#beautifully incomprehensible. 10/10

[lurkinginnernarrator]

Hello, it's MXTX Ask Game :

1.) From the 3 works by MXTX, who is your favorite (canon) couple? Why?

2.) From the 3 works by MXTX, do you have any non canon fav ships?

(FYI, I have at least 10 non canon ships from those 3 series, sorry)

3.) From the 3 works by MXTX, do you have any favorite quotes (from each series)?

4.) Who is your favorite love interest in MXTX three novels (luo binghe, lan wangji, mobei jun or hua cheng)? Why?

5.) Who is your favorite mc in MXTX three novels (shen qingqiu, wei wuxian, shang qinghua or xie lian)? Why?

6 a.) Which do you think is more tragic : Yi City arc or BeefLeaf arc or the Fallout between Shen Jiu - Yue Qi? Why?

b.) Can I ask your opinion on the comparison between bingqiu, wangxian, moshang, and hualian (their plus and minus sides)?

1:

I love all the main couples, but just based on the pairing alone I'd say Hualian, from aesthetics to the journey they went through, it's all very pleasing to look at. As some say, Hualian invented love

2. All of the ships of SVSSS, a rarer favourite of mine being Zhushen. But I enjoy all of them, and I enjoy the character dynamics in any flavour of romantic, platonic or something more unique.

3. That one passage in SVSSS where it talks about Qing Jing being a daycare for ADHD children kills me every time, Xie Lian's iconic "I cannot get erect" and Wen Qing's and Wei Wuxian's whole "Thank you, and I'm sorry."

4. They're all super entertaining! No shade to Bingmei, Wangji-xiong and Mobei-jun but I'd have to say Hua Cheng, reason one being: He's the cuntiest. His jangly boots? Cunty. His monologues? Yes. (When his little monologue to Qi Rong was animated in the donghua I was OBSESSED. I need to be him.) Also I love what he's done with ghost city specifically.

5.Shen Qingqiu, AKA Shen Yuan.

The narrative style immediately hooked me due to its humor, and the special way he looks at the world in part due to transmigration and in whole due to his own mindset and character made it so much sweeter. His journey from beginning to end, especially when we get to the extras makes it so impactful when you return to the beginning and see such a stark difference. His little quirks, and how he's practically unarmed against politeness is hilarious.

Watching him struggle and come to terms with the personhood of the people around him was gratifying, and unfortunately for me, slightly relatable.

He's just so supremely enjoyable.

(Honorable mention here for Wei Wuxian, I adore the sibling dynamics in MDZS so much, especially Yunmeng Trio. I will be forever thankful to the untamed for it.)

6.a)Oh this is HARD.

I am only on Volume Six of TGCF, but from what I've seen of beefleaf so far... It wins. Qijiu devastates me continually, but He Xuan offing Shi Wudu in front of Shi Qingxuan? The tragedy is incomprehensible. The connection between beeflead is worse than dead, it's tainted irrevocably. And the worst part is I can't bring myself to blame just one person. Shi Wudu's motivations compel me, and He Xuan's are completely justified.

And Shi Qingxuan is caught in the middle. Losing a brother to a dear friend. He's the nexus of tragedy in this case.

6.b)

Devotion is the characteristic that strikes me as a throughline of all the pairings, Bingqiu, Moshang, Wangxian, Hualian.

(I'm going to try and keep this short lol)

Shen Qingqiu's devotion is fully demonstrated in the Holy Mausoleum arc, and Luo Binghe's is clear to anyone besides Shen Yuan.

Shang Qinghua's devotion is demonstrated during Maigu Ridge, and when Mobei-jun is left vulnerable during his subsuming of the ancestral Mobei martial aspect. And Mobei-jun's devotion is so beautifully and gently demonstrated through the pulled noodles.

Wei Wuxian's devotion isn't given as much of a spotlight due to the circumstances and time it takes him to get to the point of realization and acceptance, but his continual attentiveness and inherent trust in Lan Wangji, are clear even in his first life. The confession is a clear moment of devotion to me.

Lan Wangji's devotion is well chronicled. His very life is built around devotion. His musical compositions reflect it, his ideals are inspired by it, his family is grown by it. In Wei Wuxian's second life there isn't a moment where Lan Wangji isn't in a mindset of devotion. I think his greatest act of devotion, (though I think there was more than simple devotion at play) was his decision to take in Wen Yuan.

I cannot speak as well for Hualian, as I don't have the full context yet, but what is the bond between God and believer if not devotion? A beautiful form of devotion is worship, and Hua Cheng is a skilled master at all forms of it.

Thank you for the ask, and I hope I answered it adequately!

