#art is cathartic! fiction is cathartic!

[babycharmander]

[ID: Screenshot of tags reading (with swearing removed and typos corrected): “#omg literally I’ve played at tabletops where people confidently ask to do the most … insane evil stuff and then they’re like #oh it’s just a game come on #and I’m like oh so this is how your brain works when you think there’s no consequences and you’ve got unlimited power” /end ID]

To be clear it IS important before a game to work out what everyone is and is not okay with. Boundaries are important and if someone is like “hey can we not do X thing in the game” then an agreement of some kind has to be made—either that player’s wishes are respected, or that player does not play, or the player that really wants to do that thing does not play.

But yeah like… if folks at the table are okay with everything, then it’s fine. You’re participating in fiction, and playing a villain or a character who does something messed up can be fun for some folks. I’ve enjoyed RPing villains, myself, though I have to draw boundaries sometimes because there’s just some stuff I am personally not comfortable with having one of my characters do to another character.

Also, I skimmed some of the notes here and saw one comment saying something to the effect of “D&D is not therapy.”

Except… it is?? RPing is therapy, writing is therapy, art is therapy—or they all can be, anyway. Fiction is cathartic. Any therapist will tell you this. Once again, so long as everyone at the table is okay with what’s happening, then RP away.

people really live like this huh. yeah there's no consequences because you're playing a game of make-believe..?

[spacegoathours]

things don’t stay bad forever

[seventh-district]

again and again i find myself lamenting that audio roleplay isn't taken more seriously by some people. like yeah, they often have a romantic element, and by nature they usually directly involve/address the listener- and i totally get that those things aren't to everyone's taste. no art or entertainment is universally appealing, and that's okay! but.. it still makes me a lil sad that the "cringe" reputation of asmr/audio rp precedes it. there's a whole lot of talent and creativity being poured into these audios by so many people that i feel goes unrecognized and/or disrespected simply due to the medium that the stories are being told through.

[x-adoringvoid-x]

Part 23

How ambitious!

[empyreanmirror]

sunflowers in our hair

[inkykeiji]

piggy backing off the anon about touya and shouto being the same! I feel reader also picks up on those vibes, and i think you do a good job at hinting things like that. maybe that also adds to why touya-nii gets so uptight when it comes to reader and shouto, because shouto is his mini me lol its sucha sad situation tho :/ especially because this happen in so many families where trauma has happened or is still happening <3

yes!! thank you so much anon bb!!! it makes me so glad to hear that waah what a compliment!! <333 and i totally agree with you, it is a really sad and tragic situation; heartbreaking, honestly.

[valtsv]

i love when tragedy and comedy blend and all, but i feel too much fiction these days is scared to commit to the tragedy. shakespeare used to fuck shit up then have a guy be weird about it, nowadays writers jump to the weird guy before really fucking shit up. i want art to ruin my soul like that video of a guy shoving a mixer in a watermelon

i have no idea what you're referencing but yeah, i do think the key to a good tragicomedy is that the comic should be jarring, acting in contrast to and thereby emphasising the bleak circumstances surrounding it rather than distracting you from them. "you have to laugh, or else you'll cry". cathartic, a relief, but not an escape.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Loyalties

Did you know? That one of the unexpected benefits to being reborn, with your memories intact, is that you carry your first life's cultural taboos with you? All your knowledge, all your superstitions, every horror movie you've ever so much as glanced at. Like a dowry, brought with you, into this, your new life.

You end up not giving as much weight, to local superstitions. Especially the ones you know are not true. How? Well, sometimes? In the mad, random, overwhelming blur of the Cosmos? You end up in a Reality that to YOU? Was once fiction. Living in a snapshot of that world's history, as it plays out. Just as it was prophesied.

It's kinda disorienting. But? You get used to it.

Though you DO have to make a choice. Quickly. And decide where in that prophecy you want to stand. After all... there are many ways it could go. It WAS a "game". A story of romance. That other's lives would be impacted? That nations might rise or fall? That people could and will DIE? Oh, that is irrelevant! Isn't it?

They are young.

In LOVE.

Obviously, I could not risk my life on such irresponsible grounds. Plant my flag and swear loyalty, to such fickle hearts. I would die. They would get me killed, for their love story. No... No, what I needed? Was something stable. Selfish. Someone who would claim, but would KEEP.

I needed someone who rewarded loyalty. Someone who praised cleverness. Protected his own. Had (and would again) kill any who set untoward eyes upon those who served him. Someone guaranteed to survive until the end. Machiavellian, scheming. A soft and twisting word. Whispered kindly, in so many, many ears.

The power behind whichever throne he chooses.

Most Senior Royal Advisor, Iwamoto Nobutoshi. My boss. Or, really, Master I guess. Boss was for gangsters. Which was still weird for me. Part of me still twitched violently, every time I said the word "master". My brain insisting, it was either a sex thing or a slavery thing, and that I should respond with Immediate Violence at being told to call anyone that.

Yeah... there ARE downsides to keeping your memories. It really is a mixed bag, all told.

But, hey! All those horror movies I've seen in passing? Scary Horror-Terror Stuff I've absorbed through cultural osmosis? Has been really coming in handy, not gonna lie. So has my understanding of what constitutes "psychological warfare" and "mindfuck-y, liminal, torment".

It should NOT be as cathartic as it is? But... not gonna lie. I've gotten weirdly GOOD at this. Learned to become one with the shadows. Sneak into and out of places, I rightfully should not BE. Usually with a bucket of animal blood from a butcher's. Occasionally, if I KNOW they have someone who can test it? I get the bucket from the morgue.

Which? Is gross as FUCK. And disrespectful. But I have to believe they'd be totally down for fucking with some Evil Rich Assholes. Plus I donate funds to their family's anonymously. So I like to think it balances out? Still don't like to do it, though. I feel like the longer I've been here, the more my morals have chipped away...

Where was I? Right! Tonight's "art"!

I forget where that quote was from, exactly? But? It was true. People do not look up nearly enough. Worse yet, most manors around here? Had attics and weird pockets in their ceilings, with easy access to the floors below. I had? Gotten past? SO many patrols this way. So, SO many.

Frankly, an ALARMING number of patrols.

