#bamboo bird cage

[joynagarermoa]

Some Fascinating Information About Bamboo

Buying bamboo baskets online can now double as a decorative object, much like a cane laundry basket. Let's learn more about bamboo items and gather some useful knowledge. https://online-joynagar-sweets.mystrikingly.com/blog/some-fascinating-information-about-bamboo

[headspace-hotel]

I agree with the idea that a lot of humans nowadays have a severe lack of curiosity about the world, but I think there has to be a solution other than shame.

I think about this every day because the fate of our world hangs on curiosity: either we will rediscover the importance and wonders of the soil and bugs and flowers and water and finally with the whole natural world, or this way will be forgotten.

People raised in the great wasteland of the suburbs and roads and buildings have never seen most of the plants and creatures that are supposed to fill every field and meadow. So many humans have never seen with their own eyes more than a scant few of the most common of hundreds of wildflowers that are supposed to surround them. Some live in biomes designated forest and have never witnessed truly mature trees. They do not know what the birds sound like. When they see an ordinary deer, they are awed and amazed by it or even afraid of it. They have never eaten any of the delicious wild fruits that grow in their homeland; all birds except starlings and robins and sparrows are so strange and beautiful that they stare in wonder. They confront insects like people on an alien planet encountering an unknown life form: What is this? Will it hurt me?

I cannot even describe the grief I feel on behalf of humans that grow up and live in the wasteland of pavement and lawn. That we are expected to live in these brutal environments, that we are expected to be content without the right or ability to live alongside living creatures, to walk among wildflowers, to hear birdsong, to feel the plush softness of moss, to see even common bees and butterflies—the fact that we live, work, and raise our children in poisonous wastes where nearly everything has been wiped out, and the simplest and most abundant of natural pleasures are rare privileges—it's cruel. It's a crime against the human spirit. It makes me so angry and sad.

When I started researching plants, I had no idea that I would end up expanding my mind so much that I would be virtually a different person within the year. Before I learned, I could not have imagined the diversity and beauty that exists in the world. My mind did not have the tools to come up with it.

I lived for over twenty years believing that there was only one species of firefly. I lived for over twenty years not knowing that the Southeastern US has native bamboo. I had never tasted the indescribable flavor of a pawpaw or seen the iridescent vibrance of a red-spotted purple butterfly. I had only seen a Pileated Woodpecker out the window of a car. I had never touched true topsoil, the soft, living blanket of rich, sweet-smelling earth full of mycelium, as springy and plush as a mattress. Just one year ago, I knew nothing!

Humans, as creatures, are insatiably curious and hunger for beauty. It is so cruel to deprive a human of relationship with their natural environment.

It is no wonder that we are all addicted to the internet—we have a crucial need that is unfulfilled. Compared with a forest, the world of lawns and buildings is so ridiculously flat and unstimulating. You would expect humans in such a place to feel constantly bored, restless, frustrated, and incurably sad.

I feel that lack of curiosity can be a chosen thing, but it is also a defense mechanism against a world that will feel like sandpaper on the senses of the curious.

But we need curiosity to fix this—we need the ability to notice the living things that have crept in at the edges of the wasteland and be infected and tormented by their beauty. We need to recognize the forest reaching into our cage in the form of tiny saplings. We need to discard the word "weed," not because it is derogatory because it is fundamentally incurious—it designates a plant as needing no identity outside of its unwantedness. We must learn their names. We must wonder what their names are.

[random-brushstrokes]

Leonard Campbell Taylor - Stephen and Virginia Courtauld with their pet ring-tailed lemur Mah-Jongg (1934)

Virginia Peirano and Stephen Courtauld met in the Alps. She was impulsive, creative and unconventional, with the title of marchioness from her first, unhappy marriage. Stephen, scion of the Courtauld textile empire and a keen mountaineer, was quiet and ‘unflappable’, according to a former colleague. He had received the Military Cross in 1918, fighting with the Artists’ Rifles. They were married in 1923 in Fiume (now Rijeka, Croatia). They were both in their early forties, and childless. On their return to England, they bought a ring-tailed lemur from the Harrods pet department. They christened him Mah-Jongg, although he was soon affectionately known simply as ‘Jongy’. With a large disposable income, the Courtaulds were at the centre of interwar London society, and were noted patrons of the arts. They also loved sailing. With the help of his brother-in-law, Stephen designed a motor yacht he named the Virginia. Over the winter of 1936, the couple sailed her from Cape Town to Egypt; other voyages saw them collecting orchids and making films around the South China Sea. Mah-Jongg, lounging in a specially designed deckchair, brought a certain tropical cachet to these trips. But he disgraced himself at a farewell lunch for the British Arctic Air Route Expedition on board the Virginia when he bit the expedition’s wireless operator, Percy Lemon, so viciously that he severed an artery. Lemon did not fully recover for three months. Looking for a new home close to London, the Courtaulds bought the site of Eltham Palace in 1933. Jongy’s spacious living quarters were on the first floor at the centre of the new house, where its two wings met. From a trapdoor in the floor, a bamboo ladder led to the Flower Room, adjacent to the entrance hall. His quarters were, like the rest of the house, centrally heated, providing a tropical climate. The cage’s décor of Madagascan rainforests, by Gertrude Whinfield, must have made Jongy feel quite at home. Exoticism of all kinds is reflected elsewhere in Eltham’s décor: the door reliefs in the dining room, for example, combine Classical Greek motifs with depictions of animals and birds from London Zoo. Mah-Jongg died in 1938, after 15 years spent sharing the Courtaulds’ glamorous lifestyle. Although he only lived at Eltham for four years, his enduring influence on one of the most beautiful 1930s buildings in England can still be seen there today. (source)

[briar-ffxiv]

FFXIV Write #08 - Spontaneous

FFXIV Write 2024 Master Post

Prompt #8 - You Pick - Spontaneous

Note: This is how Briar ends up with some Silkie chickens!

Briar looked around, green eyes wide and fascinated. He couldn't stop turning his head, trying to see everything at once between the beautiful shops, bright colours, and general people flowing around the market stalls. Too busy staring, the half-Elezen didn't notice unevenness in the cobblestones and gasped as he tripped. Pain shot through his right leg where the deep claw marks on his thigh were still healing. For a moment, Briar teetered, trying to catch himself with one weak leg.

"Whoa! Easy!" Aeluan said, reaching out quickly to wrap a thick arm around Briar's slim waist, half-lifting the half-Elezen. "Steady now." After a long moment, he eased Briar back to his feet. "Are you all right?"

Briar turned bright pink and nodded, clearing his throat sheepishly. "Y-yes. S-sorry," he murmured, brushing his hair behind his ears. "I wasn't watching w-where--"

The Raen paladin gave a soothing chuckle, carefully patting Briar's back. "It's okay. New, huh?"

Briar nodded and looked around, ears working and eyes darting. "Yes. It's so..busy and bright." He instinctively moved a little closer to Aeluan as a pair of Roegadyn porters with heavy loads balanced on their shoulders. "I have no idea where to start."

Aeluan laughed and flashed Briar a bright smile. "Well…I guess we start at one end of the market and head toward the other. Let's go, but let me know if you get tired."

Briar nodded obediently, one slim hand clinging a little to Aeluan's loose sleeve for comfort as he followed the Raen forward. While he was careful to stay close as Aeluan had urged, he gradually relaxed into exploring with the other.

As the day passed, Briar got to see beautiful silks and lovely carvings. He got to try a bite of dango, fried treats that he didn't know the name of, and some fruits dipped in honey. They even paused for a few minutes at a shadow puppet show, which fascinated Briar who gasped and stared as much as the children also there.

It was afternoon and Briar was starting to feel tired, but shook his head when Aeluan asked if he was ready to go back. There wasn't much left of the market and he wanted to see it all. This end was mostly various fish and animals for sale. He watched fish with long elegant fins in small bowls and gasped at the sheer mass of huge koi as they lazily circled a large but shallow bowl. He patted a few sheep and cooed over a few young ponies before the sound of familiar peeping caught his attention.

"Oh! Chickens!" Briar said with delight, heading toward a stall that had several baskets and bamboo cages holding various birds, who clucked and peeped. Many of them were quite different from his chickens at home, which were smallish, sleek birds used to foraging and avoiding danger on their own. Some of the chickens were massive with fluffy legs who clucked and regarded him with interest. Some were long-legged and tight-feathered with flowing tails.

"They're so pretty," Briar said with awe, missing Aeluan's look of bemusement. Most probably wouldn't find a handful of chickens so fascinating. "Oh, what are those?"

The half-Elezen was caught by a basket of six or seven little chicks. At a glance, they weren't much different than normal chickens. Then Briar noticed their feathers were strange, almost like fur. With a glance to make sure the vendor didn't mind, he picked up one, admiring the silky soft fluff that didn't have the stiffness regular feathers did. Briar murmured in surprise, now seeing that the chickens had very dark legs and beaks. Even their skin was a deep ebony-black that was nearly blue. "How strange!" He looked up at the vendor, a smiling Hingan woman. "What are they?"

"Chickens!" she said in heavily accented Common.

Briar smiled and nodded. "Oh! Yes, but…what kind? Their feathers are so different."

"Oh!" she laughed and pointed. "Silkie! Silkie chicken!"

Briar hummed in thought and nodded. He could see why they had such a name. Compared to the feathers of other chickens, they were indeed silky soft. He stroked the one in his hands, admiring the soft grey feathers. The others were a mixture of colours: soft golds and creams, a brown one, and one that was pure black. "They're lovely," he said wistfully, gently setting the little chick down.

The little chicken wobbled a moment and then peeped, turning back toward Briar. It tried to get closer, peeping in protest at the basket being in the way. Likely it was just Briar's warm hands the little bird was missing, but the half-Elezen looked a little stricken, reaching for a moment to stroke the chick's back. "Sorry, little one. I have to leave."

Aeluan had watched Briar handling the bird curiously, enjoying his happy fascination and delight. Now, the redhead's ears were tipped down and he looked sadly at the little bird before starting to turn away. In a moment of spontaneity, Aeluan looked at the vendor. "How much?" He gestured toward the basket. "How much for those?"

The vendor smiled, naming a price even as Briar gave a noise of surprise. "Oh! Aeluan, you don't--"

The paladin waved a hand with a smile, paying over the price without complaint. It might have been a little high, but he had plenty of coin to his name. It was worth it to see Briar's ill-hidden joy. "Don't worry about it. We'll find somewhere for them to stay until you can get them home."

Briar could only make a noise of delight as the vendor checked the chicks and then covered the basket, pushing it into his hands. "Yours now," she said quite happily. "They are good chickens, nice chickens. They taste good and have nice eggs," she nodded. "Best chickens to me."

"I--O-oh.." Briar hugged the basket carefully against his chest. Inside, the chicks peeped and rustled, settling into the hay at the bottom. Briar just clutched them and looked up at Aeluan, eyes stinging a bit. "Thank you, Aeluan. They're beautiful."

Aeluan wouldn't have guessed a few chickens could make someone so happy, but Briar's smile gave no doubt that in this case, they very much did.

Aeluan belongs to @valdiis / @sword-and-surfboard

[cirqosmos]

「 AS THE RED SUN BLOOMS 」

赤い太陽が咲くように

PART 2 of CHAPTER 1: 炎 (Flame)

"I want to read, I want to write."

2023 | 18+ | SERIES | NISHIMURA RIKI (X READER) × MASTERLIST

GENRE coming-of-age, historical romance, 18th century Japan/Edo period, slow burn romance, drama, angst, graphic violence, family, reader isn't a Japanese in this story.

WC 8k

📖 bold dialogues means characters are speaking in Japanese.

—Strange scent of burning molten had your nose scrunched—ripping the images of the distant void in your slumber apart causing your eyes to shot wide open, instantly pushing yourself with your two bare arms to sit up and the unfamiliar sight of a wooden room—no, you were inside a wooden shed.

The scent causing your nose to scrunched lingers somewhere behind the light peeking out from the closed wooden door.

The door rattles opened, revealing a man stepping inside and the sight of seeing a man itself had your blood boiling in the mixture of fear and rage.

