#albeit much less since. anatomy study.

[bionicboxes]

dynasty decapitated, just might see a ghost tonight

anatomy study I got a bit silly with.

[holdmeclosebutdontloveme]

Warning: size queen antics and belly expansion from cum

He enters, slowly, meticulous of the angle he think is less painful for you. But regardless of the hours he spent studying of the anatomy your body is molded with, your cunt is tight.

Just the tip of his cock have slip a gasp out of your lips. Your hands tighten on the bedsheet, your thighs buckle slightly, drawing out a boundary between the two of you along with clenches to his cock around your walls.

"Shit..." he curses, overwhelmed by your heat.

A constrast to the cool air from the opened window. But it welcomes him, like a tight hug, out of your love that was damp, soft, and warm.

"Sorry!" You apologized, with hesitance to lay your thigh down on the bed but you did it - a success of its own and an invitation for him to move closer, letting his hair brush against your skin.

Letting the smell of mint and wine in his breath muddle your worries into nothing.

"No... no, it's not that," he chuckles, "you are too eager, my love."

The implications was easily processed in your head and you blushed, embarrassed. However, you can't deny that this is a moment you have anticipated since you and your lover have been together.

So you teased him in return, "and you're too big," and watched as the compliment turn the tips of his ears into pink.

Your words doesn't lie though.

His cock is big, with a width that you couldn't completely wrapped around your hand. His length, too, was impressive; almost the length of your forearm.

You even attempt to estimate it, curious and albeit horny. A size queen in the making, a proclamation you proudly stated in front of your lover, who doesn't share the same sentinment with your desire. However, he reluctantly agreed and, with haste, laid his harden cock above your cunt.

His cock directly ends below your umbilicus, just a few inch difference and, with a picture as evidence, you could argue that the numbers doesn't hold much weight. Not when your lover drop a tiny fact that his cock could grow even further, if excited - especially in a rut, a seasonal mating thing, he said.

You clench from the memory and hear him hiss that you have gone tighter, wetter even.

You struggled from your excitement, more so with the shallow thrusts he's been doing to loosen you up. It never goes farther than the space he already entered which was a disappointment that rewards you with a shiver from the angles and corners you have never thought to exist within you before.

With a pout, you hook your legs around his waist, pushing him closer with the heels of your feet while your eyes never stray from his own.

"Mate me," you demand.

His eyes dilated, maybe it was yours that reflected in his. Who knows, really, when determination have replaced the fear from his action and let himself be welcomed fully.

He was slow, though, and you appreciated that he was taking his time entering. Making sure your breath was in pace with his, while also moan for each inch he takes from you.

Until just as you expected; below the umbilicus. The bulge became clearer, more protuding as his cock deviates further into your cunt. The tip you have booped as it curves your skin - your insides, too. You even felt your cervix stretched widely as he intruded gently in it. Although the stimulation you felt was hardly soft like he attempted.

And you came from it, joking about your essence as lube replacement that soften his continuing entrance to the depth of your walls.

Which he didn't respond with a rebuttal as your lover holds his tongue from feeling you all around him.

Right now, you caress the bulge his cock have swollen in you; cupping the width you could never hold completely in your hand and let your fingers run through the length his cock have covered inside of you.

"You really are big, my love," you told him, still feeling him through your layers of fat, skin, and muscles.

You felt him twitch along with the pressure that made you fuller - the bulge becoming less of a reflection of his cock but now a small rounded belly in a matter of seconds.

"So-sorry," he says to you, panting and gripping your hips tight. He pulls you closer, his fingers digging deep to your skin. "Couldn't help myself."

His cum, you realized, he was cumming.

He wasn't stopping anytime soon and while pain was an introduction to his ejaculation, somehow pleasure began to mixed within it as well. Letting yourself be overriden with another orgasm as he pokes around in your cervix with short thrusts.

Until he eventually stopped.

The both of you breathless, sweating profusely with exhaustion taking in the reign of the intimacy. Your hand cupped his cheek, complimenting him for leading on the final act until the end while he felt your belly, the first time since it happened and be in awed from the size.

He wonders if you could handle his eggs when mating season does occur.

You'd be beautiful, he thought to himself, a reminder more than just a scenario played in his head.

[violetsaffron5]

Beautiful Disaster (6)

← Chapter 5 • series masterlist • Chapter 7 →

↳ 6 | Turning Point

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

some time has passed since your date with Satoru and you're both moving on

words: 4.3k

cw: jealously, obsessive gojo, masterbation (male - gojo thinking about reader)

Taglist • Ao3 • Discord 18+ • Social Media • Series Masterlists

“I… caught the science lab on fire today.”

“Fucking dumbass.”

“Accidents happen, Sukuna. Don’t be mean to our little brother.”

You’re at Sukuna’s place, sitting on the floor at the coffee table in the living room looking between Sukuna, Choso and their little brother, Yuji, as they argue about whether the accident was due to stupidity or curiosity.

When arriving at Tokyo Tech, you signed up to be a tutor for an easy extra credit and were assigned Yuji as the high school student you’re meant to help. When you first talked with Yuji and asked where he’d like to meet, you were surprised and confused when he gave you Satoru’s address.

Looking at Yuji, it’s easy to tell he’s related to Sukuna - the peach hair with chestnut coloring underneath. Their facial features are incredibly similar as well, albeit, Yuji’s are less prominent and softer, not to mention the lack of facial tattoos.

But Choso, he looks so much different from the other two.

“I’m sorry, wait,” your brows are furrowed, an obvious look of confusion on your face, “you’re all brothers?”

Sukuna’s sitting on the couch, legs spread wide, cigarette in his mouth, “Yuji’s mom is Choso’s dad. I’m some random mix of the two but don’t care enough to figure it out. Choso’s got some other brothers, I guess.”

“I- wait what?” You look at Yuji who shrugs but you don’t worry about dwelling on it too much after hearing Shoko and Satoru walk through the front door together.

“Hey, babe,” Satoru says casually as he takes a seat on the floor next to you, “whatcha doin’?”

You cock your head towards Satoru with a small smile, flushed cheeks because even though it’s been two weeks since your date, he still calls you babe, “tutoring Yuji in Geometry and Biology.”

“Mm,” he’s grinning, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers linger on your neck, “if you ever need tutoring, we could study anatomy.”

“Wow. That was genuinely… terrible.” You scoff before rolling your eyes while Yuji rifles through his backpack.

He finally moves his hand off you before leaning forward on the coffee table, resting his head in his arms,  “damn, and here I thought that would work.”

“You’re too much,” you reply with a soft laugh, watching as his eyes flicker over your features and down to your lips several times before he sighs, turning his attention to talk with Sukuna.

Gathering a few papers you printed with problems reviewing the pythagorean theorem, you hand them to Yuji, ensuring this is something he’s covered in his class before letting him loose on the problems himself.

“Ok, Yuji, find x.”

They’re relatively simple, but when you were assigned Yuji as your tutee, the higher-ups over the program had explained he needed extra attention, more than any other student, in these two areas.

The poor kid, who emits nothing but rainbows and sunshine through his personality and smile, stares at the paper for several minutes before scribbling for a moment and handing you the paper back.

And you just stare at it in disbelief before looking up, watching him nervously twiddle his thumbs.

You blink several times, trying to form a coherent sentence, “Yuji… you circled x. You need to solve for it.”

His cheeks flush bright pink before laughing, placing his hand on the back of his head and scratching at his undercut, “yeah, I knew that.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes, calling him obscenities to Choso’s dismay, who tries to cheer Yuji on, telling him he’ll get it right the next time.

You grab the paper and the pen, going over how to solve the problem as Satoru watches with a raised eyebrow and Shoko furrows her brows, “and then the answer is seven cm, see?”

“It’s five cm,” Satoru interrupts.

“What? How’s it 5?”

“The height is three cm and the length is four cm,” Satoru grabs the pen from your hand, scribbling how to solve the problem with prettier handwriting than you anticipated, “do you even know how to do math?”

“Shut up.” Your cheeks are flushed with embarrassment, “it’s just been a while since I’ve had to do that. Let’s just work on Biology instead.”

Yuji gives a thumbs up and wide smile, grabbing his book and opening it to the most recent pages they’ve looked over in class.

“So, gonna be here tonight?” Satoru asks casually.

Shoko groans from the couch, rolling her eyes at the way you’re biting your lip while talking to Satoru about the party, “yeah, was thinking I’d just stay when I’m done helping Yuji and-”

“Or…” Shoko suggests a hint of annoyance in her tone, “you can come get ready with me and come back later. Not sure if Utahime can join us yet or not.”

You purse your lips, staring at her for a moment before scrunching your nose, making a disgruntled face, “I don’t think Utahime likes me very much.”

It’s only partially true. Utahime has never been rude to you, but you can tell when you talk about Satoru she easily gets annoyed, and since you gave them the details of your last date, can’t help but feel like she’s side-eyeing you at all times because of it.

Shoko waves her hand at you while lighting her cigarette, “she just takes a while to warm up to people.”

Next to you, Satoru rolls his eyes when you ultimately agree to go back to the dorms with Shoko and come back later.

You’d also be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little bummed, not staying at the house, being able to spend a little extra time alone with Satoru.

Things with Satoru are platonic since your date… mostly.

The days are fine, going to class, sitting next to each other and talking with your friends at lunch, maybe a little flirting here and there.

But, when you’ve been drinking, and you’re at a party together and tipsy, you find you like being in his presence, more than you should.

And he likes having you around, likes being able to sling his arm around your neck when talking to friends in the kitchen, pulling you in close to him.

Likes whispering in your ear when you’re sitting on the couch together, the way you automatically lean in closer to him.

Sometimes you make out on the couch while others ignore the two of you, continuing their conversation while your hand is cupping his jaw, tongues melded together. It hasn’t gone any further than that, to Satoru’s obvious dismay.

Tonight’s one of those nights, where your legs are across his lap and his tongue is in your mouth, mapping it out like he might die if he doesn’t.

There were fights in their basement again, Satoru against someone you can’t remember the name of to save your life. Not that it matters much because he won.

He kissed you after his match, and hasn’t stopped. Satoru always tastes like spearmint, with a hint of copper tonight, even though there’s no visible cuts on his soft lips.

The music that’s playing is loud enough to cover your moans when Satoru moves from your lips to your neck, but he grins, able to feel the vibrations even when he can’t hear them.

You can vaguely make out your name being called a few times over the music, but the way Satoru is sucking a small mark on the crook of your neck, and slowly running his hands along the length of your legs is too distracting, unable to bring yourself to pay attention to anything else.

“Y/N.” You hear your name being firmly called from Shoko once again.

Satoru groans in annoyance, “she’s a little preoccupied right now.”

“Mm. Well, I need to talk to her. Right now.”

He’s about to reply before you cut in, telling him you’ll be right back.

He pouts his kiss swollen lips before threading his fingers through your hair, tugging on your lip before letting you out of his grasp.

Shoko’s unamused when you finally detach yourself from Satoru and stand up. You’re not sure what she needs to talk to you about so urgently, but judging by the lack of warmth coming from her, you’d venture to guess it’s nothing good.

She walks through the house to the back, maneuvering her way through the groups of people who have all huddled into awkward spaces in the halls and kitchen before bringing you out to the back patio, where hardly anyone is at.

“So… what’s up?” You ask nervously.

Shoko leans against the wooden railing around the patio, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket before asking seriously, “what are you doing?”

It’s quiet outside, except for the music coming from inside the house. But it’s calmer out here, leaves rustling in the wind, the cool air causing you to shiver slightly, hoping this conversation goes quickly:

You laugh awkwardly because you know why she’s asking, even if you don’t want to say it, “I- What do you mean?”

“You’ve said multiple times since your date you don’t want to be involved with him if he’s not going to be exclusive. Yet here you are getting involved with him.”

“I’m not getting involved,” You roll your eyes, “we’re just friends. That’s it.”

“Really hard to tell when his tongue is down your throat every time you’re together.”

You scoff, folding your arms over your chest, looking away from her gaze, “sounds like you’re jealous it’s not yours.”

It’s quiet for a moment, the sound of the music in the background drowned out by the sound of crickets in the distance as you shiver, guilt quickly setting in because you know you shouldn’t have suggested that.

You’re able to see Shoko staring at you with a stern expression from the corner of your eye, taking a deep drag of her cigarette before putting it out on the wood of the fencing, letting the smoke slowly trickle from her nose before breathing out.

“Right. Well, he’s not going to stop, even if he’s not doing that shit in front of you. You’re just going to end up hurt. Don’t come running to me when it happens because I’ll just say I told you so.”

It’s true. Since your date, you haven’t seen Satoru even look in another woman's direction while he’s with you.

There’s been a very small part of you that had hoped he stopped, that he’d want to be exclusive, even though deep down you know it’s not the case.

“Why can’t I just have fun with him?” You ask quietly.

“Because it’s not really what you want. You’re trying to convince yourself to be okay with it but as soon as you see him with someone else, you’re going to be heartbroken. And I don’t wanna see that.”

You huff dramatically, running your hands through your hair before admitting she’s right, and apologizing for being an asshole earlier as you make your way back inside, planning on tonight being your last fun and flirty night with Satoru.

But the universe has other plans because when you’re in the hall, just outside the living room, you can see Satoru with his back turned.

He has a hand on another girl's chin, leaned in close. She’s blushing at whatever he’s saying to her, and your heart is in your fucking stomach.

You were literally in a similar position as her not ten minutes ago and he’s found someone to replace you almost instantly. Easily.

“Jesus Christ,” Shoko mumbles next to you, hand on your shoulder, nodding her head towards the door to Utahime, “just wanna head out?”

You don’t make eye contact with Satoru as you cross the living room to gather your things, but you can see he’s smiling from your peripherals, expecting you to come join him on the couch again.

Instead, Shoko tells them you guys are going to head back.

“I’ve gotta head that way, I can walk you guys back,” Choso offers, standing from the couch and walking to the front door.

“You guys can just stay here. It’s not a big deal.” Satoru says, you can hear the annoyance in his tone.

Shoko says she has things to do in the morning, which is true.

She’s attending a few seminars for pre-med with Utahime. She asked if you had wanted to go too, but you declined.

Now you’re wondering if it’s too late to join, to help keep your mind preoccupied.

“Later,” Suguru says to you with a warm smile, “I’ll see you in class, and we can start planning our World History project.”

“Yeah, sounds great.”

Satoru watches as you give Suguru a forced smile, one that looks like it’s supposed to be genuine, but it’s not.

He clicks his tongue, turning away from you, folding his thick arms over his chest as you walk out of the door with Shoko, Utahime and Choso.

Satoru’s annoyed with how close you’ve gotten with Suguru and how Choso just seems to linger around you too. He could easily give you what you asked for, sure, but where’s the fun in that?

Satoru has actually come to like you quite a bit since you’ve met. But he likes variety, and what he does keeps him from getting bored of one person too easily.