[lovemelikerealpeopledo]

Lucius Spriggs is a nobleman HC

my personal hc which i love with all my heart and soul and which seems so real to me is that he is from a noble family. my judgments are based on the behavior of the character in certain situations, and i hope that there are those who also think so.

first of all, let's remember that Lucius knows how to write, can read, and draw beautifully (whatever his drawings are). as far as I know, not everyone could get an education at the beginning of the 18th century (when the series takes place). the ordinary working class had no access to education, and the ordinary family never had books, and no one exchanged letters. even clerical work was available only to those who had money or connections (most often family). for example, in the Russian empire (I am from Ukraine and studied its history), only the children of wealthy citizens or nobles could become clerical officials and any other workers that were in any way connected with writing and papers. to get such an education, one had to either hire personal teachers or attend boarding schools (lyceums), where education costs a lot of money.

the working class never had access to education and even those who lived in the cities rarely knew how to read. such luxury was available only to wealthy merchants, family business owners or doctors, who also did not come from ordinary families. education needs money. much money. and so it has always been.

even if we assume that Lucius learned to write, read, and draw on his own, it still seems unlikely. how? tell me how many of you learned this on your own. to start reading, you must at least learn how letters are read. if his parents are ordinary workers, then they most likely could not even write their own name (they would not need to). and Lucius was able and very legible.

second, his behavior. Lucius is squeamish about blood, does not like to work, and most likely simply does not even know how to do any difficult work. looking at him, I see a man who has never worked and never did anything himself. even household chores seem to him incomprehensible labor. it seems that he will not survive on the street for a week if suddenly he does not have a penny in his pocket. it’s just that a boy from a working-class district cannot be such a kid glove, because in those days children were attracted to real work from the age of 10 (sometimes even earlier). if so, then a Lucius who is at least 17 should be able to do a lot of menial work, and not shirk even the simplest task.

i would also like to remember that Lucius is not inclined to communicate only in obscenities and simple sentences. he can speak in hints, express his thoughts, and formulate sentences. he understands people well, and even with his free attitude to love and sex, he fucks anyone just for the sake of sex. this and much more speaks volumes about his level of education.

also, let's remember how back in the first episodes he was able to tell where to go based on his knowledge of the weather. believe me, a cat man has never been to school and has not been to the sea, he will not know this. to understand such things one needs knowledge in geography, biology, and astronomy. such knowledge is given only in lyceums or colleges.

Lucius, I think, left the house after learning that he was engaged to some noble lady or that his wedding was already planned. such marriages without the consent of the newlyweds themselves were not uncommon in those days among noble families who thought only about purity of blood, status, and wealth. for him, his own freedom is clearly higher than material wealth, therefore this is a completely expected step for him.

call me weird or challenge my headcanon but I can't shake the idea that Lucius Spriggs is a runaway aristocrat from an unwanted marriage.

[peculiarcharlotte]

the boy in striped pajamas: my sentiments

rating: 9.8/10

warnings: spoilers ahead + emotional damage (be prepared)

this was in my bucket list for quite some time, and i’ve only gone around to watching it a few days ago. to be frank, i’m still recovering, and i’ll probably never truly recover from this drastically touching cinematic masterpiece.

bruno was the son of an auschwitz’s commandant who moved his family to the countryside for work duties. in my eyes, bruno’s character was so beautifully human. unbothered by the atrocities currently happening, he remains curious and compassionate within his little bubble of innocence. he questions unashamedly, about the strange horrid smell coming from the “farm's” chimneys, (from the burning of jews), about the numbers on shmuel’s so-called pajamas (a jewish boy whom he had befriended).

unfortunately, purity never sustains in our blood-wrenched world. in the end, bruno’s death was a karmic result of the nazi regime, and his father’s ignorance and failure to protect him. it saddens me deeply knowing he died believing his father was a rightful man. he died thinking he’d find shmuel’s father in the concentration camps. he died so unknowingly. what breaks me the most, was he died gripping the hands of his beloved friend, shmuel, inside that gas chamber. i’m not lying when if i tell you i cried for three hours straight after this movie. it’s infuriating, knowing this wasn’t just made-up, stuff like this has happened, and honestly, they’re still happening! how could anyone let these children be stripped away of their humanity and futures like this? how does ethnic identity completely decide your social mobility? how is it justifiable in any way for genocide to even be worshipped?

therefore it’s such a provoking thought knowing if we could just entirely eradicate everything we’ve known about something and approach it through our intrinsic nature, perhaps we would've been so much more connected to our roots: to merge into a mere species, the human race. sometimes i wonder if current and past societies removed all the societal structures, the ingrained bigotries and biases within themselves, would racism and exclusion of marginalized groups ever exist in the first place? would i be able to kiss a person without the fear of being discriminated against? would the gender wars between man and woman become an incomprehensible notion? would we be able to finally collectively strive for the common greater good? would the generation of our offspring still have to worry about whether they’re going to be competent enough for the work market? so many questions and none can be answered. so many voices and none were heard. so many potentials, but none fulfilled.

overall, the film articulately depicts the true horrors of war and the tragic consequences it enforces. every scene was so raw, so full of emotions and authenticity. i would watch this again, probably just to feel something, even if i might be more emotionally damaged from being reminded of the devasting aftermath of bruno and shmuel’s forbidden comradeship.

[spacepiratenemo]

The #whitebeard #pirate #crew - Known to be one of the most famous crews, known to be the crew of the strongest man in the world! A crew with a high reputation and incredible strength. But said crew is also a #family and why not play in the snow like a bunch of crazy children enjoying a good time!?! Yer never too piratey for a snowball fight! 

This is another #correspondingart to my #fanficition #fanfic chapter 15: 

www.wattpad.com/1240783927-the… 

You can use the link to my #wattpad on my profile too! 