Instinctively covering yourself and going into defense mode—you immediately grab the knife on the wooden table—pointing the blade against the man who has fear and panic evident on him.

You didn’t dare to fix the bangs that covered half of your vision—yet your rattling orbs blazing in flames was enough to fuelled the tight-fitted grip around the handle to the point your knuckles were sucked out of blood.

"Miss! Finallyyyyy— you're awake! I thought you were dead seriously. My name is Kazuo—" his pupils dilated so quick. "Woah- miss?! What's with holding that knife?!"

"That's not safe!"

You stared at him down hard, eyeing his every motion as he utter alot of words your ears couldn't comprehend, seemingly desperate.

He tried to took a step forward in attempts to get your blade and that cause you to hiss—pushing him onto the ground, sprinting to where the source of light came from the enclosed wooden door.

“Miss!” Kazuo got on his knees in attempts called out for you in desperation. "You cannot go out there!"

Limping through the unfamiliar path led you to the florals of the lush garden greeting your either side. It was a rare sight, truly. However, it didn't do nothing to dampen the rampant thud in your chest as it could be another full bloom of deceptiveness.

You stood in silence, as if a hand formed out from the wind itself pulling you from your worn out kimono—the gentle breeze of snow caressed your frosted red cheeks, but the white cloth on your left cheek protected you from it instead.

Cold. It was cold, cold it was. It’s still cold.

But it sort of felt like the snow wasn’t encasing you in a cage nor suffocating you anymore—instead, it was vast and spreaded throughout the field as if it was for you to see, for you to step on, for you to sprint and for you to enjoy all it has.

The glowing sun above the horizon, the snow dust, the white stained bamboo, the fleeting branches, the frozen lake, the roofs covered in white blanket of snow, the tinkling of the bell hanging on the edge of the roof, the edge of the wooden floor of the mansion.

The massive roof akin to toppled mountains adorned with intricate patterns and on its tip rising up akin to a blade, lion statues standing before the gates and the lush garden standing tall, trees so high its branches can be seen behind the gates. It gave off serenity as the wind flowed past your hair, and the sight of the sliding door from afar gave you somewhat an uneasy feeling of what was about to come.

“Hm? A girl..?” your ears perked at the sudden voice of a child behind you, you turned around to see a short haired young girl in a bird patterned blue kimono. “Are you the new apprentice here?”

You stayed silent, instinctively hiding the knife behind your back. What is this? Did you just really escape the old brothel only to be caught in a new one? You bit your lip upon that thought, eyes darting against the toppled mountains wishing to the core of your heart that this should not be the case.

"What's your name?"

“I wonder what happened to your cheek?..” she asked again. “But, you're so pretty.” the girl formed a bright smile, reminding you of the two kamuro back in the brothel. “I like your eyes, they look so beautiful they remind me of flame.”

Beautiful. Did she just tell you that you were beautiful? You tilted your head, trying to form a small smile as if to return her compliment you barely understand.

“Can’t you speak?” she asked one more time, now her expression turns into confusion—seemingly trying to understand you. “Or are you perhaps.. deaf?”

“Eh, wait. You couldn’t have smiled at me if you didn’t understand what I said, but–”

You came to realise that this young girl before you was a fairly talkative one, now talking to herself of such and about—things you barely understand. However, judging by her active personality—this puts you into a conclusion that maybe this place wasn’t a brothel.

You sighed in relief, only observing the girl’s silly mutters to herself or atleast to you that you obviously can’t understand.

“Yuma! Help me!” the man groaned.

“What?! What’s wrong?! Kazuo-san, what are you doing on the ground?!”

“That girl pushed me! Oh my god, my back! she looks so frail yet so strong!” Kazuo gritted his teeth, “Also! She escaped— no! She went to the main garden, you have to stop her before the lord or anyone sees her or I’ll be so dead!”

“Huh?! Girl?" Yuma's eyebrows furrowed so hard, as he helped Kazuo on his feet. "Which girl? Wait— You brought a girl?! Who?!”

“Just! Ugh!” Kazuo sprinted out of the shed, with Yuma’s face contorted into utter confusion repeating the word ‘girl’.

“That’s the girl!-” paused on his tracks, his eyes widened for the nth time this day. “Shit, Misola-chan!”

“Miss!” your head snapped towards the source of the voice, instantly turning into defence mode. The young girl behind you was surprised at your actions.

“There’s no need to be scared, put the blade down.” the man with white cloth wrapped around his forehead gestures both his arms to you.

“Misola-chan, come here, will you?” you realise the men were ushering the girl behind you, and fearing something might happen, you immediately raise your arms in attempts to cover the girl from them.

“E-eh?” Both of the men were confused by your action. "A-are you, don't tell me—"

“Please! Do we even look like thugs?! Like do we look like we hurt people?! Right, right, Yuma?” Kazuo ruffled through his mess of a hair.

Yuma nodded frantically, eyes still ogling at the blade pointed harshly towards them. “Miss, just please put the knife down will you?”

You scanned their horrified expression, by the looks of it—they don’t look harmless nor resemble any of the men from the brothel, they seem.. Average. Your eyebrows furrowed in attempts to understand what they kept saying but it’s pointless, truly pointless. Just what’s going to happen to you from now on?

“Yumaaaaa! You’re fucking slacking again, aren’t you?!” a high pitched voice laced with utter annoyance came from the distance, and to the surprise of the two men—they were too late to react as the owner of the voice—a short jet black haired girl with bangs carrying a basket of laundry appeared, and as a matter of fact—her eyes ogled so hard when she found you—a complete stranger, plus with a knife.

Yuma’s eyes widened to the point he quickly put his finger up to his mouth, “Momo-!”

But it was all too late as the girl’s high pitched scream echoed through the entire mansion, alerting everyone of the scene, much to the exaggerated groan leaving Kazuo’s mouth and the facepalm Yuma made.

“So what is this?” the head placed his teacup on the tray beside him, “Bringing a girl inside my residence without my permission? What excuse do you have for this, Kazuo?”

Kazuo tightened his palms over his knees, “My apologies, milord. It’s just that—”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Misola blurted out, much to the surprise of Kazuo.

“N-no! Of course not? I found her all battered up on the street when I was done selling for the day, I thought that I couldn’t possibly leave her all by herself on the street.”

“Oh.. So I see that’s the case.”

“Yet, I heard that girl stole your knife and brought it with her through the main garden. Judging by her actions, she seems pretty dangerous. Her, on her own on the street? What could’ve she done to receive such a harsh situation?” The lord's wife furrowed her eyebrows. “Just where did you find her?”

Kazuo paused in thought, trying to remember where did he take you— "Ah, from—”

“Are we really going to treat an injured lady like this?” Misola mumbled, only to receive a couple of tsk emitting from her mother.

“She can’t stay here, accepting mere strangers in the house is one thing but I can’t let this.”

“As you wish, milady.” Kazuo sighed.

“Okaa-san! it’s not that serious.” The young girl exclaimed, whining.

“Misola. You could’ve been hurt!”

“She didn’t even try to hurt me,” Misola paused, eyeing the two men. “Didn’t you see how she tried to protect me when you two came?”

Yuma and Kazuo reacted as soon as they realise the question were directed to them, nodding at once when they remembered your small but significant gesture.

“She could’ve been robbed or something, judging by how defensive she was!” said Misola. “But she still didn’t even lay her hand on me, she even..”

Her eyes fell on your silent form, head hanging low. “Smiled at me.”

“You’re too naive.”

“Okaa-san, Oto-san!”

“To me, it seems like she’s having a hard time understanding us. But I believe she has a good heart! Please let her stay here.”

"No, stop pleading to your father—this time you'll have to listen to us. Misola, you don't know the risk and consequences of accepting a stranger inside our residence."

Misola's face grew sour, growing helpless as her wishes were ignored. But she has no intention to give up as she stood on her feet, walking to her father's side and holding his arms with her pair of tiny hands.

"Oto-san!" She whined, pouting immensely with puppy doe eyes. "Please, you know how lonely I felt nowadays that Onii-chan isn't here for the past few months. Even Onee-chan's time has all been spent in arranging her wedding!"

"Misola!" Her mother protests but the lord raises his hand slightly.

Seeing this valuable opportunity, Misola continued. "Once Onee-chan got married, she won't be here anymore and even Onii-chan would soon took over the business, can't you see it, Oto-san?"

The lord took a deep breathe—his orbs gradually dissipating from the space and into the void of his thoughts that lasted for a couple of minutes paired with his index finger tapping on his knee. Some of the servants gulped nervously along with Kazuo and Yuma, while Momo's eyes tried it's best to flutter open, fighting her inner battle of slumber.

“Young lady," Everyone's blood run immediately cold when they realise who the lord was asking, all heads snapped to your direction in unison. "Are you sure you weren't trying to hurt anyone?” You didn’t realise the question was directed to you until the man called Kazuo, hit your arm lightly enough to get your attention.

Heavy silence ensues after the questions were delivered as they waited for your response, yet your soulless eyes only blinked a couple of times, meeting their anticipated orbs before avoiding it and lowering your head once again, mind darting over space.

“...I don’t u-understand.”

Everyone immediately looked at each other, confusion evident in their features. “Huh, what did she say?”

“She wore a fairly expensive silk kimono, yet she doesn’t understand us.” Yuma brushed his chin with his index finger, mouth pouting. “What a weird combination.”

"And she somehow looks like she doesn't—"

“Just where did you find her, Kazuo-kun.” Momo whined, leaning against the wall on her back.

“Somewhere along the entrance..” he paused, “Of the Yoshiwara district.”

"Huh, isn't that where everyone..?"

Everyone looks at each other with wide shot eyes, and then back at you, and then back at Yuma.

"Yuma—"

"No, I don't know—"

"I haven't even say anyth—"

"No, please refrain from— ouch! That hurts!" Yuma rubbed the aching spot on his head.

They watched over your distant and solemn figure sitting on the farthest corner of the room, visibly avoiding every contact with them—curling yourself into your own world.

“You think Taki could understand her?” Kazuo asked out of nowhere.

“I have no idea, Taki had studied a foreign language a few years ago so I forgot what it’s called.. Um, Elish? El-.. El..”

“English, you dumbo.”

"Well, dumbo. You're lucky indeed that Misola-chan begged the lord or else we're gonna get it." Momo spat out from behind, a mischievous smirk splattered on her face.

Kazuo rolled his eyes. "I know."

"So is she staying here from now on?"

"I guess so, considering the lord's last words—she'll compensate her stay here as a servant like us."

Dead branches of the firm tree rattled against each other forming an eccentric sound, the trunk stained with white snow and all over the ground.

Placing the folded muted grey kimono on the floor before you, "Here, a new kimono for you. We've prepared the bath—" the servant paused after her mate tapped her arms.

The corners of your lips pulling up a little to show appreciation, the two servants left leaving you in the shed. You wore the new kimono after taking a warm bath, the cotton material hugging your inner skin—it felt like you were breathing and wearing a new entire life as you often wore the kimonos specially made for the brothel. New kimono, new life.

A couple of knocks emitted from behind the door, you pulled it open and saw one familiar face you recognise as Yuma and a taller one with a sour expression on his face, it also surprised you to see another two girls standing behind them.

"Hi! I am Yuma. Yuma." he gestured toward himself.

"Jo! Come on, introduce yourself."

"It's not like she could understand us either." Jo groaned, "Why are you still trying?"

"Still!" Yuma protested, pulling the struggling boy. "Who knows that maybe she got her head hit somewhere to the point she forgot how to speak Japanese!"

"This is Jo." Yuma gestured his palms in front of the disinterested tall boy.

"Yuma, are you trying to bring the entire town?" The girl beside Momo pulled up the corners of her lips in a mocking way. Yuma look at her over his shoulder with an exaggerated sigh, in which she snorted in return and looks at you instead, waving her hand slightly. "Hi, call me Sana."

However, you only nodded in return once again with the same usual smile much to their disappointment.

The group went outside after a couple minutes of awkwardness standing before your door, giving up after failing to communicate with you. Coming into the conclusion that you simply don't understand them.