I'd taken to putting traps in the ceiling, back home.

What I was aiming for, here, was the private rooms. Not the hallway outside the private rooms, oh no, those would be patrolled to hell and back. But inside. Plus? It would have that added, spicy, "we can get you where you sleep" fear factor. And? Having their oh so TRUSTED, highly trained gaurds? See NOTHING? Perfect~

Cause? We? Were doing a good ol fashioned "Sins of The Past" Haunting!

The trick, if you don't actually have any good oppo-research available? Is to be vague, yet aim for things you do know about them. Let them fill in the blanks. Such as? The VERY convenient deaths of Lord Jackass's other brothers, which cleared HIS way towards power. There's no PROOF of any wrong doing... but~? Guilty hearts DO tend to tell on themselves~!

Slinking down the rope ladder silently, into the frankly hideously overdecorated room. I got to work. On silent feet, I began to set the stage. Furniture, lifted and silently stacked, around the snoring Lord and his equally unconscious wife. Expensive pottery, covered in a thick and padded bag, before it is struck.

As though some silent blast of power had gone off. Each piece, placed right back where it had been, now broken, on the floor. Next? The most time consuming, but subtle, one. Also the one that would spread farthest as gossip. Using a custom made seam ripper, tear out the eyes of every example of his family's crest on his clothes. On his bedding.

Yes, ALSO on the robe he wore to bed. That one takes very gentle movement. Very nerve-wracking, not gonna lie. You gotta go slow. Once you DO? Good ol "tears of blood." Just paint it right on the cloth, let it stain. As though the crests were weeping.

THEN, you paint the room in nicely vague horror movie script.

"Brother. Why?" "We know. We know EVERYTHING. How could you?" "We are tired of waiting, join us. Join us Brother." "We are witness, a shame upon our blood."

And other such gems! Plus the good ol hands scrambling, covered in blood, to a point in the center of the room. Put a round painters cloth down, and~? Gently sift ash and bone dust (I dried up bones from the kitchens, then ground um! Also great for gardening.) over the floor. Step UP, to my ladder, kit away, grab the cloth, and? Off we go!

Room successfully haunted.

Couldn't happen to a nicer asshole, really. Is it a BIT much? Yeah, probably. People lose their SHIT. I apparently have "a talent", according to my teammates. Which is nonsense. It's all B-grade horror move nonsense and house of horrors gross outs. Visceral ick. But it's NEW here, so I guess that counts? Even if I am plagiarizing the FUCK out of somebody.

Thankfully, though, dispite my "talent"? Master Iwa- ...No, wait, didn't he tell me recently to call him by his name? Uncomfy. A good sign, obviously, but... uncomfy. Don't Like that he knows who I am. I was aiming for, you know, mid rank? Not disposable but pretty forgetable? But now I have a Useful Skill. Have proven to be INTELLIGENT.

Fuck, I even made the mistake of cleaning up and organizing PAPERWORK. You know, paperwork? A thing you would have to READ and MAKE SENSE OFF, to be able to organize? Have to create some kind of workable and efficient system, by WHICH to sort? I thought it was an assistants! Not HIS!

One fuck up is all it takes.

He will find you, he WILL rip the secrets out of you, and yes! He WILL smile pleasantly the entire fucking time! It's horrifying! Kinda cool! I'm pretty sure my life flashed before my eyes! Ha ha... Holy SHIT.

Right, where...? Right! My "talent"! Master Nobutoshi? Big on "right piece for the right purpose". Yeah, you could FORCE people to go against their ideals, their beliefs, their very nature... but you can only do so, for so long. Fear fades. Pain can be overcome. Not everyone fears death.

He regards it as foolish, inefficient, to drag and force and scream.

No, no! He? Oh, he merely... suggests. A softly spoken recommendation. A guiding hand, to show you, the best use of your skills. And if that guidance just so happens to serve his interests? Well... what a wonderful coincidence~ How fortuitous.

Heavy hands get broken. Snapped at and slapped away. But a gentle touch? A little nudge? Sweet whispers in your ear? That tell you what you want to hear? Guide you where HE wants you to be? Well, THAT is so much harder to notice, isn't it. So, SO much harder to fight.

I chose pretty well, I like to think. Because no matter the game? He'll come out on top. Probably laugh, as all the other players, dance to his tune. Who WOULDN'T want to be on his team? His team wins.

And winning? Means I survive.

Dropping off my kit in the shed at the back of the Iwamoto guest residence gardens (where, should it be found, the presence of such things could be blamed on unscrupulous guests), I trudge back towards the servants quarters. I'm tired and filthy. It's the kind of late? Where it's flipped right around to become early.

Luckily, me and my teammates plan ahead, so there is a still moderately warm bath waiting for me. God bless Aiko and all she stands for. For this? I'll even carry her back to our room. Since, once again, she's decided "fuck it" and just curled up on the stack of towels. Doesn't even fit. She just shoved her upper body in the cubby and called it good.

I snort and step over her. Get my fuckin bath. Late night shifts are the worst. But we all take um. I focus on getting clean, grabbing my passed out lump of a roommate, and heading to bed. Fucker drools on me. Snorkels right in my ear. Takashi laughs silently as we pass him, hold the door for me. Seems to be heading out as we head in.

Master Iwamoto's shadow network never truely sleeps, after all.

Always someone doing something.

Dumping us both in our beds, I greatfully pass out. Do not dream. Greet near mid-day as my dawn, ready to start it all over again. Up, a quick bath, dressed and ready to go. Nothing to seem here but us identical servants. We go in shifts. All the better to be as disorienting as possible, to outsiders.

Everyone who looks like each other? Grouped on a shift. Taught to use make up to make themselves even MORE indistinguishable. We pick someone about in the middle, appearance wise, of each group, as the Standard. Everyone is to copy them. For my group, it's me.

I pick up the whispers and news, that have been collected since this mornings report. Second one of the day. At least, second one when we're not on "war" footing. As I walk, I glance down. Technically not supposed to read these, but I'm fairly sure he knows I do at least read the top page. Is amused by it. I'd have seen punishment otherwise. Or removed from delivery.