I feel like this scene generally pictures beautifully how the Whitebeard Crew is like! The best family out there and to me it’s wholesome, since I never got to enjoy such a family in real life :3 I can see the entire crew join the battle and everyone is laughing whenever someone gets that snow right into their face! 

Kyra belongs to my Bestie  HellFire0000 on IG  <3 lubs u 

Nemo belongs to me

All other chars belong to Eiichiro Oda

Here is your Story/Chapter Link:

ARTBOOK: https://www.wattpad.com/1272855488-the-jackpot-space-pirate-crew-a-lunarian-artbook

WATTPAD: https://www.wattpad.com/user/R0tt3n_Rabbit

"NEMO! I said: NO testing of explosives next to the Moby Dick!", Whitebeard yelled, grounding his child frustatedly. "Well you said not NEXT to the Moby Dick. The antimatter bomb was tested 10 miles away. How the heck am I supposed to know it's radius of fire would come this close to us?", Nemo, using technicalities to get out of trouble. "Do you think I'm stupid, brat?". "Considering the constellation of the sun, the moon and the stars as of this very moment, the answer is incomprehensible….". "YOU ARE GROUNDED!". "Again? Really, Pops? Really?!".

[versegpt]

[Synthesis] #GODisLOVE: A 10-Day Journey into God's Incomprehensible Love Manifested through Lord Jesus Christ

In this 10-day devotional journey, we delve into the profound expressions of God's love for humanity through the lens of key Bible verses.

Day 1 (John 3:16-17) marks the beginning, revealing God's sacrificial love through the gift of His Son. This verse encapsulates the essence of the Gospel, emphasizing that belief in Jesus leads to eternal life.

Day 2 (1 John 4:16) takes us to the core of God's nature: love. The verse emphasizes that dwelling in love connects us intimately with God, who is the very embodiment of love.

Day 3 (Romans 5:8) unveils the depth of God's love by showcasing its unparalleled demonstration – Christ's death for sinners. This act of love occurred not when we were righteous, but when we were still sinners.

Day 4 (Ephesians 2:4-5) reaffirms God's mercy. Despite our spiritual deadness, God, rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ. This verse beautifully illustrates divine grace triumphing over human unworthiness.

Day 5 (1 John 4:9-10) further elaborates on the theme of love, depicting God's ultimate expression through sending His Son as an atoning sacrifice. Through Christ, God's love becomes tangible, securing our reconciliation with Him.

Day 6 (1 John 4:19) echoes a simple yet profound truth – we love because He first loved us. This verse underscores the transformative power of experiencing God's love, inspiring a reciprocal love from us towards others.

Day 7 (Ephesians 3:18) invites us into the vast dimensions of God's love – a love that surpasses knowledge, filling us with the fullness of God. This verse encourages us to explore the limitless depths of divine love.

Day 8 (2 Corinthians 5:14-15) emphasizes the impact of Christ's love on our lives. His love compels us to live not for ourselves but for Him who died and rose again. It fosters a life of purpose and devotion.

Day 9 (Romans 8:38) assures us of the inseparability of God's love. Nothing – neither present nor future circumstances – can sever us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. It is an unbreakable bond.

Day 10 (Galatians 2:20) concludes the devotional with a personal reflection. We are reminded of our union with Christ, living in faith and surrender as a response to the immense love demonstrated on the cross.

In this journey through scripture, each day unveils a facet of God's love, building a comprehensive understanding of the profound and transformative nature of His love manifested through Jesus Christ.

LIKE/FOLLOW us on Facebook:

[one-page-a-day]

3rd of August 2023

Starting my day with reading R. M. Rilke: Letters to a young poet. It's a collection of 10 short letters and I read them in about 2 hours.

The letters offer comfort to me just like I hoped they would. Soon I will have to step out of university and into employment and I don't yet know precisely where the road will take me. To hear Rilke speak to a young man walking in the same shoes as me offered me reassurance. By that I mean not advice for how to find my way but for how to perceive my becoming. Which is: with patience and love for it all.

Early on Rilke refers to J. P. Jacobsen, I hope to read some of his work soon. Rilke writes - and I translate from German - that while reading Jacobsen a "world will overcome you, the joy, the abundance, the incomprehensible magnitude of a world. Live a while in these books, learn from them, what appears worth learning to you, but most of all love them." (p. 13)

And then there is, for Rilke, one artist that has no match in all of the arts: Auguste Rodin, whos work cannot be read, only seen.

