia and death, but I do have a very direct experience of the grueling toll it took on our family. Especially on my own mother, who let everything go and cared for her until the very last moment.

With the proper care solution in place, you will find yourself with a lot of time on your hands. A spare time you perhaps forgot existed. Please (I urge you) use it wisely and never forget this is all about you. You more than deserve it and the moment is now. I may know a thing or two about emptiness and void. They are incredibly enticing and treacherous. Please try and do something for you every single day. It does not matter if it is important or completely futile: it is about YOU and changing the angle will change everything. Remember the wonderful woman I am sure you are and try to reconnect with her. I can promise you she is not very far and I bet she misses you, too.

Last but not least, let me tell you that I will never call you crazy for having shared that Jamie story with us. I think it was very brave of you and I can confidently tell you it even has a name. What you experienced is called synchronicity and it is part of the tiny and personal magic of daily life. People as serious as Carl Gustav Jung dedicated their life to try and make some sense of this. And it all started with one of his patients (he was a shrink) describing a very vivid, recurrent dream of hers, that featured a scarab beetle. At the very same time, they both saw a scarab beetle (uncharacteristically) tapping on the window. The woman was not instantly cured (psychoanalysis does not exactly work like this), but it helped both of them overcome a very frustrating communication barrier.

That Jamie story is a real synchronicity, too, because it is meaningful for you and nobody else. It happened for a reason you are the only one to understand, in time. I could talk about it for hours and link it (as Jung did) with my beloved I Ching or with a couple of dead(ly) serious German philosophers, for some extra gravitas. But I am not going to over-complicate things. You got this. You are strong and brave and believe it or not, I am sure you are also loved by many.

I also think Caitriona Mary Balfe and Sam Roland Heughan should read your ask, finally understand their magic brought solace to many, many people around the world and get their damn act together for Season 8. But that is a different story altogether.

For the rest, if you want, we will be here for you. Me and probably other kind people on this side of the fence. Anytime you want, here or in DM. It may not be much, but it is something.

PS: that may or may not have brought a #silly tear, you know.

[edenfenixblogs]

Reminder! But be aware that many Jews use the term Zionist/Zionism in a way that you do not understand it/are not familiar with! Many Jewish people who you would define as Zionists and/or people who have all the same politics as you may:

1. Call themselves Zionists because it is a term with deeply individual meanings for many Jews

2. Not call themselves Zionists, but bristle at hearing the term “Zionist” be used as a pejorative because the history of the word Zionist being used as an antisemitic dogwhistle in leftism, communist Russia, and Arab extremist organizations (and because I am Jewish and on the internet I will state explicitly that no, of course I do not think all Arabs are extremists. I do not think all Muslims are extremists. I do not tolerate Islamophobia in any way on my blog or in real life. If I see a single even somewhat questionable instance of maybe Islamophobia in any replies here, you will be blocked and reported. I am taking the time to educate about Zionism as a dogwhistle, because I have chosen to tolerate a certain amount of feedback as a Jewish person. I am neither Arab nor Muslim so it is not my place to extend an olive branch of understanding regarding Islamophobia to you nor do I have any interest in doing so. I wholeheartedly condemn anti-Arab and Islamophobic hatred. As we all should)

3. Actively call themselves anti-Zionists because they define the term Zionism in a way that includes occupation, genocide, and expulsion

4. Actively call themselves anti-Zionists but still believe that Jewish people as an ethnoreligous group are inherently indigenous to the lands around Jerusalem while ALSO considering Palestinians to be indigenous to that same land.

5. Actively call themselves anti-Zionists because they oppose the formation of any religious state whatsoever, but still believe that Jews deserve to reside where they are right now without forced expulsion.

For non-Jewish people using the term anti-Zionism, I urge you to really think about what Zionism actually means to you as a term. Like what do you think that word is? What kind of person do you think a Zionist is? What assumptions are you making in the use of that term and is it fair to expect every Jewish person to agree with that definition and why do you feel that way?

And before anyone comments on me or makes assumptions about my stance.

I do not call myself a Zionist!

I deeply oppose the current government of Israel. I had the opportunity to go on a birthright trip to Israel, and declined to go because I do not support the subjugation of Palestinians. I also chose not to go, because at the time there was a spate of bus bombings. I have family in Israel that I have never met and cannot meet because I refuse to go there out of both personal fear AND political unrest AND political/moral opposition.

I support sovereignty and equal rights and liberation and self determination for all Palestinians. I believe Palestinians are indigenous to the land.

I also believe Jewish people are indigenous to the land. Since Hadrian’s expulsion of the Jewish people from Israel/Judea in 135 and the resultant formation of Syria Palestina, there has been no place that Jews have existed that has considered them foundational parts of society or that has not expelled us. We have always been considered settlers. There is no other place in which we could even conceivably BE indigenous besides the levant. I believe that the “whiteness” of modern Jews of European descent is a product of millennia of expulsion, resettlement, and relocation. I know for a fact that PoC Jews have also REMAINED in the region since the expulsion in 135 and if they’re not indigenous to there, then who on earth is?

I believe that indigeneity does not expire. I believe that the fact that Jews sing daily prayers about their history in Israel/the levant is pretty strong evidence that Jews all over the world have never lost their connection to the region. I believe that two thousand years is a long time.

I believe that it could not matter less whether Jews or Palestinians were there “first.” What matters is the strong cultural ties BOTH cultures have to the levant. What matters is that civilians have a safe government that they can trust not to commit genocide against them. To expel them from the land of their ancestors. To banish them to settlements.

I believe colonialism is wrong. I believe imperialism is wrong. I believe there’s even more I need to learn even after living in this conflict and diaspora my entire life. I do not believe that the land that exists there right now needs to be called Israel. I only believe that there needs to be safeguards in place at a governmental level that explicitly protects the sovereignty, safety, and legitimacy of Palestinians and the Jews who live there. There must be guardrails to prevent genocide against both groups. There must be some formal institutional mechanism to ensure the safety of both parties.

I believe that none of these ideas are in conflict with one another.

Anyone telling you that the solution is straightforward is lying or has plans to harm a large number of people. You are not special. You did not invent the perfect idea that no one thought of that magically solves the issues of statelessness, fear of displacement, expulsion, or genocide. If your plan only involves helping one group without regard to the needs of the other, it is a bad plan. If you don’t believe that Jews should be expelled from Israel, is that Zionism? If you believe Jews should have self determination and representation within government that protects their interests, is that Zionism? Even if the same self determination and representation exists for Palestinians? If you are a hardcore anti-Zionist and believe that Jews do not belong in i/p at all, where do the Jews go?

Where are the Jews indigenous to that isn’t Israel? Where do they go. Europe doesn’t want us. The rest of SWANA doesn’t want us. We certainly are not indigenous to the Americas. It’s been awhile since there were expulsions from Asia (as far as I know), but they did happen there. And Asian countries have very rich indigenous histories of their own that we have no place in. The United States is increasingly violent to us and is certainly nobody’s idea of a Jewish homeland.

If your argument against Zionism is that Jews don’t belong there, where do we belong? If your argument against Zionism is that Jews don’t deserve to ever leave diaspora and should not have self determination or protection, why not us too? Again, I have no desire to go to Israel!!! I have actively rejected offers to visit Israel!!!

I don’t call this set of beliefs Zionism. I don’t believe there is a term for this set of beliefs. But someone else might disagree. And that’s the point. I’m not shaming anyone who does or does not call themselves a Zionist.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hi hello 👋👋👋

Im the one that asked about Mr Qi headcanons last time and I'm about to ask again

Do you have any angst for our funny blue man? :]c

Hey hey 👋

I have a few random headcanons here, but hope you like it 😄 Thanks for your ask and have a nice day! 💕

_________________________________________

If you ask Mr. Qi his first name, he will only smile and say that it is a mystery. "A mystery even to me" will always echo in his head. Because he no longer remembers what his name was. I think Mr. Qi has been around long enough that he already has trouble remembering who he was in his past life. Did he have friends? Did his parents love him? Were there parents at all, because he doesn't remember their faces. All these memories have turned into one big mirage, and he no longer knows what is true and what is fantasy. It doesn't matter now. He's Mr Qi. now.