Oooh~ lookie THERE! How SCARY~☆! It appears someone was HAUNTED last night! By the ghosts of their dead brothers, you say? Angry ancestors, you say? Wife hysterical? Fled to her parents house? Sister, in tears, before the king? Oh my, oh my~!

I struggle not to grin. That would give the game away. Me? Reading something I'm not supposed too? I would NEVER. He he he~

Casually weaving through other servants, I keep reading. Climbing stairs and ducking down halls. Huh. Wait a second... slowing, I step to the side of the covered walkway. Re-read that last paragraph. Near the end of the page? Is something... strange. Not right.

I REMEMBER the Plot.

Made SURE I would remember. Wrote it down, then again and again. Memorized it, like my life literally depended on it, while it was still somewhat fresh in my mind. Because, frankly, it DID depend on it. Even now? Decades later? I can recite it by rote.

So why? Pray tell? Did our blushing Protagonist? Have a BROTHER.

Furthermore, why the FUCK have I not NOTICED this before?

Glancing around, I see far too many watchful eyes, to properly investigate. So I straighten. Pleasant, vague, expression in place. I walk forward. In no hurry at all. Definitely going to deliver these papers. Certainly not delaying in the slightest. Nothing to see here, everyone! Go about, what you were. We are all friends here, RIGHT?

I step into the building at the far end of the covered pathway. Resist diving into the first room available. That? Would be too predictable. I go for the THIRD. One quick grab, slide, and side-step? And~? Poof! Like I was never there. Servant? WHAT servant? These halls are EMPTY. You're clearly seeing things... are you okay?

Immediately, I lift the reports. Well, immediate after a look around the room, of course. Don't want to get CAUGHT. Flipping to the second page, I start reading. What's this about a Brother? What BROTHER?! There IS no BROTHER!

....except there IS.

Somehow.

And HE? Is a very, VERY clever man. One who lived quietly. Like a ghost. After the failed assassination attempt that nearly killed him and his mother. Wait a- ...failed? That sounds...? Familiar.

I have to close my eyes and think, to remember. Lean my head back and let my brain churn. It's... obscure. A tiny detail, mentioned offhand. Single line of dialog, in only one of the routes. Not even the MAIN routes. But one of the Secret ones, that you have to unlock... in the... collectors? Edition? I think? There was that play through video, right? We were eating... a noodle dish of some kind...

Fuck, I can't remember it. Not fully.

But I remember ENOUGH.

I REMEMBER? That it WASN'T a FAILED attempt. That Protagonist-chan's family didn't talk about them. For vaguely plot relevant reason. There was healing and good vibes. Follow your dreams, kids. Buy now. Etc etc...

He... survived? How? Damn it. Doesn't say. But... shit. He's cause a LOT of trouble, isn't he? And it looks like he's kind... railroading his sister into a specific route. That, or keeping her from emotionally cheating on her fiancée. Can't tell. Haven't met her. Looks like he's also patented a few... is that a fucking WHISK? Holy shit. These are all early industrial revolution!

Looking up from the reports, I stare blankly into space. Is... is the Protagonist's brother... ALSO a Reincarnator? What do I do with that? Do I contact him? Say "hello"? "I'm here too"? I thought I was... was completely alone in this world. But of all the places he could BE. Smack dap RIGHT in the middle of all the action?! Holy SHIT.

I'm going to have to think about this. A LOT.

Correcting the reports, I step back into the hallways. Casual as you please. Continue on my way, even as my mind churns and churns. Why is he gathering allies? Why hide for so long? Is he counting on his sister's plot armor to carry over? Or does he have actual military training? He's amassing loyalists. For WHAT?

And the reports said he's searching for something. Seem to suggest that WE are keeping it AWAY from him. What are we hiding? Protecting?

People? Resources? A mine?

I reached Master Nobutoshi's study, in his private wing. The halls quite, as only the most elite and trusted servants were allowed to travel here. Kneeling, I knocked on the door frame, waited to be acknowledged.

Receiving an almost absent-minded acknowledgement, I slide open the door.

Framed by delicately painted screen and thickly stuffed book shelves, Iwamoto Nobutoshi was, as always, the very picture of an elite scholar. Beautiful and refined. Slow and deliberate in movements, as though each had been pondered and found acceptable. I had never met a man more graceful. Not in this life, not in the last.

To my right, the sliding door to the gardens were open. Giving a picturesque view of summer, as it faded into fall. To the left, painted screens. Done by some Master's hand. With a splendid level of detail that still caught me off gaurd, even now. There were birds, in those painted trees! Had there always been? I wished I could look closer.

Nonetheless, I respectfully offered the reports for perusal.

"Right on time. This One had begun to worry." He said as he set aside his brush, smile mild as ever, even as his eyes swiftly cataloged each new discrepancy. There were several. "Bruises. Did the new padding in your suit, not sufficiently protect? This One will be most displeased if we have been lied too. We were promised it would."

No, and that was the thing, wasn't it? My kit? Had never been better. But... I had been damn near ambushed on my way TOO my job. Had to take evasive maneuvers. Do a LOT more parkour then I was comfortable with. Those fuckers had been... persistent. Weirdly so. Which made no sense, since they didn't seem affiliated with anyone I recognized.

"Oh?" The question was less a question and more a flat note of outrage. He held a hand out for the reports, began to read. "How... interesting. They certainly seem to be getting bold. This One begins to wonder. If he has perhaps been too kind, that they would see fit to harrass his-"

An ominous silence fills the room as he cuts off mid-sentence, as his eyes find something on the page he's reading. He has gone utterly still. The gentle curl of smoke from his pipe, wafting around him like the warning trails of a dragon. The deadly hidden embers of a forest fire, flaring up. His pleasant smile had frozen upon his face. Like a mask.

"He certainly does love to push his luck, does he? Make demands, for things he has no right too. Things which are ours." The words weren't even so much addressed to me? As the were a hissed accusation, towards the report in his hand. Someone, somewhere, seemed REALLY dead set on pissing Master Nobutoshi off.

Honestly? That seemed really unwise, but it's their funeral... I guess...?

Master Nobutoshi turns so suddenly I only barely avoid flinching. Jumping like a newbie. He's doing that "pick you apart at the seems" stare again. Looking into my soul. I remain politely deferential, patient, as I wait for him to work through his thoughts. He rises from his desk. Elegant and prowling, as he stalks towards me. Gaze intense, fixated. I... I am missing something.