He’s young and has his whole life ahead of him to worry about settling down.

To him, this is better, dating a few people at a time.

There doesn’t have to be commitment with that, and when he gets bored or who he’s seeing gets annoying, he can spend time with someone else, without them hating him or breaking up with him.

But seeing your reaction, how you wouldn’t look at him after whatever Shoko said to you.

That’s weighing on him more than he’d admit to anyone.

October 2011

“Okay, so… put that one right there.”

It’s early evening, and Satoru is sitting on the stairs waiting for his date to arrive as you and Suguru work on your World History diorama. He watches as you nimbly grab a few of the toothpicks and glue, putting them in place where Suguru directs.

The two of you have been partnered together to do this project over the fall of the Roman Empire while Satoru got partnered to work with some asshole he doesn't care to remember the name of.

Suguru invited you over to finish the project this weekend. Satoru’s planning on just letting his partner do the whole thing because who the fuck wants to work together on a boring project?

He’d probably attempt to be more helpful if he was partnered with someone more interesting, like Suguru.

Or you.

It’s been a few weeks since you’ve really spoken to Satoru, or even paid him much attention. Not since you left the night of the party after Shoko talked with you.

If Satoru’s around while you’re talking with friends, you’ll acknowledge him, but that’s the most he’s been getting out of you.

No replies to texts, no looking at him in class or at parties.

Now, all he wants to do is get a rise out of you. Happiness, anger, jealousy. Doesn’t really fucking matter, just something to show you’ve still got feelings for him, still want him.

Satoru’s basically burning a hole into your head with how intently he’s watching you right now from between the railing on the stairs.

You’re sitting between the oversized couch and coffee table, watching how you quickly, yet gently, place each toothpick into its proper spot before smiling and looking at Suguru.

There’s a gentle knock on the front door, and Satoru lets out a heavy sigh as he stands to answer it, already knowing it’s his date for the evening.

She smiles wide and bright. He thought it was endearing a few weeks ago when he first talked to her, but right now it seems dull in comparison to the way you just smiled at his best friend.

“Hey, baby,” Satoru greets anyway, putting on his best smile, pulling his date into a hug, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head as she giggles into his chest.

When she pulls away from him, she runs her hands along his arms until they’re at his hands, cupping them in hers, “I’m so excited to go out tonight. I barely slept last night.”

“Hmm,” Satoru hums, looking back at you and Suguru through the corner of his eye to see you’ve finally looked up from your project to see who the girl is at the front door, “did you know you can get paid for sleeping?”

“Oh, really?” She asks curiously, “I could probably make so much money, normally I love to sleep.”

“It’d be a real dream job, huh.”

There’s an awkward silence for a few seconds and then Satoru’s date snorts before loudly chortling.

“Oh, my god, that’s so funny,” she continues.

“Wasn’t that good.” Satoru hears you whisper under your breath.

He lets go of her hands and sighs, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He’s tempted to just end the date right here and now so he doesn’t have to listen to this annoying laugh the rest of the fucking night.

But he doesn’t. Instead he gives the girl his most charming smile, cupping her face in his hand before locking his lips with hers.

She immediately melts into his touch, slipping her tongue against his and into his mouth. It’s incredibly apparent how inexperienced she is, with the way she’s just wagging her tongue around with no purpose.

Satoru sighs, rolling his eyes before turning her just enough to be able to take control of the kiss, showing her how it’s done.

She’s putty in his hands at this point, exhaling deeply as Satoru opens his eyes to catch you staring at them, jaw ticking in irritation before you close your eyes, turning your attention back to Suguru.

Satoru smiles at your reaction, which in turn makes his date smile as well, thinking he’s doing it because of her.

“Come on, baby,” Satoru says, running his thumb over her lips, “let’s get outta here.”

At dinner, Satoru sits with his hand on his chin as his date prattles on about school, or her parents. He’s not entirely sure since his mind has been preoccupied with thoughts of you since before he left the house.

He’s never cared much if one of his dates runs off and wants to date Suguru, or someone else. That’s just the nature of casually dating. But when you’re around Suguru, Satoru can’t help but be annoyed that you're not paying attention to him.

And fucking ice washes through his veins whenever he sees you and Choso talking.

You probably think these guys are all just so nice and helpful when it couldn’t be further from the truth. Satoru’s very familiar with the look in their eyes when they’re with you.

How they’re all too interested in you. Choso, Suguru, even fucking Sukuna has made remarks about how he’d like to see you tied up in his bed one day.

You’re too sweet for them. Honestly too sweet for Satoru, too, but he’s got an addiction to sweet things, and you’re becoming one of them.

So sweet, the way you smell, the way you taste. Fuck, if he doesn’t wish it was you who’s legs his head has been between this last month. Devouring you rather than some girl he doesn’t really care for.

He doesn’t even really want to fuck them either, a real first for him. Which is why he’s walking back through his front door alone after his grandiose display of going on a date. One he didn’t really even want to go on, he just had an overwhelming urge to make you jealous.

He hopes it worked.

The lights in the living room are off when he gets home. Sukuna’s car was gone but Suguru’s was still here, so Satoru heads upstairs only to find Suguru’s bedroom door closed, light murmurs of Suguru’s voice coming through the door.

Huffing, Satoru makes his way to his room, closing the door behind him before stripping off his shirt and changing into a pair of loose gray sweatpants.

He falls onto his bed with a heavy sigh, crossing his arms behind his head and like clockwork, his thoughts fall back to you and how you’ve been avoiding him.

He hadn’t been following you per say, but he’s perceptive, definitely noticed when you’d be walking around campus, talking to someone. His eyes always seemed to land on you.

You’d walk into class and take your normal seat next to Suguru and Choso, probably thinking Satoru was too busy playing Candy Crush or some shit on his phone, but he’d be watching you, unable to tear his gaze away as you smiled and laughed at someone who isn’t him.

He’s not sure why he’s got you on his mind so much since your date. It didn’t work out, you don't want the same things, it’s not the first time.

But he likes being around you, and he has a dopey fucking grin on his face just thinking about how smart and funny you are. How you’re animated when you talk with your hands while telling a story.

How you look at him with soft eyes and a pretty smile, like he’s more than his family's money and the fact that his father has plans for him to take over the family business.

He also likes that you’re not afraid to just tell him how you feel and what you want.

Satoru groans when he slips his hand past the waistband of his sweats, half-heartedly stroking his hard length at memories of your warm, sweet tongue pressed against his. The way you gently sigh into him when he’d run his hands along your body with light, teasing touches.

He fumbles for his phone next to him, searching every social media app he has until he finds you on one of them, scrolling through your pictures.

There’s not many, and they all seem to be from your freshman year in Kyoto with friends, but there is one of you in a swimsuit similar to the one you wore on your date.

Satoru slides his hand up and down his silky cock, imagining what your mouth would feel like kissing down his chest and abs until your lips are around his hard length.

Your tongue is so soft against his, and the way you hum and sigh into him when you kiss, when he’s between your legs; he just knows you’d look and sound so pretty on your knees in front of him, nose pressed to his groin with his hard cock down your throat.

You’d take him all, and he’d tell you how great you’re doing, that you’re a good girl. He can tell you’d like that.

“Fuuuuck,” he moans softly to himself, still staring at the picture of you, hips doing most of the work as he fucks into his hand.

He’d let you give little kitten licks while he threads his hand into your hair, before pushing you down to the base.

His abs constrict thinking about the way you’d gag on his cock the same way you did his fingers on the beach, a few tears spilling from the corner of your eyes as he fucked your throat recklessly; and when he cums in your mouth you’d swallow without being told, just like his spit, and you’d like it, probably ask for more too.

Satoru moans out your name softly as his body twitches and tenses, covering his abdominals in thick, white spurts of too warm cum.

He sighs heavily before standing up to clean himself off, but when he’s back on his bed, he looks through a few more photos of you.

Nothing too interesting, but one photo catches his eye only because there’s a comment from some guy, Kenji, with several heart eye emojis.

Satoru clicks on his pictures and looks through the photos, immediately noticing an odd similarity to Suguru. And you clearly have a history with him, judging by the several untagged photos you’re in with them.

There’s also several, more recent photos, where you’re in the background, clearly unhappy while Kenji poses with another woman who looks oddly similar to yourself.

If that guy is an ex, as he assumes, then that would at least explain why you seem so drawn to Suguru.

Satoru clicks his tongue in annoyance and opens your text history, debating on messaging you. But if he did, it would just go unanswered, like the others he’s sent the last two weeks. 

Grumbling to himself, he tosses his phone onto his night stand and rolls over, trying his best to just fall asleep.

Satoru wakes with the early morning rays shining through his windows. It’s Saturday, but he’s awake earlier than he thinks he’s been in some time, courtesy of going to bed early for the first time in forever.

He stretches and yawns loudly before making his way to the kitchen to get something to drink, preferably with caffeine but his movements are halted when he walks into the kitchen to see a sight he wasn’t expecting.

You.

With messy hair, no pants and one of Suguru’s oversized sweatshirts, drinking a glass of water, looking over at Suguru who appears to be making toast for two.

You stayed the night. With his best friend.

Satoru’s blood is boiling, clenching his jaw, eye twitching at the sight.

He quietly walks to the table in the kitchen, grabbing a chair and dragging it loudly across the floor letting it screech before plopping down, clicking his tongue, eyes flickering between you and Suguru when you both look over at the source of the sound.

You look awkward. Uncomfortable. A little mortified, if Satoru had to guess, with big doe eyes like you’ve been caught red handed before quickly setting your glass on the counter and scampering out of the kitchen as fast as you can.

@petalsrdead @sugurunicorn @niki-sun @lilith412426 @sofiaconlaz @lxvephxbic @kash2 @violetsapplejuice @iam-mia9 @laylasbunbunny @creolequeen11210 @xiaosie @lem-hhn @s-witch-bitch @yogurttea @slut-jr @watyousayin @desthedemon @ritsatoru @faewithsnakes @abba-simp @myabae @hvziers

[elliepassmore]

The Winter Duke review

4/5 stars Recommended for people who like: fantasy, magic, lesbian characters, power struggles, political intrigue, mysteries, LGBTQ+ representation I really enjoyed We Rule the Night and so was excited to see this author had published another book, albeit not in the same world. Unfortunately, I didn’t like this one nearly as much as I liked Night, even though it did follow through on its wlw potential. For starters, Winter Duke starts off very slowly. I really struggled to get into the book despite its premise and despite the fact that there is some action in chapter 2. However, chapter 1 and many of the chapters that followed were rather slow going and involved a lot of discussion and not a lot of action. Even the parts when Ekata gets to travel Below were somewhat meh (though I will say that the worldbuilding was fantastic and I very much enjoyed the descriptions of Below). Nevertheless, I feel like even with the tension in some scenes, most of the action occurs in chapter 2 and in the last 1/3 to 1/4 of the book. Another issue I had is that Ekata lets people push her around too easily. She is grand duke and, yeah, sure, maybe she didn’t want the position, but she was still raised as a princess or whatever the duchy equivalent is, yet she lets people bowl over her like its nothing. Ekata then complains that people don’t listen to her and do things without her knowledge, but she barely stands up for herself. Maybe the things that happen in the book would have still happened if she had asserted herself, maybe not, but she wouldn’t have been so passive about it at least. Further, though she admits she’s unsuited to the position of grand duke, she allows her ministers to not tell her things and doesn’t even read the documents she signs about trade agreements and what not. If she wants to at least be a good provisional grand duke and get people to listen to her, you’d think she’d put a little effort into making herself knowledgeable. To be fair to her, she does start trying to remember the dignitaries present, but that’s only halfway through the book. My third issue, which is also still kind of my second issue, is that Ekata doesn’t like her family and wants to be better…but then she tries to act just like her father and brother as soon as she becomes grand duke, even when people suggest to her that maybe she shouldn’t try to replicate them. She uses her brain to try and sort through the curse, but she doesn’t use it to try and rule and instead attempts to mirror her despotic father. Her behavior even impacts how she interacts with the people Below, who she’s long wondered about and loved and wanted to study, and the people she loves, and not in a good way. I get making mistakes and mirroring the behavior of people we know, and I get using stuff like this for tension, but my issue with this comes in when so many of Ekata’s problems would’ve been solved if she used her own brain for five minutes instead of trying to be her father and brother (or even looked over the end of her own nose). Like, she’s complaining that she doesn’t want to be grand duke, then refuses a parliament. Like…why? Just why? She’s afraid of the absolute power her father and brother would have to kill her and believes in her family’s right to rule instead of ‘peasants,’ but she doesn’t see the irony in how parliament would take away that absolute killing power and in how the woman she says is more a mother than her own is a freaking peasant. So many of her issues and tensions in this book would’ve been avoided if Ekata had just stayed herself the entire time. For things I do like, I enjoyed the focus on science + magic. Bartlett does a good job combining the two in a way that makes sense and doesn’t contradict one another. Magic in this world is less understood than science, but there are still rules and ways to study it alongside more concrete things like anatomy and chemistry. There is a more heavy lean on magic in this book than there was in Night, but I liked the different balance and found the exploration of it interesting. In this same vein, the worldbuilding was excellent as well and I enjoyed the little details that didn’t have much to do with the plot, but made it feel more real. There’s good LGBTQ+ rep in the book as well. Ekata is, obviously, gay and Inkar is as well. Sigis, one of the antagonists, is at least bi, if not pan, as is Lyosha, Ekata’s oldest brother. Several other named characters are nonbinary and at least one or two is asexual. There are also unnamed characters who are gay or bi as well. I think there’s also probably a lot of fluidity allowed in the world in terms of gender representation, since there are some women in the book called ‘prince’ and Ekata herself is called a grand duke, not a grand duchess. I also really liked some of the side characters. Aino, Ekata’s nursemaid and quasi-adoptive mother, is an absolute powerhouse. That woman manages to not only take care of Ekata and protect her from literal dangers that may creep into her room, but she also manages to fend off some of the ministers and dignitaries, steal Ekata’s mother’s jewelry, and plot to help herself and Ekata escape. Truly a background hero. Aino clearly cares for Ekata and wants what’s best for her, and she seems like an excellent person to have as a friend and defender. Further, Aino often provides some snippy commentary that I enjoy. Inkar, Ekata’s trial wife, is also a character that I enjoyed, but she, like Ekata, is stuck up in certain ways from being raised royalty, which causes some issues between her and Aino. To Inkar, the world of Kylma Above is completely foreign to her and her interactions with everything are as new as ours, making her one of the vessels for worldbuilding. Despite her view on servants, she doesn’t have the same problems Ekata seems to sympathizing with more common people and she gets on splendidly with the guards of the palace. Actually…aside from Aino, PM Eirhan, and Sigis, she seems to get along swell with everyone around her, even those who were once held hostage by her or her father. Overall, Inkar’s a very enjoyable character to read about. As for the main character, Ekata, I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, I listed a lot of the problems I have with her above, which led to me thinking I just wasn’t a fan of her character until around the last fourth or so of the book. On the other hand, she has some very funny lines throughout the book and I enjoyed how she was focused on science and used it to calm herself. I also liked her obvious love for Kylma, even if a lot of her thoughts about it are coated in ignorance or memories of her family. Overall I don’t think I entirely like Ekata, but I definitely don’t dislike her. I feel bad for her, honestly, since, as mentioned, a lot of her problems could’ve been circumvented if she’d just decided to be herself the entire time (and maybe extend herself a little to learn about the duchy, the dignitaries, and the agreements she’s signing). There are a lot more bad guys than good in this one, and it seems like one is around every corner. Eirhan is perhaps the most slithery of them, and it’s hard to tell whose side he’s on, though it largely seems to be his own. I found him to be an infuriating character, but didn’t hate him the same way I hate Sigis. Sigis, Ekata’s foster brother and a king in his own right, is just downright horrendous and deserves a sword through his back. Slimy and conniving, Sigis revels in others’ discomfort and is the picture beside the dictionary term ‘toxic masculinity.’ He does not, I believe, know the meaning of the word ‘no’ and simply thinks the world is his for the taking and by right. Overall I feel pretty much the same way about this book as I do about Ekata: I don’t dislike it, but I don’t entirely like it either. The worldbuilding was good and I really enjoyed the two main side characters, even if I didn’t like a lot of the other characters (though with them being antagonists, I’m going to say that was on purpose).