"Is she mute or what…?” Sana tilted her head in confusion.

“I don’t think that’s the case, honestly I had no idea.” replied Momo who took a huge bite from the peache in her hands, “We’ve been talking to her since yesterday too, but it’s pointless.”

Yuma shook his head in utter devastation, with the result of his nth failed attempt of today. Facepalming himself, he looks over his shoulder only to see a certain someone.

“Oh, Taki! You’re finally home!”

Fluffy brown haired with big doe eyes—akin to blooming flowers above the night sky’s canvas, and a big bright wide smile. “Yuma, not for long, though.”

“I see, but I wonder if we could ask for your help?”

“For sure, it’s my pleasure.”

“You see, we had this girl who Kazuo brought in two days ago. And, uh, long story short. It doesn’t seem like she had any disabilities or anything, it’s like she couldn’t understand us. I was wondering that maybe she’s probably not from this nation."

You hang your head low enough to peek outside the shed, the empty garden giving you the sure sign that no one's around anymore.

“Hi.” a young man suddenly appeared before you, waving his hand before your soulless orbs. “My name is Taki.”

You stayed silent, only bowing slightly to acknowledge his presence and once again lowering your eyes once again. It was far obvious at this point that they should know you aren't able to speak their language so why do they still bother to send another to you?

Taki blinked a couple of times, feeling the awkwardness rising up and realising your situation before forming his usual smile again, “My name is Taki, may I know your name?”

Gasp left the gap between your lips, your eyes immediately lifting up to look at the boy. 'H-huh?.. W-what did he s-say? What did he say? M-my name?'

"Can.. C-can you repeat it again?"

"I said, what's your name? So you understand what I was saying, that's great! I thought it would be unfortunate if—"

Your breath hitched, you found tears submerging your orbs immediately, falling on your knees and breaking down much to the boy’s surprise.

“D-did I say something wrong?! H-huh? Did you even understand me?” Taki panics as he switches between two languages. "I'm sorry!"

You cried. It has been awhile since you were able to talk with someone. It has truly been awhile. Without a thought in the world, you curled yourself in a fetus form, crying out to your heart's content leaving the boy before you in a dilemma of what to do.

Taki chose not to do anything, only bending over his knees beside your crying form and observing the vast lake before you two.

“From now on," Taki curled his lips in, "You are free to say anything and I'll try my best to answer each and one of your questions.” His voice emitted gentle waves of kindness that appeases your crying solemn soul.

You finally, finally had someone you can talk to.

"What's your name again?"

"(Name).. What about you?"

"Taki!"

It has nearly been a few days since you stayed at this tiny shed, although mostly secluded the entire time in Kazuo’s shed as a trial to see how dangerous you are as part of the condition according to Taki.

It didn't took long until, finally, Taki motioned for you to follow him inside their mansion.

“How did you know how to speak.. my language?”

The boy, appalled that you asked him, regained his usual composure. “I’ve been taught by the Nishimura family’s personal tutor. It was an opportunity the lord had given to me a few years ago..”

“Oh..” you turned your attention back to the lake, “That’s nice. How’s the family, um.. The Nishimura family?”

“They’re the owner of this mansion, they own a family business we called wagashi. Confectionery shop, it is.” Your eyes flickered at his last sentence. “The Nishimura family has been standing firm and tall for over a hundred decades, for they had set of principles, rules, and guidance that followed them throughout their lives. Men and women of the Nishimura, both of them had responsibility over the family, and together they worked in intertwined hands for hundreds of years.”

You stepped closer to the edge where the breathtaking scene of red fall petals consumed the land, scattering all over the roof and everywhere you could see. "Wagashi shop, huh?"

“The current generation of the family now consists of the head, his wife, and their three children.”

It caught your attention, “Three? That’s a lot.”

“Yes, the eldest daughter, Konon. Graceful and kind, she's the apple of the family's eye. She had a childhood friend who she will marry this fall. Not only that, her future husband's family is wealthy enough that it could support the Nishimura's business.”

“Their second daughter and the youngest one is Misola, she turned thirteenth a few months ago. Energetic and beaming as the sun, just like how she should act her age, she often fools around so don't mind it if she randomly comes and pulls her silly pranks on you.” Taki said. "I heard you met her in the garden a few days ago."

“Yeah, I've seen her. I won’t mind.” You answered with a small smile. "She's the very reason why I was able to stay here in the first place."

“Finally, their middle child and only son; Riki.” Taki snorted which confused you, “That kid is really tall, and somewhat eccentric than most. Quieter than his siblings, yet he had this humorous vibe that he only shows among those he was close with. He's a rule breaker, but all I could say is that he's all balanced. Since he's the only son of this family, he's set to inherit this family business."

“Konon, Sola..” You lifted your attention to the blazing red sun. “Riki.”

Siblings, how wonderful, you thought to yourself.

You immediately tugged the sleeve of Taki's kimono, his eyes falling on you ever so quick, with his left eyebrow pulled up in confusion.

"I want to learn.." your lips hang apart after a moment of hesitance, "—how to make wagashi."

"W-what?" His eyelashes fluttered a few times, surprised by your request. "M-make wagashi? Did I hear you right?"

You nodded in a hasty manner, pressing your lips tight in anticipation for his answer.

"I-" he raised his palm towards his forehead, seemingly having a hard time. "I don't think it's easy."

“Doesn’t she know how to wash her clothes?” the servants from the distance muttered to themselves, observing you who was having a huge feat of trouble brushing the stained fabrics.

"What do you mean?"

"Servants can't become an apprentice, Kazuo-san was one of the rare case that became one because the lord saw his potential." Taki said. "It's just that—"

"It's just that?"

"You should be patient first, it's too early to ask for something like that yet."

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"No, no—its fine! I get it, it's fine to be ambitious." Taki said.“I’ll tell this to the lord when I can."

Right. Too bold and too ambitious. How'd you even think to ask something like that? Has staying in the brothel for too long cause you to be this dense?

Ah, how you wish you had someone who taught you all the basic yet significant things a person could do, especially at your age.

Learn how to make wagashi? You don't even know how to wash your own clothes. How pathetic. Now that you thought of it you must've been really bold enough to ask Taki about it.

Tears fell and blended along the flow of the river, leaving you to observe it. What’s the point of crying? Just like how it blends with the river, your tears are nothing for the sea itself for it will be submerged along with it and no one will know it's yours.

Back then, in the brothel; you were left immobilised, after the incident—they left nothing for you to do anymore. At first, you thought they were treating you nice and kind, not letting you do any hard work that would ruin your hands, which was the case.

But as time passed, as you began to grow taller, grow mature and older—you realised their seemingly kind deeds were nothing but a double edged sword pointed towards your face. “We had a special breed of yujyo in our brothel, one of a kind. Treat her as you wish, a pet, a dog or however you wish, milord."

Ten years worth of training, they prevented you from uttering a word nor understanding a word just so you could be their slave with no ears and tongue. Your eyes only serve as a mere device for seduction, your tongue a pathetic use for flattery sounds like melody to men's ears. They taught you everything, everything that serves men, and not you. Your education was merely for satisfying men, not serving you.

A double edged sword that was bound to dig its blade to your face back, what was sowed back then has been reaped now, and you were the one bearing the consequences of it.

You rubbed your eyes in a hasty manner, returning to your work, brushing the fabric even harder despite the ache between your fingers.

“That’s not how you wash clothes. Plus you cannot do anything with those wound on your hands!” a soft voice emits from behind you, only to see the same girl who screamed when she found you that time. She lowered herself, pausing in between when she sensed your eyes hovering on her. “Ah, how do I say this,” slowly raising her index finger to herself, “Momo.”

Your eyebrows raised up, nodding slightly.

“My name’s Momo, like um..”

Her back faced you instantly as she took something from the basket. A fruit emerged from her hands, a light pink one—pointing her index finger towards it and then to herself. “Momo!”

“I’ll teach you a bit on how to wash clothes,” you observed her hands imitating the motion of rubbing the cloth together, “Just watch it and learn.”

“Oh what am I seeing?”

“Bitch, Yuma! I told you to watch over the food or else we're eating burnt food tonight!” Momo’s high pitched scream returns again much to your amusement.

"How about follow me to the kitchen?" She mimics the act of eating and that alone was easier for you to understand, nodding fast.

You observed Momo’s frail hands swaying the wooden ladle against the sizzling wok, her features crunching against the puffing smoke as she took a pinch of salt from a saucer placed on the counter behind her, sprinkling it onto the dish she was making.

They wanted you to be downright useless to the point you couldn’t help yourself once you ever tried to escape; read, write, basic chores like washing plates and washing yourself. The maids were there to shower and scrub your body for you, put clothes on you and all you had to do was lay yourself open for the hungry demons before you, just like the beautiful helpless doll you are akin to that doll your zegen swayed before you as a child.

Rubbing your nose with the surface of your hands, you look down to the severe burn marks on your right hand. They were far too cunning on their own to teach you their own language despite teaching you everything from arts to music instruments, only using the technique of sign language to make sure you understand them. So you live your life, unsure and vague of what they were saying behind you and before you.

To make sure you'll remain their marionette even when the strings snapped, even if you manage to get far away from that place.

“What can I do?”

Momo blinked a couple of times, unable to understand what you said. You sighed dejectedly, before your orbs fell on the sizzling wok and your hands imitated the action Momo was doing.

Only then, did she caught what you were trying to say. Shaking his head and her hands, "No, no." She ushered you to sit back much to your displeasure, "Your hands."

"It has not yet recovered, the burn marks are so severe that you'd have to recuperate for a few more days—" Momo paused, mentally facepalming herself after seeing your confused expression. Pressing her plump lips in a tight manner, she hummed as she shook her head and hands—hoping for you to simply understand what it means.

The golden sun had set, and everyone were busy preparing the table. You gaze at the starry nightsky, the branches swaying slowly with the gentle breeze.

“Ah, dinner!” Apprentices and servants you recognised gathered around the round table, it's merrier just like the district. But the atmosphere was wholly different, it was different.

“Momo, you’re getting better at cooking!” Observing everyone's jolly face as they respectively picked foods from the saucer with their chopsticks, enjoying the delight of food. You felt a bit isolated despite the bustling atmosphere.

"Eat." Kazuo placed a piece of roasted meat on your bowl, urging you to eat by mimicking the act of it.

You nodded, eating the piece of roasted meat—the delicacy immediately sweetening your tongue as you chewed it properly.

Another meat was placed on your rice bowl by Kazuo, "Eat. Eat properly."

"Right! Eat more! Eat, and grow stronger!"" Momo exclaimed, adding veggies on your bowl. You curled your lips in, nodding once again as you tried your best to stop yourself from tearing up. You understood her last sentence, one of the words that the girl in your memories had taught you back then.

Looking at Momo, you couldn't help but imagine her as that girl.

Maybe, just maybe, you could stand up on your own as long as you keep trying. Grow stronger, little by little.

"Wagashi? The girl Kazuo brought in?" The tea ripples inside the cup after the revelation.

"Yes, she had expressed a desire to learn the craft." Taki paused, looking down at the tatami mat. "However.."

"Why does she want to learn it?"

Taki gritted his teeth, "I.. I didn't exactly ask.."

"And you came here?"

“Yes..”

“That girl, tell her that before she can even lay her hands on the craft of wagashi. She should know very well how to speak to the apprentices, the servants, the people we would sell it to. Because if she doesn't, how is she qualified to become an apprentice of Nishimura?”

“I’ll teach her, milord.”

“Do you think you had the time for that? You have your scholar lessons, would you really waste your precious time on a random girl who we don’t even know where she came from?” The old man muttered, sighing in between pauses.

“I don’t see anything in that girl. Boldly asking to become an apprentice of this shop, she should earn it, not ask for it. She should be grateful that we let her stay in this place in the first place.”

Taki sighed, eyes fluttering in sadness as he listened to the lord. “Maybe we could wait?..”