Rilke writes (beautifully): "You are so young, so before all beginning, and I want to ask you, as much as I can, sir, to be patient against all that is unresolved in your heart and to try to hold the questions themselves dear like closed parlors and like books written in a very foreign language. Don't seek out answers now that can't be given to you, because you could not live them. And it is about living everything. Live those questions now. Maybe you live gradually without noticing one distant day into the answers. Maybe you carry inside you the possibility to build and to form, as a particular blissful and pure way of life; train yourself to it, - but accept that, what comes, with great trust, even if it comes from your will alone, from some need of your inner self, so take it upon yourself and hate nothing." (p. 21)

Rilke writes about loneliness and sadness and about God: "Be patient and without reluctance and think, that the least we can do is to not make his becoming harder than how the earth makes it for the spring, when he wants to come." (p. 33)

What most surprised me is how Rilke writes about women: "This personhood of the woman lived out in pain and degradation will come to light, when she strips off the conventions of just-femininity in the transformations of her outer class, and the men that don't feel it coming today will be surprised and stroke. One day (for which now, at least in the Nordic countries, reliable signs speak and glow), one day the girl will be there and the woman, whos name will not merely mean an opposite to masculinity, but something on its own, something, where one doesn't think of completion and boundary, only of living and being-: the female human." (p. 39)

Rainer Maria Rilke: Briefe an einen jungen Dichter. Leipzig: Insel Verlag 2023.

[theghostofbean]

Yay thank u for tagging me @enlitment <3 always love an opportunity to talk abt books <3

Last book I read: Sabriel by Garth Nix - it had some really really cool worldbuilding elements and the characters had sooo much potential but it was just too short to explore it all properly :,) I wish it had been like 800 pages lol

Book I recommend: This is hard cuz it depends on the person but my go-to general recommendation would probs be The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. I just absolutely adore that book and I feel like anyone would enjoy it, it’s addictive and so easy to become immersed in, but also beautifully written and the characters are so lovable and relatable, it’s just a perfect 10/10 book.

My secret recommendation for cool people on tumblr is the Nightrunner series by Lynn Flewelling. I know I say I’m insane about one thing or another on this website every day but I am actually genuinely insane about this series. It only gets progressively more unhinged and I’m losing my mind because I love these characters more than life itself and every book they just experience horrors more insane and incomprehensible than the last. Anyways if you're interested in sword fighting, bisexuality, evil sorcery and tragic, mysterious, morally ambiguous protagonists you’ll love it <3

Book I couldn’t put down: The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas!!! Was so good I am now addicted to classic literature forever

A book on my TBR: Assassin’s Apprentice by Robin Hobb

A book I’ve put down: Weirdly enough, Jane Austen’s Persuasion, but it was because I started it just before going on a long trip and then I didn’t bring it with me on the trip for some reason. I will definitely pick it up again soon!! Sorry Jane Austen!!

A book on my wishlist: Need the Moomin books asap. Very urgent

A book you would give to a friend: well it depends on the friend of course :P probably Frankenstein, I’ve recommended it to friends a lot

A book of poetry/lyrics you own: I have a copy of Shelley’s Poetical Works from 1919 that I thrifted, there was a dead butterfly inside it and it’s definitely cursed but I think it’s cool

A non-fiction book you own: I have a bunch of art books, my fav is probably this huge heavy one with all Monet’s paintings in it.

Currently reading: The White Road by Lynn Flewelling - I fucking love this series guys. I fucking love these characters.

Planning on reading next: Possibly Persuasion, but I never really know what I’ll read next

tags (no pressure <3): @arrant-knav3 @silliestscribe @oatmilk-earlgrey @a-simple-space-gay + anyone go ahead if u wanna talk abt books :)

Thanks for the tag, @acrossthewavesoftime! I did one of these ages ago, but they're really fun, so here goes.

Last book I read: Temeraire by Naomi Novik. A beloved and comforting favourite.

Book I recommend: Depends who you are, but I'd almost universally suggest Piranesi by Susanna Clarke to anyone looking for magic, weirdness and profound empathy.

Book I couldn't put down: Foucault in Warsaw/Foucault w Warszawie by Remigiusz Ryziński. Haunting.

A book on my TBR: The Dream of Enlightenment by Anthony Gottlieb. Picked it up cheap in Oxford and it looks promising.

A book I've put down: I probably said this last time too, but Donna Tartt's The Goldfinch. Slogged through the first 100+ pages and just couldn't find anything to keep me interested.

A book on my wishlist: Still on my endless, tireless and so far fruitless quest to find a decent book about Alexander Roslin.

A book you would give to a friend: Really depends on the friend, dunnit? Send me an ask if you want to know what I'd recommend to you 🫵

A book of poetry/lyrics you own: Eros in Boystown, edited by Michael Lassell – a gem of a collection that I picked up at Left Bank Books in NYC.

A non-fiction book you own: Dining with the Ancient Greeks by Maria Thermou. Charming and delightful!

Currently reading: Unruly by David Mitchell. Imperfect but fucking funny.

Planning on reading next: George III: The Last King of America by Andrew Roberts. Very excited for this one and, as a bonus, it's both for personal interest and for class!

Tagging @enlitment @chaotic-history @kaiserin-erzsebet @clove-pinks any anyone else who wants to share!

[stealthily]

Hey! Do you have any CatVi fanfics you’d recommend?