"Tell me, my loyal little shadow. What would you do? If some... upstart, dared begin to covet, that which was yours? Started panting after your dearly beloved trusted, like a filthy dog? Trying to steal them away? Would you take that? Tolerate such disrespect? I... This One... can not imagine you would."

"You are so very loyal. So diligent. You serve me not for fame or glory, power nor wealth. You ask for so little, offer so much. I would give the world to you. My precious, loyal, little shadow. Forever by my side. No doubt, we shall grow old together. That they would covet you? The audacity is unthinkable."

Soft yet warrior calloused hands, come up to cup my cheeks. And... ah. Yeah. T-That's pretty fucking CLEAR on what I'm missing. My boss? Has a thing for me? Crush? Or... or is it "is in love with"? W-what was that about people coveting?! Hold on! Roll things back a second! What's happening?! I never thought I was blind... about apparently I need a stick and some GLASSES.

Because there is "missed some subtext" and then there's "dude, how do you miss the silent war with guerrilla tactics, right fucking IN FRONT OF YOU?!", so like? Either I was being DELIBERATELY kept seperate? Or... actually? No. That actually sound exactly like what probably happened. An information diet.

FUCK.

Before I could decide how, exactly, I felt about that? The same door I had entered through, opened again. This time sharply and with an audible snap. Dragging urgently along it's tracks and hitting its end, in a way the delicate crafting had never been meant for. I swear it nearly cracked. Alarmed, I spun, breaking free of Master Nobutoshi's hold on my face, to face whoever was at the door.

Aiko.

Shouldn't she be near the front gates? "Sweeping" and listening to gossip for the Shadows? How. Why!? My eyes catch on slowly spreading red. Stark against her... our uniform, she's hurt. Badly. Gripping her side and the door frame like it's the only thing still holding her up. Her face ashy pale and sweating with terrible pain. Eyes determined. Her jaw set in that stubborn, stubborn grit.

"Master. You need to leave. Now! They...!" She wavers, starting to blackout from the pain, before forcing it back. "They've attacked! We're holding them back. A-As best as we c..can! Please! Lord Iwamoto, I BEG you! You must go! If you don't survive this, then everything is lost!"

As if to underline the terrible wait of her words, an explosion goes off, shaking the austere foundations of the ancient house in which I serve. My mind immediately flits and races along the emergency protocols. W-was that one of ours? Did we..? No. No, we would have... DID set up barricades. This is our house. We've already trapped it.

They are the ones who brought explosives.

You don't bring things like those, if you plan to leave survivors. You bring those? When you plan to make EXAMPLES. Aiko is right. We have to go. Now. Heart hurting, I nod to my roommate, one of my best friends, and know that this is it. I will likely never see her again, alive. There are... so many goodbyes, words, I wish I had time to say.

In the look she shoots me? I see the same.

We knew this might come.

Just... just hoped it never would.

My boss's crush can wait. His LIFE is more important. I turn and reach for him, to guide him towards the screens, leading deeper into his wing. Get to him easily. But do not get more then two steps before an arm, like steel, is suddenly around my waist and jerking me back.

Jerking US back. Towards the wall of scrolls and decorative pieces, that sat behind Master Nobutoshi's desk. Startled, my gaze shoots down to see Master Nobutoshi's arm, unhesitating and possessive, wrapped around my waist. There is... a lot more muscle under those flowing robes, then I ever suspected. But-?

I do not even have time to think, to ponder, the question before it is violently answered. The masterfully painted screens, that I had long admired, smashing and tearing as bodies crash through them.

Takashi, dead on the floor, sword still in hand. Around him, his teammates dying, as they still tried to by their Lord even a few moments more, to escape. The large, ever polite Shadow, a man who had been like a brother to me... dumped upon the ground like little more then trash. To be tossed aside and discarded. Stepped over, on some other man's campaign.

His blood mixed with the ruins of the Hunting Tiger screen. Two proud, quietly noble wonders, destroyed. It had been his favorite.

Aiko howled with rage and grief. Threw herself into the fight.

We had been family.

I turned, away, hating myself for it. Knowing it's what they would want. Tears threatened but I could not let them come. Not... not yet. Not yet. There was an emergency exit. Where? Where!? I remembered it. I knew, I knew it! But the grief was muddling my mind, making it slow. Damn it. DAMN IT! WHERE WAS IT!!!??

Master Nobutoshi reached past me. Gripping the hilt of decorative sword, he lifted and drew. It.. it was not decorative. Merely disguised. A masterwork blade. It sang ominously as it cut through the air, entering the scene. Then... a face, breathe, pressed to the side of my head. Like.. like a lover? A terrible discordance, in this already awful event.

"Behind the Three Mountains and a Shrine, My Love. I will be with you shortly."

I froze. The world froze, for all it continued, around me. Distantly... I felt Master Nobutoshi loosen his grip, after... after one last possessive squeeze. Let go. Felt him turn away, as he faced the room. But... but that was... he.... he had....

W-was that? I-Informal? A..And WHAT did he call m-!?

My hand, shaking, found the right scroll. Somehow. Without my numb, panicking mind, they moved dispite me. Somehow determined to keep me alive, dispite my shock. I flicked the right switch. Disarmed the traps in the order they needed to be. And... click. There was the trap door. Our... our way out...

I stared. Blankly. W.. what was I supposed to..? Do?

Was I finally... in shock? That's... probably not good. Bad, actually. I should... should move. There are swords here. It's...? Dangerous? Yes. Dangerous. Bad. I need too... too think. Cry, maybe. Somewhere... not loud. With... with no... no swords.

Stumbling. Stiffly. Like my body was not my own anymore, I knelt. Hands clumsy and far away, I struggled with the trap door. Finally got it. People were... were fighting. Hurting. I... I didn't want to be here anymore. Didn't want to be ANYWHERE anymore. I... I wanted it to stop.

Why? Why wouldn't they all just... just STOP.

Aiko. Takashi. My teammates. Who else? Who else was hurt? G-gone? I was... was supposed to be SAFE. This was supposed to be SAFE. I worked so hard. Compromised and compromised, pushed myself down, and made myself fit. I worked and worked and WORKED, until I had nothing LEFT, b... because this was supposed to be SAFE!!!