Even the Ferngill Republic itself didn't have such a huge number of enemies and ill-wishers as Mr. Qi personally had. If you have very valuable information, some superhuman power, or magical artifacts, some people will sooner or later find out about it and want to "become friends" and use you. There are so many of them that Qi has to deal with his enemies almost on a daily basis. This has become so commonplace for Mr. Qi that he no longer sees these people as people, but as annoying mosquitoes that buzz above his ear. He knows they're asking for it, but he's been so indifferent to human lives lately.... Sometimes this thought makes him shudder.

Grandpa and Farmer weren't the first to whom Mr Qi offered his unusual challenges. There were many more candidates before the two of them. Some, whom the mysterious blue man had managed to befriend, like Grandpa, had died. Some had decided to stab him in the back, trying to cheat or even sell information about his whereabouts to his enemies. You might not be able to tell from the looks of it, but Qi had experienced loss and betrayal painfully. So he became more cautious of people. But still he did not give up his idea to make the world more interesting and strive for perfection.

Mr. Qi knows that Grandpa deserved to rest after all the trials he had passed honourably. He knows that he should not have become attached to the man when he himself was already an immortal. But the death of a close friend, perhaps his only true friend, was the hardest. Such was the curse of immortality - to see your family and friends pass from life forever. He had watched Grandpa from the very beginning of their acquaintance, how he had bravely dealt with every hardship, and yet had not lost his kindness and generosity. How he remained the same wonderful and honest man, even with wealth and recognition. And how Grandpa, before his eternal sleep, was able to comfort his friend and give him some wise advice. To him, the great Qi who knew about everything and had everything he wanted, who was usually the one who bestowed something, not the other way round....

[red-pill-to-swallow]

How to be attractive to men and my goals

Hey babes,

like I said – I want to incorporate RPT (Red Pill Theories) into my daily life immediately.

A few things that every women within the community seemed to be content with were:

1. You are never finished with glowing or leveling up. Never stop learning. Never stop trying to better yourself.

2. Pretty privilege is real.

I agree that pretty privilege is very real. I mean, I get affected by pretty people like everybody else, even if I don’t do it on purpose. It’s just something that is ingrained in our brains and I need to learn how to take this to my advantage.

I think I have a decent starting base, because I’m a skinny white woman in her twenties with long blonde hair. I am not really tall – even short men are at least 5-7cms taller than me – but I’m also not extremely short.

I have a petite frame but my body-shape is something between an hourglass and a peach. My face is average – I don’t really have striking features or am a natural beauty model – but my features also aren’t hideous. It’s really just something you can look at without thinking too much.

On a scale, I would rate myself a 5,5-6/10 on an average day and I guess that’s great!

But how can I make myself look better on a daily basis? I really took hours to research how I could make myself more attractive to wealthy and high value men.

Obviously, no man is like the other and every man prefers something different. One man might like tattoos and piercings while another man with the same social status thinks they are hideous. I don’t want to completely change who I am and I don’t want to spend thousands of dollars for it.

However, I really like this whole clean girl and old money aesthetic that is going viral on Tiktok right now – and I think those two aesthetics could fit me and my personality really well.

Most wealthy men seem to like this traits in women:

1. great skin without obvious pimples or enlarged pores

2. long and healthy hair in a natural color

3. straight white teeth

4. clean nails on both hands and feet

5. hairless legs, armpits and at least trimmed pubic hair

6. wearing clean and wrinkle free clothes without any holes

7. wearing a nice smell that is fitting to your overall appearance

I think those are the basics and they can be achieved by almost anyone. If you can’t afford braces make sure that your teeth are always perfectly brushed and that you’re keeping up with your dental hygiene in general.

In fact – if you have problems affording certain beauty procedures, research how to get as close as possible to them with DIYs.

For years, I always wanted to be the mysterious woman in the room. The woman with a dark aura, the woman that doesn’t speak much and remains most of her life a secret.

Well, I am not this woman even if I’m trying very hard. It would be an act that I would put on and I am sure that everyone in the room would notice.

I am naturally very bubbly and I love having conversations with people in general. I would also say that I have a broad knowledge on different topics and that I’m able to talk to almost everyone.

I am also very welcoming and I enjoy making people laugh and have fun in my presence. I tend to have strong opinions and I’m not afraid to take on a discussion.

With everything that I know about myself now, I made some points that I need to tackle in order to level up:

1. stop oversharing. Being bubbly is great but not everyone needs to know everything about my business. Sometimes it’s just better to be silent and to listen.

2. start with exercise again. I am happy with my weight but I am extremely weak and I have almost zero muscle mass. My breath is getting heavy if I have to take the stairs and my legs start to hurt after roughly 15 minutes of walking. I plan on going for a walk every day and doing pilates 3x a week.

3. start doing my hair and makeup again. My hair is long and blonde – so it is an eyecatcher. It’s also very healthy but I usually just throw it up in a bun or in a clawclip, so no one is really seeing it. I have multiple styling tools at home and I need to start using them. The same applies to makeup. I have so much great stuff that looks really beautiful and natural but I am just too lazy to use it. I plan on taking 20 minutes every day to do my makeup and to suck it up – because I usually always do a double cleanse at night, so it’s not really a struggle to take it off in the evening. It’s just inconvenient in the morning.

4. taking better care of my skin and of my dental health. I have high quality skincare and I love doing my skincare but sometimes I’m just too lazy. Let me just say that it doesn’t happen often – but still too much for my liking. Also my dental health – I need to make a dentist appointment asap. I think the last time I went was around 3 years ago!

5. buying better fitting clothes. I don’t like shopping for clothes but it is what it is. Right now I only have cute lounge sets for being at home but when I go out I usually only wear jeans with a basic top and sneakers. I want to look more polished and feminine. I want to stop wearing jeans and focus more on pants, skirts and dresses. Also literally any other shoes than sneakers.

6. go out more. I’m your typical homebody. Movie night? Reading a book? Ordering food? Count me in! I always have fun when I go out but I’m still mostly at home and I want to change that. I want to have a group of like minded friends that want to hang out with me. Maybe even at home. Lol.

I really thought hard about those six points but I think those are the first things that I need to tackle down.

In the end – I was asking myself: what could I do to feel the most comfortable with spontaneous outgoings and meeting new people?

It came down to wanting to look my best. Obviously. I want to make a good first impression and maybe even profit off of pretty privilege.

I’m sure we all know those times when we’re dressed like slobs and suddenly an opportunity to go out arises and we decline because it would take hours to get ready.

That’s the reason why I want to get ready in the morning – so I would only need to touch up if anything came up.

see you soon!

[idle-daydreams]

The Gilded Cage

Tw: Yandere themes, stalking, obsession, mentions of murder, horror

[A.N: I feel like I made Poe mildly OC in this? Idk, the original Poe said that a woman's death was the most poetic topic in the world; I wanted to channel a bit of that... uniqueness into this Poe]

Poe had never thought he would fall in love. Love was for other people; it had never quite seemed the right genre for him. 

But then he'd met you. Perusing the books in the mystery section in the local library, with an intent look on your face that had enraptured him. His heart had skipped a beat; he’d let out a strangled yelp that drew your attention. He would have melted into the shadows, too nervous to speak, but you’d spoken to him first, asking him about an obscure volume by Daphne du Maurier. And he had fallen hard.

For days, he’d thought about you. Dreamed of you in various scenarios, placing you as characters in his novels. Sometimes you’d be a rich heiress, other times a penniless orphan. Sometimes you’d be the detective, other times, the victim, lying serenely on a pale bed, eyes closed as though asleep. The words flowed from his pen, blossoming flowery descriptions of the memory etched into his mind - your melancholic beauty, your subdued grace, the softness of your voice, the kindness of your demeanour.

But then, his thoughts had started to wander. Who were you, really? You weren’t a figment of his imagination, a phantom conjured up in his mind. You were a real person, with a real name and a real life. What was your job? What did you like to do in your spare time? Did you think of Poe, did you even remember him? Or did you have a lover who occupied your thoughts?

The thought refused to leave his mind. He had to know you, know all about you, so that he could immortalize you in his writing. What was the point of a writer, except to exalt his muse upon the highest pedestal possible? That was only what Poe was doing... or so he justified it to himself.

He began to visit the library daily, lingering around all day in the hopes of catching sight of you. After a week, his efforts were rewarded: you came back to return the book you’d borrowed.