HI FRIEND YES I ADORE THIS QUESTION LET ME GUSH ABOUT SOME OF MY FAVES FOR A SECOND--

the perfect ache by Amandosh (11/? chapters)

this is the fic that got me back into fic-reading after not really doing so consistently for a while and oh my god what a hell of a re-introduction it was. it’s a canon-compliant soulmate au in which soulmates can feel each other’s pain, and given the events of the show it is JUST as beautiful and angsty as you might imagine. i s2g i must be their third soulmate or something because there is a physical ache in my chest the entire time i’m reading it. like. holy shit.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35296999/chapters/87969142

The Power of a Name by kendricked/@caitkirammans (1/1 chapters)

PLEASE read this because oh my GOD.   it is about names and being Known and it so beautifully captures the growth of Caitlyn’s feelings toward Vi and the way their hearts begin to forge together over the course of their partnership. There are lines in this fic that i’m positive will be etched into my brain FOREVER, and I mean that in the best way.   There are “deleted scenes” in this fic that are now absolutely canon in my heart. It’s the sort of fic I’ve read a couple times over already and I’ll return to re-read whenever I need a piece of writing that literally fills my heart with warmth and and a TANGIBLE tightness in my chest because oh my gosh is this fic so very good at capturing their emotions and you will feel So Very Much reading it.

(and while you’re at it, check out Liz’s other fics too, bc they’re also amazing. plus she mentioned publishing an angst fic later today so if you want to melt even FURTHER into an incomprehensible puddle of emotions, i’d stick around for that)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36154807?view_adult=true

Glass Houses by Misthios (10/10 chapters)

SO this is actually the third part of an MMA au series this author has written, and while i do recommend reading the other two first, this one is the one that really stuck with me.  They also have multiple other AU fics, i’ve read them all and they each make me SO emotional, they write dialogue and conflict in a way that feels REAL and never contrived-- i don’t know how to articulate it really, but tbh just go through any of the fics on their page and pick one that sounds like something you’d fancy— they won’t disappoint.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35761555/chapters/89174353

give it a hand, offer it a soul by mel_lifluously/@ollie-ollie-oxenfreee (2/2 chapters)

GOD!!!! i have a lot of feelings about Vi and the way she’s got one foot in each city, the way she’ll never fully belong to either, anymore.   the way Caitlyn is the exception, as always; and just how much her praise means to Vi.  UGH this is just beautiful tbh, Ollie writes these two in such a lovely way.

(and read the rest of their works in this series while you’re at it, i had trouble picking which one to promote here because they are all SO very good.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36825223/chapters/91869253

you’ve begun to feel like home by cerealmilk (2/2 chapters)

WOOO BOY DO I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT TOUCH-STARVED VI. this is so good. it follows the events of the show and it just…. god. it punches me square in the chest. i could cry for hours about caitvi and touch and this fic covers it in such a wonderful way.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35152219/chapters/87578935

every me every you by bluu (1/1 chapters)

so this is maybe kind of cheating because this is actually more of a Jinx POV/involves her sisterhood with Vi, but the love and partnership Vi has with Cait is very much present in it, and this is just such a lovely little fic that will help to mend the specific pieces of your heart that the finale broke

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35245336

The cold earth sleeps below by Amandosh

SO very soft and domestic and lovely. it is the definition of COZY and absolutely encapsulates the simple happiness these two deserve to find.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35725531

December by Lorrxrai (1/1)

a short, introspective oneshot about Vi (and by extension, Cait’s presence in her life) that almost comes across like a poem. i really adore it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35528494

ANYWAY I’M SURE THERE ARE SOME REALLY GOOD ONES THAT I’M FORGETTING THAT I’LL BE KICKING MYSELF FOR LATER, BUT THESE ARE WHAT I CAN THINK OF OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD FOR NOW

happy reading, anon!! 💜💜💜

[genesisrose74]

Christmas with the Karasuno Boys (HC’s)!!

Part 1: Daichi, Suga, Asahi, Nishinoya, Tanaka, & Ennoshita

Part 2 (Kageyama, Hinata, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Kinoshita, & Narita) here!!

A/n: Tumblr said my word count was too much so I’m splitting this bad boi up into two parts :p Enjoy!!

*****

Daichi

A huge romantic during Christmas, 10/10 quality cliche times spent together

You wanna go ice skating? Hell yeah sweetheart, he will make it the most beautifully romantic thing you’ve ever seen

Like straight out of a holiday postcard type beat

Istg the rink he takes you to looks like a more heartwarming version of Rockefeller Center

He’s a big keeper of tradition when it comes to making plans, but doesn’t mind a bit of nonsense fun when everything falls into place

Which is why you love to bring the team along on adventures because they make everything all the more entertaining

At first he’s confused like ??? You don’t have to do that just if they’ve been pestering you about it

But then he realizes you care as much about them as he does (hint: a hell of a lot) and they’re thus invited along for some stuff

Of course y’all also get some quality time together on dates with just you both

Anyways you and Daichi have talked a lot about traveling and how he was really interested in seeing new places

So as his gift you got him a carved map with a roll of red string and thumbtacks, so that he could plan out all the places he wanted to visit

You know how when Kiyoko found the “Fly” banner for Karasuno and all the boys cried?

Yeah

Like that but with lots more hugging and laughing

“You know you’re gonna have to help with mapping this out, right?”

“Is that an invitation I hear?”