“Wait for what? Time does not wait for us, whether we’re happy or sad, beating yourself up to death, time does not stay still for us. I detest those who stay without contributing to anything. Tell that girl that I won’t accept her becoming an apprentice until she shows me something.” The lord shook his head, adding one more sentence. “A person with nothing under their belt is unfit for battle. That is the very reason why I sent my own son out there to explore the entire nation, to see what he can learn from this valuable opportunity.”

Silence ensues before Taki’s eyes flickered, “Milord, what if we use this opportunity in evaluating Riki’s skills?”

The lord pauses before the edge of the cup lap below his lips, eyes lifting up. “Continue.”

“As far as we know, Riki will return home by summer. We could test his skills in teaching the rest of the apprentices including the girl.” Taki said. “By this, we could’ve hit two birds with one stone.”

“Why are you so adamant in having that girl to learn the craft of wagashi?”

“I..” Taki hesitated.

“Do you like her?”

Taken aback—it’s not like that was the case, Taki thought to himself. "I just thought that.. it would be somehow nice to have someone learn something just like I did."

"The lord, yourself—had told me once that you've seen my potential back then and chose to give me the chance to learn how to read and write."

Your solemn form flashes through Taki's mind, his orbs falling on your bandaged fingers. Your orbs flickered in tiny sparks of flames he swore he saw for a split second, and your left scarred cheek.

"It serves me very well today, and seeing that girl with those unfamiliar fresh scars had me thinking that she was willing to do something to bring herself out of something. Maybe she could help us someday, and herself too."

With the folded paper on your palms, you look up to the red sun scorching against the freezing winter blaze. You breathe out a puff of air to your palms, cherishing the fragile object in your paper.

Set of light footsteps came from the distance, alerting you of the familiar presence you've been patiently waiting for.

"(Name)."

"Taki," your lips hang apart, "How is it?.."

"You see, learning how to make wagashi is only exclusive to the apprentices who had shown an initial passion for its craft. Those who had also been recommended by their fellow friends and families." Taki said, "Those who had potential."

You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"You, as a mere servant, and even more so—as a new one, are quite hasty and too fast. The master said so." Taki said, "But he didn't say no. He asked you to do your work first."

Your eyes blends with the hues of hope yet the dread for obstacles to come consumed your veins.

“He would ask his son to teach you personally instead, to evaluate his skills for teaching you and the rest.” Taki informed, “Before that, reform yourself around here first. See what you can do.”

"How long would it take?"

"Summer, the master's son will be back by summer. Till then, be patient."

You nodded slowly, the distant void in your mind began to form around the wholly sentence—repeating like the rippling waves of the lake.

"By the way.." snapped out of the void, you look up to him, "May I ask why do you want to learn wagashi?"

Silence grew after the question.

You hesitated but inquired a bit of it, “Just, I've tasted it before.. And I’m not sure if I could express it properly.”

“Well, then, you don’t have to. I was just curious.” Taki smiled. “Ah, I’m saddened to inform you that I’ll have to go to another state to distribute wagashi.”

“Distribute wagashi?”

“Yes, it’s the year of royal competition right now, it's a competition amongst all wagashi shops to make the finest wagashi ever, for now—we're either selling or distributing the wagashi we made to the citizens, and evaluate it when we come back home. Also, voting papers are used. The rest of the apprentices had gone to their respective states, and so did I. Including the son of the lord himself.”

You look down, quite affected by the news. “I see. How long would it take?”

“Four months, but by then the lord’s son Ri-ki would be home. He had taken English lessons too, so don’t worry, you’ll be able to have someone to talk with you too. Or maybe, just send me a letter and I’ll return it as fast as I can.”

“I can’t write.” You let out a ghost-quiet whisper. “I can’t even read, so how could I?”

“You can learn, the personal tutor of Ri-ki could teach you.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, you see how the lord.. Doesn’t seem to like me around here, and taking his own son’s tutor would definitely anger him.”

“The lord is not that bad, I guarantee you. Just get along with his children, not Ri-ki though cause’ that kid is a rebel at best.” Taki giggled slightly. "Just do something, see what you can do so the lord can see your potential. I'm sure you can do that, right?"

You watched as Taki's silhouette stepping out the entrance, waving you goodbye—it kind of made you a tad bit sad—partly was because you will have to bear not having anyone understood you once again, and partly was you're alone in this unfamiliar environment.

However, Taki's words brought your heart in flames.

Raising your scarred fingers to catch the falling dust of snow on your hand, it will be alright—you told yourself.

White strips wrapped around cut hands and fingers, reaching up to touch the dangling purple florals. Silky black hair with blonde highlights reaching down his neck—blending with the sun rays, robe like coal with an inner white shirt, and a muted blue hakama. Hanafuda earrings, adorned with round red sun with rays swaying along the wind.

"Riki."

"Yeah?" yawning with arms stretched upward, the young man turned with features beaming as the sun, lips pulling up in the brightest smile as he walks forward with the glowing purple wisterias brushing against his face.

"You're neglecting your studies, again."

"Um, did I?" The young boy mumbled, avoiding the intimidating gaze of the older man. "O-oh! I heard there are new apprentices and servants set for the shop, our job is gonna get easier from now on!"

"Quit slacking for once, Riki."

"Yeah, yeah." Riki rolled his eyes, “By the way, how long would it take before we get home though?”

“Judging by the weather, it would take us three months at best.” the servant answered, “It will be summer by the time we arrive, milord.”

A long deep sigh emits by the younger boy, “That sure takes long, ah. I just want to slip into my futons, already.”

“Well, that’s what you deserved for enraging the lord. Slipping in papers under the wagashi—don’t you know how it would cost us our reputation if any of them ever found out?” The older male pointed the glinting blade against the younger one.

Riki’s eyes ogling at the gesture, raises his hands in defence. “It’s not my fault! Blame Sola, it was just a game we played during winter and I lose, you know.” groaning exaggeratingly, “After all, it’s only for a month. Plus no one would be suspicious enough to open a folded paper used for simple sweets.”

“What did you even write there?”

“Well,” Riki paused, dark orbs darting nervously around the space, anything to avoid the intimidating peering of the older male. “Sola said I can write anything.”

“So what is it?” The older man’s eyebrows furrowed in anticipation. “You’re sure you didn’t write anything suspicious, aren’t you?”

“Who knows? Maybe I did-”

“You lucky bitch!” Riki flinched at the incoming punch, and threw a tongue at the older male before hopping over the thick snow and approaching the nearby horse.

“Riki, you shouldn’t take all of the things we taught you for granted! It will serve you soon in the near future when you take over the family business!”

The young boy was visibly taken aback by the man’s words, “Yudai-san, it’s boring, making sweets isn't what I wanted to do!”

"Still, it's one of your responsibilities. Learning isn't something you have to ignore, it's for your sake too."

"Yeah, right."

"I’m not letting you off this time, you were not attending your English lessons for the past few days."

A loud groan emitted from the younger boy who immediately snapped his head and eyes widened at the older one, "I still do not understand why I have to take those lessons when I'm in Japan!" Groaning he did as he patted the horse.

Yudai peered at him in return, "How could you introduce our sweets to the foreigners, then? How can you talk to our clients from the west, then?—"

"Taki could. He's good at it, isn't he?"

"He's just an apprentice, you're the son of the family. The only one, in fact." Emphasising the last sentence ever so clear for the boy to hear.

The boy sighed in return.

"Learning their language could spread our fame even further to the west which is what the lord would love to. Plus, having another language mastered under your sleeve–"

"Alright, alright." Riki interrupted with an eye roll, "Still doesn't change the fact that it's boring, come on. Sis could take over the business with her future husband more than me, he's a lot more capable than me, duh."

"Are you serious right now?" Yudai shook his head, visibly in disbelief. "I just don't get why you seem so disinterested with the whole business stuff."

"You know why."

The older man, having an epiphany—sighed in dejected manner. "Dancing wouldn't take you anywhere-"

"Not even you-"

"Be serious, it's not like the master would let you either." Yudai muttered. "You got to know your responsibility."

“Responsibility?" The younger boy gazed at the serene blue hues, "I don't care. You all will give up sooner and later, too. I want to dance on stage, in front of the public, in front of people. Not isolate myself in an old dusted kitchen room just to make sweets.” the boy muttered before going off, hands swaying the crimson threads supporting the eccentric oni mask.

“What can I do to be accepted..” your eyes lingered towards the closed door where the kitchen is. “—To make sweets?” your bandaged hands tightened around the laundry basket.

“(Name)-chan!” Momo from the end of the hallway, gestures with her hand for you to follow her.

The white blanket consuming the town, the streets, the frozen lake, and the dead branches thoroughly flashes to blooming spring of florals and flashy shades of colours adorning the entire nation—and the scorching summer took its course faster than your eyes could take. Pit patters of the rain began to emerge from the sky every single day—watering the gardens, the field, the plants on it's own.

Today, the scorching sun grew redder than it was a few days ago causing you to drenched in sweat trickling down your jaw and you wiped it off with the sleeves of your muted kimono. The severe burnt marks on your hand and the scar on your left cheek had recovered yet the scars remain causing it to kind of look like horrendous to say the least but you didn't mind—as even though filled with calluses and scars, it was the emblem of your freedom.

Murmurs of the crowd submerged you in a total distinction as you pushes the stall through the heavy packed street, observing unfamiliar faces holding numerous variety of expressions go about their day.

You could only wonder.

Your feet pause on track as the numerous papers splattered on the wooden community board caught your curious orbs, the slanted and curved characters that seemed like it was dancing fascinates you, like the paper from the wagashi and the wagashi itself.

Pink hues of the sakura, and the red sphere stood out the most for you back then in the district. You kind of wanted to imitate it, or even learn how to make it. You just felt like you wanted to.

The amount of times you had found yourself standing before the closed doors of the kitchen for the past few months had been absurd, yet you can't help yourself but be fascinated the more you did so—sometimes when you were lucky—they left it opened and you peek from the side of the door, observing their powdered stained hands crafting the variety of wagashi; all sorts of colours, patterns differing from each other—each representing different seasons and per se.

“Little lady.” A sigh followed after that, “Little lady.”

You snapped your head at the voice, your orbs falling on the man on the other side of the stall—his ragged out yet strong form, big hands filled with calluses as he lifted it while uttering a word. “Push.”

“Oh.” your right foot steps forward as your left leg bends backward—gathering the strength to your frail arms as you continued pushing the stall further.

Kazuo, the name of the man whose back is currently facing you—was one of the longest apprentices under the Nishimura family for over 40 years. He was in charge of mainly selling the wagashi in the streets, part time was buying the natural ingredients used for it. The latter of why the both of you were currently out in the town.

It was only recently that you were given the task in following him to the town, for awhile it dreaded you that you might stumble in the yūkaku district once again but it didn't as you two went in a different route to a different town. To the village where natural ingredients are distributed from the suppliers to the consumers.

For the last three months staying under the roof of the Nishimura, despite the initial challenges and difficulties of communicating—Kazuo, himself, taught you a few basic words where he demonstrated with his actions for you to understand such as; pull, push, drink, eat, wash—such basic and seemingly insignificant words for them but so valuable for you, though not capable of a conversation—helped you at least in communicating better with them.

Kazuo, was a man whose mouth muttered a lot—he talked alot, he ate a lot, everything he did was flamboyant and flashy. But the sincerity was evident in the things he did.

Noticing your solemn face, Kazuo spoke—more like to himself since you couldn’t understand anyways, cleared his throat. “Little lady, you look sad. Do you mind if I sing?”

Of course your confused expression would emerge again, Kazuo thought, sighing. But despite that, his mouth hangs open—

The cicadas and crickets consumed the entire field as you two went on.

He’s horrible at singing, you thought. Yet, despite the horrible off-key melody—his voice itself somehow holds utter kindness that it naturally brought you the comfort akin to standing before the gentle blue sky and receiving its breeze-like hug.

Soaked in sweat beyond the blazing heat, white towel wrapped around his forehead preventing the beads of heat, his worn out but huge back facing you as he guided you through the field of the golden sunset sort of felt like to you that he's a strong role model, someone strong—as if you had a father guiding you through your steps as you pushed the stall from behind, listening to this intangible man-made song through the journey.