Poe watched from behind a shelf as you lingered through the aisle, tracing your fingers across the books’ spines. How delicate your fingers were, how soft your touch! How lucky were those pages which had the good fortune of being caressed by you! And you had good taste - the books you picked were by solid mystery writers with a firm grasp on their craft.

He followed you from the library to your home, his heart pounding so loudly in his ears that he was sure you could hear it from the distance. You lived in a small apartment building not far from the library itself. Poe did not dare follow you inside, but watched as the lights on the topmost floor went on, your silhouette dancing across the curtains. Excitement flushed across his skin as he imagined himself with you, sequestered from the world in your cozy little apartment.

From there it was all too easy to find out everything else about you. Your name, age, phone number, your place of work. You didn’t have much social media, a fact that both pleased and annoyed him, because while it meant that you were more likely to be a wallflower, it also meant fewer pictures for him to gaze upon. He resorted to secretly taking pictures of you while you were out about your day. You were a homebody with few friends; you liked animals and mystery books. You would visit a cafe two streets from your home every Friday evening and order the same drink; you had a few chosen places for take-out, your favourite items on each menu memorized by Poe.

But his obsession refused to abate. These were just things about you; they were not who you were. You remained as ethereal, as untouchable as you had the first day he’d seen you. He would gaze feverishly, obsessively at the pictures of you, the ones he’d save on his phone,  or printed out and pinned to the walls of his home. Taking in the light in your eyes, the pout of your lips, the flush in your cheeks, wondering what thoughts lay behind them, what mystery and wonderment. His writings began to annoy him. What was the point of the caricatures he’d wrought on the pages, mere shadows in the brilliance of your image? He needed you.

“Poe,” Ranpo stopped by his house one day. “Poe, you should stop.”

Poe blinked uncomprehendingly at his friend. “What do you mean?” he said.

“I know that you’re in love. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

Rage flared in Poe’s heart. For a minute he was tempted to strike Ranpo for daring to dash his hopes. But then the sensibility of his friend’s words struck him. Ranpo was right; he was on the path of doing something foolish. He’d neglected to approach you, to make his feelings for you clear, thereby leaving your heart wide open for another. Just because you weren’t a social butterfly didn’t mean you didn’t want to be in a relationship. That you weren’t looking for someone to share your life with.

That person could well be Poe.

The thought frightened and excited him. Sure, he had imagined being with you countless times; he’d filled entire notebooks with every detail of your imaginary lives together. But at the same time, the thought of approaching you filled him with dread. Poe was socially awkward in the best of circumstances, and could barely strike up a conversation with ordinary people. Talking to you? Getting you to fall in love with him? The idea was ridiculous, laughable! Why would you even look at him, a shy, graceless little mouse of a man? Karl was more charming and suave than Poe.

But if he didn’t make a move soon, you would be someone else’s. There was already a co-worker of yours that he felt was getting too close, laughing and talking to you as you made your way to your car every day after work. Poe seethed silently as he observed the two of you, wishing death and destruction upon the man even as he begged you to turn away, to look at Poe instead. Couldn’t you feel him? Couldn’t you feel his love, his yearning, even from the distance? Why couldn’t you laugh and smile at him, instead of wasting your time on some brainless twat that didn’t deserve even the ground you walked on?

Poe drew himself up with a deep breath. As usual, Ranpo was right. If Poe continued on the way he was doing right now, he would end up regretting it. He had to do something, even if it was... unconventional.

-------------------------------------------------

It had been a long day. You exhaled as reached your landing, eager to be home. That was when the small parcel sitting by your front door caught your eye.

You frowned as you picked it up. It was addressed to you, your name and address typewritten neatly on the side, though there was no postmark. Through the packaging, it felt like a book - a slim one, with a hard cover. Your frown deepened. You didn’t remember ordering any books recently.

Turning it over in your hands, you entered your apartment. In your preoccupation, you didn’t notice the faint glint from the roof of the building on the other side of the street, a glint that quickly disappeared and could have been attributed to the gleam of the setting sun. Your eyes were fixed upon the parcel as you unwrapped it, trying to remember if it was a late delivery or a mistaken one. A faint warning popped into your mind of something more sinister was pushed aside by a sense of surprise as the object inside finally came into view.

It was a book. Its cover was simple, a subdued navy blue with the title inlaid in gold. “ ‘The Gilded Cage’,” you read out, running your fingers over the words.

There was nothing else. No author, no name of the printing press, no printing date. You looked at the back cover (blank), then again at the front, a vague uneasiness creeping into your mind. Wondering if it was a very new release, you opened the book to the first page, the first chapter, the first few words:

This is all for you, my love.

There was a brilliant flash of golden light.

You screamed. The book fell from your nerveless fingers as you backed away, blinded for an instant. As the light faded, you realized with a start that you were no longer in your apartment.

Instead, you stood in a large, colonial style drawing-room. It was night, and the crescent moon was visible through the massive bay windows at the far end of the room.  Cream-coloured sofas stood around a mahogany coffee-table, a beautifully woven carpet covering the polished hardwood floor. The embers of a dying fire lay in the fire-place, an ormolu clock ticking away on the mantelpiece above. 

“Er, hello?” you squeaked into the silence. “What happened? What’s going on?”

You looked around, heart pounding. You didn’t recognize this place, nor could you explain the loss of time. The only explanation that made sense was that you’d slipped and hit your head, and were currently experiencing a concussion.

But a concussion didn’t explain just how real everything felt. The chill in the air, the red-gold gleam of the embers, the faint rustle of the trees outside moving in the breeze. You pinched yourself hard, wincing at the pain.

That was when the book caught your eye. The one which you hadn’t ordered, yet had been sitting oh-so-innocently outside your apartment. It lay open at your feet, and the pages inside were clearly empty. With trembling hands you picked it up. The cover was now blank.

An awful apprehension began to bubble in the pit of your stomach.

“Hello?” You tried again, looking around. “Is anyone there?”

Was it just your imagination, or was there a faint voice? You looked around, noticing the open door behind you for the first time. The space beyond lay dark, a gaping maw that gave no hint of what lay beyond. Fighting the scream that crawled up your throat, you backed away towards the windows.

But as you drew closer, you realized that this offered little protection. For the house appeared to stand in them middle of nowhere, the trees the only shield between it and the vast nothingness of the outside.

A whimper escaped your lips. You retreated instead to the fireplace, eyes darting all around in an attempt to find an escape. It had to be a nightmare, some kind of hallucination. Your gaze was drawn to the book yet again. It had to be the source of the problem. Someone had to have put some poison inside, some kind of a hallucinogenic powder that worked by being absorbed through the skin. You opened it again - and that was when the writing caught your eye. It was on the very first page, a few lines in a spidery scrawl.

‘This is all for you, my love,’ the writing said. ‘I have been waiting for you for so long, I simply couldn’t wait any more. I know that you must be frightened, but rest assured that this is only a temporary measure while I prepare our new home.’

You frowned. That was... unexpected.

‘I do so wish that things had been different,’ the writing continued. ‘But I find myself quite tongue-tied in your presence. At the moment I can only sing odes to your beauty in my heart, and wax eloquent about your grace and loveliness only in the written word. But I promise you, I love you. I love you with all my heart and soul.

‘But driven as I am by my own passions, I am also bound by the limits of my ability, and so I must tell you this: there are several murderers loose in the world that you currently inhabit. You are safe from them so long as you stay in this house. Leave, and you would be at their mercy (as they not only outnumber you, but are also exceptional in cruelty and cunning).’

Dread curdled in your stomach. An ability. You had heard of them, of course, the supernatural powers that some people were born with. Ability-users were said to be dangerous, more so because one could never tell them apart from ordinary people. You’d certainly never met one in your life.

And yet, unless there had been a colossal mix-up, one such user was professing his love for you.

There was a soft thud. Your eyes darted once again to the windows. Was it your imagination, or was there a pair of eyes faintly visible in the darkness? A shudder passed through your frame, and you quickly turned back to the book.