[hangukincharms]

Drawn to You

Word Count: 5147 Genre: Fluff, Fan x Idol Interaction Summary: You are an art student drafting a portrait of Wonho at a well-known café. Cross-Posted: AO3 as xKrypton_Bliss

E V E N I N G // A Seoul Café Sitting in a well-known café, you scroll through photos of Wonho on your phone to study his facial expressions and his exact anatomy. Your foot shakes idly now as you have gone past the blushing-in-embarrassment phase to more focused on seeing how the jawline is shaped, the turn of the tip of his nose, where his cheekbones land, and the subtle upturned corners of his mouth. With a nicely weighted and balanced mechanical pencil in hand, you begin to lay down the basic foundations for the three-quarter angle of his head, hoping to capture his essence truly. You have come so far now as an art student, and this was your last art project for university right before you graduate. You have already been taking commissions here and there, but only so few due to your overwhelming schedule with balancing your part-time job, school, and some sort of semblance of this thing called social life. After some time had passed, you managed to get a base sketch down along with some shading and details. It is still a little rough, but it has gotten more refined. A stroke of a loose hair here, maybe a shade there. No, it does not look right. You erase with a bit of frustration. You do not realize that the café has emptied quite a bit and it is darkening a little outside. "Your drawing is wonderful." A woman's voice startled you out of concentration. You snap your head up and see a short older woman carrying a tray with used plates and cups. She smiles sweetly, which seemed a bit familiar in some way to you. "Oh, uh, thank you!" you stammered, feeling embarrassed someone has actually seen your drawing before it was done, and it was a K-pop idol no less. Your cheeks heat up. "It's still far from being done…" You tuck your hair behind your ear out of nerves and pick up your hot chocolate to sip on. "I think it's wonderful," she repeated. "You did a great job capturing my son's personality." You choke on your drink and cough. "Y-your…" "Yes," she smiles proudly, her eyes becoming crescents. "Hoseoki is my son." Your eyes widen in disbelief. That embarrassment that finally ebbed away came back in full force. Now you have to figure out how to explain why out of all people, you decided to draw her son for the final project. You need to figure out why you could have not chosen someone else for this project. Anyone else at all! She sets the tray down on the table next to you. You look around and see maybe one or two people left in the café. You really did not realize how late it was. She sits down across from you. "What made you decide to draw him, dear?" she asks softly. "What do you like about him?" That was a question you dreaded to hear followed by another question you really did not expect. You take a deep breath and explain that the drawing was for a school project that focused on portraits but with a twist of concepts and imaginations. You told her idea of a light and dark concept. Everything has to be hand done and colored for it to be accepted. Right now, you are just going through the first stages of rough drafts. "That sounds very interesting!" she says with intrigue. "But — " she smiles again and leans in a little closer to you. " — you haven't told me why you like him." You were hoping you explained in detail too much so she would forget that question. Your cheeks feel warm as you bring the sketchbook close to you. "Uh, I-I — " A phone rings. Not your ringtone though. She looks down at her apron and finds her smartphone and picks up. "I am so sorry, excuse me — hello?" You breathe a sigh of relief. Many thoughts race through your mind. I just met Wonho's mom. I thought her café closed. Is this even her café? Is she working at a different café? Why did I decide the one time I draw someone outside my apartment, it had to be related to someone who works here! You shake your head back into reality so you did not want to take any more precious time away from his mother who has so kindly sat down with you and chat, which you totally did not expect. "Okay, I will see you soon." She hangs up and puts the phone back into the pocket of her apron. "He's on his way!" "Huh?" you hum in surprise. "I mean — Forgive me — I — who is on his way?" "My son. He is coming by to visit." Now is your chance for escape from even more embarrassment. "Ahh, okay, well…" you begin to collect your belongings. "I don't want to be rude while you wait for your son to arrive — " "Oh, please! Stay! I insist!" She gives you a look that only Asian mothers do that I wish I could describe. "You won't be bothering us if that is what you're afraid of. I'm always happy to meet any Monbebe and he is too." Your eyes widen by each word landing in your ear. "A-a-are you sure?" "Yes! Now sit down!" she politely urges. You did not realize you had gotten up from your seat in your rush to leave. You feel so rude to deny her, so you obey and bow to her in apology. Since you know she would not let up, you begin to explain the qualities of Wonho as you have seen him in variety shows and Vlive: charismatic, selfless, cute, cares very much about other people, making sure no one is left behind, in tune with his emotions… the list was endless. There was so much to list that it felt like you lost track of time. You really wanted to let his mother know how at least one fan of his feels about him so she could feel proud. For a little while now, you felt this strange sensation that you have been brushing off that someone was nearby you. Now that you have begun to run out of words, the feeling has become stronger. You cautiously eye to the side and slowly turn your head to see a plain grey sweater at your eye level. You look up hesitantly and see an all too familiar face of your bias, beaming down at you —the Wonho himself. Your heart beats painfully against your chest as your eyes widen. How long has he been there?! Did he hear everything I said? Do I sound crazy? Oh, God, I hope he didn't stand there for too long. Why did she not say anything? Such a sweet lady, she just smiled the whole time with light in her eyes. Ahhh, I should've listened to that gut a long time ago! "Hi," he greets sweetly. The upturned corners of his mouth have become much more prevalent with his smile while showing off his pearly whites. You draw in a shaky breath. Your hands begin to work on attempting at anything to hide your sketch from his eyes, albeit very clumsily. You fumbled with closing the sketchbook, flipping your phone over so the backside is shown — crap, it has his PC in it! You shove it under your arm. Feeling a shift in movement, you see Wonho move next to you and sits down between you and his mother, phone in hand to check the time and sets it down, watching you curiously with a hint of amusement. “Ah — h-how are you?” you stuttered, with your arm hastily crossed in front of you, resting your chin in your hand. “I’m doing fine,” he replies with a relieved sigh as he sweeps his hair back with his fingers. “I just got done with dance practice for our comeback.” He smiles again. “How are you doing? What's your name?” “I-I-I’m doing okay…” You say as you trail off, making sure to cover your face with your hair, looking down. "My name is Y/N…" "Nice to meet you, Y/Nssi," he beams. "I'm sure you already know who I am, but I am Wonho of Monsta X. I see you have already met my mom." He bows politely. "Yes, nice to meet you too." You return the bow meekly. You look back up at him to smile politely and notice the beads of sweat glistening along his forehead and the side of his face. A stark contrast against his black hair. You are surprised at how casual he was in front of you, a fan, for this. Does he not know he could kill you in an instant if you let him? (Nah, you were already dead before it started.) As you become lost in thought on how this is even reality right now, he and his mother chatted away, probably something about their days recently. You are trying not to be rude and listen into the conversation, but the unexpected starstruck really hit hard with you. Normally, if you are prepared to meet someone who is in some ways well-known or famous, you would not be a bumbling mess. Your own personality shines much more brilliantly and naturally. If this was a fansign, you would have ample time to calm down, even before the meet up — at least, that is what you would know from what you have seen on social media. You did not want to treat Wonho like he was on a pedestal or some kind of god. Geez, but this was far too soon and too unexpected! You come back to reality when you realize a hand was waving in your face. "Are you still there?" Wonho asks. "Hm?" Your eyebrows quirk. Oh, that is right. Wonho is still there in front of you. Wonho is still there in front of you! "Did you want to see my arms?" he asks with a chuckle. "You were staring really hard at them." "Eh?" You spaced out and did not know you were burning a hole through his arms. "A-ah, no! It's okay! I'm okay — " "Oh…" he slumps in his seat, eyes looking down. "So you don't want to see them…" He looks back up to you with puppy eyes. Your breath hitched in your throat as you have realized what you said. "N-no! I don't mean that! I mean, like, you don't have to show them to me. Only if you're comfortable." He laughs. "It's okay. I'm not offended. I knew what you meant." He winks playfully. "It's getting a little hot for me in here anyway, so do you mind if I take off my sweater?" Your nostrils involuntarily flare and your heart quickens. You shove that thought to the dirt. Now that he has been here for a while, you are trying every way to calm down and treat him like a normal human being. "No, I don't mind." He smiles and nods. You look away and out the window to the busy street as you hear the shuffling of fabric next to you, chin resting on your hand. You noticed it was just a little too quiet at the table despite his movement. "Where's your mom?" He chuckles. "You didn't hear?" He must have realized you were spacing out. "She went back to finish up cleaning and busting the tables." "Ah…" "So she was telling me how talented you are at drawing." "Oh…?" "And I kind of want to see it for myself." "Uhh…you sure? I'm not that good…" "Hey." "Yeah?" "Why won't you look at me?" You freeze. Do you dare mention that your face has been beet red and the mere thought of looking at him in the flesh with no sleeves is just going to kill you? "I'm embarrassed," you say, settling in that word alone. You feel him leaning closer to you. "Embarrassed?" You nod your head. "Whether your drawing looks good or not, I'll still love it all the same," he assures softly. "It's okay that you drew me." You close your eyes and sigh. Wanting to get this over with, you slowly turn your body back around and see him in a loosely fitted white tee with his sleeves partially rolled up. His arms are magnificently big, but in their relaxed state, it is not so bad; not as intimidating as you thought. He flashes his pearly whites at you, his eyes disappearing. "Ah… There's a face I want to see." You exhale out of your nose in half amusement and relief and give a wry smile. Sure, you are sitting in front of Wonho right now, but you are becoming more relaxed to his presence, arms and all. You slowly unveil your sketchbook and your phone peeks out, his PC in full glory. "Is that your favorite one of me?" he gestures to the PC. "Well," you begin, tilting your head to the side as you glance at it. "It's the only one I have of you out of all the albums I have." There is still a part of you that finds talking about all of this weird, especially talking about it to him, but you have to go along with it since he asked. "Oh, really? Did Minhyuk take over your photos?" he jokes. "Actually, that's what happened," you laugh. "Almost every album, it's him!" You relax just a little more. "I'll make sure to scold him for you." He winks. Gathering the courage, you shuffle out your sketchbook to be in front of you. "So, you wanted to see my drawings?" You glance up at him… in the eyes for those extra courage points. He nods. You shift the sketchbook over to him and flip through the pages, whether it was a work in progress or completed. You explain details of each concept drawn and what classes they were for. Sometimes, half of the drawings were for fun as you explained different styles and techniques to hone your personal art skill. You sometimes take a peek at him to see his expression and it seemed deep in concentration with some amounts of awe, indicating to you he was sincerely listening and genuinely interested. Your body loosens up even more. In between the flipping of pages, Wonho would ask questions about you, like how did you get into traditional art, what type of music do you listen to when you are working, how do you juggle between university and social, work, and home life. At one point, he even asked about your dating life. "I… don't really have much of one," you state flatly. "Oh, is that so?" His eyebrows raise in surprise. "Yeah, too frivolous. It makes me lose concentration on my work. I don't have as much time for it as other students do. It's quite a time investment. They won't understand why art is such a big passion of mine, so they'll just eventually leave me anyways." You look over to Wonho who seems to be baffled, yet sad. "I'm okay. I'm not hurt by this. I've accepted it." "Not a single soul would understand?" You chuckle. "Not even one." You flip the page. It lands on the partially finished portraiture of Wonho. You completely forgot about it and your body tensed up. You begin to slowly pull the sketchbook away from him. "Ahh, this isn't finished — " He stops you by holding onto the other side of the sketchbook, slowly pulling it back to him. "Oh, no, we're not gonna be shy here." You are still holding onto it, except it is slowly slipping from your fingers. You feel your grip shaking a little. Meanwhile, you look at Wonho, then down to his grip. Not a single struggle. Not wanting to tear your possession, you sigh. "Fine." You suddenly let go and the book jerked into his hand. You turn away again with your chin resting in your hand once more. He chuckles and you feel a gingerly pat on your head. You turn back to him in bewilderment, but he was already looking deep into your drawing. You turn your body slightly towards him to analyze his expression. Does he like it? Does he dislike it? Does he — "My mom was right. You really did capture me so well…" "I… I just, you know, uh…" You scratch the back of your head. "It's really well done. I am kind of jealous of this Wonho because he looks better than me!" You laugh. "What? No! You've always looked amazing, inside out, no matter what!" Whoops. That was too much, you thought. "Oh, no, I'm sorry, that was frank of me." You shrink into yourself out of embarrassment. "Hey, it's okay," he says gently. "I like hearing that from Monbebe, because, well, it gives me strength to keep doing what I'm doing." He pauses and lowers his eyes. "I'll admit, even if I look strong like this — " He tenses his muscles. " — I'm not always strong for myself when I need to be — are you okay?!" "Hm?" You look at him in confusion. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be okay?" "Your nose is bleeding." "Oh, is it?" you say nonchalantly. You take a napkin nearby you and wipe the blood off as best as you can. You ball it up without looking. "Okay, so you were saying that we're your source of strength?" "Does this happen often?" he says, eyebrows furrowed. "Hm?" "The nosebleed." "Oh, no, rarely." He stiffens and reaches forward to console you, a look of worry etched into his face. "We need to take you to the hospital...!" "Oh, no, no, no, it's okay. I'm fine. Don't worry about it." You wave your hand dismissively. You know exactly why your nose was bleeding and it happened when he tensed his wonderfully sculpted muscles right before you. Seriously, how is he so casual about this? "How are you so casual about this?!" Wonho exclaims. "Shh, it's okay!" you whisper. You realize you are closer to him than normal, then noticed that your hand was covering his mouth. Your head tingles in panic as you try not to jerk your hand away, but slowly move it off of him as you blush. "I'm sorry." You look up at him in earnest. "But, please, do not worry about me. Tell me about how Monbebe is your source of strength." "Hoseoki!" You and Wonho both turn to the source of the voice. His mother looked primed and ready to leave with her tote bag hanging on her shoulder. He gets up and goes to her. "Is this bag too heavy for you?" he asks, checking the weight of the bag. "Silly boy, it's fine! Your mom may be old, but she is still strong." He comes back to the table and you were preparing to leave yourself as that seems to be your cue. Your sketchbook, pencils, erasers and sharpener are all back into their spots in your messenger bag. He picks up the sweater and puts it back on. "Hey, I'm sorry. I'll have to take my mom home now," he says. You might have heard a lace of sadness in his voice. "It's alright. It's no worries!" You smile. "You take care of her." "It was nice meeting you and getting to know you, Y/Nssi." "It was nice to meet you too, Wonhossi." A flash of sadness reflected in his eyes. Or did it? Both of you and his mother said your goodbyes and bowing as you all leave the café. You begin walking in the opposite direction from them, going back to the apartments that are close to the café but also the university too. You immediately reminisce on what just happened in the span of an hour, wondering if you had gone to this café more often and actually stayed longer, would you have met Wonho even sooner? You shake your head. It does not matter now. You were just happy to have met him once and that is that. Not to mention the feedback of the portraiture fueled your eagerness to finish the draft sooner, so you could make a real painting out of it. Especially now that you had a glimpse of him and his personality in the flesh, you could add that depth to your piece. //////////////////// 2  M O N T H S  L A T E R // University Arena