You observed the powdered plastic inside the stall with determination, the mist in your mind slowly and gradually dissipates.

Golden blaze painted over the town when both of you had returned to the mansion, standing before the mansion’s gate that was now left open. “In what world do they think they can let the gates open, are they inviting the demons or what?” Kazuo muttered to himself as he stepped inside, but a fit of scream had him cussing and clutching his chest in a full blown groan.

"Kazuo-san! Long time no see!" Eccentric blonde locks swayed against the wind, bursting into a fit of laughter as the person emerged from the sides of the garden, their wooden sandals falling on top of the ground. “You’re still bad at singing even after four months!”

“Bastard!” Kazuo spat out. "Come here, you—"

"It hurts! It hurts!"

"Serves you right! Trying to kill me?—"

"Kazuo-san!" Two servants from the distance called out for his name, "We need your help with the wagashi."

"Later! I'm finishing this little bitch off first—"

"JUST COME HERE, WILL YOU?!"

Kazuo froze midway, dropping the younger boy—dusting his hands off as he made his way through the puffing servants.

A few gentle taps on your back had you turning towards the sight of blonde highlights, a pair of piercing orbs and hanafuda earrings attached to his ear, flowing along the gentle breeze. Muted blue kimono, and black hakama pants.

“Along with Misola, their son is kind of eccentric and kind of rebellious, a truly rare case for the only and only son to turn out like that. Two years ago, he bought a bottle of dye—applying an infamous colour on his hair and it earned him an earful from the lord and the mistress themselves for trying to make himself look like a foreigner.” Taki snorted, shaking his head in attempts to stifle his amusement. "The servants and his personal samurai literally had to chase him through the woods begging him to change his hair colour back to normal but like the little rebel he is—simply says, no."

Memories of Taki’s words flashed through your misty mind, realisation hitting you like a truck. Is this their so-called rebellious son, Riki?

"Hmmm~ a new face!” tall frame hovering yours, almost gigantic and intimidating yet that crinkled eyes of his never ceases, the way he carries himself seems carefree and rebellious indeed like Taki told you. “Kazuo-san, is this your new girl?"

"Tch, bitch. That's our new apprentice." said Kazuo before suddenly pausing on his tracks to look over at you and the boy. "Oh! Make sure not to weird her out too much with your pranks."

Riki shrugged before turning his attention back at you, leaning forward much to your surprise. "What's your name?"

Your eyebrows twitched into utter confusion as you tried to make out what he had uttered; the syllables he utter were complete alien to you, the consonants hitting you like a hard rock brick, swift and laced with intent you couldn’t comprehend but at some point his voice felt like tea brewing in a boiling pot.

Hasty, he spoke way too fast as if he couldn’t wait to finish his sentence.

You couldn't understand what he said. Those words he uttered were inaudible for you as he repeated it once again, before his features contorted into confusion.

"Hello?" The tall boy waved his hand before you, "Can’t you speak?"

The edges of his face, corners of his form and the soul behind those features reflected against the beaming rays of the golden sun behind you.

"By the way, is there something on your left cheek?" He raises his finger instinctively to his left cheek.

"Riki!"

"Okaa-san, Misola!'' His bright grin brushes against you like a passing breeze, walking over to his family's from afar with joy evident on their face.

A sweet, happy family.

You didn't think much of it, getting back to your work and focusing your thoughts on something else more important; like making wagashi. Though, curiosity had lifting your head to look at them one more time, but a gasp left your lips when you caught him turning his head over his shoulder looking intently at you with a big wide smile before walking off.

Pit, pat, pit pat.

Serenity of the pitter-patter emerges from the golden flame sky, signifying the presence of the light rain—pouring their blessings on top of the lush garden as the dripping beads flowed down the hidden enclosed crimson tsubaki from the farthest side—isolated yet blooming in utter silence on it's own.

「 talesofyuan on tumblr 2023 」 all rights reserved. do not copy or post without permission.

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/only-tiktoks/725655276626296832

im interested in what you think of this video/practice. to me, it seems a little lot expensive when a sanctuary can wait for a molt? im wondering if theres another point of view here that im missing

i want you to think about what you just said for a moment.

“It seems … expensive when a sanctuary can wait for a molt”

To imp a bird’s feathers, all you need is some bamboo rods, glue, and old feathers you’ve collected from previous patients that either molted during their stay or didn’t survive. Those feathers are free, so you’re looking at maybe $20-$30 at most in supplies. The procedure takes about 1-2 hours at most of the rehabber knows what they’re doing.

To keep a bird through molt you have to wait as much as a full year depending on when the bird came in, induce a molt by using a UV light to simulate summer light changes, and ensure the bird is completely without stress and given a varied diet because new feathers are delicate when growing in and can be stunted by stress or a repetitive diet. They also need direct sunlight and they have to feel comfortable enough to perch out in it so the feathers can develop correctly.

Which of these seems less expensive? A quick imping? Or having to feed a patient a year’s worth in mice and quail with added supplements and accommodations which require sacrificing a flight cage to this one patient to avoid stressing it by placing others in with it?

And more than that, which is better for the raptor, a wild animal that does NOT want to be seen or deal with humans for too long? If imped, the bird can be released back into its home territory within a few days after assessing the feathers are imped correctly and the bird is not rejecting them. If molted, the bird will have to deal with captivity for a year and then have to fight for a new territory as the previous one will have been taken by then.

[shroudkeeper]

11. prompt / once bitten, twice shy

Where the wind carries the scent of flowers..

I know I can find you there.

Under the setting sun, you shone in her solitude, captivated by songbirds that herald the approach of evening. I did not wish to disturb you and pull you away from your daydreams, especially with the news I would bring.

You must know that I never intended to hurt you, to lead you astray and keep you far from the truth, but I intentionally had. Will that serene visage fade into my memories, will I see disappointment take shape on your features from the choice of taking away your autonomy anytime you look at me now?

Unsure of the outcome of my actions, I held a breath and slowly descended to my knees on the hashi you inhabit, allowing our eyes to meet without strain.

I am not a man who enjoys speaking so freely about my private thoughts, such self reflections are reserved for me alone, but how can I deny you. I owe you an explanation for my actions, even if you are unaware.

I rather you find out from me than another.

Against the pops and creaks of bamboo at the mercy of the winds, and between the melody of the birds that witnessed, I confessed my sin. Already, I could feel my throat burn with each word, a punishment of the kami, perhaps.

"..I do not like to admit my fears to anyone, as an oyabun it is a tool to be used against me. But you are family, my only daughter, and the reason my heart continues to beat. But I am but a mortal man, one who is brought low in admitting how far I would go to keep you safe, to the point of promising you to one who could continue to protect you when time has finally caught up to me."

The heat rose to my face, and before I knew it, tears filled the basin of my eyes and threatened to spill as I watched confusion in her gaze.

I have not cried in years, since I lost my daughter. The thought of going through that again caused emotions to resurface. You took notice, and as my vision blurred, I could see the silks of your sleeves and hear the shuffle of your feet as you closed the distance between us.

Underneath her caring touch, I found no hint of anger, only the cool sweep of her fingertips against the rivulets of tears that chased one another. She wiped my tears, and upon her, I found a warm smile, warmer than the setting sun that was dappled against my skin.

"I could not fathom watching someone I love leave me in this life. The world may know you as a trapped kami, a gentle spirit, but to me.. you are my daughter. I would have had Hayate care for you in my stead, I know he may come to love you.. as much as him. "

Then your arms came around the breadth of my form, and all I could feel was your embrace, you did not have to sign a word to me, I know the universal language of forgiveness. However, I could feel something damp spread into the threads of my robes; I knew that you too had been crying.

My heart ached, I knew I was the cause of this, a fool of a man trying to keep a bird, one who gained her wings.. behind a gilded cage.

Soundless was your weeping, and I allowed you this, to spend a few breaths letting out the tears. But when you pulled away, there was only a smile gracing your dampened features as air of calm fell around you. With your hands between us, you choreograph your words to me.

"Thank you for telling me everything, but in return I ask to not allow fear to ensnare and could your mind. I will not leave you anytime soon, a mortal existence means the days we spend together all too precious. We should look forward to each sunrise and a promise of rejoicing that we yet live and can enjoy our time as a family."

I deserved for you to walk away from me, to turn your back and not look at me the same, not your understanding and forgiveness. "Hayate would serve as a good husband to you, already he has proven himself a master swordsman, bolstering his natural strength. Hancock appealed to me, and if he is a man of his word and finds you this treasure, I will honor his request to stand at your side, without cause to worry.

"Master Hayate deserves someone who will love him, my heart has already been claimed, for the first time, I understand what the word love means. Mister Fitzgerald is not the end of me, he is a wonderful beginning to an adventure."

You didn't need a voice for me to understand the sincerity woven into these words, I knew then you loved him, even before you realized it; I was just not ready to let you go. A part of me perhaps never will be ready for it.

For a long moment, all I could do is kneel there and embrace you, to wipe away your tears and ponder if he will do as he said, if he was a man who would risk it all, his business, his money, the wrath of Lord Lolorito, even possibly his life, all for the sake of love.

You are not a normal woman to love, you live two lives, but a blind man could see why he cares for you, and why he would go to such lengths. I could only pray to the kami he makes you happy, and doesn't disappoint you.

Again.

[seekingstars]

A Brief History of The Passenger Pigeon - Lynn Pedersen

Not to be confused with messenger pigeons, birds sent behind enemy lines in war, but think passengers as in birds carrying suitcases, sharing a berth on a train, or traveling in bamboo cages on a ship, always migrating on a one-way to extinction. How would extinction look on a graph? A steady climb, or a plateau, then a precipitous cliff at the dawn of humans?

Nesting grounds eight hundred square miles in area. Skies swollen with darkening multitudes. Days and days of unbroken flocks passing over. Ectopistes migratorius.

And the last of the species, Martha, named for Martha Washington, dies in a cage in 1914 at the Cincinnati Zoo.

Forget clemency. We are the worst kind of predator, not even deliberate in our destruction. Our killing happens à la carte, on the side (side of Dodo?).

And because the nineteenth century did not enlist a battlefield artist for extinctions, there are no official witnesses to the slaughter, just participants. If you could somehow travel back to this scene, through the would-be canvas, you would run flailing your arms toward the hardwood forests and the men with sticks and guns and boiling sulphur pots to bring birds out of the trees, as if you could deliver 50,000 individual warnings, or throw yourself prostrate on the ground, as if your one body could hold sway.

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

After The Ball • Goodbye, My Lady Love • A Bird In A Gilded Cage • Under The Bamboo Tree • On The Banks Of The Wabash, Far Away • Those Wedding Bells Shall Not Ring Out! • I've Got Rings On My Fingers • Come Down Ma Evenin' Star • I Don't Want To Play In Your Yard • Will You Love Me In December As You Do In May? • Meet Me In St. Louis, Louis • Love's Old Sweet Song • Waltz Me Around Again Wille ('Round, 'Round, 'Round) • Wait 'Till The Sun Shines, Nellie • I Don't Care • Shine On, Harvest Moon • Yip-I-Addy-I-Ay • Let The Rest Of The World Go By • May Irwin's 'Frog Song' • I Wonder Who's Kissing Her Now

Submitter's Note: These are all, obviously, covers

Spotify ♪ YouTube

[archiveikemen]

Abe no Yasuchika 1st Birthday Campaign: Story

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting┊aikm’s Genjiden Glossary

One day, in the gentle springtime breeze…—

Yuno: Hmm… as expected, it’s still having difficulty flying.

Little Bird: *chirp* *chirp*...

In the palace garden, I gazed at the bird cowering in my hands.

(But its injuries have healed, it should be able to fly by now…)

I was thinking of all sorts of possibilities when—

Yasuchika: Oh? What a rare coloured bird.

Yuno: Wah! Yasuchika-san!

Yasuchika-san stood right next to me with a gentle smile on his face while I wondered how long he had been standing there.

Yasuchika: Sorry for speaking so suddenly. I came to the castle for some work related business and happened to see you.