‘But you must understand, my dear, that I do not wish to hurt you. I could never live with myself if something were to happen to you, which is why you must do as I tell you. You must love me. I promise you, I will make you happy. I will give you what you want, make every dream of yours come true, be whatever you want me to be - but you must love me. Please. I cannot live without you. Your presence haunts my dreams and my waking hours; scarcely a minute passes that I can keep myself of thinking of you. Your name graces my lips as though it were a prayer, a mantra chanted by a fanatic at the altar of your being. Please, please, I am begging you, love me. If you will not, I will have no choice but to keep you trapped in this book. Not because I desire your distress (quite the opposite), but because as long as you are in there, I can make things so that you are ultimately safe. I can make it so that you will never leave me. For I cannot bear to have you taken from me. I will not have you taken from me. Please, my love, you must understand, no one will love you as much as I. So please, learn to love me.

‘Or else you will stay in this cage forever.’

[whitexwolfxx310]

I Love You In Every Universe

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: Trying to mend your relationship with Bucky is going so painfully slow. And then it's not.

Warnings: Spicy content! 18+ only! Cursing, oral sex MTF, penetration, praise kink, small amount of submissive kink, and I think that's all?

Word Count: 3428

A/Ns: I needed to write a total smut post. Those seem to be pretty popular haha. We have Baker Bucky! I got a few requests for that! Anyway, enjoy! I'll continue the storyline in my next post!

Previous Part

Masterlist

Finding out that your brother is not only alive, but that he is the new face of Hydra, is one of the biggest twists that fate could spit out. After the terrifying realization that occurred in your office, you’ve been thrown into countless meetings and conferences where you were probed for information on Luke that wasn’t already disclosed in his military files.

Steve and Tony had constant questions and concerns about the situation. They felt that maybe Luke would try and reach out or maybe there was some hidden information that you would somehow be privy to. But it had been two years since everyone thought that he was long dead.

The tension in The Compound rose. Your job got put into question, certain people wondering why you would even apply to intern here in the first place. Are you a double agent? Finding and leaking information to Hydra from within? Your morals had never once been questioned until now.

Bucky was the only one who didn’t make the whole situation feel like an interrogation. He remained supportive, being the person to suggest you take time to recollect yourself when it became too much. The only one who didn’t have questions but was always silently there in the corner watching and listening, taking every bit of information in.

A task force was assigned to try and track Luke, in hope of him not being too far gone. It had been done with Bucky, could it be done with your brother as well? You were also chosen for this mission, which did not go over well with Bucky. Him and Tony had argued over using yourself as bait to draw him out. In the end, it was your decision, and you would chose to go.

Even with the stress of the current situation, you used Bucky as a welcomed distraction. Leaning on one another as you both grasped onto your undeniable tethered connection. There was still a long road to recovery for both Bucky and your relationship. But he did his damndest to make you feel as though you weren’t under constant surveillance (at least from him). When the daily brainstorming sessions were over, you both avoided the topic of Luke. It was still difficult to process the concept that he was still alive. It just didn’t seem real.

Taking things slow with Bucky has always been an understatement. A part of him is apprehensive, more so now than ever. There has been close to no physical contact. You truly don't know everything that he went through overseas, but it was apparent that he was still working his way through it. You had your 'boyfriend' back. Yet in a sense, you didn't. And still, his presence still left the same, if not more, desire in it's wake.

Bucky was given his own apartment within The Compound for the time being. Although there was nothing to be 'afraid' of, everyone, except yourself, felt that it was necessary to slowly ease back into his routines and not just cannonball into the deep end.

Spending time together had always been your favorite thing. But now, it was like everything was exciting and new once again. The two of you were dealing with the 'holes' Bruce had warned you about- and the dark cloud of your brother hanging over both of your heads. These said ‘holes’ were more along the lines of not remembering how you take your coffee and other small instances. He remembers you, and most of the time that you had shared.

You filled the limited free time in your days together with simplistic dates and doing things that he really took interest in. Going to the gym together, long drives with the windows down listening to music playing, but most of all... Bucky loved being in the kitchen. It was as if he had a new found passion for cooking and baking-something simplistic to lose himself in. But he wouldn't share that pastime with anyone else, feeling like he may be judged. Although, you had no complaints. There was no shortage on baked goods and even homemade bread from scratch.

Bucky is in the kitchen, covered in flour and chocolate. The clear evidence of him indulging in his guilty pleasure.

"Mmm. These are seriously the best chocolate chip cookies I have ever had." You mumble.

You didn't want to be rude by talking with your mouth full, but he eagerly watched, awaiting your reaction to his creation of the day.

"Really!?" He asks, excitedly.

Nodding your head and smiling, you go to take another bite of the cookie. Since it is still warm from recently coming out of the oven, it partially breaks- melty chocolate all over your face and hands.

There's a moment of silence- you and Bucky are looking at one another until his nose scrunches and he starts hysterically laughing. A sweet sound that I have missed for so long. It's contagious. The next thing you know, you're both laughing to the point of just wheezing. Your cheeks hurt, the place where your abs once were before he entered the baking scene, hurt. It wasn't even that funny, just one of those simplistic moments where you get to fully be yourselves. A core memory.

"You're a hot mess," Bucky says, trying to compose himself by fighting through the laughter. His cheeks are burning red. The harder he tries to subdue the laughing, the more he fails. "Come here..." He reaches for a dish towel, dampening it under the faucet of the sink before taking a few steps closer.

You abruptly stop laughing, taking in how suddenly close in proximity he is to you. Aside from the hello/goodbye awkward hugs that you look forward to just being in his arms for a moment- this is rediscovering old territory.

Your mouth opens slightly as you hold your breath, awaiting to see what he does next. Covering his thumb with the cloth, he ever so gently wipes chocolate off of your bottom lip. His eyes fasten their grip with your own, occasionally breaking contact to look down at your lips.

Kiss me. Your inner conscious is screaming, begging and pleading for him to make a move. To just be wrapped up in all that is him- to let go of the past few months and just be yourselves. You can feel your chest instinctively move closer to his- which is rising and falling deeply. Bucky's mouth opens slightly as he takes in a shuddering breath.

Yes... His eyes are now solely focused on your mouth. You impulsively bite your bottom lip, willing it into the universe for his lips to be on yours. You're met with glacier blue eyes, now looking deep within yours. You cannot help but look up at Bucky with pleading, desire filled eyes.

Please.

"I-" He starts. Time is standing still as you hang onto what he will say. "I...um-" He breaks the eye contact as he takes a step back. "I have to clean this kitchen. My OCD is getting the better of me." He nervously chuckles once.

"Oh." There is no hiding your disappointment.

Bucky grabs a nearby plate full of the cookies that he had just made.

"Here...some for you to take home." He offers, sounding hopeful that you’ll accept.

He's kicking me out. Point taken.

"Oh, okay. Well, thanks. I'll see you tomorrow?" You can only focus on the plate that he handed you, trying to hide the humiliation. Not even waiting for a response, you quickly dash out of his apartment.

Breaking into a full sprint in the hallway, your back at your own residence. Quickly shutting the door behind you and laying your back flat against it, your mind starts racing.

We will never get back to the way we were. Giving him time and space isn't enough. Maybe after all he has been through, he has moved past this relationship? Past me? But I love him. I promised I'd wait...but is he just prolonging the inevitable? Will my brother become the new thing to try and get between us? I can't just let him go... I can't. He needs to know.

In that moment you dropped the plate; The shattering muffled slightly from the softness of the cookies. You didn't care. Turning around to open the door and run back to his living quarters- professing your love and need like some girl in a romcom you would make fun of.

You swing open the door, about to dart out when you smack into something. Someone.

"Oh, sorry I-....Bucky?" Shocked is an understatement.

He's standing at your door with an anxious look on his face- still covered in flour.

"I-..." He starts. Your heart is pounding- the sound of your heartbeat swooshing in your ears.

"Fuck it." Bucky breathes as he takes a step forward. Cupping both sides of your face, hungrily pressing his lips into yours.

Immediately you liquify into the kiss. His lips taste sweet- the remanence from his all day baking. Your arms interlock behind his neck as he steps forward- pushing you backwards into your apartment without his lips leaving yours.

It doesn't matter that you clumsily stumble behind, Bucky keeps you steady by holding each side of your waist while sustaining the kiss. Once through the doorway, he uses the back of his boot to loudly kick the door closed- not caring who might see or hear.

Guiding you against the wall of the hallway, Bucky reaches behind his neck and grabs your hands to pin them on the surface above your head, his metal hand still on your hip. The assertive motion causes a chain reaction- a small whimper from your throat echoes into his mouth. Being held firmly in place, your hips hungerly try to buck up into his body, greedily needing every point of physical contact possible.