You had finished your graduation ceremony at the university and was walking out to find your friends and family in multiple places. You have been pulled by various friends to have photos together, posing for the cameras or taking selfies that were in abundance. It was very crowded due to having to graduate with 2,100 other graduates as well. You eventually find your family and closest friends and they showered you with bouquets, a beautiful flower crown, and balloons. They all hug you tightly with congratulations and love. Your father pats you on the head and smiles with pride. Your mother holds your hand, not wanting to let go of the child she had raised who has now graduated university. Another round of picture taking and selfies begin with those closest to you. "Y/N!" You crane your neck to look for the voice of whomever is calling you, but see no one. "Y/N!" This time, it is closer. You look around again, thinking the voice has given you misdirection. "Y/N." You turn around and see another male graduate you are familiar with, but more as a classmate. "Oh, hey, Yoojin! We've finally made it!" "Yeah, finally!" he exclaims. He clears his throat. "Listen, someone is here looking for you." "Who?" "I don't know, but you'll have to follow me." "Oma, I'll be right back," you call out to your mother. "Child, where are you going — " "I'll be right back!" Your mother huffs but has no choice but to let you go. "Okay, Yoojin, let's go." "Take my wrist so we don't get lost." You oblige. Both of you are bumping into everyone everywhere you go and it does not get any easier when you run into people who were in the same department as you and wanted pictures. The same goes for him as he was in the science department. As both of you push by, the crowd becomes less and less dense, leaving a few people scattered by the edges. Most of them are families with professional photographers. By this time, you were able to let go of Yoojin's wrist and walk normally. "I am so sorry I had to drag you out of there," he pants. "But apparently, this person is really eager to see you." "If they were so eager, I'm surprised they didn't fight the crowd," you chuckle. You follow him until the pavement meets the grass. There was a walkway that was heading up to one of the gazebos around the front. "He's waiting for you there." "You're not coming with me?" you ask, surprised. "What if I get kidnapped?" "I'm… sure he's harmless, but just in case, I'll wait here." A thud was felt in your chest. You look to the structure. You cannot really see anyone, but if you squint hard enough, you might make out a silhouette. However, the gazebo's intricate design makes it difficult to see. You begin walking as Yoojin looks on after you. The crowd's noise becomes fainter with every step. The only things you hear now are the birds chirping and the clacking of your heels. As you get closer to the gazebo, you become more hyper-aware of your own heartbeat. You slow to a stop just about 10 steps shy away from the entrance. You take deep breaths to calm your nerves as you play with the academic stole around your neck. You can do this. Just get it over with , you thought. If something bad happens, Yoojin is there. You look back and sure enough, he is still watching you. Gathering your strength, you brusquely walk on and into the entrance. You look around and find someone sitting on the left side of you all in black with a beautiful and abundant bouquet seemingly slipping slowly out of his hand. His head hangs low and his black cap prevents you from seeing his face. Is he… sleeping? You hesitate to step any closer to him. "H-hello?" you call out gingerly. "Are you okay…?" You see the bouquet slipping out of the last finger and you lunge forward to catch it — just in time. In turn, you feel a hand gracing over yours. You snap your head up and slowly, he reveals his face to you. He grins. "Hi." You gasp loudly, making sure the next step was not a scream because that would alert Yoojin. "Wo… Wonho...!" You set the bouquet down on the bench carefully and step back, hands covering your gaping mouth. He pushes himself out of the seat and straightens up. Your eyes cannot stop following him. He takes off his cap as you take on what he was wearing: a tie, dress shirt and skinny fit dress pants complete with a black leather jacket that happens to have a dark red lining on the inside. There also seems to be a subdued color on his dress socks too, matching the inside of his jacket. One thing was different about him. His hair is blond this time, styled like that of Beautiful era. He picks up the bouquet and presents them to you. "Congratulations, Y/N," he says softly. You stare at the flowers as he hands them off to you. You close your eyes and inhale their aroma. "It's so… beautiful," you say breathlessly, looking back up at him. "Why… how come you're here?" "Ah…" He puts his hands in his pants pockets and looks around. "After that night, I wasn't sure if I wanted to leave you. I really wasn't sure about anything. But there was one thing I was really sure about: it's that I like you." Your eyes widen. Are your ears deceiving you? You shake your head. "I'm sorry, you — ?" "I do like you, Y/N," Wonho states. "If — " He lowers his gaze to the ground. "If you're okay with that." Silence falls on the both of you. You have become speechless, awestruck even. This was someone who was your bias for so long, and to stand here, in front of you, admitting to you that he, an idol, likes you… you pinch yourself. You look at him and see he is chewing on his lips nervously. He must have been thinking about this. "I…" you begin. His eyes snap to yours in earnest, eager to listen to anything you have to say. "I am a fan," you declare. "You… are an idol. Is this going to be okay?" "If they have anything to say… I will shut them down. I have done so before. I won't hesitate again." His eyes flashed ice cold for just a split second before returning to the warmth it held. You look between his eyes in bewilderment. He seems very sure of this. He does not seem swayed by any future problems it might hold. He steps closer to you and begins playing with your softly curled hair. He smiles warmly. "So, now that you have more time, and I hope it still isn't so frivolous to you," he begins. "Will you go out with me?" ////////////////////

W O N H O ' S  P E R S P E C T I V E // Leaving the Café

(Disclaimer: this will have the majority traditional Asian perspective, so if something seems off or weird to you, this is a very typical thing, as it is with me and almost all of my Asian friends' traditional parents. Please do not take offense.) As he and his mother walk away from the café, Wonho turns his head around to see her, only to find she is no longer there. He sighs with some amount of regret that he had no way of contact with you at all. "Hoseoki, it looks like you were having a lot of fun with that girl," his mother comments. "I have fun with any and all Monbebe, Oma." "Yes, but not as much fun as with her." He shrugs lightly. "My son, your mom may have bad eyesight, but she can see how much you like her," she says in a serious tone, eyeing her boy. "You know you won't be an idol forever, so sooner or later, you will have to settle down, get married with a good wife, and maybe have some grandchildren for me." "Oma!" Wonho's eyes widened in shock. "This is too much too soon!" His mother laughs heartily. "But make sure she is a right fit for you too. Oma doesn't want you to rush either. Oma only wants you to be happy." She pauses. "She seems like a very lovely girl, who is passionate and isn't afraid to pursue what she wants. She is in some ways like you, but has her own charms." "H-how do you know all this?" he asks. "It's only for an hour and it seems you know more than I do." "Oma always knows more." She smiles as she rubs her son's back. "Try to reach out to her again." He sighs in defeat. He realizes she is right. He does like her passion and the dedication she has to her craft, which he can relate to when it comes to his music and fashion. Nothing can hold their creativity back and that gave him a spark. To him, she is grounded in her goals and aspirations, just as he was. He wants to know more about her. He hopes he can. //////////////////// Throughout the rest of the month, Wonho came by the café more often than not to see if she was there in the evening, working away on her project. Unfortunately, to his dismay, anytime he was there, she was nowhere to be found. He tried to appear sometimes in the morning or afternoon as long as his schedule allows, but she was not there either.

His hopelessness grew, and his regret and guilt became stronger as he fell into his bed in the Monsta X's dorm. In the moment of his last drop of desperation, it hit him. He remembers that the portrait of him was her final project. Finalproject. Her graduation project. He shoots up out of bed to find his phone on the charger. He looks up the university website near the café and scrolls through to find the graduation date. He checks it against his schedule to see if he is able to attend. He grins.

[stillellensibley]

The ambiguous pleasures of Puritanism, William Scott at Tate St Ives

DAVID ANFAM

William Scott (1913–1989) is known for his still lifes, landscapes and nudes produced over a 60-year period. A friend of Rothko and de Kooning, he deftly blended mid-twentieth-century American and more historic European influences in his paintings, which oscillate between figuration and abstraction. To coincide with the first retrospective of his work in more than twenty years, David Anfam reveals the complex emotional ambiguity in Scott’s art that aimed for ‘beauty in plainness’

William Scott, Berlin Blues 4, 1965

Jean Sibelius once made a famously acerbic remark about his sparse Sixth Symphony: ‘Whereas most other modern composers are engaged in manufacturing cocktails of every hue and description, I offer the public pure cold water.’ In effect, Sibelius was only stating in starker terms a position he had already taken when Gustav Mahler met him in 1907 on a tour of Finland. To Mahler’s expansive Romantic notion that ‘the symphony must be like the world. It must embrace everything’, Sibelius countered: ‘I admire the symphony’s style and severity of form, as well as the profound logic creating an inner connection among all of the motives.’ There is more than a hint of Sibelius’s inward-looking austerity and cohesion about William Scott’s achievement.

Often, Scott’s universe might be regarded as a kind of pictorial counterpart to that of the composer whose Fourth Symphony was dubbed the Barkbröd in reference to a nineteenth-century famine during which Scandinavians mixed ground-up birch bark with flour to survive. Read Ulster for Finland and one begins to get the flavour of the painter’s roots (born in Scotland, he spent his hard-bitten youth in Northern Ireland). Of course, this was not ultimately a question of economic deprivation alone, although Scott’s beginnings were humble enough and his hallmark empty pots, pans and lone mackerel on a plate hardly suggest Gordon Ramsay (in fact, the artist couldn’t even cook). Rather, it was more like a self-imposed aesthetic diet, a willed mortification of the spirit.

As Sibelius’s stance grew partly in reaction to the extravagances of atonalism and other Continental avant-garde developments, so Scott came to distance himself from European and American modernism per se, notwithstanding his well-documented personal ties to Mark Rothko and other contemporaries. The waters of the various harbours that he painted and the recurrent pale colours or grisaille are cool in more than literal temperature, chill in a sense closer to what Sibelius said he had offered the public instead of cocktails. Scott put the whole matter bluntly: ‘I was brought up in a grey world, an austere world: the garden I knew was a cemetery and we had no fine furniture. The objects I painted were the symbols of the life I knew best and the pictures which looked most like mine were painted on walls a thousand years ago.’ In short, he had a preference for the primitive.

William Scott, Pears, 1979

The preference for the primitive has been a recurrent trend in art and life since antiquity: E.H. Gombrich traced its fortunes in his last book of the same name published posthumously in 2002. Much in Scott’s vision fits the recurrent patterns of taste that Gombrich’s study uncovered. For example, Scott had a deep aversion (confirmed to me by his son James) towards a too-slick, virtuoso handling of paint and draughtsmanship – a tradition epitomised in Britain by, say, the brilliant touch of a William Nicholson – instead opting for blockish forms, coarse surfaces and an anxious line. This sentiment is as ancient as the Roman rhetoricians who, in Gombrich’s words, contrasted ‘the hard and angular shapes of archaic art to the supple grace of Hellenistic masterpieces’. Like Scott, they found a virtue and sincerity in plain speaking (carefully as it might have to be crafted). In turn, Scott said: ‘I find beauty in plainness.’ In his estimate, Ben Nicholson bettered William.

To be sure, Scott’s was not the loud variety of modernist primitivism familiar, for instance, from Picasso’s practice circa 1907 and Die Brücke, or even Dubuffet’s. It seems nearer to the quiet archaism of Gauguin, Moore or Matisse’s simplifications, albeit with faint traces of the post- war ‘geometry of fear’ look – not to mention ‘the plain sense of things’ espoused across the water in Wallace Stevens’s poetry. The apparent voids in Scott’s paintings – from the rectangular planes of his table tops and the quasi-abstractions of the 1950s to the pervasive chromatic fields during the 1970s – tend to feel as immanent as Rothko’s ‘emptiness’ or that in Stevens’s The Snow Man: ‘For the listener, who listens in the snow,/And, nothing himself, beholds/Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.’ Scant wonder, too, that in his final decade or so, Scott was drawn to the stripped-down art of ancient Egypt and its hieroglyphics. Again, a venerable precedent springs to hand. It was Cicero who warned about the double-edged delights of the overly sophisticated senses: ‘How much more brilliant, as a rule, in beauty and variety of colouring are new pictures compared to the old ones. But though they captivate us at first sight the pleasure does not last, while the very roughness and crudity of old paintings maintains their hold on us.’ The same applies to Scott’s idiosyncratic dour awkwardness. Whether it is his earlier seated nudes – their crudely spiky, reductive cast reminiscent of Lear’s exclamation, ‘Is man no more than this?… a poor, bare, forked animal’ – or the grainy, ramshackle images typified by White, Sand and Ochre 1960–1, his work tends to linger in the mind precisely because of its introversion and doggedness. To echo Sibelius on his melodic concision, all its visual motifs resemble the members of one extended family, as still life becomes landscape, figures turn into objects and back, and the little and the large fuse. Akin to a relative whom we half recognise, a latent propinquity haunts Scott’s compositions, prompting us to wonder about the impulse that alike drives them.