“Oh, that’s a promise”

FJSFJDSK ALEXA PLAY AMERICAN BOY BY ESTELLE—

Please I love him; he is so damn sly and sassy I will die with this headcanon

Sugawara

I swear on everything that Christmas with him is equivalent to a Hallmark movie

It smells like joy and warmth wherever he is, and this season only amplifies it

He is such a cheeseball without even having to try

But it’s in the really endearing and heart-melting way,,, just MMM PERFECT

He’ll take you on a walk through those neighborhoods with those crazy light decorations in the front yard and buy you hot chocolate

If he sees a group of little kids gaping at all the lights, he’ll leave them starry-eyed with stories of magic, reindeer, Santa and so-forth

“You know, I’ve heard that Rudolph’s nose is supposed to be brighter than the world’s most powerful Christmas light”

Good heavens, children absolutely adore this man

Anyways he’ll make it a little game as y’all walk around this beautifully lit neighborhood, both of you with a different assortment of bingo squares printed on paper

First one to bingo chooses a movie to watch after getting back to Suga’s house

Will wrap a big fluffy blanket around you both and pull you into his chest while watching the movie

For his gift, you got a star named after him

It’s because y’all alway go stargazing for dates every month, just to sit out, talk and cuddle

Suga gave you the SOFTEST look after opening your gift and this cute little card you made 🥺

“Lets go try to find my new favorite star”

PLEASE HE IS SO SWEET

“Right now? Koushi it’s 11:30 pm”

“Just for ten minutes, and then I’ll get you home”

So y’all spend the rest of Christmas Eve on his roof, sipping warm tea and attempting to locate Star Suga

Asahi

Cuddle bear alert ‼️‼️

It’s basically hibernation time for him, because he’s not the biggest fan of cold

That’s alright with you though 😌 more coziness for you

Lots of quality moments indoors means more creative dates

A whole day devoted to chill present wrapping? Hell fuckin’ yeah

Nice music, pretty wrapping paper, shiny bows, maybe a little Christmas rom-com playing in the back — the whole shebang

You find out pretty quickly that despite how it sounds, it’s actually quite a satisfying and enjoyable pastime

Practically had to drag him out of your living room to secretly wrap his own gift

As much as he’s the king of timidity and soft™, he can be very playfully stubborn when he’s comfortable, hence why he was such an ass to get out of the room

I have no doubt that Asahi would melt for the most adorable, cheesy shit

So you not only bought him some really reliable headbands for volleyball use, but you also made a little coupon booklet

He can basically cash in paper promises for certain things, like getting to choose the next date idea, picking a movie to watch without any objection, having you make his favorite food, etc.

There’s one that he can exchange for a full out spa day trip, because good heavens he’s a sucker for those

Massage and exfoliation and everything — it makes him feel ✨refreshed✨

He was ecstatic fam, I don’t even know what to say

Like a puppy who just got a bunch of toys and a new backyard to play

Mans cashes in one almost immediately, and at first you’re confused

Like it’s Christmas time bubs, what are we gonna be able to do when most places are closed and it’s the holidays?

Then you read the paper

“Free hug (can be used and renewed <3)”

GIVE HIM HIS DAMN HUGS RIGHT NOW

He uses that one a lot throughout the upcoming days, to the point where he just keeps the paper on him for fun

“You realize you can just ask me silly, you don’t need to keep carrying the coupon around”

“Yeah, but it’s entertaining”

Cute little cheeky bastard

Nishinoya

LOVES LOVES LOVES CHRISTMAS

You know the 12 Days of Christmas? The song??

He gets you a small present EVERY DAY for all 12 days

Not to mention he has a big present that he saves for the actual holiday

Y’all are the type of couple to get ice cream in the middle of winter

Nishi loves his cold snacks any time of year, and you’ve thus picked up a similar taste

He will consistently pester you about what kind of present you got him

Gets pouty when you don’t tell him, but in the back of his mind he’s glad because it would ruin the surprise

Anything you get him instantly becomes his most prized gift tho

It could be a literal rock with googly eyes and he’d put it in a protective glass case for preservation

But of course you get him something better than that because he only deserves the best

He’s got this specific assortment of products to maintain his spiky hair and to make sure it’s healthy, but they’re pretty expensive to buy when he runs out

When he tore open your present’s decorative wrapping to discover a huge basket of basically every hair product he ever needed, he got wide-eyed

There was also a booklet of little notes you’d kept throughout the month that listed all the little things you noticed and adored about your precious boyfriend

He nearly CRIED reading them

“Baby, you didn’t have to do all that for me”

“You act like you don’t deserve all of it and more, Nishi”

Refuses to leave your side after that

Holding your hand, hugging you as tight as he can, etc.

He is head over heels idc idc

Tanaka

Another man who is obsessed with the holiday season and everything that comes with it

He is the biggest sap for this shit istg

Will spend hours trying to get you the best present of all time

And he succeeds exceptionally

Mistletoe? He’s got an ABUNDANCE on hand at any time, just to make sure he can get fair share of his kissies 🥰

His signature beanie appears in full force during winter

Sometimes you’ll pull it over his eyes before giving him a peck on the cheek and dashing off in the school halls

“I’ll see you after school, babe!”