His lips break away, but only for a moment as they move down to your neck. His tongue grazes, teeth nip occasionally through the soft suction noises his mouth leaves behind. You know that you'll be marked in just a matter of time. But it is his public claim on you that you'll proudly wear.

While keeping your hands pinned against the wall, Bucky's free hand starts to explore your body; painfully gentle he traces along your side, the bottom of your stomach, between your breasts, etc. But he's being cautious. He knows how to manhandle you and this is not it. Call it selfish, but after a total of 2 months of not being with him, you want aggressive Bucky.

"Bucky..." You breathe. The sound of his name makes him stop.

His body leans more into yours- touching chest to chest, which is growing more difficult due to the heavy breathing. Pressing his forehead into yours, his vision still focused on the trail of red blotches he's left behind.

"Hmm?" He answers as he adjusts his posture slightly so that his thigh is now between your legs. If you pressed your hips down the tiniest bit against him, the evidence of just how desperate you are for him would be all over his leg.

"Don't hold back." You say softly, but confidently. Bucky's eyes blaze to yours with a look of exhilaration dancing across them.

"Don't worry..." His voice is deep, husky.

The hand that he was using to pin your arms above your head lets go- letting it gradually slip down to your jawline. He hooks your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, encouraging you to turn your head. Bucky leans in, his breath hot against your cheek.

"I'll take care of you." It comes out low, from the back of his throat. The throbbing between your legs starts to become fierce. In addition, his tongue presses flat to your cheek, licking the side of your face just once.

Using one prompt motion, Bucky is now carrying you bridal style. His lips rashly press back to yours. Even with your eyes closed, you can feel the gentle sway of him walking- the sound of his footsteps pressing down into the floor.

He sits you on the edge of the bed, getting down on his knees and hooking each of his pointer fingers into the waistband of your jeans to start shimmying them down. Lifting your feet barely off the floor to get your pants the rest of the way off, Bucky discards them and encourages you to lay back on the bed.

Still on his knees, Bucky leans in and places one velvety soft kiss on the inside of your thigh. The lack of touch for months has left you on a whole new level of sensitive. A low moan in the form of a hum reverberates in your throat. The warm air resulting from a tiny snort from him already making your legs twitch.

Hitching your knees over his shoulders, the tips of his fingers gently caress the inside of your thighs. It's almost painful how good it feels. Taking his warm pointer finger he swipes once in the middle of your folds- above the panties.

"You're already so wet for me. What a good girl." Bucky purrs.

I'm about to get absolutely fucking wrecked.

Your eyes roll back and close as your back arches, gripping the bedsheets already feeling like a volcano about to erupt just from Bucky's heated breath.

*Thwap*

The slight sting in the groin takes you by surprise. Propping yourself on your elbows, you look down to Bucky with confusion. He's gazing into your eyes and a playful smile.

"I want you to look at me." His voice is still smoky and deep.

Being so hyper focused on everything he was doing, including looking up at you from between your legs, you wouldn't even need to be touched to lose control at this point. Even just the thought of his body covering yours is sending cold shudders of ice down your spine.

Without warning, he shoves the back of your thighs so that your head is between your knees. Now kneeling on the bed, he holds you in place, leaving yourself completely exposed; propped up right to his face, occupied with a content and cunning grin.

Fuck.

With locked eyes, Bucky focuses on your face as his mouth simply presses directly on you. Allowing for you to have a small moment before he starts to work his magic. You gasp at the connection; your knees going weak as you grip onto the bedsheets underneath you.

'I want you to look at me.' His voice rings in your head. It takes every molecule in your body to hold his gaze with his head between your thighs, but you do. Just like the obedient woman that you are for him. His ridged tongue sweeps over your labia as a form of slow and delicious torture. The licking over your sensitive skin causes you to whimper- Bucky looks at you through hooded eyes as he makes a few small reverberating sounds in his throat as approval.

Moaning, you can't help but grind your hips against his face. It feels incredible. He feels incredible. The leisurely, steady, sensual motions tell you that he's enjoying this as much as you are. You're practically coming off of the bed, but Bucky holds you in place as you start panting- the sounds coming from your breath are pleading, begging for that outer body, earthshattering orgasm.

"Please," You sigh, as your hand digs and grips tightly into his hair; knowing full well that it's slightly painful but don't care. Your quiet request is received as his tongue swirls around the entrance of your core. Once, twice, three times and then you come apart.

Unsure if you are screaming his name, thrashing against him, or whatever else, as you can only see stars in the moment. There is no room for any sort of coherent thought. Spent and exhausted are an understatement as Bucky lifts his head- His eyes practically glowing as he licked the lips of his sinfully wet mouth.

"I love it when you squirm," it comes out as a purr.

He carefully lays you back down before crawling over your body like a panther, his hips pressed in and down against your own. You're pleased to find that he is already naked from the waist down, raring to go.

Bucky's hand tenderly grazes your cheek as your chest still heavily rises and falls. It isn't long until your fingertips are dragging across the hot, soft skin of his chest. His hips settle between yours and you instinctively lock a leg around them. You can feel him press against your entrance, wanting, needing to be inside of you. Now you're lasered focused on him as you wait for that sharp breath as he pushes himself in and his eyes practically roll back in his head.

"I want you to look at me," You think to yourself and completely understand the fascination in that moment.

Beginning to press inch by precious, thick inch, you're grateful for the remanence of your orgasm which helps to ease his way inside. "Fuck," he breathes out as he looks downward to watch himself enter. You smirk to yourself knowing just how tight you are and can feel your walls contracting around him, a silent invitation to bring his enormous length in deeper. Once Bucky was fully inside, down to the base, his eyelids fluttered shut for a moment as he took in the sensation. Once they opened, his gaze was sealed on yours.

Taking in a deep breath in unison, he waits as you become accustomed to stretching around him. His hips wriggle the tiniest bit before he pulls back and shallowly thrusts in once; The sound escaping from his lips makes every single nerve ending in your body light up. You suck in a sharp breath as he finds his rhythm, his pubic bone teasing your clit with every push. The smallest adjustment and he is now inclined so that each ridge can brush against your g-spot with every stroke. Forward and back. Forward and back.

Bucky almost growls as you claw at his back and practically scream in pleasure. Your lips mesh against his bicep, stifling your moans ever so slightly. You come again. And again. He relentlessly keeps the same pace, your body shuddering under his to the point that your mouth is wide open but no noise is coming out. You start to feel the familiar pulsing inside you, filling you. It's warm; a few degrees hotter than his body pressed against yours. His fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts harder, coming over and over again, (which you didn't even think was possible).

He collapses on top of you like a weighted blanket as he tries to level his breathing. Bucky's body continues to tremble against yours. A moment later he shifts his weight to lay next to you. Placing a kiss against your temple, Bucky pulls you in close against him; The coolness from his metal arm almost bites at the beads of sweat across your skin. The familiarity of his body spooning into yours is so comforting that you drift to sleep.

During the night you stir, reaching for Bucky on the other side of the bed to only be met with cold sheets. He's gone. Your heart drops to your stomach as you sit up, holding the blanket up to your chest to cover yourself as you stare at the emptiness beside you.

Maybe it was too fast.

Something catches your attention out of your peripheral vision. You quickly look to the corner of your room, which is especially dark for the time of night. You squint, seeing something- But unable to make out what it is. Though, your stomach jumps in excitement.

"Bucky?" You ask, sounding almost too hopeful. As your eyes adjust to the bold darkness, you can see his silhouette in the corner. But he doesn't move. It doesn't even look like he's breathing. He sits so completely still that it's... terrifying.

"Bucky...?" Calling his name softly, you realize that this might be one of those moments you had been warned about. Your mind is racing and blank at the same time as you reach for scenarios and resolutions- but come up with nothing.

Until...

You clear your throat softly, pulling yourself into a sitting fetal position. Why of all things this came to mind, you have no idea. You're hoping, praying that you are wrong. You cringe as the word slips out.

"Soldat?"

"Ya gotov otvechet." Ready to comply.

Fuck.

@peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza @beware-my-thorns @prettylittlepluviophile @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @calwitch @ozwriterchick @roofwitty779 @lessersole @lil-darhk @agoddoesnotplead @saranghaey @floralwsloki @erinallene @fafafalafel @mrsvxder @elizabeth916 @winterassisin84 @cjand10

[mentauxx]

What led Saitou Yakumo to decide to live in solitude?