William Scott, White, Sand and Ochre, 1960–1

Before Scott pared his effects down with Occam’s razor, as it were, simplifying them into signs, one or two fledgling efforts give a clue as to what he would subsequently turn against – to borrow Gombrich’s phrase, the nature of his ‘avoidance reactions’. A little-known Still Life from 1935 depicts a lemon, apples, a pear or two, a white cloth and what must be a Bénédictine bottle. Surprisingly sophisticated in its painterly touch and evoking Chardin, this exercise hints at the route not taken, the sensuousness that underlay Scott’s later sobriety. Indeed, the multifarious pears and the occasional egg that he painted in the 1970s are about as edible as revenants, which is what they are: mental transformations of old empirical observations. To reach this rarefied state, he took to painting from photographs and from recollection.

Was the thing in itself, the French liqueur and the deft strokes of pigment (evident again in the Cézanne-influenced Girl at a Table (Figure and Still Life) of 1938 with its lush blue shadows playing against orange fruit), too seductive and, hence, distracting for the serious arena of two dimensions? If so, this was why Scott wanted a ‘time lapse’ between what he saw and how he painted it, “a waiting time” for the visual experience to become involved with all other experience. That is why I paint from memory’. It is this distance that separates Scott, even at his most exuberant in the late 1950s, from the lusty immediacy of American gesturalism and Abstract Expressionism in general, despite some superficial parallels. The exceptions to this rule are Philip Guston and Rothko. The former moved between representation and abstraction, immediacy and memory, in ways analogous to Scott, by the late 1940s submerging objects and anatomies into traces and schemata, then a decade or so later wrenching them back from a painterly morass. In Rothko’s case, Scott’s affinity with his American friend hinges less on a shared passion for colour or its lack – the large still lifes that erupt into lush golden and azure tonalities, alongside the monochrome, rectilinear figure abstractions that are his counterparts a decade beforehand to Rothko’s final ‘black and grey’ canvases – than on inner purpose. Namely, the urge that Rothko defined: ‘Tension: conflict or desire which in art is curbed at the very moment it occurs.’ In both artists, there is a case to be made for concluding that they were closet sensualists.

Little else explains the weird role of metamorphosis in Scott’s imagery, which derived not from Surrealism, but rather from the inherent mutability of psychic forces that are liable to be repressed or channelled so that they elude overt recognition. Here an admission by Scott about a picture he executed in 1948 spoke volumes: “It is probably one of the first instances when I make a double image… These objects now take on another meaning, which is obscure, and I don’t personally like to point it out.” A Freudian reading would seize on this statement and such instances as Scott’s erotic sketches for Private Suite 1973 with relish. Perhaps, though, his reticence is just as relevant. Following Rothko, he preferred ‘the simple expression of the complex thought’, as opposed to the blatant self-repression and dualism that the former had discerned in Mondrian: ‘A Calvinist who spent his life caressing canvas.’ Anticipating later artists such as Donald Judd and Agnes Martin, who walked a tightrope between severity and the senses – witness the rainbow hues that the former secreted within his boxes and the latter’s minimalist odes to joy – Scott’s art is a strangely memorable testimony to the ambiguous pleasures of puritanism in a disenchanted world.

Source

[kuriquinn]

You Are Cordially Invited [4/?]

Cover & Disclaimer 

 Chapter Summary:  Sasuke has a general understanding or, perhaps, expectation of what it means to be in a relationship—more, she suspects, than either Naruto or Sai had starting out. But that small amount of knowledge likely has to compete with an inborn tendency to depend solely on himself. He’s not used to explaining his methods to anyone. While it’s a habit she intends to break him of—at least when it comes to her—she acknowledges that it isn’t easy to change a lifelong habit.

Chapter Beta: Sakura’s Unicorn

Author’s Note: So when writing the end of this chapter, I sort of stole a quote from Grey’s Anatomy, but it was so apt I couldn’t ignore it. It completely sums up how I feel about Sakura’s development from annoying genin to Sannin-Mamakura, and her relationship with Sasuke.

“There!” Sakura declares, exhaling in effort as if she spent the last hour lifting boulders instead of setting the dinner table. “Well, it’s still kind of plain, but it looks a lot better than I thought it would.”

She beams at Sasuke, who placidly studies Kakashi’s small flat. Besides dinner, she’s brought a cheerful-looking table cloth, decorative candles, and several flower arrangements. Although it’s not really to his taste, he has to admit the place looks a lot more lived-in than he’s kept it during his stay.

“And we didn’t even have to move any furniture,” she continues in satisfaction. Sasuke wonders if interior decoration is a skill he was supposed to learn at the Academy, but slept through. He doesn’t say so, though, suspecting he’ll get shoved for his trouble.

He’s not sure why she’s making such a big deal about the whole thing, since it’s only Naruto and Hinata who are coming. Kakashi couldn’t make it—being ‘up to his eyeballs in paperwork’—and Manako declined. She said it felt weird showing up without him seeing as he’s the only reason they invited her.

Blunt as her words are, they’re true, and Sasuke not only appreciates her candour, but he’s actually grateful she won’t be there.

With Sai and Ino also unable to attend, their only guests tonight will be the Uzumakis.

“It’s like a double-date,” Sakura remarks as she adjusts the table cloth, and then looks up at him, sheepish. In a tone like she’s confessing a long-buried secret, she admits, “I’ve never been on one before.”

He’s oddly relieved to hear that. It must show on his face because she’s grinning at him now, her face morphing into something resembling the girlish glee of their genin days.

“We’re getting married!” she squeals. Then—perhaps because they’re alone—in an utter rejection of any decorum or maturity she might’ve developed, she dances up and down on the spot.

Before he can control himself, his mouth pulls into a tiny, amused smile.

She notices, pauses in surprise, and then her expression shifts. Her eyes soften and her cheeks turn pink—not in embarrassment, he thinks, but isn’t sure what else it could be—and offers him her own smile. The effect suggests utter joy to him, a transformation of her usual attractiveness into something breathtaking.

Sasuke is struck by the sudden urge to reach out and slide his fingers into her hair, to pull her close. To press his lips against hers until neither of them can breathe. It’s a wild impulse, compared to the more tentative embraces they’ve shared up until now, but no less insistent.

Before he can give in to it, however, there’s a knock at the door and the spell is broken.

Sakura’s gaze slides away reluctantly, followed by the rest of her as she answers the door. Technically, that should be Sasuke’s job, this being his temporary accommodations, but she seems keen to play the hostess. Far be it from him to stop her, even if his mind wasn’t still on the moment they almost shared. He’s not used to such basic urges driving him and is wary of the sudden loss of control he almost surrendered to.

Unwillingly, he thinks of what Mebuki said to him…

As expected, Naruto and Hinata are framed in the doorway, respectively bearing a bottle of sake and a bouquet of irises. Sakura exclaims over these and hugs Hinata then Naruto in turn.

“I’m so glad you guys could make it!” she gushes. “I know how busy you both are!”

“Puh-lease! Any excuse to get away from the billions of scrolls they’re making me memorise,” Naruto groans. “Between Iruka and Shizune—and even Kakashi-sensei now! It’s such a pain in the ass. I seriously thought I’d be done learning by now, but it’s not jutsu anymore. It’s politics and diplomacy and stuff. And that’s not even the worst of it! I have to learn all this new computer crap, too.” Sasuke shudders in silent agreement; he’s not a fan of the new technologies that’ve been developing in the past few years, either. “Kakashi-sensei says it’ll make the paperwork go faster, but I don’t believe him because he’s always swamped by it. I mean, it’s sort of pointless—I can always just use clones to do it.”

Sasuke privately thinks his friend is in for a rude awakening, but doesn’t say so; it’ll be much more entertaining to watch him flounder a bit.  

“Are you well, Sasuke?” Hinata asks, drawing him from his thoughts, and he nods in response. He reaches for the flowers she’s brought and puts them in a container in the kitchen while Sakura invites everyone to sit at the table.

Obligatory small-talk is exchanged, mostly by Sakura and Naruto, who are the loudest voices in the room; Sasuke only half-listens. Dinner passes with the usual conversation, catching up on what everyone’s been doing. Naruto complains about not getting Ichiraku for supper, even as he stuffs his face with tonkatsu, and Sakura berates him for criticising food he didn’t have to cook.

“Well, you didn’t have to cook it, either,” Naruto points out, nodding at the takeout boxes in the kitchen.

Sakura cracks her knuckles and Sasuke automatically inches away from her, not wanting to get clipped by her elbow if she takes a swing at their friend. Hinata interjects, asking how Sakura’s work at the hospital is going, and peace is restored.

Sasuke is surprised to hear her speak up—she’s more talkative with Sakura here than she is when Naruto invites him for dinner. He wonders how much of that is Sakura’s engaging nature, or the fact that Hinata is still a little uneasy around him. They’ve never had much interaction without Naruto, Sakura, or someone else to act as a buffer, after all. He wonders now if it would be unwise to engage her in conversation when Naruto isn’t around; she might be too shy to answer his questions about finances.

Sasuke’s thoughts preoccupy him until after dessert when Sakura suddenly stands and gestures for the other couple to be quiet. He blinks, having not expected an announcement, but a more general statement through the course of conversation. But when he meets her gaze, she offers him a comforting smile, and he relaxes.

“Sasuke and I have something to tell you,” she declares, a blush on her face.

There’s a beat where her words sink in, and Hinata’s eyes go wide in anticipation, hands clasped in front of her. Naruto, on the other hand, isn’t so polite. His jaw drops, and he goes red in the face, jumping to his feet and pointing his bandaged finger at Sasuke in accusation. “You bastard! Did you get her pregnant?!”

Silence rings.

Sasuke’s eye twitches, and he grits his teeth to keep from punching his friend. Sakura has no such compunction, and hammers a fist down on his head.

“What the hell, Naruto! How dare you think that! What kind of girl do you take me for?! Geez!”

“Ow!”

“Moron,” Sasuke adds for good measure while Hinata sighs, embarrassed.

“And you’ve got a big head if you think you’d be the first one we told that to!” Sakura goes on, furious.

“Whaa?! You mean you wouldn’t tell me right away?” Naruto demands, teary-eyed and clutching the growing bump on his head. “Why are you so mean, Sakura?”

“I’m not mean! Why are you so rude?! It’s like you still haven’t learned not to say the first thing that pops into your stupid head!”

“That doesn’t mean you have to keep something like that a secret—you wouldn’t actually keep that a secret, right?”

“I don’t know! Maybe if you don’t smarten up, I might! I’ll have a hundred babies and I won’t tell you about any of them!”

“Try it! I’m gonna be Hokage! I’ll make you tell me about all of them!”

“Then I’ll defect!

Sasuke clears his throat. “If you’re both finished being melodramatic.”

Sakura and Naruto shoot him identical injured looks.

“Naruto,” Hinata scolds quietly, and her husband’s shoulder slump. He sits back down, arms crossed.

“Fine,” he mutters.

Sasuke raises an eyebrow at Sakura, who turns pink, but shakes her hair back, unapologetic. “As if you two haven’t had even more ridiculous arguments…” she mutters in a rebellious tone.

Which might be true, but that’s neither here nor there.

“What was it you wanted to tell us, Sakura?” Hinata asks, diplomatically cutting off any more potential arguing. Sasuke covertly nods in thanks; the woman has more patience than anyone he’s ever met which is one of things that makes her perfect for Naruto.

Sakura’s agitation fades and, once again, she smiles, albeit a little nervously. “Sasuke and I are getting married,” she announces with pride.

Again, there is a beat of silence, and Sasuke’s eyes fly to Naruto, wanting to gauge his reaction. At the same time, he wonders if this will yield another round of inappropriate accusations. Instead, his best friend jumps to his feet again with a cheer while Hinata gasps in delight, her hands flying to her mouth.

“YOSH!” Naruto yells and bounds across the room to hug Sakura. His eyes are suspiciously teary. “It took you both long enough!”

Sakura laughs in response as he abandons her, and then, before Sasuke can stop him, Naruto catches him up in a clumsy embrace. Sasuke tenses, allows it for about two and a half seconds, and then shoves him away.

“Knock it off,” he grumbles.

“Yeah, yeah. Can’t ruin your image, right?” Naruto rolls his eyes. “You’d think you’d make an exception, considering it’s a special occasion.”

“I didn’t electrocute you,” Sasuke points out reasonably.

Hinata clasps Sakura’s hands. “Oh, congratulations—I’m so glad for you. I know you’ll both be so happy.”

They dissolve into rapid female chatter that neither Sasuke nor Naruto can quite follow.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” Naruto continues, still beaming at him with something that looks disconcertingly like pride.

“Would you, for one second, pretend you’re an adult and not a snot-nosed kid?”

“Hey, asshole, I’m trying to congratulate you!” Naruto snaps. “Come on. Let’s have a drink to celebrate!”

Though he rolls his eyes, he allows Naruto to pour him a cup of sake—he doesn’t like to drink, but he dutifully sips it for etiquette’s sake. And to shut his friend up.

“I am happy for you, Sasuke,” the other man says at last, quieter and in a more serious tone than he’s used to. “You and Sakura deserve each other.”

“No,” Sasuke replies, earning a surprised frown in response. “She deserves better. But I’ve stopped trying to tell her that.”

The defensive set of his shoulders fades, and Naruto snorts. “I guess that means you’re finally living up to that genius reputation.”

Sasuke takes a sip of sake instead of answering that comment.

“So, who made the first move?”

Sasuke narrows his eyes at the implication in Naruto’s tone. “I did.”

More or less.

The other man groans. “Damn it! I owe Sai five hundred ryō.”

Sasuke is unexpectedly offended by this. “You bet against me.”

“Not against you… I just figured Sakura got tired of waiting and jumped your bones when you were least expecting it.”

“Tch. I dare you to say that to her face.”

“Do you want me to die?!” Naruto looks comically terrified; Sasuke knows only part of that is in jest. “And before you get married? No way! I’ve waited too damn long for this! Hey, speaking of, when are you guys going to tie the knot?”

“Within the next two weeks. As soon as it’s convenient.”

“What?! WHY?!” Naruto demands in a shrill voice, earning curious glances from Sakura and Hinata. He lowers his voice and hisses under his breath at Sasuke, “You’ve resisted girls and dating and anything resembling normal your entire life. Now you’re just going to up and get married? With no plan?!”

“Not everyone needs a big production like you,” Sasuke counters. “Besides, I’m leaving on a mission. Sakura’s coming along. It makes more sense to get married beforehand.”

Naruto blinks at this, considering, and then breaks out into a familiar lecherous grin. “Either her parents are making you get married beforehand, or you really want to have sex on this trip.”

Sasuke punches him.

The women look up—Hinata appears anxious, but Sakura is unimpressed; she’s far too used to this sort of interaction between them to be bothered, even after many years and long absences.

“I’m sure he deserved that, but now you can’t pretend I’m the only melodramatic one,” she informs Sasuke while Naruto swears on the floor. Sasuke glowers at his intended in response, trying to fight down the warmth in his cheeks. All the while, he silently thanks whatever gods exist that she didn’t hear what Naruto just said—otherwise, one or both of them would be dead right now.