I... I was supposed to b-be...!

"Iwamoto!" A voice roared above the chaos and fighting. "Where is She?! I know you're keeping her somewhere!"

Like a lions roar, some primal part of my brain demanded I pay attention. Now. Dragging, with brutal claws, my fragile mind, from its drifting cloud of numbness. One leg already on the steps to the escape tunnel, I turned, and... with horror? Realized I was to blame. For... for ALL of this.

Because? There, in armor, stood the Protagonist's brother. Surrounded by his men, with his sister safely at home, what other SHE could he POSSIBLY mean? If not the one? That ALSO remembers? H...He killed Aiko. Takashi. For THIS?

Monster.

Oh god, he.. he was a MONSTER.

Master Nobutoshi and the Reincarnator squared off. Swords drawn, men at their back. Already, so many were dead. So many I had known. Had worked with. My friends. Just... just pawns, between two powerful men. Dizzy, I realized, they... they hadn't even glanced at them. Didn't even seem to SEE them. Just... just more fodder. For their grand campaigns.

"You know?" Nobutoshi all but purred, as he clashed blades with his opponent. "I really must thank you. You helped me realize, the true worth of the gem I possessed. And, once you're dealt with? I will no longer need to hide her in obscurity. With you dead, little rat, I can finally have her, in every way that matters."

"She'll be a beautiful bride." His grin was a savage thing, full of baring teeth.

The Protagonist's brother raged. A lion, a mountain, and a warlord. Fury twisting what were, no doubt, handsome features into something horrifying. Blade work swift and brutal. How many of my friend's blood? Still painted that blade? Still stained his armor? He dressed himself like he thought he was the hero. He was destroying the only home I had known, for these past decades.

"Pervert! You disgusting CREEP! You think you can just imprison women until they love you?! I always knew there was something wrong with you, but this? This take the cake, you FREAK! I'm getting her out of here! Stopping your schemes! Once and for all!" The Brother roared, something unhinged in his eyes. A lifetime of isolation at last, too much, now that relief might finally be at hand. "You'll never understand her! You CAN'T understand her! Not like me! She was MADE FOR ME! We're supposed to be in this TOGETHER! And I WON'T let you keep me from her ANY LONGER, YOU FREAK!"

They couldn't see anyone but each other, as they fought. Brutal. Savage. Singing blades and madness. Around the room, the two sides clashed. Died. Pointlessly, at the command of their Lords. Sitting at the entrance to the escape route, I could see Aiko from here. Takashi. Both dead, gone, where just this morning we had been joking over our plans for an upcoming festival. We... we were going to hit up the candy booths first. Double back to store our loot. Then enjoy the festivities.

It was a good plan. I was going to pretend... that... that I didn't notice Aiko, stealing all the sour plum candies. I hated them. She loved them. But would never take them if I offered. O.. only fun if she could sneak um. Takashi would save me my favorites. Wasn't much of a sweets guy.

Gone...

All gone.

And for what? Because I "belonged" to the Brother? Because Master Nobu-...no. Because Iwamoto Nobutoshi, picked a FIGHT? All I wanted was to be safe. Live quietly. No plot. No drama. No chaos. Just... just market days and laundry, sweeping and helping make dumplings. Weeding the gardens. Napping with kids and cats. Slowness and the shifting of seasons.

A life, unremarkable.

I looked down into the escape tunnel. Dark, long, and to somewhere unknown.

They did not notice me leave.

[lavender-skull-garden]

You ever read s fanfic that was so divorced from canon that it wasn’t even enjoyable?

I just remembered a svsss fic where they made sy a terrible person, lbh was actually in love with sj and when sy revealed that he was a Transmigrator lbh killed him to bring back sj.

First of all sj HORRIFICALLY abused lbh

Second lbh fell in love with sqq after sy was transmigrated into him because he was kind to him

Third sy was justified in his dislike of sj because he was a fictional villain who in the original text was one dimensional and once again, horrifically abused his favorite character. There was no evidence in the text that he was anything but a monster.

My fourth point is, you should not hold your fannon of a villain character over a canon mc. It simply is the most brainless thing you could ever post.

I get It! fannon sj is cool and really fun to read about and cannon sy can be a bit of an asshole sometimes but that doesn’t mean you can create such a garbage take as this.

sj is not you UwU soft baby who has never done anything wrong and sy is not the source of all evil.

It’s also a disservice to lbh he isn’t some loser yandere with a teacher kink. He is a complex character who is loyal to his loved ones and harsh to those who wronged him.

If you want to properly enjoy these characters then you have to explore their nuances and flaws. Mxtx put so much thought and effort into these characters and you reduce them into something that can barely be recognizable.

Fanfiction is an art. Something mad by fans for fans so that we can appreciate it together. I understand that sometimes bashing a character is cathartic and can help you enjoy it but why are you consuming a piece of work if you hate every aspect that makes it so good.

I admit that I haven’t really been active in the danmei community for a long time but it still hurts to remember these kinds of things.

[lovingperfectionsblog]

Hate me please.

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS AND PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION! - Minors do not interact. 

Art Donaldson x Reader.

Summary: Art confronts you about your eating disorder.

Warning: Eating disorder, fight, angst, crying, swearing, talking about someone getting admitted. 

Word count: 2072. 

Authors note: Guys, this is about an eating disorder. This is in no way glamourising them. My aim is always to bring awareness to the actual feelings around them and how difficult it actually is to navigate them. Please note, where I live, someone can get you admitted to an institution for numerous reasons provided a medical professional feels you are dangerous to yourself or those around you. This is the premise this story falls under. Eating disorders are, and this is from a doctor, as severe as addiction and needs to be treated accordingly! If you or anyone else you know is facing this, please seek out medical help! There are a ton of amazing resources out there to help you! And most importantly, please be kind. To yourself and to others. You are worth the help, always. The world is good and kind and you deserve to be in it. This piece of fiction is also cathartic for me. I am dealing with my own mental health stuff and this helps me. 