(Minor spoilers for Volume 11 - file 01 and MAJOR spoilers for the prequel Blue curse)

You see, Yakumo never wanted to be alone. He didn't always have his forced poker face. He used to smile and laugh like everyone else.

So, what caused such a bright boy to end up the way he did? I think this excerpt from volume 11 explained it quite well (since it was written from his POV):

Humans would feel reassured if they were the same as their fellow peers. They felt safe when obscured within a group. Yakumo didn't intend to criticise that fact. For the kind of people who chose to form society based on groups, such a thing was inevitable. However- Such a decision had another side to it. Without mercy, they would reject those who were different from them. Yakumo's red left eye had been a target of that rejection. "Disgusting."

"What's with that eye?"

"Don't come any closer, you monster." He had no idea just how many hurtful words he had been subjected to because of his red left eye. Having received such a treatment countless times, Yakumo realised he couldn't be with other people. Ostracised from the group and forced into solitude, Yakumo had chosen to build a wall around his heart, shutting himself inside as means of self-defence. As he became a middle school student, he had used a black contact lens to conceal his red left eye such that his outward appearance wouldn't be feared. Yet, doing so hadn't put his heart at ease. He had merely been hiding it. The fact that his left eye was different from others had remained unchanged. Besides, the thought that his secret might get exposed kept him anxious. He couldn't blend well with others despite already concealing his red left eye.

Because he knew that people would ostracise him as an abnormality once they discovered the truth. In the end, Yakumo stayed away from getting too involved with others and chose to be alone. Of course, his differing appearance hadn't been the only reason he had suffered. Being able to see spirits that others couldn't on the daily in itself was a form of suffering. The world of the living and the realm of the dead -constantly being able to see both caused the barrier between the two to blur, until he himself saw his own existence as something dangerous.

So we can say that he was quite literally forced into solitude.

But, how far did Yakumo try to be accepted?

during his elementary school years, Yakumo discovered that he was the only one seeing what he sees and thought that he was the abnormal one, so he tried wearing an eye patch thinking that if he covers his eye people would accept him which failed as we know.

After being shunned by everyone Yakumo decided to start anew and started wearing a contact lens when he started middle school, but just like he mentioned; doing so didn't put his heart at ease.

On top of that, those who went to the same elementary school as he did were spreading nasty rumors about him. They said his parents were missing and that HE was the one who killed them. His classmates would call him a murderer, accuse him of cheating on his exams using clairvoyance (like stfu) which all led to him getting severely bullied.

Rumors about him seeing ghosts and the fact that his eye was red were there too.

At that point Yakumo realized that being accepted by "normal" people is impossible (Isshin was the only exception. Which greatly confused Yakumo, but then he came to the conclusion that, just like he told Haruka: 'That’s the sort of person he is.’)

And so, his middle school years went by until a particular incident happened in his third year. A "meddlesome" teacher refused to just let him be which again greatly confused Yakumo because why would a teacher do so much for a student? She should just leave him alone like everyone else. Akemi didn't listen to that and she actually had Yakumo open up completely to her (Yes, I'm referring to that one scene before she confessed to the police). Boy was even happy she'd marry his uncle. But of course just when his life was taking a turn for the better, he lost her as well and completely shut off his heart. Even went as far as trying to gouge his red eye out with a cutter, but thankfully Isshin made it just in time.

You might think that was the point when Yakumo decided to live alone, but it doesn't stop here.

6 months later he enters high school.

His iconic speech at the entrance ceremony unintentionally (and to his annoyance) left a vivid impression not only on the students but on the teachers as well.

Tons of people were interested in him.

However, Yakumo didn't care whatsoever.

From experience, Yakumo knew it was impossible for him to get along with “normal people” and that he'll just end up getting hurt in the end, so he brushed it all off.

His unapproachable air made the boys call him a "weirdo," and the girls whispered that he's "mysterious."

Rumors about him seeing ghosts were ofc there as well.

A particularly disgusting one about him “killing a teacher”.

Like how tf did it escalate to this? I DON'T KNOW.

(To the person who spread these rumors: Please seek help. You need it.)

No one really believed any of that shit because it's simply ridiculous af, but some people (who didn't believe it either) did try to use it as an excuse to harass him (*cough cough* Kawamoto *cough cough*)

Surprisingly, there was one person Yakumo was ACTUALLY interested in.

That is—Aoyama Takumi.

Yakumo wasn't like others, therefore he was rejected by them.

In other words, someone with similar past and experience wouldn't reject him would he?

Takumi wasn't aware of it, but Yakumo actually knew Takumi way before the entrance ceremony.

Yakumo happened to visit an art museum where Takumi's award-winning painting was on display.

Seeing the unique use of colors in that painting, he was convinced that the world Takumi sees is different from others.

And that's when he doubted that Takumi might have synesthesia.

When they ended up in the same class, Yakumo started observing Takumi and confirmed the fact that he has synesthesia AND sound-color synesthesia on top of that.

His reasoning being: “When Takumi talks to people, the area around his eyelids and tear ducts moves a lot. It's similar to the muscle reflex that happens when exposed to strong light. Even though there's no light source nearby, that reaction occurs.”

(Boy, are you sure you're a high schooler?)

Anyways during the interrogation when Takumi was pretending to be the culprit to protect Maki (since he thought she was the murderer), Yakumo was trying to get Takumi to admit that he did see a girl in a school uniform standing on the balcony of the art room which Takumi firmly denied.

However, Yakumo's insistence made Takumi blurt out that it was probably just a ghost.

And that's when Yakumo decided to reveal the fact that he sees ghosts. To prove it, he took his contact lens off and showed his red eye to Takumi.

However—Takumi's reaction wasn't one that he expected—

Here are some excerpts from that scene:

If I accepted it here, all my efforts would be in vain. More importantly, I wouldn't be able to save her.

'So what if it's red? That doesn't mean you can see ghosts. Besides, seeing ghosts is ridiculous.' 'I misjudged you...'

Yakumo's red voice pierced the deepest part of my heart like a sharp thorn.

—What does he mean by misjudged?

From the way he said it, it seemed Yakumo had some expectations of me. Even though we had hardly spoken before the incident.

'What do you mean?'

'I've known for a long time that you have sound-color synesthesia.'

It was truly a beautiful painting. I had never seen such a beautiful painting before.'

Yakumo had a look of ecstasy on his face.

It was clear from his tone that it was not flattery or anything like that.

'Even though he saw a different world from others, there was no pessimism or despair in it. He accepted the world he saw and sublimated it into art. For me, who also sees a different world like Takumi, it was a culture shock.'

'A different world?'

'When I saw Takumi's painting, I felt ashamed of myself. I envied that he could turn being different from others into his strength.'

'…….'

“Yet now, Takumi is denying the world that only I can see, saying it doesn't exist.”

'…….'

“I thought Takumi, who had seen a different world from others, would understand. But it seems I was wrong.”

'I...' My strength was draining away. Yakumo was right. I had been denied because of the world that only I could see and had suffered a lot for being different from others. Even though I should have known the pain and sorrow of not being accepted, I was treating Yakumo the same way I had been treated.

Even though he did it to save Maki, Takumi regretted it so much, but even at that point he still couldn't take it back; all his efforts to convince the police that he was the culprit would be in vain after all (this conversation literally took place after Takumi managed to trick the police during his interrogation. The reason Yakumo was even able to be there was because he used his "connections").

Later on they ended up solving the case and Takumi moved to Kyoto.

The part that hurts most is the fact that Takumi saw Yakumo's voice as red. At first, Takumi didn't know what the red color really meant, but he soon came to the realization that the color red is the color of the voice of someone who wishes for death.

The only reason Yakumo hadn't done it at that point is due to the fact that he can see the spirits of the dead. He knows that there's no point in doing so.

Having been rejected by "normal people" and "those who were like him", I personally feel like this was the point when Yakumo completely gave up on trying to “belong” to a group.

I thought he became like that after that one time his mother tried to kill him, but Blue curse changed my perspective a bit.