Stupid, mouthy idiot…

“Kakashi-sensei’s going to kick your ass for ruining his apartment,” Naruto mutters as he picks himself up and rubs at his bruised cheekbone.

“He won’t care as long as nothing stains,” Sasuke retorts.

“Heh. That’s what she sa—Oi! I’m kidding!” Naruto yelps as Sasuke’s Sharingan blazes. “Geez, you’re touchy.”

“And you’re a half-wit.”

They exchange glares, but as usual, a moment later, Naruto is grinning again. He makes a dismissive gesture—no big deal—and reaches for the bottle of sake again.

“Kidding aside…it’s kind of shocking, you getting married,” Naruto tells him. “I mean, have you and Sakura even been on a date?”

Sasuke feels an unfamiliar note of defensiveness well up. “We both agree that we’re past that point by now.”

“Hey, Hinata and I saved the planet together, and I still took her on a first date,” Naruto shoots back. “It’s like…a rule, man.”

“Really. And where did you come by this information?”

Naruto glances furtively at his wife to make sure she isn’t paying attention and then reaches into his back pocket for something. He produces a battered paper-back with a familiar orange cover.

“Tell me you’re joking,” Sasuke commands.

“Nope! The story’s boring and stupid, of course, but there’s a lot of good advice in it,” Naruto says, flipping the pages at him. “Like, how the guy has to plan a date in advance, and pay for it, and say nice stuff to the girl. And there’s a bunch of rules for what you’re allowed to do on a first date, and a second date, and—heh—the third date…”

“I’ll pass.”

“No, seriously, Sasuke! Pervy Sage knew what he was talking about when he wasn’t spying on naked women. And, I mean, you can’t just marry someone you haven’t spent any time with! Even arranged marriages have people spending time together!”

“Sakura and I already know each other.”

“That’s not the same,” Naruto looks impatient. “You have to know each other really well—like your faults and your strengths and…and it’s like, you share even your darkest, most secret things with her.”

Sasuke dismisses this. “She already knows all of mine.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that…but do you know hers?”

This gives him pause. It’s one of the rare instances where Naruto might actually understand something better than Sasuke does. As always, it’s irritating, but unlike during their childhood, Sasuke is more open to listening; all the more if it concerns Sakura.

Maybe there’s some truth to it…

Naruto seems to take his silence for avoidance of the topic, though, because he sighs, affecting the air of someone dealing with the most troublesome of burdens. “Well, fine. If that’s how you want to be about it. You’re not giving me much to go on, but I’ve handled worse.”

“‘Handled’?” Sasuke echoes.

“We’ve got to make sure you’ve got better clothes to wear than that ugly-ass hobo cloak of yours, plan the bachelor party—”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“As your best man, I’ve got work to do.”

“Who said you were my best man?” Sasuke wants to know. “Who said I was having a best man?”

“Don’t be stupid. Of course, I’m your best man. And, yes, you’re having one.”

“Tch.” He knows the other man won’t budge on this point, and life’s too short to argue with stupidity. “Fine. But no bachelor party.”

Naruto sniggers. “Oh, we’re having a bachelor party…”

うちは

Sakura sits at her desk, balancing a pencil on her upper lip while staring distractedly down at the notepad in front of her. There are two hastily drawn columns there; one is a list of all the tasks she needs to complete for the wedding—invitations, venue, decorations—while the other is a to-do list for her upcoming mission—supplies she needs to order, decent apothecaries along the way that sell her preferred herbs and tonics, and the names of a few medically under-served villages they might stop in during their travels. She knows they’ll be on a time limit to get to the Land of Earth, but if she plans the route properly, they might still be able to offer people aid along the way.

Sakura has been organising and running a hospital on her own for so long that, these days, she requires maximum efficiency in every aspect of her life. She doubts Sasuke will mind, but she’ll still go over it with him when she sees him at the end of the day.

Or tomorrow.

Actually, she’s not sure when she’ll next see him. He was a little cagey when they said goodnight after their dinner with Naruto and Hinata. She suspects it had something to do with whatever he and Naruto were talking—or fighting—about after she announced their engagement. When she asked him about it, he shrugged it off, and when she wanted to learn his plans for today, he said something about practical matters and would not elaborate.

It’s annoying, sometimes, that he’s so private and noncommittal about the strangest things, but Sakura makes a conscious effort to let that go.

Sasuke has a general understanding or, perhaps, expectation of what it means to be in a relationship—more, she suspects, than either Naruto or Sai had starting out. But that small amount of knowledge likely has to compete with an inborn tendency to depend solely on himself. He’s not used to explaining his methods to anyone. While it’s a habit she intends to break him of—at least when it comes to her—she acknowledges that it isn’t easy to change a lifelong habit.

His faults aside, Sasuke has been making a great effort to include her in decisions. Whatever has him so preoccupied right now, it might be something he considers being his own affair. Or perhaps it’s something he doesn’t believe she needs to invest her time on. She’ll ask him again in a few days, or after the wedding.

The wedding, she groans.

In theory, it should be easy—make a list of things that need doing, and then do them. But she can’t figure out what she should prioritise first and keeps getting distracted. As if to punctuate that thought, there’s a knock on her office door.

Sakura fumbles with the pen and scrambles to cover up her lists with paperwork, shouting out, “Ando, I already told you! Don’t disturb me this morning!”

But the door is already opening, and it’s not Ando who strides in, but Tsunade Senju.

“Ungrateful,” the Sannin harrumphs. “Is that any way to treat your master?”

“Lady Tsunade!” Sakura gasps, jumping to her feet. “You’re back from your travels!”

“It would seem so,” she says with a smirk. “Though the reception’s been kind of lacklustre. Kakashi barely looked up from his desk. And Shizune is having far too much fun running the village. I can see she’s found her true calling.”

“So, you came to check up on me and mine?”

“Well, that, too. But I figured we could hash out the details of this conference of yours early and then go for supper.”

Sakura stares at her blankly for a moment. “Conference?”

“Yes, the conference,” Tsunade repeats slowly, raising an eyebrow at her. “The one you badgered me about for four months straight? The one you swore wouldn’t be successful without my participation?”

Sakura’s eyes widen and her mouth drops a little in dismay as she remembers. “Fuck.” She’s completely forgotten about it in the wake of her engagement.

Months earlier, she had the idea to hold a conference, a series of seminars featuring medic-nin and healers from all around the continent. Nothing of its kind has ever been attempted before, but Sakura’s considered it since she and Ino got the Konoha clinic up and running. The idea continued to persist even more so since Gaara and the other Kage instituted similar programs.

The aim would be to meet, discuss, and share techniques on matters from children’s mental health to emergency life-saving procedures in the field. Even civilian doctors would be invited, an important bridge between the two schools of medicine. Civilians and shinobi have lived very separate lives up until recent times; if there’s a way to combine shinobi chakra abilities with the scientific breakthroughs among the civilian medical elite, Sakura knows that they could develop countless vital procedures. Such a massive gathering might even garner interest from investors which could mean more medical funding across the board.

Rather than seeming annoyed, Tsunade is smirking at Sakura’s panic. “Hm… I wonder what could possibly make you forget all about your little project?” She taps her chin. “If I had to guess, I’d say a certain Uchiha finally got his head out of his ass.”

This time Sakura’s jaw really drops.

I knew Naruto couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, but I figured I’d have more than a day before he spread the news!

But Tsunade only snorts and takes one of the extra seats in the office. “Relax, Sakura. I found out from Kakashi.”

“Kakashi-sensei knows?!”

“Oh, I don’t think so. Not yet. But just after Uchiha went to speak to him about you accompanying him on his mission, he sent me a message. He seemed surprised, considering how often you mentioned the conference, and all of a sudden, you intend to leave?” Tsunade smirks. “I figured there are few things out there that could knock you off-balance enough to forget your previous commitments, so this one would have to be huge. It didn’t take much to figure it out from there, considering who else is involved.”

“I…”

“I suppose congratulations are in order, even if I still don’t understand what you see in him,” her master goes on.

“Thank you, shishou.”

“So, I guess this means you’ll postpone the conference until you get back?”

Sakura opens her mouth to reply, and then pauses, torn.

She can’t in good conscience postpone the conference, considering the overall benefits she spent months convincing people it could bring about. Her wedding can be postponed, but the mission��� Sasuke will go with or without her. Since he asked her to come with him, she doesn’t want to refuse him now—especially considering how long she waited for him to ask. All the same, Tsunade’s words make her feel guilty.

I could always catch up to him…

She knows where he’ll be. But with the beginning of flood-season in Earth Country, that could be months—and by that time he might already be back.

So, I might as well just stay here after all, she realises in dejection.

She’s put off her own happiness for so long that she’s hesitant to do it again, but this conference is also the legacy of her hard work. She doesn’t want to give up on either one, and yet, if she has learned anything the last few years, it’s how to make sacrifices.

And so, she nods to herself and offers Tsunade a weary smile. “No, we won’t postpone. I’ll speak to Sasuke. My presence on the mission isn’t a necessity—and this conference is important.”

“Heh.” Tsunade crosses her arms and nods, looking proud. “As gratifying as it is to see you still put your patients before yourself, I didn’t come here to scold you about having a life. Don’t worry about your project.” She waves a dismissive hand. “I can put it together in your absence. It’s why I came in here today, to ensure we went over the details while you’re here. I don’t have the patience to do all this via carrier pigeon or summons.”

“Lady Tsunade… I…” She can’t quite get the words out.

“No need to thank me. Consider it an early wedding gift. After all, there’s no one more capable of pulling this thing off than you—except me.”

She fights off the impulse to roll her eyes. “You’re still as sure of yourself as ever.”

“Sakura…” She glances up at her teacher. “Everyone’s entitled to a slip,” Tsunade tells her seriously, “but don’t let this become a return to old habits for you.”

Sakura frowns at this. “Lady Tsunade?”

“You are the most talented medic ninja that I have ever known, and your mental capabilities far surpass my own. In a few years’ time, you’ll have surpassed levels that I can’t even dream of. That being said, don’t let old dreams or the goals he has eclipse what you’ve built for yourself.” She smiles grimly. “Sasuke Uchiha may be the love of your life, but he is not the sun. You are.”

Tears threaten, blurring Sakura’s vision a little, and she smiles at her teacher. “I know,” she insists. “It won’t happen again. You’ll see—before I leave this place, I’ll have it so organised that you could run it without me for three years!”

“That’s the kind of talk I want to hear from my apprentice,” Tsunade says approvingly then looks around. “Now call that intern of yours in here—I think this calls for a celebratory drink.”

“Lady Tsunade, you know you can’t drink in the hospital.”

“It’s my hospital. I’ll do what I want.”

“Technically it’s my hospital since you left me in charge of it.”

“Sakura, don’t make me regret my good will.”

Sakura sighs. “Just this once, my lady.”

“And you’d better damn well be inviting me to this wedding of yours. Do you realise how long I’ve been waiting to live vicariously through you?” she goes on. “You’re still miles out of his league, but you’re stubborn, so I’ll accept it.”

Sakura winces, and hopes that Tsunade and her mother stay far, far away from each other.

That’s all I need—the two of them ganging up on Sasuke.

つづく

Reviews and constructive criticism are much appreciated! Also, if you are in a supportive mood, I have a ko-fi button at the top of the page, or you can find my tip jar here.

Thanks for your interest in my work!

クリ

Next Chapter

[shinneth]

Gem Ascension Tropes (Peridot-specific: L - M)

Reference:

Primary Peri Post ▼ Primary General Post ▼ Full Article

Lack of Empathy/No Sympathy: Standard traits of the Pre-Earth Manipulative Bastard Peridot; very prominently shown in the flashbacks during Chapter 1 of Act III.

Lap Pillow: Is this for a fatigued Steven in Chapter 5 of Act III.

Laser-Guided Karma: Considering how much of a Manipulative Bastard Peridot once was – so much of one that she ended up being responsible for many of her fellow kind’s demise due to her ambition to rise to the top – the moment Peridot actually got promoted was a bit of an unpleasant wake-up call as now her colleagues largely consisted of gems that were superior to her under conditions that wouldn’t allow her to bully her way into success like she had before (and, in fact, Peridot herself ended up being seen as a target for said gems to bully). Peridot tried to take it in stride and see it as a challenge (as the lack of challenge from her former position induced so much boredom, it likely played a role in Peridot going out of her way to stir things up to begin with), but then her first mission’s level escalated to the point where she required assistance, leading to Peridot meeting her new escort, Jasper. Peridot came out of that encounter so traumatized that it nearly shattered her identity. She was forcibly put in her place and finally had to face reality that her aspirations and perception of herself were purely delusional – while this by no means reformed or redeemed Peridot, it did almost entirely erase many of her absolute worst traits, which in turn made her more receptive to Taking a Level in Kindness not long after this when she was captured by the Crystal Gems.

Last of Her Kind: Peridot is the first and only ascended gem in existence and will likely remain that way for all time now that Homeworld is destroyed along with the Diamond Authority. By that token, she’s also one of the two remaining Diamonds in existence, though most might consider this subverted since Peridot isn’t a pure, natural Diamond.

The Law of Power Proportionate to Effort: Also invoked on Chartreuse Diamond, but is more evident with Peridot as she has much greater limitations on how to utilize her potential, and unlike her Alter Ego, performing greater feats runs the risk of depleting her stamina or even inflict pain.

The Leader: Honestly, Peridot bears various traits of all four flavors of this trope. But primarily, she can be best defined as a Mastermind-Charismatic hybrid.

Left for Dead: Presumed to be this until it’s brought up very early on in Act II that there is a much greater chance of her still being alive, as Peridot can be better utilized by White Diamond as a Hostage MacGuffin to entice Steven back than to be one of her millions of drones or just killed outright.

LEGO Gemetics: Due to diamond dust and a diamond shard being mixed in the injector fluid that would later create her, Peridot emerged as a Peridot/Diamond hybrid, albeit her Diamond traits were benign and naturally wouldn’t have developed until hundreds of years later. But then White Diamond (who, along with Blue and Yellow, were behind several similar cases of gems being Unwitting Test Subjects) forced the diamond bits in Peridot’s gemstone to condense and form a proper diamond prematurely, resulting in Peridot now being simultaneously a low-caste gem and a Diamond simultaneously.

Life Isn’t Fair: A sad fact of life that Peridot tries to drive into Steven’s head during her Get A Hold Of Yourself, Man! speech in Chapter 6 of Act I.

Like a Duck Takes to Water: Per canon, but often discussed in the GA continuity. While it’s acknowledged that Peridot by no means had an easy time adjusting to Earth at the start, she nonetheless has adapted to Earth life and culture at a steady pace. In less than a year’s time, Peridot has shown to be better adjusted to Earth than all her fellow gems – an especially remarkable feat, given the other Crystal Gems have lived on Earth for thousands of years. In Chapter 7 of Act I, Ruby expresses her envy of how easy Peridot makes it look, when she herself (and Garnet, by extension) still struggles adapting to Earth even now.