Please remember, you are in-charge of the media you consume. If you do not like it, do not read it. Please do not consume this if you are currently in a bad mental health space. Please take care of yourself. And my inbox is always open if you feel there is some way I could improve on getting this message across (Again, be kind, I am also just a person going on my own experience) or if you need to chat about anything. Be safe and remember, you deserve love and kindness, especially from yourself. 

____________

You knew you hadn’t expected anything good, but you hadn’t expected this. You thought that maybe there would be some screaming. Maybe he would pack up and leave. Maybe he should leave you. That’s what you had expected as you sat on the couch, just waiting for Art to come storming through the door, ready for him to leave you. 

What you hadn’t expected was for the door to slowly open, hearing the click of the handle as it was pushed downwards from the outside and slowly allowing a stream of light to filter in to the previously dark apartment. Art was near silent as he made his way into the space you were both currently staying as he prepared for his next tournament. 

You heard the thump of his bag as it slipped off his shoulder and the soft rustle as he toed off his shoes. After that, it was as if he just stopped moving altogether. You would have assumed he wasn’t even in the apartment anymore; he was so silent. All the way up until you heard him sigh. 

He was going to leave you. 

And maybe that’s exactly what you deserved. Maybe you knew that all along. It had to have been the reason you did all of this in the first place. You knew you didn’t deserve Art and so you tried to create a version of yourself that did. A skinnier, prettier version of yourself.

Skinny and pretty like Tashi. 

Skinny and pretty like Art deserved. 

You had to stop yourself from glancing up as he walked into the lounge. You could feel his eyes on you, but you sat, forcing yourself to stare out of th large double doors in front of you. You watched as the city lights twinkled and you could;t help but think about the last time you saw fireflies. You were significantly younger. You’d been sitting alone in your parents yard and suddenly one of the denser bushes lit up, slowly, but it lit up. One by one, they started to shine. Just like the stars at night. One by one. Just like the city below. The lights beginning to illuminate the darkened world. One by one. 

One by one, just like Arts footsteps as he made his way towards the lightswitch. The entire room is illuminated by a single flip of a switch. It was an assault to your senses. The bright warmth absorbs the dark. Absorbing the twinkling lights of the city below. Suddenly, all you could see in the big glass panes was your reflection and for a brief moment you could see how gaunt your face looked and you could see how far your collar bones protrude through the skin that encased them, but the longer you looked, it was almost as if a sculpture was placing more and more clay onto the statue you so painstakingly carved out. You can see each and every point of weight being put back on and your brain justifies it all again. Suddenly, you remembered you deserved this. That Art deserved this. He was a pro-athlete for god sake, which pro-athlete wouldn’t want a skinny, pretty partner? 

That brief moment where you know how sick you are, you think he might hate this for you, but the sculpture and the clay and suddenly you can’t believe you thought that at all. 

Your reflection was obscured as Art came to a stop in front of you and you dragged your eyes up, from the bottom of his shorts, your favourite pair of his, all the way up to his mouth. The one that was so often upturned into that sweet, sweet smile you first fell in love with. It always seemed so innocent. Always seemed so pure. Now though, set in a  hard line, but they kept the words behind them as if under lock and key. Art not allowing a word to slip past them until he was sure about what he was going to say.  It couldn’t have been anything good if his message was anything to go by; 

‘I need to talk to you.’

All you had to do was unlock your phone and you’d see the message glaring back at you. The message that you were sure was the beginning of he end. 

Eventually your gaze reached his eyes, much to your dismay. You didn’t want to because you were sure that the second you did, it would kick off the entire ending into gear, but you did it anyway and there were his red rimmed eyes. 

It truly was the beginning of the end

You watched his mouth open and shut, but it was the moment that he cleared his throat that brought you out of your thoughts. Like a rope had been wrapped around you and yanked, forcing you back. 

He wasn’t looking at you anymore and you could see the tears threatening to escape, he cleared his throat again and your stomach turned as you heard his voice waver. 

“I spoke to Maddy.” Fucking Maddy. Of course she had said something to him. “I’ve taken some time off and we’re going to get you some help.” 

The co fusion on your face was what pushed the tear over the waterline and as he dragged his hand down his face, the tear was spread. You watched as he darted his tongue out, you assume catching he last little bits of it. You wondered if they were as salty to the taste as your own so often were. 

“You need help baby.” He crouched down in front of you, engulfing your hands in his own. 

“You spoke to Maddy?” When? What had they said that concerned you? 

“Yeah, we’re all worried about you. You need help my love.” It’s as if he thought that repeating himself was going to make you understand, but it didn’t, you sat, still just as confused. 

“Why are you taking time off?” You couldn’t understand. Why did he even need to take time off? 

“We’re,” Why did he need to keep clearing his throat? It’s not like he was the one currently  being out under a microscope. “We’ve got a plan baby, and I just, I need you to know that.” 

“What plan? What are you talking about?” Your brain wasn’t catching up to what was happening and for some reason, you were growing irrationally angry. The more he refused to just spit it out, the more agitated you became. 

“Remember that place we spoke about a little while ago. That place up north in France? The one with some of the best doctors in the world, that help with,” The pause was enough to kill you. He wasn’t going anywhere. He was sending you away. 

“I really don’t think I’m in need of a place like that.” Confusion was still ever present in the conversation and it seeped into every word. You watched as Art mulled over the next words in his head. 

“The institution.” He said it so quietly, but the words stuck through you like a knife. He was actively sending you away to an institution because he thought you were sick. 

“I am not being sent to an institution Art.” You moved to storm out but the panic and what you assume was a lack of food kept you planted in your seat. Those dizzy spots blurring your vision. If you waited another second they’d be gone. They always went away after a few seconds. ALways. Art dropped his head, gaze focused between hus knees, a shaky breathe leaving him. You could feel the exhale on your calves. 

“It’s not up to you.” It was so quiet you almost missed it and when you didn’t respond, Art tentatively peaked up, the betrayal evident in your eyes. 

“It’s not up to me? How the fuck could being admitted not be up to me?” You could feel your face and neck beginning to heat up. From anger or shame, you weren’t sure which, but you could feel it crawling up under your skin and if Arts’ facial expression was anything to go by, he knew it too. 