Yasuchika: What’s wrong with that little one?

Yuno: I found it in a bamboo forest a week ago and saw that it couldn’t fly, so I picked it up.

Yuno: I was trying to help it practise flying properly, but it's not going very well.

Yasuchika: … Can I take a closer look at it?

Yuno: Huh?

Yasuchika-san narrowed his eyes and brought his face closer.

(What’s the matter…? He looks rather serious.)

At the same time while I was puzzled by the serious look in his eyes, I heard the sound of someone stepping on the gravel.

Yoritomo: Yasuchika, head back if you’re done with your work here.

Yasuchika: You’re so cold, Yoritomo-sama. Please allow me to have a leisurely conversation with the Fox Princess once in a while.

Yoritomo: I won’t let an outsider remain in the castle for so long, even if it's your birthday.

(Yoritomo-sama is as strict as always…)

Yuno: Is it your birthday today, Yasuchika-san?

Yasuchika: Yup. I thought Yoritomo-sama wouldn’t know.

Yoritomo: I only stumbled across that information by chance. I was also surprised to find out that you’re a human being.

Yuno: I don’t think that's the surprising part…

(But…)

Yasuchika-san was a mystery to me, as he was always aloof and there was no telling what he was thinking.

(I think I feel a tad bit closer to him now that I know one thing about him…)

Yuno: Happy birthday, Yasuchika-san. I hope you have a great day.

Yasuchika: Thanks, I’m open to receiving gifts all year round.

Yoritomo: You don’t have to give him anything, Yuno.

Then, a low voice echoed through the garden.

Kagetoki: You’re here, Yoritomo-sama. May I have a moment with you?

Yoritomo: I’ll be right there. Yuno, escort Yasuchika to the gate.

Yuno: Understood.

Yasuchika: My bad, Yuno.

Yoritomo-sama left, and I walked to the gate with Yasuchika-san.

Perhaps it was because of the movement, the little bird in my hand moved onto my shoulder.

Yasuchika: Are you intending to keep that bird?

Yuno: No, I’m going to release it once it’s able to fly.

Yasuchika: … That’s good.

Yuno: Huh?

Yasuchika: You seem very fond of it, so I thought you wouldn't want to let it go.

Yasuchika: It would be caged for the rest of its life, being loved and never having to worry about food — some kind of fate for a bird.

Yuno: Honestly, I feel quite sad and worried about letting it go. But…

I stroked the bird with my finger as it playfully pecked my cheek with its little beak.

Yuno: I would rather be free to go around and search for my own happiness, than be kept in a cramped cage.

Yasuchika: But aren't you in a way stuck in a cage called the Shogunate right now?

(It’s true that I did think of it that way at first…)

I slowly shook my head and looked at Yasuchika-san.

Yuno: I didn't have a choice at first, but… now that I have people who are important to me, I’m staying in the Shogunate by my own free will.

Yasuchika: Heh, I’m envious of your freedom.

He wore his usual smile, but I could sense a vague darkness hiding behind it.

Yuno: Yasuchika-san…?

Yasuchika: Oops, the sun is setting soon. I have a horse waiting for me on the other side of town, so I’d better get going.

Yuno: Oh… alright. Take care, then.

(I wonder what he meant…?)

Even after Yasuchika-san was out of sight, his words weighed heavily on my mind.

(... I should head back to my room.)

When I turned around to walk back to my room to shake off my thoughts, I noticed a slip of paper lying on the floor at my feet.

I picked it up and saw that it looked like a talisman used in Onmyō magic that I had seen before.

(Did Yasuchika-san drop this? If I hurry after him now, I might be able to catch up to him.)

Yuno: Sorry, wait here for me just for a little while.

I put the bird in a safe spot and left through the gate.

The colour of the sky changed with every moment that passed…

By the time I arrived at a bamboo forest, the sky had already gone rather dark.

(This is strange. I should've caught up with him by now…)

Little Bird: *chirp*...

Yuno: What!?

I looked around when I heard the familiar sound and saw the small bird I left behind, hiding in my sash.

(It followed me…)

At that exact moment, there was a strong gust of wind and the entire area around me was enveloped in darkness.

(What happened… I swear it was just evening.)

And then, with a deafening flapping sound of wings, a ginormous bird landed in front of me.

Yuno: …!

(No way, an ayakashi…!?)

As I backed away from the huge bird, my back hit something.

At the same time, light started to return to my surroundings…

I turned around to see Yasuchika-san chanting a spell behind me.

Yuno: Y-Yasuchika-san!

After finishing the incantation, a pair of clear eyes looked at me.

Yasuchika: Good grief… leaving you alone is too dangerous.

Yasuchika: I thought I sensed an ayakashi’s presence, so I turned back to look for it… and it turns out that I was right.

(This is not the time for leisurely chatter…)

Agitated, the bird ayakashi spread its large wings.

Yuno: We need to escape quickly!

Yasuchika: It's okay, it’s okay. I’m such a prodigy that people call me the second coming of Abe no Seimei.

Yasuchika: I’ll need you to be obedient for a while.

With swift movements, Yasuchika opened up a folding fan and drew something in the air with his fingertip, and a white light shot out.

(...!)

By the time I regained my vision, the large ayakashi in front of me had shrunk in size.

Yuno: Um, is that…?

Yasuchika: This is its original form. Usually, it’s a very gentle ayakashi, but it grows bigger and more intimidating when it feels threatened.

Yuno: Threatened…?

Then, the little bird in my hand started to flap its wings.

Yasuchika: Just as I thought, this little one is the ayakashi’s chick. I had a feeling it would be… when I first saw it.

Yuno: An ayakashi’s chick!?

Yasuchika: Sorry for not warning you. It’s very cowardly, so it won’t show itself out in the open.

Yuno: Then, is the ayakashi here to collect its chick?

Yasuchika: Yup. Shall we return it to its mother?

(I see… so this is why Yasuchika-san seemed relieved when I told him that I would let this little bird go.)

Yasuchika-san gently took the little bird from my hands and brought it to its mother.

Yasuchika-san had a kind look in his eyes as he watched the little chick happily snuggle up to its mother.

(Yasuchika-san has this side of him too…)

Yuno: Thank you, Yasuchika-san.

Yasuchika: You don't have to thank me. You should be the one being thanked instead, Yuno.

When I looked up upon hearing Yasuchika-san’s words, I noticed the mother and baby’s eyes fixed on me.

Yuno: … You’re welcome. I'm sorry for scaring you.

The mother bird took off, and the baby awkwardly spread its wings.

It was clumsy at first, but it eventually flew higher and higher.

(I’m glad it can fly properly… I feel lonely, but I hope it’ll be well.)

Watching the two shadows disappear into the sunset, Yasuchika-san spoke in a hushed voice.

Yasuchika: You said that it's perhaps better to be free. That applies to both ayakashi and humans… huh.

A warm breeze blew through Yasuchika-san’s hair.

Through the gaps in his hair, I could see a pair of eyes that resembled a bottomless lake.

(Come to think of it, he said this just now…)

= Flashback Start =

Yasuchika: Heh, I’m envious of your freedom.

= Flashback End =

Yuno: Yasuchika-san… don’t you have freedom?

Yasuchika: Well, what do you think?

Looking at that unreadable smile, I spoke carefully.

Yuno: … I have yet to know you well enough to comment much on that.

Yasuchika: Mm-hmm.

Yuno: However, you helped me by your own free will and were kind to the ayakashi earlier.

Yuno: Is that not freedom…?

Yasuchika-san started laughing.

Yasuchika: You’re truly a strange woman.

Yuno: Um, is that so …?

Yasuchika: If you keep that answer in mind, everything will be easy.

(Ah…)

After Yasuchika-san was done laughing, he quickly pulled out the talisman that was tucked away in my chest and smiled.

Yasuchika: Thank you for coming here to pass me this.

He touched a finger to my lips as if to tell me to keep it a secret.

Yasuchika: However… you should head home before dark.

Yuno: Huh?

The bewitching look in his eyes made him seem like a completely different man.

Yasuchika: Before you encounter something more bothersome than an ayakashi… okay?

After whispering an incantation, he moved his finger away.

(I can’t breathe…)

That feeling of being drowned in a deep lake didn't disappear even after the sunset…

[m0ther-of-p3arl]

live inside a cage

(robert aeor high au p9)

masterpost

again- its been forever since last update lmao i was in colorado for my cousin's graduation- so i have had literally NO time to write or anything for the past like 5 days. but i'm back with part 9 which is CRAZY, my original plan is to have 14 parts so we're nearing the end at least for now!

“J-jimmy? What happened, what am I doing here, w-why am I here? The last thing I remember…” his voice trails off, trying to pinpoint a spot in his memory. “The last thing I remember is my father yelling at me to get out of the house, did he… W-wha-” Scott’s at a loss for words, confused and scared and none of this makes sense, what is going on-

or, Scott doesn't remember almost ANY of part 7 so that's very fun :)

TW: amnesia, slight blood, internalized homophobia, references to past abuse, suicidal thoughts, etc.

(4708 words)

The light is blinding through the window when Scott wakes, his eyes shut tight against the morning glow. His bed feels softer than normal, his sheets don’t slip like the satin he’s used to- in fact, where’s all that light coming from anyway? Scott always sleeps with his curtains closed, the ones in the windows as well as the ones around his four-poster bed.

He tries to stretch, not quite awake as he realizes his arms are wrapped around something or someone, though he’s fairly certain they’re a person. Their warm hands are pressed lightly over his own colder pair, rising and falling in tandem with every breath they breathe. Scott’s eyes flash open, spotting his shades on the ground and pulling them on, extracting his arms from around whoever he’s sharing this bed with.

Moving his head causes him the most painful jolt in his skull, and he grimaces, pressing his hands to his temples. He takes a deep breath in… and out. What is happening? Where is he?

Once his eyes are comfortably protected again, he looks around to get a good sense of what’s going on. The first thing he notices is that he’s absolutely not in his bedroom anymore- the place is a bright attic room, with the roof slanting in at such an angle that there are strings of lights hanging from it, familiar-seeming photos clipped to the wire. The window above the bed is eastward-facing, the light from the pink and orange sunrise pouring through. The walls are some sort of light-colored wood, which just contributes to the brightness and overall lighthearted whimsey of the room. There are even a few bamboo plants in the corner.

The second thing he notices is the person his arms had been wrapped around. It’s Jimmy.

What. The. Fuck.

“Scott, you’re up,” the avian says, cocking his head inquisitively, his bird-like mannerisms so achingly familiar that Scott knows he can’t be dreaming. “How are you feeling?” Jimmy moves towards him, and he shies away, pulling his arms over his head, completely and utterly overwhelmed.

“J-jimmy? What happened, what am I doing here, w-why am I here? The last thing I remember…” his voice trails off, trying to pinpoint a spot in his memory. “The last thing I remember is my father yelling at me to get out of the house, did he… W-wha-” Scott’s at a loss for words, confused and scared and none of this makes sense, what is going on-

Jim stares at him, taken aback. “You don’t- you don’t remember anything?”

“N-no, why?”

“You’re sure? Nothing. Not even a smidgen.”

“Not even a little bit, why-”

The boy sitting next to him takes a deep breath, his brow lowering in something that resembles disappointment, or maybe it’s annoyance; he’s never been the best at gauging emotions. 

“Ohh-kay, then,” Jimmy says, leaning back against the bed frame. “This is going to be a lot- do you want breakfast first?”

Scott shakes his head. “I need to know.” It’s like there’s a gap in his memory and it makes him feel too out of control, he can’t function without knowing what he’s been doing, it scares him. It scares him more than he’d like to admit.

“I thought you’d say that,” Jimmy sighs, stretching out his wings. Scott can’t help but remember the way his hands had been wrapped around the avian’s waist as they slept, the way it had felt right, as if somehow he and Jimmy have always been meant to know each other, and maybe it’s okay that Scott’s- no. Stop. No. Not allowed. He refocuses his attention on the avian by his side.

“So, it was about nine forty-five last night, and I heard a knock at my door. You were there, sopping wet with a giant cut stretching across your cheek, and a horrific concussion.”