It made more sense to me tbh. Why? Haruka explained it amazingly in volume 10:

“All of it has led you to keep your distance from others and conceal your own weakness, no? If you’re by yourself, you won’t get hurt and won’t get others hurt. That’s what you think, right?” “…….” “But you’re actually scared of being lonely, so you can’t completely sever your ties with other people. If it’s to avoid hurting anyone, you could’ve just lived in solitude, but you can’t do it.”

That's exactly it. He can't do it and couldn't do it.

It's especially true when it comes to Haruka. He admitted in Volume 8 that all this time, he was trying not to get attached to Haruka (which he successfully failed at).

If that man could handle living in solitude, he wouldn't have allowed Haruka to come to his room whenever she liked, wouldn't have told her to call him by his first name, etc.

He admitted, also in Volume 8, that he wanted her to know him and him to know her, But instead of doing that, he spent two years trying not to get attached to her while still enjoying her presence by his side.

His idea of trying "not to get attached to her" is honestly hilarious.

If all that was you trying not to get attached to her, what would spending your time carefree with her be like?

But yeah, reading the prequels made me realize that Haruka was TRULY the first person to acknowledge him.

His reaction when she called his eye "beautiful" is PRICELESS.

That's why the anime sucked hard. Like did y'all really want to ruin that scene that much? Where did the part where Yakumo laughed until he was clutching his stomach go? Is he not human too?

Bee train studio the disappointment you are smh

Ok, I'm getting off topic.

Now in case this isn't obvious: I'm by no means blaming Takumi (that guy is amazing), neither did Yakumo.

In fact during their last farewell, when Takumi thought Yakumo would blame him, Yakumo actually thanked him.

'There's one thing I forgot to mention.'

Yakumo, without much of a greeting, began speaking in a stern voice. 'Forgot to mention?' The confusion in the case was my fault. Because of that, Yakumo must have been dragged into it and had a hard time. If things had gone wrong, someone could have died. I thought he would blame me for that. But the words that came out of his mouth were unexpected. 'Takumi's parents have been watching over you.' 'Watching over... ' 'They are standing behind you even now. Don't hold back. Live freely—that's their message.' Yakumo said this while pointing behind me. I turned around, but I couldn't see anything. However, Yakumo's left eye must have seen my parents. 'Did you come all the way just to tell me that?' When I asked, Yakumo's expression twisted slightly. It looked both angry and amused. 'Thank you—' I bowed deeply. 'I should be the one thanking you.'

'Why?' Without answering my question, Yakumo slowly walked away down the hallway. Maybe I should have chased after him. But I couldn't move from that spot. Yakumo doesn't like getting too close to people. No matter what happens, no matter what I say, he will continue on his own path. I just watch him go.

Honestly, it was all a misunderstanding that no one could be blamed for.

If the circumstances were different, things wouldn't have ended up that way.

Despite everything, Yakumo and Takumi did in fact consider each other as friends.

They were just really awkward.

Takumi is just as reserved as Yakumo is.

He wasn't one to actively try to get to know others either.

And I don't blame him for being oblivious to the fact that Yakumo wanted to be his friend.

Yakumo is too twisted for his own good.

Instead of straight up trying to get to know Takumi, he ended up observing him until he had a chance to talk to him when that incident occurred.

And even when they did talk, Takumi thought his existence annoyed him lol.

It was no wonder that Takumi wasn't aware how happy Yakumo was when he stood up for him when Kawamoto tried harassing him and calling him a thief.

High school boys are idiots is all I'll say.

Loved their friendship tho.

-

8 years later, Yakumo and Takumi meet again in Tokyo, However, Yakumo's voice was no longer red. It was as soft and white as his monk uncle's voice—

[novaursa]

Some of you who follow my works may notice how my whole AO3 account is gone. As well as a list of my House of Dragon/Fire and Blood fanfic works here. And I wanted to explain my reasons for it.

It basically had become so toxic over there that I decided to delete everything to escape with my sanity intact.

I also want to apologize to those who supported me and enjoyed my works. I had overwhelming support from most of the people there, but a few managed to affect me so much mentally that I've decided it was just not worth it.

If you ever took a look at my comment section over there, you know it was a chaos. There were people telling me to, and outright demanding, to write and change stuff how they like it. Or how they don't like something and I must change it to fit them. It got to the point that in each chapter published I had to explain myself and why I've written something the way it is, and remained people it was an AU fanfic that contains my own version mixed with the show and the book. It was mostly book readers complaining. And the reason I've mixed the two is so that people who watched just the show or know only books can find something familiar in the story. I had to defend myself constantly, and I got tired of it. People continued to complain even after all the warnings that were everywhere.

One anonymous user started to outright accuse me of stuff. Like, people, those were my works. I've poured my tears and blood into it. I've stayed up for weeks just so people can get regular updates. I wanted people to be happy and find escape in my works for their daily problems. Then after I've poured my soul into it, I would publish a chapter and in the span of half an hour I would get a notification (that I feared to open) only to find the same person demanding to know why it's written the way it is.

For me. It was written for me. And I've put it on the internet that others can enjoy it to, if they wish.

This happened to me years ago on AO3, and I had to delete my stuff. I've returned to it like going back to the toxic ex thinking it changed. I was an idiot.

So, anyway, I may repost my Aegon II/OFC here (maybe others too), because it was the most popular one. Or I may rewrite it so you guys have a new experience of it.

Give me feedback about it if you are interested in my works being posted here.

Oh, and regarding a story 'The Fall' that is on this blog, I may rewrite that too on a later date.

Once again, for all those who enjoyed my works, I am sorry. And I love you all. ❤️

[m00nt4r0t]

✮ what does your crush think of you? ✮

pile one, two, or three?

topic suggested by arien6!! thank u very much!!

masterlist ⭑ personal readings ⭑ patreon

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ pile one

heyy pile one. so, for your reading we have the five of swords reversed, ace of cups and the page of cups reversed. your crush may have been someone who you’ve had conflict with in the past, or they see you as someone who has had a lot of conflict in the past. if your crush doesn’t know you well, they may judge you based off of your past and what other people may have told them about you. however, they would still be open to getting to know you on a deeper, emotional level regardless of your past / the past you two share. your crush may feel like you still have some emotional growth to do, but they see the potential in you, pile one. your crush sees you as someone who is able to get over conflict and not hold grudges, and they see you as someone who is very artistic and emotionally creative. they think that you’re someone who enjoys being out in nature as much as you like dreaming. you enjoy exploring the world just as much as you enjoy exploring the astral world and your dreams. this person sees you as someone with very mystical and ethereal energy; you may make this person believe in magic or fate. they think that you’re someone who is not afraid to stand out and be different amongst a crowd of people who appear to be same. your energy and possibly even your looks are out-of-this-world to your crush. if your crush is someone who is creative, you are definitely their muse!!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ pile two

hi pile two. for your pile i pulled the king of cups reversed, six of swords reversed and then the ten of pentacles reversed. so, your crush thinks that you may be a bit emotionally unavailable at the moment because of a personal transition you are going through at this current moment. your crush has noticed that you’re changing your mindset and the way you react to things that may have triggered emotional outbursts in the past. they also see that you do not hold materialistic items to as high of a value as you once did and they admire this about you, pile two. although the death card is not here, i feel as though you’re killing off an old version of yourself that kept you stagnant, meanwhile a new version of yourself is currently in the process of being birthed. your crush may feel as though now is not the right time to pursue a romantic partnership with you, but i do feel that they are willing to wait until you are ready. your crush definitely sees you as someone they’re interested in marrying and/or having a long-term connection with. even if you two didn’t reach the romantic level of the connection, they’d still be interested in remaining friends for a very long time. they are extremely infatuated with what you’re going through and the growth they’ve seen from you and are eating popcorn as they watch your life play out in front of them. this gives me the inkling that your crush is someone who has access to you in a daily basis, or they’re able to get insight on your personal life maybe through mutual friends or social media.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ pile three

greetings, pile three! for your reading we have the three of wands reversed, nine of pentacles and the seven of pentacles. your crush thinks of you as someone who is very well off on their own and they may even be a bit intimidated by you, to be honest. you are someone who is able to fend for yourself and get what you need without any help (from your crush’s point of view.) they also think that you’re someone who makes very serious decisions and you’re not the type to do anything too impulsively. they see you as someone who values what they own very much and they may even get the impression that you’re stuck up or too good for them, but if they barely know you then this is just because of the abundant energy and appearance you have. they see you as someone very pleasing to look at because of your natural beauty and the aesthetics you have. they feel like being with you would be a huge investment and would possibly raise their social status. even if you are not someone who is financially stable, they see you this way. they think that you take very good care of yourself in terms of hygiene, skin care, hair care, smelling good, smooth lips, clean nails, etc etc. this person thinks that you put a lot of time, money and effort into your appearance and the appearance of what you own/create. your crush sees you the way we see things that shine; they are mesmerized by you, pile three.

thank you for reading and interacting! <3

masterlist ⭑ personal readings ⭑ patreon

[eretzyisrael]

By RICHARD FERRER IN KFAR AZA

Eight months before Machmud arrived at Batia Holin’s home to kill her, the two had jointly launched an exhibition aimed at promoting peace and unity between Israelis and Palestinians.