Art could feel the anger radiating off of you but this is exactly what he had expected. He had gone behind your back, spoken to his personal therapist. Honestly, Maddy had been the one who had brought it up with him, and he was ashamed he hadn’t realized how severe it was. How sick you actually were. He and MAddy had discussed a variety of options and in your case, she was sure she could get you admitted no problem and that’s exactly what they did. 

And now he had to do the hard part of letting you know. He had his bag packed and now he just needed to convince you that you needed to pack yours too.

“Why would you do this to me?” The ay this was all going, it felt as if you weren’t all that willing to put up a fight. He could live wit you hating him, with thinking he did all of this to hurt you, but he couldn’t live hu,mself if he did nothing to help you and he lost you because of it. So hating him it is. 

“Because I can’t lose you.” He could see how confused you were at that statement and it all hit him like a ton of bricks. You had no idea. You didn’t realize just how bad you had gotten. 

“You aren't going to.” You were shocked into silence as he abruptly stood up, leg bouncing as he stood in front of you. 

“ I am going to though. You just don’t see it. And just because you don’t see it, doesn’t make it any less true.”  The words just came tumbling out of his mouth before he could give himself anytime to think them through. “I am going to lose you because you’re killing yourself and I don’t know why or how to make it better.” The words filled the room within seconds and you felt your throat begin to constrict. Is this what he had thought? 

Next thing you knew you were standing toe to toe with the man you loved “I am not going to die.” 

“Then pack your bag and come with me.” His request was instantaneous and you felt sick. You knew you had to do what he said, yu’d done so much of this for him already, but suddenly, you didn't want to give it up anymore. You knew you’d worked hard for this. What was the difference between what Art did to his body and what you did to yours? They were both simply acts of devotion, weren’t they?

“You have a match soon though.” Any excuse to get out of this. You just needed to remind him what was important to him. “I pulled out. I’d fucking quit if thats what it took. I’d do anything. I just need you to get better.” it was a sobering moment for you. You’d always thought that you came second to the true great love of Ar Donaldsons life, but here he stood, saying the most tragic yet beautiful thing possible, that it was never tennis. It was, is, you. He wasn’t scared of losing the game, but losing you, the thought brought him to his knees. 

You turned and made your way to the bedroom, unable to look at him through the tears, that is until he called out for you. What you werre doing, all of it, took courage, even the part where you had to turn and face Art now. 

“Please.” God, he had never felt so small in his entire life, but he reckoned that the really monumental moments in life always would, to show you the grand importance of them was even greater than what you could ever be. And Art had never felt as small as he did in this moment. 

Art didn’t know what relief was until he heard you say that you were going to pack a bag. Wasn't even ashamed to admit that the next words left him feeling a sense of relief too because he knew what you actually meant. 

“I’m going to hate you for a while for this.” 

I'm scared, but I will try. 

“For as long as you need.” 

I will be with you through it all.

[ladyloveandjustice]

My Favorite Continuing Manga I Read in 2023

I went into the brand new manga I read in this post, but here's an update on some great continuing series!

Shout out to She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat for having phenomenal storyline about find the courage to cut toxic family members off, which is pretty rare to see (in manga especially)! The story explores how your family can impose a relationship with food that harms you in many different ways, and how finding acceptance of your food habits helps you heal. It also continues to be a lovely exploration of queer adults finding themselves that makes the point that your experiences don't have to fit in a box.  And I appreciate that they included a character who doesn't like eating that much for me to relate to! See my first review here, 

Now for a quick word about the other great continuing manga I read:

- I Want to be a Wall really upped it's game and included a nuanced discussion about asexuality that I loved seeing. See first review here.

- Yuri is My Job is still the best lesbian drama manga around and hits hard. See previous discussion here,

- A Man and His Cat is still the sweetest and Yona of the Dawn is as action packed and intriguing as ever...I feel a climax slowly coming!

- A Bride’s Story is still wonderfully done historical fiction with lush art while How Do We Relationship continues to develop its web of queer relationships nicely.

- Witch Hat Atelier is still a wondrous story of magic, creativity, accessibility, and struggling under unfair systems, all told in a fascinating fantasy setting with loveable, complex characters and incredible art.

A lot of manga I like concluded this year too, so let's take a slightly longer look at the conclusions!

Dungeon Meshi- The conclusion to one of my favorite fantasy manga ever was fittingly bombastically weird and fully satisfying. It filled you up like good food should. Live well instead of being consumed by fear of death and loss. Eat well instead of working yourself to the bone and neglecting your needs. Follow your own path, but cherish your connections and get together for a good meal. This series and its intricate world and wonderful characters will stay with me for a long time.

Catch These Hands- See my first review here. I enjoyed the cute conclusion to this series, and it was nice to see a little ace rep and a message about not conforming to society's expectations of "adulthood". It's an ode to delinquent girls that a sukeban stan like me can get behind! A lot of the stuff that annoyed me in the second volume was mostly dropped for the third and fourth, so that's also nice.

Run Away With Me Girl- See my first review here. I wish this had been a little longer, but the conclusion worked well and was cathartic.

Doughnuts Under a Crescent Moon- See my first review here. A nice conclusion to a cute, slow-paced little romance series, with yet more ace rep!

The Two of Them are Pretty Much Like This- see my first review here. This conclusion felt a bit rushed, with plot lines still dangling, like it was cancelled early or something. But the series is still good overall, and I'll miss it.

My Love Mix Up -This sweet-as-pie series about cute gay misunderstandings leading to romance comes to a fittingly sweet conclusion. It's sad waving goodbye to these silly, good-hearted kids, but I'm satisfied with where they ended up.

[kasumingo]

The argument that it's a *teen* fictional ninja turtle is also funny (fictional mutant turtle that is also a ninja aside) considering that 99% of official fiction is about teenagers going through terrible stuff and you're somehow linking it to adults having a torture fetish (??)