Like You Were Dying: Instead of sorrow and despair for failing to escape Homeworld when she was inches away from joining her friends, Peridot is last seen smiling and laughing at Steven and Garnet when Act I concludes. Even after they escape, Peridot’s taking her loss in stride by grading the results of her mission. Deep down, though, she’s obviously broken.

Literal-Minded: Per canon; while she’s made a lot of progress with Steven teaching her about Earth lingo, there are still plenty of moments where Peridot is dumbfounded by certain phrases of Steven’s, which he then takes time to explain for her. Since moments like this were a large part of the foundation of Steven and Peridot’s relationship, Steven is always happy to teach her new phrases and metaphors when they come up.

Little Miss Badass: She gets her moments of this in the latter half of Act I. Understandable, as Peridot’s the Hero Protagonist of this story. She does fairly well for herself for what limited abilities she has. Fast-forward to Act III where she’s gone above and beyond to resist White Diamond’s influence for nearly a week, and even after she falls… Peridot just becomes an Empowered Badass Normal who can kick ass even more. Really, though, the scene that best displays this trope is the final confrontation with White Diamond towards the end, where Peridot teases a Backstab Backfire and only stops because of how much satisfaction White Diamond’s fear of her brings.

Little “No”: Peridot lets out a few of these as she desperately begs for the life energy, now fragmented and fading away, to return to Pumpkin moments after her death. This doesn’t happen, but what does come shortly after this is the Angst Nuke.

Logic Bomb: Deliberately invokes this to fry every terminal in her old workstation and consequently poof every fellow Peridot in the room by tricking her former coworkers to input a code that would make their systems divide by zero and cause them to overload. This also happens to Yellow Pearl, though that was done by Peridot directly hacking her terminal while she was distracted with other business.

Long-Range Fighter: The counterpart to Bismuth’s Close-Range Combatant; Peridot is much more effective in combat when fighting at a distance, as she simply doesn’t have the strength nor the size to stay in a fight for long if she’s right in the line of fire. While this technically might no longer apply post-ascension (Peridot and Chartreuse have done some close-range attacks since then… to mixed results), Peridot still prefers to hang back and wait for an opportunity before acting; the element of surprise is still where she shines best, which is often best utilized when she’s far away from an opponent.

Loss of Identity: Develops a major case of this once she ascends to become Chartreuse Diamond. While she’d prefer being able to alternate between these forms rather than being stuck with one forever, the fact that She is What She Hates versus the irresistible feeling of being relevant and powerful really messes with her mind, and it often makes Peridot worry her Diamond Alter Ego will make her identity as Peridot completely obsolete.

This is Who I Am Chapter 3 reveals Peridot had a case of this long before the events of GA in the early phases of her Earth mission after learning about the Crystal Gems, when she had to return to Homeworld for reinforcements in Jasper and Lapis. After an unpleasant first encounter with Jasper, Peridot was no longer the stoic, sociopathic Manipulative Bastard she once was notorious for being. She was strong enough to not completely succumb to the submissive tendencies inherent to her kind, but Peridot was brought down harshly enough to be permanently shaken from the experience. Incidentally, this allowed Peridot to become more receptive to a Redemption Arc in the future.

Love Confessor: Peridot – albeit very indirectly – confesses to Lapis that she has a lot of feelings for Steven and is terrified of having to define their relationship, fearing life won’t ever be the same once she chooses to primarily see Steven as a friend, family member, or a soulmate. She leaves out a lot of details, but Lapis is pretty good at getting the message for the most part, so when she sees Steven and Peridot getting intimate much later in Act I (while thinking no one else is looking at them), Lapis isn’t the least bit surprised. To a lesser degree, this trope applies to Bismuth as well, as Peridot gives Bismuth an abridged version of what she confessed a couple of chapters ago moments before she and Steven are reunited.

Made of Iron: While Peridots are made to be durable, Hero Protagonist Peridot emerged as a next-level variant, as she was notably the only Peridot in her facet who didn’t experience any kind of pain when her limb enhancers were first equipped (something that normally gives Peridots, at a bare minimum, some minor discomfort – but usually visibly pains them). This aspect of Peridot was the foundation of the reputation she would gain in the future as a sociopathic Manipulative Bastard. However, her first meeting with Jasper, as revealed in This is Who I Am Chapter 3, downgraded this trope for Peridot significantly. Peridot can still take quite a bit of punishment, but she’s lost her ability to completely No-Sell her pain.

Male-to-Female Universal Adaptor: Justified, as post-ascended Peridot has the ability to shapeshift her body at will. She still had to study human anatomy thoroughly to make it accurate, of course. And Chapter 2 It’s a Birthday, Yes It Is confirms that Peridot could do it either way if she really wanted to… Steven: “So… nothing’s gonna pop out from there, right?” Peridot: “Mm… nope. Not unless you want me to. I haven’t really put that into practice, though… I’m still getting used to the fact I can shapeshift at all these days.”

Mama Bear: To Pumpkin. Everyone learns this the hard way in Chapter 8 of Act III.Manipulative Bastard: Pre-Earth Homeworld Peridot in a nutshell. Shows shades of this in Chapter 4 of Act I with her dangerously sadistic plan to capture Yellow Pearl and use her gemstone as a Skeleton Key, but that was likely invoked by Heroic Safe Mode.

Meaningful Name: Nickname, more accurately. Beyond “Chartreuse”, the only name White Diamond will address Peridot by in Act III is “Twilight” – a pet name akin to Steven’s “Starlight” designation. At first, it just seemed random and arbitrary, but just before Peridot ascends to become Chartreuse Diamond, White’s incantation indicates Peridot represents the “twilight years” of an endeavor where gems were randomly experimented upon for several thousand years. Since Peridot was one of the final gems created from Homeworld terrain, she was literally the last opportunity any Diamond had to experiment on a gem pre-emergence. Therefore, Peridot herself marks the end of an era of innocent gems being used as Unwitting Test Subjects. 

Memory Gambit: Peridot thought she never had real memories of Homeworld; just feelings. Once she returns to Homeworld, Peridot regains these memories and none of them are pleasant ones. Many of them were repressed because at the time, Peridot considered them not worth remembering or not relevant to her life on Earth (under the assumption she’d never return to Homeworld). However, some of them were buried out of utter shame early on during Peridot’s redemption arc in canon. 

Mental Affair: After nearly a week of torture, only to end up imprisoned within her own subconsciousness, a very exhausted Peridot (or, more accurately, the Determinator part of her) concedes to this with her idealized interpretation of Steven (who was unwittingly used to cause Peridot to get into this position to begin with). It’s implied this isn’t the first time it’s happened, and with Peridot still under the impression that she’s stuck on Homeworld forever, she’s more than ready to succumb to this as she believes this is the closest thing she’ll ever have to Steven again.

Mental Picture Projector: Post-ascension, Peridot is able to do this via her gemstone. Basically, a very convenient exposition device.

Miles to Go Before I Sleep: Even though Peridot has made peace with her strong sense of imminent death during the mission, she’s determined to at least see it through to the end no matter what happens.

Mind Rape: The only way White Diamond was able to break through Peridot’s stubborn resistance to her influence was to shock her into unconsciousness and separate the defiant part of Peridot’s personality from her mind and lock it down; this way, she would be rendered more submissive with virtually no self-confidence or self-assurance… and consequently, far easier to manipulate to White’s side. Chartreuse Diamond could barely function at first due to this and could only be restored to normal by Steven’s efforts… although doing so inadvertently made Steven suffer this trope second-hand.

Mismatched Eyes: Blue and Hazel, revealed at the end of Act I.

Supernatural Gold Eyes: A gem not in a fusion with heterochromia is the Mark of a Supernatural; specifically, an Unwitting Test Subject created with diamond dust embedded into her gem (and in Peridot’s case exclusively, a shard of Yellow Diamond).

Moment of Weakness: Has a few of these, but by far Peridot’s biggest one takes place in Chapter 2 of Act III, when after resisting White Diamond for nearly a week, Peridot finally succumbs via Delirious Misidentification when Master of Illusion White Diamond tricks Peridot into believing Steven really came back to save her. That small distraction lets White finally overwhelm and overpower her. This results in the birth of Chartreuse Diamond.

The runner-up is the moment in Chapter 7 of Act III, when Peridot (as Chartreuse) is made receptive to a forced fusion between herself and White. A simple Armor-Piercing Question about Peridot’s inability to fuse with Steven and the evidence pointing to her being little more than a Poisonous Friend to him makes her guilt-ridden and vulnerable enough to make Peridot give in, and thus Celadon Diamond is born.

More Expendable Than You: Besides acknowledging it’s her duty as The Leader to be the last one to head for the escape route even though Sapphire’s vision clearly dictates that whoever is the last to leave will ultimately fail to do so, Peridot strongly believes that out of all the Crystal Gems, she’s by far the one they can best afford to lose. This isn’t something she says in Act I, but in her messages to her friends throughout Act II, she all but outright states this to discourage them from trying to go back and rescue her.

Mortality Phobia: Even after seeing Sapphire’s vision and taking on the role as the one who will supposedly get left behind after “falling”, Peridot makes it clear she’s going to do everything in her power to avoid that fate. Throughout Act I’s final chapter, Peridot makes a point to be careful and vigilant with every step she makes. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work out.

Motivational Kiss: Gives Steven one in Chapter 6 of Act I while he’s freaking out over Bismuth executing White Pearl. Doubles as a “Shut Up” Kiss.

Ms. Exposition: Justified in that she’s the only Crystal Gem who’s lived in the modern-day Homeworld and therefore best knows how things work there, where to go, and what to do in order to reach their captured friends. Peridot exposits not only about nearly every aspect of Homeworld and what life is like for the working class, but also concepts like pallification, restoration stations, and using certain gemstones as Skeleton Keys. In Act III, she’s also this for catching her friends up on what they missed with her before returning, and for White Diamond in general. Post-GA, Peridot continues to provide relevant details of Homeworld life (despite Homeworld itself no longer existing); towards the end of This is Who I Am, in tandem with 5XF, they explain the concept of natural gem reproduction, how it’s done, and why all gems have the means for this despite this method being illegal on Homeworld for almost its entire history.

Murder by Inaction: While Peridot didn’t shatter 3UI with her own hands, she not only did nothing to stop 3UI from being executed but was the one who decided 3UI should be executed in the first place. This was definitely how Peridot got much of her competition eliminated outside of that single example.

My Significant Sense is Tingling: Once she returns to Homeworld, this is invoked any time Peridot comes across a familiar location, gem, or concept that results in Déjà Vu jogging her repressed memories.

[conoscenze]

lore // as a witch...

I’ve always been extremely fascinated with the “modern witch” concept, and, with that curiosity and interest in mind, I decided that I wanted to create my own take on it.

The witches I have developed during the years have different traits from common pop culture witches, not enough to call them a species, but enough to let myself feel like they’re a little more... mine. All of the following listed traits apply to both Adona and Salice, as they are witches created with these specific standards.

You can either become a witch, or be born as one. Though the first case is the most common, in my lore becoming a “black magic entity” (this is the formal term magic-practicing beings gave themselves) is easier than being one since the very birth. When a witch undergoes pregnancy, there’s only a 20/80 chance that their toddler be like them, but it is not an impossible case. Most witches, including wizards and male witches, can become such through learning their first full spell, simply as that---it is the easier way. An initiation ritual is however advised, even if not obligatory. An human who has learned a few spells is not an human anymore; to this day, no hybrid between a human and a witch has yet appeared on this earth.

Life longevity. By initiating their existence as a witch, these beings are doomed to live a little longer than humans. They are not immortal, but killing them requires particular effort and skill, as they can enhance their lifespan thanks to spells. Regarding physical appearance, they still age, albeit much slower than a normal human: e.g., Salice is about 32, but most people mistake her for a prodigy and assume she’s in her early twenties. With little to no care, their appearance is kept young and healthy for the longest time possible, in order to ensure a stable physical state, so that the body can sustain both old and new spells. Witches can age over 150 years, and some even pass the 200 mark. They can make use of magic to elongate further their longevity as well.

Familiars. They are optional. Taming an animal, and especially teaching it to become an assistant, is an especially difficult task, and usually only carried out by elder witches with more experience on their hands. Reasonably because, with old age, they too do start becoming slower and more fatigued; cue the need for a young companion to help them out accomplish their tasks. Could be any preferred animal of choice. Training and creating an human embodiment for a familiar requires great skill and ability in handing spells and magic altogether. When an animal becomes a familiar, its longevity doubles as a witch’s does, becoming older more slowly and through a larger span of decades. If the witch dies before the familiar does, which is a common case, it is no longer bound to their passed away master; it can use transform into its human and animal forms at its own will, but cannot practice actual magic.

Boosted health system & tissue regeneration. As life lasts longer, so does physique. Witches are not impossible to break, but they’re very hard to get through, as they posses a boosted, flawless immune system which is rarely affected by any illness, and the ability to heal up as soon as they get a wound of any kind (the time of regeneration depends on the severity of it). These feats come with the transition from human to witch---which means that with no enhancements, a witch is already “indestructible”. By applying further spells that they can cast upon themselves, they can become walking “diamonds supported by a skeleton made of steel”.

Markings (not marks). These are particularly important, as they expose, in my lore, who is a witch and who is not. Markings that testify the learning of a new spell, the design of it loosely basing itself on what the spell entails. Said design is also based on the witch’s current geographic position, ergo the location in which they found this new knowledge. This means that if a witch learns a spell in Russia, they will earn a marking based on a traditional Russian tattoo: if they step in India, they will acquire the mark will resemble a traditional Indian tattoo, and so on. However, it is possible for witches to limit this casualty with specific additional scriptures, as some markings are necessary to amplify the quality of their skill (e.g.: Salice followed this process, as all her tattoos are strictly related to necromancy only). It’s rare to see a witch without markings: if they appear to have none, a concealing spell is not out of the question (as, in fact, a lot of jobs do require lack of tattoos). For those who do not bother to hide them it is easy to go unnoticed in either case---tattoos have become more and more of a frequent trait among humans, so they exploit this “trend” to their own benefit. Markings are not made of the same material as traditional ink tattoos. They do not appear as inked, and they do not fade with time, retaining color and vivacity through the years. They appear on the skin as if they are a part of it, rather than an addition. It is nigh impossible to predict where a marking will appear, unless you follow, as previously stated, an extra “addendum” that grants you control over its appearance (there is a criteria that prevents excessive tattoos to appear on overly small surfaces). Some witches have tattoos they didn’t ask for on their faces, for example.

Death. Death can be either because of old age, or because someone aimed right at the heart. Witches are no less mortal than humans---they just live more. There is no such thing as a spell that grants immortality, in fact. They can easily survive minor injuries, and even ones that hit less vital organs / body parts, but as they still retain humans’ anatomy, striking the arteries, lungs, brain, or heart will be their inevitable doom.