“Wait- what? Why was I- what happened?” He lifts his finger to his cheek, and just as Jimmy’s said, he feels a deep gash, stinging when he touches it. His hand comes away with a few drops of watery red varnishing his fingertips.

“Okay… are you sure you want to hear this?”

Scott nods vigorously, only further agitating the pain in his head. “I need. To know.”

The avian takes a deep breath before all his words come out in a guilty rush, as if he’s somehow at fault for telling Scott this. “Your dad kicked you out- like, he kicked you out of the house, disowned you, all that shit-”

“What?!” That can’t be what happened- Jimmy’s having a laugh, there’s got to be some other reason, there has to be-

Jimmy winces at his reaction, the sadness and almost empathy, as if he’s experienced a similar thing before, laid plain upon his face. “That’s… that’s what you said, yeah. You said you’d told him you were gay and he’d kicked you out. You’d refused to leave and he threw a vase at your head- I assume a shard of that ran across your face and that’s what caused the cut, and I know it definitely caused the concussion. Scott, I’m so sorry, genuinely. Your father sounds like a world-class shithead.”

Scott feels like he’s falling away, his soul leaving his body, dripping down through the floor. No. There’s no way that’s what happened- Father wouldn’t, he couldn’t- and Scott said he was gay? He’s not gay. He can’t be gay. What would happen if he told his father… though from what Jimmy’s saying, he’s already done that- what boneheaded reason would he-

Oh. Right, he remembers- he did it for Jimmy. There was more nuance to it, sure, but if you get down to the basis of it, Father was insulting Jimmy and Scott just snapped, angry and yelling and altogether acting absolutely unacceptable. He’s so stupid, why would he do something like that, he’s always put himself first, put his own survival before the wellbeing of anyone else, what’s changed?

“That’s- that’s a lot to take in, okay, give me a second,” Scott mutters, his head still throbbing. “And I- I’m not- I can’t be gay, do you know what my father would do to me?”

Jimmy looks at him, concerned. “Scott, he’s already gone and pulled the final card- he disowned you, and I know you don’t really remember- but he’s gone, he’s not going to be a part of your life anymore, I won’t let him. You don’t have to be scared of him anymore, he can’t do anything more to hurt you. I’m not- I don’t use labels, but I know I’m not straight. Most of our friends aren’t straight. You’re safe with us, okay?”

Scott wants to scream, because why can’t Jimmy see what he’s trying to say?! “You don’t understand,” he yells, burying his face in a pillow. “I want to be all accepting of myself and stuff, but I can’t get my heart into it- logically, I am. Logically I know that people care about me and I’m not worthless and defective and-” He takes a breath, and Jimmy waits for him to continue, the avian’s eyes betraying much more than Scott wants to see.

“I know that’s all true. But I’ve lived with this for so long, feeling like I’m lesser, telling myself that no one cares, that there’s a particular way I have to be, that it’s ingrained in my mind and I can’t scrub it out- and I- I just want to live my life and I hate who I am and  I c-can’t-” Scott tries to swallow down his tears, but that only causes more of them to come until he can’t stop the torrent, spreading down his cheeks and his face and freezing before they can hit the ground, little pellets of white ice clinking down onto the hard wooden floor.

Jimmy doesn’t hesitate. He moves forwards, towards Scott, and this time he doesn’t resist, leaning into the avian’s warm embrace, cold and hot, blue and yellow, like they’ve always been meant to balance each other out. But he’s just crying more now, because he’s just told Jimmy almost everything- and in doing so, he feels he’s finally fully admitted to himself that the truth of the matter is the fact that he’s in love.

He’s fallen hard for a canary he met only a month ago- well, it more like snuck up on him, and the truth was on him before he could react, and now he doesn’t know what to do. What happens now? His only defining trait is his self-hatred, the dark ghost that eats him up from the inside until he inevitably decides that enough is enough and joins all the others like him on the other side- he shudders at the prospect but he knows it’ll be so much easier if he just lets go, but he can’t-

He doesn’t know anything about himself. And he says so before he can stop himself, the words choking out of his throat. Jimmy lifts a finger to his eyes, wiping away his tears.

“I know things about you,” Jimmy whispers, his face so close to Scott’s that the gorgon wants nothing more than to reach out a hand and string it through his hair, but he can’t, because Jimmy’s too good for him, he’s too sweet and caring and gorgeous and- “I know that you’re one of the most important people in my life. I know that you truly care about all of us, me and Shelby and Joel and Owen. I know that you try your hardest to please everyone. I know that you feel like you have to conform to a certain ideal. But you don’t- last night, you seemed so sure of yourself, and, um,” Jimmy falters, his cheeks going pink.

“What do you mean? I thought I had a concussion, am I missing something?”

“N-no, I told you everything, I think.” Scott scrunches his eyebrows. He can tell Jimmy’s lying, his tells are all running into overtime and it’s quite adorable to watch the avian so flustered.

“Anyway,” Jimmy barrels on, “as I was saying, if you just let yourself go, just… kind of let the person you feel you need to be evaporate, things are gonna be so  much easier for you. Trust me, I would know.”

Scott sighs, frustrated. “You don’t get it. I want to, I want to start over and I want to just be able to smile and not feel guilty for it. But I can’t and plus, even though yeah, I guess I’m g-gay-” his lips feel strange around the word- “what am I gonna do about it? It’s not like- it’s not like the person I like could ever reciprocate my feelings.” It’s not like the person he likes could ever know that he’s sitting across from them right now, it’s not like Jimmy could ever look at Scott and see anything more than a broken boy, to be pitied instead of loved, embraced instead of kissed.

“The only time I’ve ever kissed anyone was-”

“At the zoo when you were eight, yeah, I know,” Jimmy laughs, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck.

“Wh- how?” Scott is so confused.

“You said so last night, and we, uh, yeah, I kinda share that memory? Guess I didn’t tell you everything.” 

For the second time this morning, Scott feels the world falling out beneath him. That was Jimmy? There’s no way. He literally cannot conceive of a universe where he knew Jimmy and didn’t even realize it for the longest time, and now that he’s looking at the avian, he can see it. How did he not see it before? They have the same short stature, the same quivering smile, the same straw-blonde hair.

“Jimmy, what did I do? When we found out that we- um- that it was us at the zoo.” Scott doesn’t know much about himself, but he knows that if he figured out it was Jimmy, especially if he wasn’t quite in his right mind, he would absolutely do something stupid.

Jimmy draws his lips into a straight line. “I was trying not to tell you this, but I guess there isn’t much to be done for it, huh.” He laughs awkwardly, and maybe a little sadly, looking down at his bedsheets. “You kind of sort of… kissed me?”

“O-oh.” Scott is at a loss for words, his cheeks hot, and it takes all his energy to stop his hand from reaching up and touching his own lips, trying to regain some of the kiss. He doesn’t know what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t quite that. What was he fucking thinking? Though he supposes that’s kind of the point: he wasn’t thinking. He was delirious and he did a stupid thing and now Jimmy probably hates him, and he has to say something but the avian’s already beat him to it-

“I-it’s fine, I don’t mind,” Jimmy’s still smiling, though Scott’s certain now that it’s forced, that he does mind, because how could he not- from what it sounds like, Scott just popped in out of nowhere, soaked in rain, intruded on Jimmy’s evening, and kissed him.

“I-it’s not like I like you or anything,” Scott pleads, the raw desperation leaking into his voice. “I was just delirious, probably, I mean- I definitely don’t like you, like a crush, I mean- but you’re one of my closest friends and I care about you and I don’t want to lose that because I did something stupid when I had a concussion that one time.” 

Scott’s flailing for words, trying to come up with something that sounds believable because he can’t ruin this, Jimmy’s too important, eyes watching expectantly for a reaction. Something falls in Jimmy’s face. Relief, Scott thinks- and as it should be.

“No, yeah, I don’t like you either,” Jimmy looks away, picking at his wings, “But genuinely, it’s fine. L-like you said: it was a mistake. And it won’t happen again? I just hope things won’t be awkwards between us.” 

Scott’s heart drops another meter with 

Every.

Fucking.

Word.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I think we’ll be fine,” Scott mutters, absolutely not happy with this outcome at all- but Jimmy doesn’t like him, he’s just said so himself, so there’s nothing wrong. Nothing’s wrong so long as Jimmy’s happy, and plus, had he really expected anything more?

Scott’s just going to have to deal with it. 

“So we’re good?” Jimmy asks, smiling.

“We’re good.” Scott ignores the voice in his mind screaming that no, no they’re not good, because he can’t deal with it right now, he just needs to believe that things will go back to the way they were. He loves Jimmy too much to lose him, he loves Jimmy as a friend and he loves Jimmy as more, and if he loses that, if he loses the one thing that keeps him sane, he’s not going to be able to make it.

There’s a silence after Scott speaks. The air feels loaded with unspoken thoughts, Scott’s mind screaming that he’s an idiot, he let himself fall for someone who doesn’t like him, and it’s a million times worse now that he’s admitted to himself that he’s gay, that he’s in love, that he’s wishing for something more than the life he has- he’s always been grateful, and now his selfish side is taking over, yelling that he wants more, he wants more, he wants more-

After a couple moments, Jimmy clears his throat, springing into a standing position. “So… I need to introduce you to John and Laura, and we’ll try to figure something out after that, I think. I don’t know if you’ll be able to stay here-” please let me stay- “but you’re not going back to that mansion. Ever again. And if your dad tries to contact you, let me know right away, okay? I don’t want him hurting you more than he already has.”

Scott nods, pushing himself off the bed. Immediately, his head begins to throb, and he puts a shaking hand gently to his temple. “I don’t like doctors, but I think I need to get to one as soon as possible,” he admits, because the pain has just become too much, and his heartache and headache meld as one, twisting and turning and winding together.

Jimmy pushes Scott gently back down to the bed. “Stay there, okay? I’ll go talk to John and Laura.”

“Who are…?”

“Beks’ parents. They’re a little stiff at first, but trust me, they’re good people.” Jimmy walks out of the room backwards, holding Scott’s gaze for as long as possible, before quietly closing the door and leaving Scott on his own.

Immediately, he starts to break down, the stress of the last twenty four hours barrelling down on him, because even if he can’t remember some of it, the emotions he must have felt are still here, lurking inside of him like an ugly monster, rearing its head and begging to be let out.

He tries to steady his ragged breathing, sharp and quick and rolling around in the back of his throat, but he can’t because he’s-

Okay. Deep breath, Scott. He needs to go about this logically. What happened last night? First, Scott went home. He remembers that. His dad had found his phone and started yelling at him about things- he remembers that too.

He can also recall the vase being thrown at his head, though after that, everything’s a blank. He supposes he must have ran out of the house and headed straight to Jimmy’s. But why Jimmy? Owen lives right there, Scott could’ve gotten to his house in only a couple of strides- Owen would have been welcoming and helpful. But instead, he chose to walk an extra mile just for Jimmy? Jimmy lives the furthest away of any of his friends- does he really care about the avian that much?

Damn. He’s even more messed up than he thought. Scott rakes a hand backwards through his snakes, the imprints of Jimmy’s hands on his shoulders still warm even though Scott’s freezing up, literally and mentally: he can feel his body cooling rapidly, his hands shaking.

What the fuck is he doing with his life? His mind feels messed up, fuzzy and twisting and sharp, somehow all at once, and he knows it must be the concussion still affecting him in some way, but it just feels like how it should be- okay, okay, he needs to compose himself, get himself together-

That’s when he looks down and realizes he’s wearing a dress. He doesn’t know how he hasn’t noticed the baby blue garment dripping off his body before, but now it’s more apparent than ever- Scott doesn’t own any nightgowns, so where…?

Oh.

Oh, god. His cheeks flush and he swallows nervously, because he’s just realized that the clothes he’s wearing are Jimmy’s, have to be Jimmy’s, because whose else would they be? Almost unconsciously, Scott lifts his collar to his nose, breathing in the scent of the fabric. It smells comfortable and safe, it smells like Jimmy, and he breathes in deeply, the scent practically tactile with how familiar it is.