After connecting through a Facebook group for residents on the Israel-Gaza border, the pair spent months sharing pictures on WhatsApp of daily life from both sides of the fence. This seemingly heartfelt exchange blossomed into a poignant exhibition entitled Between Us, dedicated to bridging the divide. Due to the dire risks involved, they never spoke directly. ‘Normalisation’ (interacting with Jews) is the most serious crime a Gazan can commit.

“We didn’t discuss politics,” Batia tells me as we walk along the Gaza barrier fence on the outskirts of Kibbutz Kfar Aza, where Machmud – who told her he was a 28-year-old photographer from the Gazan town of Shuja’iyya – was one of 300 Hamas terrorists who breached the border on the morning of October 7 and entered her kibbutz.

The 71-year-old, who has lived on the kibbutz for more than 50 years, has dedicated her life to coexistence. The idea of collaborating with a Palestinian across the border, someone who experienced the same sights and sounds yet lived a vastly different reality, deeply resonated with her sense of purpose.

“Machmud and I wanted to show the world that, despite the circumstances in which we live, we share the same hope for a brighter future. That despite the obstacles, most people on both sides of the fence just want to live in peace.”

Batia Holin beside a banner displaying pictures of hostages from Kibbutz Kfar Aza that remain in captivity.

Their exhibition opened in Israel on 4 February 2023 in nearby Kibbutz Nahal Oz (where 14 people were killed and seven abducted), with plans for it to tour the United States. One of its most striking exhibits was photographs of the Mediterranean Sea, showing the same beach border from opposite perspectives: one looking north, the other south.

Machmud was, of course, unable to be there in person, so he wrote Batia a touching email: “I hope this project will influence and improve understanding, quality of life and security on both sides of the fence. I hope that with the help of my photos, Israeli society and the whole world will know that the Gaza Strip is not only a place of rockets and missiles but a place worth living in. I hope that with the help of my photos, Israeli society will see that in Gaza the people are simple, love life and are not fighters and terrorists. This exhibition, for me, is hope for a peaceful life.”

Batia at her Between Us exhibition

Today, in the wake of such unimaginable brutality, Batia’s dreams seem heartbreakingly naïve. Her faith has been so profoundly shattered that she fears there may not be a single adult in Gaza who shares her vision of peace. “The hardest feeling is the sense of total betrayal,” she tells me.

“The sense that everyone in Gaza was involved, even those who claim to oppose Hamas. I realise how awful that sounds. It truly is awful. But I cannot think anything else today. The past 17 years since Hamas took over Gaza have been difficult and it’s got worse over time. Before the attack, people called life here 90 percent heaven, 10 percent hell. Now it just feels like hell.”

Batia heard Machmud’s voice for the very first time at 10am on October 7 when she received a phone call from an Israeli number she did not recognise. He told her he was inside the kibbutz and asked if Israeli soldiers were nearby.

Burned-out homes in the kibbutz. Sixty-four residents were murdered

“I was so confused,” recalls Batia with a shudder. “At first, I thought Machmud must have heard about the attack and was calling out of concern. It didn’t take long to realise he had a different reason. He wanted to cause me harm. I didn’t speak to him. I just hung up. I didn’t have time to think about the call until two days later. Terrorists were everywhere. My husband and I were just trying to survive. Later, I gave all the details I had about Machmud to the army. His phone number, personal information he’d shared, screenshots of our chats. I have no idea what happened to him.”

[ariapmdeol]

How would you describe the dynamic between seosane 🙏

they mean everything to me,, (receiving your question right after i got one that says "yaoi" was very fun for me. yeah thats my yaoi <3) Spoilers for the entire DLC, including whats past the youtube TL! I mention things from Hermit Room. quotes are paraphrased or referenced bc i am too lazy to dig for them.

I have another seosane essay somewhere in drafts but i can't find it rn and it's not edited so you're getting my current stream of consciousness <3

sanemitsu and seodore are two people who, by the end of dlc, have very different perspectives on how to handle the timeline and what should be done. Sanemitsu in particular goes through several perspectives on this, varying from his POV pre-1999, 1999-2015, S root, and S+. They are parallels and narrative foils, and this shapes how they interact with each other.

From their first interactions, they both have something that the other party wants. Seodore promises that Sanemitsu can change things, if they can reach Gods Love. Sanemitsu is critical to changing things (as we see in the start of DLC/S root). You can see them talk about this in record 4, where neither of them will know if Sanemitsu's ability has activated or taken effect. Seodore wants Sanemitsu to use this ability. Sanemitsu resists because he knows that if he changes the past, then he'll lose Reiji. Reiji, who is his number one priority, who he's clinging to as tight as he can.

But they appreciate each other. There's fondness. Their breakfast conversation at the end of DLC highlights that despite them ending up on different perspectives on the past, they still understand each other.

What always stands out to me is in Hermit room, there is a choice that the player can make. The two options are (paraphrased):

Even if we gained something at the end of it, it would have been better if none of it had happened. [better to change the past even if we gained something in the end]

If we gained something at the end of it, then we can't say that it would have been better that none of it had happened. [better that the past happens (good and bad), if we gained something in the end of it]

This choice is both paralleling Sanemitsu's perspective change in S vs S+, and the perspective of Seodore versus Sanemitsu (and System.NH) as two halves of the same whole. They're foils, and remain on good terms despite their differing POVs.

it's about the Metafiction. Sanemitsu doesn't break the fourth wall until after our current point in canon (System.NH is 2019 and also Outside the Timeline). Seodore breaks it ALL the time bc he Knows but doesnt SEE. Tangent but can you tell I really like the metafiction groups. I like System.NH + Seodore + Mutei, I think it's fun.

It's about the quiet things going on in the background. About blood, about factors, about inheritance. The contrast between the domesticity of daily life (seodore canonically makes him breakfast!). It's about "I'll take your hand, Seodore" (PARAPHRASING AGAIN) and things left unspoken. It's about what he says about Seodore in his journal from 1999. (see just before record 4. yt tl doesnt show us whats inside unfortunately).

Also it's SO good that they have other priorities than each other. They both know and are fully aware of this and it's so <33

This is why I like the intro scene to DLC so much too-- they both know that they're dying there. Even if this plan works, even if things change, even if the interaction between the Rainbow Factor Artifact (Malkuth) and Respawn means that there's a chance to save Reiji, then the selves that exist in this moment still die. This is peak yaoi to me.

There is something to be said about how sanemitsu refuses to risk using this power, until the very last moment. He only does so when Reiji is dead and he's lost the last person he wanted to cling to so desperately.

Fun Fact: Seodore has his eyes closed for this entire scene except for ONE frame as sanemitsu raises the blade <3

I realize a lot of this is about them as a duo but not necessarily in a shipping lens oops.

From the lens of them as a COUPLE, they dont talk about it LMAO. They are doing couple things and ignoring their feelings about it bc theyre both still mourning other people. I do think they're the kind of couple who do domestic things like grocery shopping together,, cooking,, sitting around at home,, a casual kind of comfort in each other. The hand holding symbolism gets to me. "ill take your hand" linked with THIS SCENE, RIGHT AFTER THAT LINE. Linked with Sanemitsu's scarred hand only being present in S+ because it comes from killing Seodore. They mean everything to me.

You have no idea how crazy i went when i saw this scene DSALKLKJDSA

This ended up off topic. this all factors into the dynamic of two guys who keep thinking about other things and have a lot going on but can choose to find comfort in each other regardless. i think they should kiss <3

anyways. these are my guys who i love and adore. Seosane forever <3