Descendants. As I said, there’s a scarce chance to be born as a witch, but if there’s been one or more individuals involved with magic and / or witchcraft in the family tree, there’s a big chance a child might be born with abilities; these can be improved and shaped into proper spellcasting, as well as they are a sign that they will live through their life with an attraction towards black magic (this sensation is stronger if they do not pursue it). Witch children can use slight telekinesis, and are able to change the material status of things with ease; ice into water, water into air, etc. They can also float a few centimeters off the ground. Much like human babies who grow fins in the placenta to then lose them in further development, as soon as these children learn serious magic, these skills are no longer instinctive. They have to study to be able to master them properly. To make specific examples, Salice was born with propensity towards necromancy because her great-grandmother was a necromancer herself; Annaliese, who instead is completely unaware of her witch descent, feels constantly antsy exactly because she did not follow her grandmother’s path as a blood witch; Adona, differently from the other two, has no type of descent whatsoever. She was born as a normal human child. She became a witch thanks to her adoptive mother, by learning from her her first ever spell.

I’ll add more details (possibily historical ones) as soon as I have the chance~

[yes-dal456]

Prostate Screening Gets Personal

I can guess what some of you must be thinking: what do you mean, gets personal? Wasn’t prostate screening already quite personal? What, after all, could be more personal than an examining finger inserted into your…well, you know where the prostate is.

But despite the notoriously discomforting (for doctor and patient alike) intimacies of a digital rectal exam (DRE), there’s nothing much personal about it from a formally medical perspective. Besides, while still included in the comprehensive physical exam for various and perhaps dubious reasons, the DRE has long been supplanted by the PSA (prostate specific antigen) blood test as the primary approach to prostate cancer screening. Either way, screening is fairly standardized and involves much the same maneuver for everyone with the requisite anatomy. 

Personalized medicine, and thus the genuinely personal approaches to assessment and treatment of which it is comprised, is something quite different from any one-size-fits-all procedure. The cardinal element is that decision-making should be individualized, and care for each patient customized based on a unique profile. That profile can include everything from basic demographic factors, to metabolic markers of risk, to family history, to genomic and even microbiomic patterns. The general idea is that what’s specifically best for you is better- for assessment, treatment, avoiding side effects, prognosis, etc.- than what’s basically appropriate for everybody.

Prostate cancer screening by means of PSA testing was officially marshaled into the domain of the personal recently by the US Preventive Services Task Force (USPSTF). Their draft conclusion about the overall utility of screening is that they couldn’t reach a decisive conclusion, and you and your doctor should decide.

For those of us in Preventive Medicine, the USPSTF has long been revered, and their recommendations considered the veritable bible of clinical preventive services. The Task Force is a bit “by” the government, but neither “of” nor “for” it. This multidisciplinary group of experts is convened partly at the invitation of the federal government, but operates independently. Recommendations are made for the benefit of public health, and are very strictly evidence-based.

Evidence-based decision making to guide public policy is obviously a good thing in general, but it can be a double-edged sword. Many conclusions now reliably reached on the basis of solid evidence would clearly not have been wrong a decade ago when that evidence wasn’t in yet, but could not have been reached at that time. Absence of evidence, in other words, is very different from evidence of absence. The important implication is the obvious one: there are conclusions we can’t reach today because the relevant evidence won’t accrue for another year, or ten, or more. 

This simple fact invites humility about interpreting and applying evidence that experts on the USPSTF certainly do understand, but which many beneficiaries of their recommendations may not. Sometimes we know what we know, and sometimes we know what we don’t know; but sometimes, we simply don’t know for sure because we are still working on it.

One of the dangers in the application of very strict standards of evidence is that those items that are still subject to uncertainty will be deemed less worthy, rather than simply less mature. Since the Task Force recommendations are highly influential and routinely translate into reimbursement norms, this danger could mean: insurers will not cover what is not formally recommended. But that banishes to the realm of uncovered medical expense both some of what will prove to be baby, along with what will prove to be bathwater.

That leads us back to prostate cancer screening. The Task Force assigned a grade of “C” on their letter grade scale, indicating that net benefit for the population is almost certainly small at best, but that benefit for select individuals was both possible, and hard to predict. By deferring decision-making to the dialogue between patient and doctor, the Task Force is also saying that insurers should cover any testing that results from that discussion.

In a sense, the Task Force also rendered a verdict about evidence in general. By deferring decisions about best course to clinicians and patients, they are telling the world that despite reviewing all the relevant evidence, they don’t know the one, right answer. Not knowing that universal prostate cancer screening is a good idea is not the same as knowing it’s a bad idea. The Task Force is reminding those prone to rigid sanctimony about scientific evidence that it evolves over time, and at any given time can be murky for many reasons: it is insufficient in quantity or quality, the findings are inconsistent, or key studies have yet to be done. By leaving the door ajar for future decisions, the Task Force is reminding their constituencies of the crucial difference between absence of evidence and evidence of absence. Those constituencies include miscellaneous standard-bearers of evidence-based medicine who at times get carried away; and third-party payers who might be tempted not to cover what is not explicitly recommended. But deferring to patients and their doctors is an implicit recommendation to respect and pay for the decisions that ensue. Perhaps, too, the Task Force is implying that when uncertainty is greatest, so, too, must be respect for patient autonomy.

Why isn’t it obviously a good idea to screen all men for prostate cancer, since the disease is prevalent, and treatment established? There are several reasons.

First, testing is prone to errors in both directions. PSA levels can be elevated in the absence of cancer (false positives), and sometimes normal in spite of it (false negatives). The former failing can lead to additional, unnecessary testing, even including biopsy. The latter can confer a false and dangerous sense of security.

But the main problem with prostate cancer screening is not difficulty in finding the cancer, but difficulty in predicting its behavior. The majority of men (roughly 80%) who die after age 80 die with, but not of, prostate cancer. In other words, most guys who live long enough get this “disease.” But most of this cancer never progresses to cause symptoms or compromise overall health. The same is true at younger ages, albeit less common. When such cancers, destined to be indolent, are treated- the cure is often far worse than the disease, imposing risks from infection to erectile dysfunction to incontinence. This is why prostate cancer screening, which can save lives, can also hurt far more people than it helps.

Cancer screening is, quite literally, looking for trouble. When you can reliably find what you’re seeking, and reliably know what to do about it, that errand makes good sense as a matter of routine, because early treatment options are generally far better than late treatment options. But when cancer behavior is highly unpredictable, then looking for trouble may simply result in finding it. The Task Force has acknowledged the dilemma.

There are dual advantages in personalizing the approach to screening. First, even when risk factors are comparable, dispositions can vary. Some people simply much prefer knowing to not knowing, even if knowing introduces its own challenges. Second, variation in risk factors, notably family history, can alter the ratio of potential harm to likely benefit.

Since I am a male of a certain age, it may interest you to know that while I reliably get screening of clearer benefit, from cholesterol to colonoscopy, I do not get screened for prostate cancer. I use lifestyle as my medicine to minimize my risk. My advice to you if you share my demographic is: see a doctor you trust, and have the conversation.

Individualized decisions about prostate screening born of discussion between doctor and patient are more personal than personalized. The hope is that a truly “personalized medicine” approach will evolve, in which those decisions are informed not only by preference, but by biologic indicators that reliably point to the best choice. Ultimately, a better answer than personalizing decisions about marginally good screening is enhancements to screening. Efforts are well under way to advance that agenda, and barring draconian cuts to the federal research funding that fuels them, should get us there sooner than later. For now, prostate cancer screening isn’t formally personalized yet, but it is officially personal.

-fin

David L. Katz

Director, Yale University Prevention Research Center; Griffin Hospital

Immediate Past-President, American College of Lifestyle Medicine

Senior Medical Advisor, Verywell.com

Founder, The True Health Initiative

Follow at: LinkedIN; Twitter; Facebook

Read at: INfluencer Blog; Huffington Post; US News & World Report; Verywell; Forbes

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

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Prostate Screening Gets Personal

I can guess what some of you must be thinking: what do you mean, gets personal? Wasn’t prostate screening already quite personal? What, after all, could be more personal than an examining finger inserted into your…well, you know where the prostate is.

But despite the notoriously discomforting (for doctor and patient alike) intimacies of a digital rectal exam (DRE), there’s nothing much personal about it from a formally medical perspective. Besides, while still included in the comprehensive physical exam for various and perhaps dubious reasons, the DRE has long been supplanted by the PSA (prostate specific antigen) blood test as the primary approach to prostate cancer screening. Either way, screening is fairly standardized and involves much the same maneuver for everyone with the requisite anatomy. 

Personalized medicine, and thus the genuinely personal approaches to assessment and treatment of which it is comprised, is something quite different from any one-size-fits-all procedure. The cardinal element is that decision-making should be individualized, and care for each patient customized based on a unique profile. That profile can include everything from basic demographic factors, to metabolic markers of risk, to family history, to genomic and even microbiomic patterns. The general idea is that what’s specifically best for you is better- for assessment, treatment, avoiding side effects, prognosis, etc.- than what’s basically appropriate for everybody.

Prostate cancer screening by means of PSA testing was officially marshaled into the domain of the personal recently by the US Preventive Services Task Force (USPSTF). Their draft conclusion about the overall utility of screening is that they couldn’t reach a decisive conclusion, and you and your doctor should decide.

For those of us in Preventive Medicine, the USPSTF has long been revered, and their recommendations considered the veritable bible of clinical preventive services. The Task Force is a bit “by” the government, but neither “of” nor “for” it. This multidisciplinary group of experts is convened partly at the invitation of the federal government, but operates independently. Recommendations are made for the benefit of public health, and are very strictly evidence-based.

Evidence-based decision making to guide public policy is obviously a good thing in general, but it can be a double-edged sword. Many conclusions now reliably reached on the basis of solid evidence would clearly not have been wrong a decade ago when that evidence wasn’t in yet, but could not have been reached at that time. Absence of evidence, in other words, is very different from evidence of absence. The important implication is the obvious one: there are conclusions we can’t reach today because the relevant evidence won’t accrue for another year, or ten, or more. 

This simple fact invites humility about interpreting and applying evidence that experts on the USPSTF certainly do understand, but which many beneficiaries of their recommendations may not. Sometimes we know what we know, and sometimes we know what we don’t know; but sometimes, we simply don’t know for sure because we are still working on it.

One of the dangers in the application of very strict standards of evidence is that those items that are still subject to uncertainty will be deemed less worthy, rather than simply less mature. Since the Task Force recommendations are highly influential and routinely translate into reimbursement norms, this danger could mean: insurers will not cover what is not formally recommended. But that banishes to the realm of uncovered medical expense both some of what will prove to be baby, along with what will prove to be bathwater.

That leads us back to prostate cancer screening. The Task Force assigned a grade of “C” on their letter grade scale, indicating that net benefit for the population is almost certainly small at best, but that benefit for select individuals was both possible, and hard to predict. By deferring decision-making to the dialogue between patient and doctor, the Task Force is also saying that insurers should cover any testing that results from that discussion.

In a sense, the Task Force also rendered a verdict about evidence in general. By deferring decisions about best course to clinicians and patients, they are telling the world that despite reviewing all the relevant evidence, they don’t know the one, right answer. Not knowing that universal prostate cancer screening is a good idea is not the same as knowing it’s a bad idea. The Task Force is reminding those prone to rigid sanctimony about scientific evidence that it evolves over time, and at any given time can be murky for many reasons: it is insufficient in quantity or quality, the findings are inconsistent, or key studies have yet to be done. By leaving the door ajar for future decisions, the Task Force is reminding their constituencies of the crucial difference between absence of evidence and evidence of absence. Those constituencies include miscellaneous standard-bearers of evidence-based medicine who at times get carried away; and third-party payers who might be tempted not to cover what is not explicitly recommended. But deferring to patients and their doctors is an implicit recommendation to respect and pay for the decisions that ensue. Perhaps, too, the Task Force is implying that when uncertainty is greatest, so, too, must be respect for patient autonomy.

Why isn’t it obviously a good idea to screen all men for prostate cancer, since the disease is prevalent, and treatment established? There are several reasons.

First, testing is prone to errors in both directions. PSA levels can be elevated in the absence of cancer (false positives), and sometimes normal in spite of it (false negatives). The former failing can lead to additional, unnecessary testing, even including biopsy. The latter can confer a false and dangerous sense of security.

But the main problem with prostate cancer screening is not difficulty in finding the cancer, but difficulty in predicting its behavior. The majority of men (roughly 80%) who die after age 80 die with, but not of, prostate cancer. In other words, most guys who live long enough get this “disease.” But most of this cancer never progresses to cause symptoms or compromise overall health. The same is true at younger ages, albeit less common. When such cancers, destined to be indolent, are treated- the cure is often far worse than the disease, imposing risks from infection to erectile dysfunction to incontinence. This is why prostate cancer screening, which can save lives, can also hurt far more people than it helps.

Cancer screening is, quite literally, looking for trouble. When you can reliably find what you’re seeking, and reliably know what to do about it, that errand makes good sense as a matter of routine, because early treatment options are generally far better than late treatment options. But when cancer behavior is highly unpredictable, then looking for trouble may simply result in finding it. The Task Force has acknowledged the dilemma.

There are dual advantages in personalizing the approach to screening. First, even when risk factors are comparable, dispositions can vary. Some people simply much prefer knowing to not knowing, even if knowing introduces its own challenges. Second, variation in risk factors, notably family history, can alter the ratio of potential harm to likely benefit.

Since I am a male of a certain age, it may interest you to know that while I reliably get screening of clearer benefit, from cholesterol to colonoscopy, I do not get screened for prostate cancer. I use lifestyle as my medicine to minimize my risk. My advice to you if you share my demographic is: see a doctor you trust, and have the conversation.

Individualized decisions about prostate screening born of discussion between doctor and patient are more personal than personalized. The hope is that a truly “personalized medicine” approach will evolve, in which those decisions are informed not only by preference, but by biologic indicators that reliably point to the best choice. Ultimately, a better answer than personalizing decisions about marginally good screening is enhancements to screening. Efforts are well under way to advance that agenda, and barring draconian cuts to the federal research funding that fuels them, should get us there sooner than later. For now, prostate cancer screening isn’t formally personalized yet, but it is officially personal.

-fin

David L. Katz

Director, Yale University Prevention Research Center; Griffin Hospital

Immediate Past-President, American College of Lifestyle Medicine

Senior Medical Advisor, Verywell.com

Founder, The True Health Initiative

Follow at: LinkedIN; Twitter; Facebook

Read at: INfluencer Blog; Huffington Post; US News & World Report; Verywell; Forbes

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

from Healthy Living - The Huffington Post http://huff.to/2pZ4tZ9