People like exploring wild scenarios in stories exactly because they're stories, you don't need to advocate for a fictional teen

Lastly, you're fully allowed to find something triggering or distasteful and I get it's hard to operate in an emotional state, but one, it's been months and two you don't get to accuse people and demand that they don't engage with content that makes you uncomfortable

It's not up to you and it says nothing about them either

Rise twt sucks so badly five minutes of silence of anyone who is still in there

[tizz-does-art]

~I'm like a bird from a cage, I'm free at last and soaring.~

Ha HA, it is ME again, the resident freak with the fanart. whosit for this time? why, @loupy-mongoose !

i've been reading up on the Linden mews for a while now, through all the ups and downs... and downs... and even further downs with this poor, emotionally tormented family-- especially Randy. he's just such a human character, the way he aches and expresses, you just feel for him, like a real person and not just a fictional character. i want to see him overcome his anguish in every possible way, coming to terms with himself and who he is. that's what birthed this piece here! so cathartic to see him 'reborn' after all the trauma, finally feel really and truly like himself. new design is gorgeous, of course! but i personally can't wait to see all that his new self brings < 3

*I should probably hide the art beneath a read more for now, new look is spoilers!

~When all is lost, you will find life~

[pallisia]

I just finished soulsov -- I really enjoyed it. Thank you so much. As someone who 100% sees themselves in Loic and has made identical choices as he has (albeit in nonfictional circumstances), I appreciate having a character like this in media be so self-aware of his own choices and measured in his responses/talking about them. (Selfishly, I really hope that the next installment of soulsov is cathartic for me. I never got a happy, healing, or balancing ending to my story!) I am such a fan of your writing and art, and it was so wonderful to see this kind of a production from you. I am looking forward to more! Thank you for sharing your works with the world.

thank you very much for the kind words. i wish you the best with your non-fictional clown god equivalent.

in all seriousness, i must caution you to rein in your expectations just a little. i'm happy that you sympathize with my character, and that his story so far resonates with you, but i do have to gently remind you he's wearing a t-shirt labeled "bad things will happen to me" in big red letters. that is simply the nature of the thing i am making here.

[cellophane-wasp]

Y'all, looking at jayvik stuff makes my heart hurt. It's genuinely almost physical. I haven't felt like this since I watched call me by your name in summer 2022. I finished watching season 2 last night and I wailed like a bitch for 40+ minutes. The blood vessels in my eyes are burst (worse than usual). I don't know if I feel sad or happy. It was really cathartic.

I'm not even following the jinx tag (or the arcane tag) bc ik seeing jinx stuff will break me. How did a 2 season long show overthrow my favorite character? Like, Harley has been my fave since 2015. But jinx has so much more emotional complexity. And while I'm not diagnosing a fictional character, I see a lot of myself in her as someone with BPD and bipolar disorder.

I wasn't even gonna watch season 2 bc I heard it was bad, and I had forgotten most of season 1. Then I saw some NSFW art of jayvik with trans Viktor and knew I needed to watch it. Anybody who thinks this season was bad can meet me in the alley. This season pushed arcane to become my favorite media ever. Well, I'm not comparing it to music bc that's stupid. But of all the books I've read, shows and movies I've watched, and games I've played, this is my favorite.

Anyways, idk if any of this made sense, it's 2:34 am and I'm waiting on my laundry so I can go to sleep but also I'm reading a jayvik fic and don't want to sleep.

[savagewildnerness]

I’ve been seeing “What if Nicki survived” takes, so, as I see it (trying my hardest to be succinct…!)

Nicolas & Nicolas & Lestat’s relationship is beautiful because he (& thus - it) is doomed.

Nicolas was never long for this world. Like your Shakespearean or Greek tragedies, you can ruminate on Armand’s role; Lestat’s role; Nicolas’ parents’ role*… but while Nicolas may have struggled through an extra tortured decade or so, even if Lestat had never been made a vampire & even if he & Nicki hadn’t ever broken up, I am almost certain that in time, likely as Lestat’s star inevitably would have risen, Nicolas would have sunk deeper into a disillusioned, resentful depression that would be all the worse as he wouldn’t want to sink into it & he’d want only to love Lestat & be happy for him & yet Lestat’s world would be opening up & he’d have shone ever-brighter as he would have had to watch Nicolas, his love most likely slowly & awfully self destruct, sinking deeper & deeper, inescapably into darkness. (And this post is about Nicolas, but I’m not sure a mortal Lestat would have survived experiencing a slow self destruction by Nicolas in this way either…)

Whatever the scenario, all paths led to Nicolas’ death. (I described just one scenario here - but that’s likely the best-case scenario for Nicolas?!)

What’s more - that’s the beauty! That’s the beauty of gothic literature. You don’t need happily ever after to feel the peace & resonance & satisfaction from it. In fact happily ever after is (certainly to me anyway! And was so as a child too, instinctively) depressing as it’s (fictionally) unrealistic. The satiation comes from the satisfying resolution when what you knew deep down was always the ending comes to pass. As it always had to. As it must. Sorrow is Nicolas’ end. Death, in the end is all of our ends & in fiction, some characters can be an articulation of that inevitability & Nicolas is that for sure.

Just as Claudia’s end always had to be as it is & was a way for Anne Rice to give at least some kind of closure to an unfathomable, senseless, never-resolved pain in her real life - that of her daughter’s death; so Nicolas’ death is cathartic.

Here is a beauty of art. In reality, death is always painful & senseless, often random, always meaningless & there is no understanding it or ever getting over it. It has no purpose. It is always cruel. It is incomprehensible to our mortal minds. Just as true immortality is incomprehensible, so is mortality - that those we love will die. And the planet will die. And every memory of every human who ever existed will be lost. And the one specific person you love most of all too, can just die. It is senseless. People kill. People die. Death.

But in art, we have a realm to shape our inexplicable & painful experiences into something that’s not only manageable, but pleasurable. We can shape meaninglessness into meaning. And as I see it it means WAY more & I feel way more deeply &, ultimately (as it’s truer) it makes me feel way happier when the deepest tragedy can be sharped into meaning by stories. It is resonant and cathartic - A Savage Garden created by art, you could say…? Or at least a true articulation of The Savage Garden.

I don’t fully have the words to articulate what I’m trying to say. But Nicolas is one of my favourite VC characters & he’s certainly the character I relate to most.

And I love that he’s dead. That’s the point. He would always have died. That’s his beauty & his tragedy & what Lestat felt in Nicolas’ music, yet never fully understood about Nicki in his idealistic youth.

* We might blame God’s role, though. Religion.