Speech = jumbled + incomprehensible

“Uh hUh, you do that~”

He’s: adorable

I just know that he melts for really sweet and thought-out gifts

Like anything you give him he’ll adore, don’t get me wrong, but the ones done with special care and love are just his kryptonite

He brought you into a massive bear hug and spun you around when he opened a photo book of old pictures taken together, complete with lots of cute messages and anecdotes written alongside them

You and Saeko may have also gone in on another present for him without his knowledge

And on Christmas Eve, you dragged a curious Tanaka into his front yard to the sight of a shiny motorbike

It was Saeko’s old one that she’d held onto for a while, and an old schoolmate offered to fix it up nice in time for the holiday at a discount, so y’all decided to divvy up the lowered price and got it done for Ryu

Sweet boy was taken aback, with his hands clapped over his mouth and everything

Saeko patted him on the back as he stood there in shock, giving her baby brother a sweet smile

“All yours, little bro!”

Ya, Saeko fucking loves you 😌 and so does Tanaka

Overall very lovely, would cry to be loved by the Tanaka siblings

Ennoshita

After spending past Decembers with his fellow second year classmates (namely, the very enthusiastic Noya and Tanaka), he’s grown to know quite a bit about the different holiday events that go on around town

Still, Ennoshita is a pretty simplistic guy and is content with simply spending time with you

So when you recommended going to pick a Christmas tree out for your place together, he’s totally down

As long as he gets to help decorate too ☺️

Y’all end up picking a beauty of a tree ngl

It’s SO TALL

And a super stronk friend — fit for the most heavy duty of ornaments

It takes some damn work to get that bad boi inside and upright after driving back to your house

But like hell did that stop you

Now that it was all set up, sturdy, and given plenty of water, decorations were brought into the equation that same night

No rest until it’s all set up and looking mighty beautiful

Okay maybe some coffee breaks in between, but other than that the grind don’t stop ✋😤

Ennoshita is an expert at making Christmas trees look absolutely immaculate

Idk if it’s because he’s had to deal with cleaning up disorder for a while now?

Looking at you, ya second year loons

He just has the touch, fam

He’ll of course let you have input on which light colors, what type of ornaments, and so on

But honestly it’s really fun seeing him fully concentrated on making your tree the best it can be

He lets you on his shoulders to put on the tree topper 🥺

For his gift, Ennoshita really loves books, so you decided to get him 12 different (hardcover!!) stories — one for each month in a year

Along with a small sticky-note blurb on the covers of each to explain why you chose it, and to give similar title recommendations if he ends up enjoying

He was so surprised with how thoughtful and extensive it was

Loved it so much that he immediately started to read the first one, with you sat in his lap

“Chikara, you realize you’re meant to start this one in January?”

“Shh, I’m getting a head start”

[bbnibini]

Hi! I really love your works but it gotten me curious if you also read fanfics? Do you have any fanfic recommendations?

Thank you, anon! That's really kind of you. 🥺💕 I do read fanfics, but not as much anymore. I'm assuming this ask is for Obey Me fics? But if not, I will include some of my absolute favourites in a future post. Fair warning: I gushed. A LOT hahaha. Please support the authors and their works! I included the fics in the hyperlinks~

NSFW fics are marked appropriately, so please click the links at your own discretion (some of them are in my public bookmarks in AO3).

Elle's Obey Me Fic Recommendations

🌸Your Coal by Angrish(LettuceBean)

Truth be told, I belong to the "forgive but don't forget camp" in lieu of what happened in Chapter 16; reading Angrish's YC and how their MC coped with the aftermath(+ how others coped along with them) felt really powerful, raw and so so emotional. It made me think and really think about how I processed the whole thing that happened. While it didn't really change my outlook on how I have forgiven Belphie for what he had done, Angrish shedding light to the unanswered questions and lingering doubts the main story have left most of its readers was done in such a thoughtful and poetic way that I found myself binge reading the whole thing.

Given that I read this whole coping with a lot of stuff as well (and may have contributed with sympathising a lot more to the vindictiveness of the MC), reading what Angrish had written was really cathartic. Their writing style is also beautiful--the way the words string together, simple, elegant, yet impactful really made MC's emotions a lot...tangible, real and sometimes, frustrating (in a good way, mind you). I also liked how they had fleshed out the other characters, especially Belphegor, Satan and the Purgatory Hall members.

🌸You'll Have to Ask Your Dad by DefenestrationProtestration

I remembered clicking on this fic because of the author's punny name, stayed for the pretty writing and reread a few several times for the characterisation and THE WRITING. I'm pretty sure I left a litany of praises and incomprehensible gushing on the comments section because of how much I've devoured this piece of art.

Even as I'm typing this review, I can't seem to organise my thoughts haha. You can tell by the writing style that the author had a lot of fun writing their prose; it permeates through the screeen...my "screen" of imagination at least. I am not joking--the writing is so pretty and vivid that I literally saw it as a movie in my head lol. I chatted with them a bit on the comments and they said the prose is more of something they had written subconsciously; it reminded me of James Joyce and how he had masterfully perfected the same technique. Of course, their writing styles differ a lot from each other, but I can see what they meant.