Then the door creaks open and Scott drops his hands, drops the fabric, drops everything until he’s sitting up normally. A blonde head peeks through the crack, hand pushing back his ear feathers so he can properly look through. “You ready? John and Laura say that we’ve got some… explaining to do.” Scott nods, trying to pretend he hasn’t just been absolutely knocked out of the world.

Jimmy glances back nervously at someone behind him, opening the door. “Scott, meet John and Laura, Beks’ parents and my guardians. John, Laura, this is my best friend Scott.” Best friend? Scott shakes it off, he doesn’t have time to dwell on it right now, as through the doorway walk two avians, each about four inches shorter than Jimmy. They’re owls, which, given the fact that they’re Beky’s parents, Scott had kind of assumed.

John’s feathers are almost completely snow-white, little dabbles of gray marring the surface of his wings every hear and there, with the same hawkish nose that all owl avians share. A bushy, graying beard adorns his chin, with eyes that crinkle up at the corners and a warm sort of presence that seems to take up the whole room. Scott likes him immediately- he seems like someone who could never hurt anyone, even if he tries his hardest.

Laura, on the other hand… she has dark brown hair streaked with white, and her face seems to be trapped in a permanent vortex of worry and anger, her lips drawn in a tight, straight line, deeply defined wrinkles wrapping around her face- too many for someone who can’t be any older than forty. She’s thin, her arms wrapped protectively in around herself, her mottled brown wings folded tightly into her back, her ear feathers peaked up in the same way a great horned owl’s are.

Scott offers a timid wave to them both, very aware that he’s still sat under Jimmy’s comforter, wearing Jimmy’s nightgown- yeah, this doesn’t look the best for him. His snakes are betraying his anxiety, twisting and hissing and trying to move all over the place, which just makes him seem even worse than he does now. He quickly runs a hand backwards through them, trying to calm them down somewhat, and it works well enough for him to take a deep breath and plaster on a presentable smile, the kind he’s practiced a million times.

There are a couple beats of uncomfortable silence after Jimmy speaks, just making things even more awkward than they have to be. Then John clears his throat, coughing into his fist.

“Scott, was it? We’ve heard, uh, a lot about you.” John’s feeble attempt at conversation is met by Scott’s equally feeble response.

“From Jimmy?” Of course from Jimmy. Who else? Scott silently curses himself, it’s been too long since he’s had to meet someone’s parents. And even though John and Laura aren’t technically Jimmy’s parents, they’re close enough that he feels quite uncomfortable.

“And we know you aren’t doing anything bad to our boy,” John continues, seemingly taking the drivers’ seat while Laura simmers in the background, “but listen, son, we need to know what happened and why you’re here.” Scott glances at Jimmy, stood behind the older avians, and receives a vigorous nod.

“I, uh, I don’t remember all that much, so Jimmy might have to fill you in on some of it but, uh, to my knowledge-” he takes a deep breath. “Sorry. Let me start over. The first thing you need to know that will make this story make sense is that I’m gay.” His voice catches a little on the final word, shivering slightly because he’s admitting it to others, admitting it to himself.

A flicker of realization passes over both the parents’ faces, and they share an almost imperceptible glance that Scott only barely catches. They know what happened. Or the general gist of it, at least. And so his story comes roaring out, frothing like ocean waves over his head, everything he remembers crashing down. At some point, he’s not totally sure when, Jimmy’s sat down beside him, his hand resting lightly on Scott’s back.

And when he’s told all he can remember, Jim takes over, his hand subtly holding on to Scott’s, calmly and efficiently explaining the events of last night, conveniently skirting over the kiss. Scott doesn’t miss the occasional flicker of emotion across his voice, though, especially since whenever he mentions Father, a spike of anger lets through.

When the whole story’s been told, John and Laura glance at each other, Laura’s tight facade dropping a little as she furrows her brow, John pursing his lips slightly as she nods. Are you sure?  the look seems to say, Are you completely and utterly certain?

“Laura and I need to go talk in the hall for a minute,” John explains, following his wife through the door and pushing it gently closed.

When they return, John’s arms are wrapped around Laura’s shoulders, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. Has she been crying?

“You. Gorgon boy.” Scott realizes this is the first time he’s heard Laura speak, her voice is unexpectedly melodic and he wouldn’t be surprised if she was a gorgeous singer, much like his own mother. “John and I have talked it over, and even though we’ve already got Jimmy, we’re willing to take care of you for a while.”

Scott’s eyes widen. “Wha- I was just planning to go to the shelter or something, you don’t need to do this if it’s any trouble, I don’t want to impose especially as you’ve already got two kids to take care of.” Jimmy looks surprised as well, looking shocked but elated at Laura out of the corner of his eyes.

“Listen. We love Jimmy, Jimmy loves you, so by extent, we love you and want to make certain you’re okay. If there’s any way we can possibly help, we want to take it. But if you don’t mind, we do have one question?” John’s taken back the reins of the conversation, speaking with purpose and enough strength that Scott almost believes him.

Almost. Because they’re saying they love him, and no one loves Scott. They can think they love him, think they care about him, all they fucking want is someone they feel like they love. They’ll find out soon enough, when they get to know him better- he’s nothing, nothing at all, floating and dripping down from the sky like a tiny cloud that can’t even bother to exist anymore.

“Yeah,” Scott agrees.

“Why’d you come to Jimmy? Why not Joel, or Shelby, or Owen, they’re your other friends, right?”

“Yeah, they are- and I don’t know. It was stupid; Owen literally lives right at the end of the street. But now that I’m here, there’s really not much else I could go. Shelby’s house is literally miniscule, Owen has about fifty sisters, Joel’s family hate me, and I don’t have any other friends,” Scott explains in his best talking-to-parents voice, trying to stay neutral sounding, trying not to betray the tumultuous emotions warring right below his surface.

“Well. The point remains: you’re welcome in our home for as long as you need to be. We’re not exactly glad you’re here, but we’ll keep you safe anyway, no matter what.” John offers him one last smile, his head turning back as he steps out the door, Laura following.

And then they leave, and Scott is alone with Jimmy again. “Am I going to have to sleep in here?”

“I mean, unless you want to sleep on the couch,” Jimmy reasons, coughing and looking at the wall.

“No, I think I’d rather not,” Scott mutters, curling his hands into shaking fists. “I think it would feel, like, safer, I dunno- I think I would be a lot more comfortable with… with someone else in the room.”

“I get that,” Jimmy agrees, flopping down on the bed, his wings stretching out, the feathers tickling Scott’s back. “In that case, you’re welcome to sleep wherever you wish. There’s not really anywhere else in here other than my bed, though, so-”

“It’s fine,” Scott cuts him off, “Really. I don’t mind unless you mind.”

“No, um, yeah, that’ll work just fine for me.” Jimmy offers a smile and Scott tries to return it, but he’s certain that his mouth is quivering so much that there’s no way Jimmy’s buying it. He’s afraid his eyes are betraying his disappointment, the fact that he’s crushing on the one person who could never like him back- but he holds the smile, hoping that maybe by continuing to look happy, he’ll somehow become content with his situation.

Oh, fuck it. Scott knows there’s no shot of that happening. And so when Jimmy leaves the room to get them both breakfast, his familiar body absconding from the bed, Scott cries, and the walls push in around him and the bed he’ll have to share.

[joynagarermoa]

BAMBOO PRODUCTS AND THEIR MANY ADVANTAGES

The first advantage that bamboo offers is that it is aesthetically pleasing. It has an intriguing grain that is both elegant and natural in appearance. https://www.newsheadlines24.com/bamboo-products-and-their-many-advantages/

[ilaw-at-panitik]

May mga tag-araw na katulad nito: may mga inilalakong ibon At ang harmoniya ng kanilang pagkakabilanggo’y nakakakuyom Ng puso at nakakapukaw ng mingaw. Doon ito sa may simbahan. Nauunawaan ko na ngayon ang Mesiyas nang binaklas niya Ang bawat hawla at isinubo sa kalawakan ang mga binagwisang Hinagpis. Nagsasalimbayang alkemiya ng mga kulay ang natatanaw Tulad ng biglaang paglipad ng napigtal na banderitas ng nakaraang Pista, napadapo sa kandong ng mga yero. Ito na ang parang at gubat Sa kanila. Nakakalansi ang bawat butil sa ating palad tila maamong Labangan ang naghahain. Minsan, noong nakaraang digma, tinuruan Ang mga kalapating magpiloto ng bomba. May kapalit na makakain Sa tamang pagtuka sa itinutudla sa mapa. Higit sa mga mandaragit Sila hinuhubog. Natigil ang proyekto nang nakilala ng kanilang tuka Ang mga kandado. Lumiliwayway sa panginoorin ang maiindayog Na pagkaway samantalang naiiwang nakabitin sa buntong-hininga Ang kanilang mga amo. Kailangang lumayo ng mamang naglalako. Kakalampag sa pagaspas ng mga pakpak ang mga kulungang kawayan. Sansaglit, tila naroroon sila sa ilog, umaawit ng kanilang iniibig na himig.

---

There are summers such as this: birds being sold and the harmony Of their captivity clenches a heart and stirs up a loneliness. There beside the church. Now I understand the Messiah when he forced Open every cage and fed the expanse feathered laments. The gliding alchemy of the colors can be seen like the sudden Flight of ripped banderitas from the last Fiesta, alighting on the lap Of galvanized roofs. These are their fields and forests. Every grain in our palm, Serving like an unassuming trough, deceives. Sometime during the last war, Pigeons were trained to pilot bombs. Food was exchanged For every right peck targeted on the map. They were trained to surpass birds of prey. The project ended when their beaks met the locks. Their billowing waves Dawn in the horizon while their keepers were left suspended In their sighs. The merchants needed to flee. The bamboo cages clang from their flapping wings. For a moment, They seem to be in the river, singing the melodies they love.

Enrique S. Villasis, "Birdman, 1973" tr from Tagalog by Bernard Capinpin (Published in Exchanges: Journal of Literary Translation, Iterarions, Fall 2019)

[helluvatimes]

A Partridge In A Pear Tree

A Mountain Bamboo-partridge looking comfy and a little sleepy in the former Jurong Bird Park. Photo credit: Jonathan Chua.

There was originally some faint impression of the cage in the backdrop but I would just like to blur that out. This could usually mean that the colour of the bird would bleed into the backdrop.

To prevent this, the partridge was first assigned to a new layer. The bird in the background layer was then cloned over with a part of the surrounding image using the healing brush. Gaussian blur was then applied to the background layer. And this was the resultant image.

[journeysfable]

The way Kaguya's dad excitedly goes off to make her new pet bird an elaborate bamboo bird cage. The fucking paralells!!parallels!!! Kaguya's stuck in her own perfect bamboo bird cage!!!

[stoneharbor]

hc + 🐈 for a pet/animal-themed headcanon

[ for this ask meme ]

The origins of many of Liyue’s customs are the subject of much debate. Conflicting tales, oral tradition, and records lost to time make the path to the truth of Liyue’s traditions a difficult one. One such custom is the curious hobby of ‘bird walking.’ In the early hours of dawn, the gentle chirps of songbirds drift through the air as retirees gather along worn dirt paths, the handles of bamboo cages hanging from their hands. While many believe this practice was started by Liyue’s elites—noblemen wishing to flaunt their prized songbirds—its true origins are far more humble. In the harbor's early days, a strange young man was often seen wandering with a cage in hand, the melody of a hermit thrush following him. He was a far cry from the haughty nobles thought to be responsible for this tradition, a lanky young man in loose-fitting brown clothes, indistinguishable from any other commoner if not for his golden eyes. His thrush was just as plain, its feathers a simple brown and white, with black flecks dotting its chest—nothing like the brightly colored exotic birds kept by those in Yujing Terrace. Birdkeeping was common at this time, but no one had thought to bring their pets outdoors, much less stroll with them. Yet, there was something undeniably captivating about how the man's bird seemed to sing so sweetly in the soft light of the rising sun, that sonorous melody drifting on the wind as the harbor stirred to life...