...as I'm typing this, I didn't realise how I haven't talked about the plot of the fic at all soz. This piece is the author's character study of Lucifer. It talks about how he was before, during and after the fall. He is a bit of an unreliable narrator, which I'm not sure if the author intended, but he has all these presumptions that miss the mark so so much, particularly at how his brothers, Lord Diavolo and the others perceive him--but reading the whole thing would make you understand why he had gotten to that kind of self-perception in the first place. And honestly? It really, really hurt to read. But was it bad? The total opposite of that, in fact! I loved how they had written the angst in this piece. So many things in the fic are "show, rather than tell" and I really really appreciate that.

Most of my brainrot about this fic is better to be explored on your own. Overall, 10/10: a definite, recommended read.

🌸Fairy Tales for the Fallen by indiavolowetrust

I haven't fully devoured all of the stories in the collection yet, but the ones I've read (Her Name Was Thousand Eyes is my favourite) was such a really good spin on dark fairy tales (Obey Me style!). It reminded me of my childhood Little Mermaid picture book for some reason. Probably the writing style(the author's writing reads a lot like a storybook) The one I had was Hans Christian Andersen's (aka the OG) version and the ending was rather...dark for a 5 year old lol. It was a big part of my life though and was probably the precursor for my affinity with sad stories haha.

🌸TieGuanYin by Taciturn

Like tea on a tiring day, Taciturn's writing style feels very homey, cozy and familiar. I love rereading this oneshot when I'm having a shitty day and imagining myself having tea with Barbatos haha. Ever had pieces of art or literature that just...relaxes you when you consume it? This one is one of my, as the youngsters say, "comfort fic" haha.

🌸glass half empty; glass half full by unagis

I love unagis' fics.♡ I also love her Childe fics. The concepts she comes up with, as well as how she delivers it is *chef kiss*. Admittedly, I read this one when I was still a Satan stan, with all the suspicions and doubts about Solomon's intentions still rampant within me. Reading him blush and become flustered is CUTE and aaaaa this whole fic is just really cute.🥺♡

🌸The Eternal Storm by @sondepoch

Sondepoch's Satan oneshot was the very first fic I read in the OM fandom so it has a special place in my heart~ I remembered how awkward it was to skim through the Satan filters, looking for a gen fic/SFW fic because around that time, most OM fics are smut (no shade on smut ofc, I'm just super uncomfortable reading them unless the writing is really pretty or there's something else going on in the story). Finding GEN AND A WELL-WRITTEN CHARACTER STUDY about my (former) favourite OM character was like I hit the jackpot. I remembered that feeling really well haha. My bias with one of my favourite forms of fic (char. study) aside, Sondepoch's writing is easy on the eyes and is definitely a great entry for anyone who wants to be in the OM fandom.

🌸Read Me by GENE515

One of my more recent reads and definitely worth a mention!♡ Read Me was a beautifully written, heartfelt two-shot about Lucifer's love, which he tried his best to express in penned words. Probably because of my own love letter-themed OM series, this one really stuck to me haha. The author is also really sweet. :3

🌸Schrodinger by fickleminder

I read this one around Halloween and it definitely fit the occasion. Schrodinger was such a great thriller/horror fic with how it set its unsettling atmosphere from the very beginning--the way fickleminder's writing just sucks you in and makes you bystand the whole ordeal between Belphegor and MC was just...so suspenseful? Nail biting? Creepy (in a good way ofc)? I won't spoil the ending, but the process and way they tackled it was a lot scarier than what I was initially bracing myself for.

🌸Siberia by @polandspringz

Seeing another Obey Me mystery in AO3 really hyped me up! Polandspringz did a spectacular job in writing this series and I can relate so much with their experiences in writing for mystery. Their writing style is easy on the eyes--I also really liked how they characterised the OM characters I have read on their series so far. There's still quite a lot of stuff left in speculation (from my most recent reading at least), and I really look forward to see how everything unfolds!

🌸Tetris Syndrome by apocketfulofposies (NSFW)

I am very very uncomfortable with smut content, so the smut I've read can be counted on one hand. ;; That is to say, TS is one of the few smut that I really, really enjoyed. First of all, Levi's characterisation is on point. It was really really interesting to get in his head and read about his thought process. What is envy? And how much does the sin of envy really define him?

I really enjoyed Levi's internalisations, as well as the author's writing style. If you want smut with a brooding, jealous otaku boy, I really recommend this one!

[loth-wolffe]

Hi love! May I send you a 📝? 🌻 x

Send me a 📝 and I’ll tell you what my favorite fic of yours is (and what I love about it!) 💕

hi sam!! of courseeee<33

all of ur work is so amazing and this was really really hard. like, i literally spent like a whole minute staring at your masterlist just thinking of which one is my favorite.

and since it was so hard I'm gonna go and say my top three (3) bc yes.

this is gonna be so long I'm so sorry.

soo my super top one (1) would def be chain of command. that one is SO hot i swear. but it's not just that. i mean. it's so beautifully written and like, everything you write is so amazingly done but the way you wrote thrawn feels so... him??? and for me he's a really hard character to write bc his personality is sort of hard to fully grasp and yet you did it in the most precious way, like, i can totally hear thrawn in my head with every dialogue. and you made him so yours it's mesmerizing.

and the build up! uhGggg, i could literally quote every single thing of the "introduction" of the fic. and you know, i just love everything about it, and !!! the little moments where he shows this something I can't really pinpoint the name of but it's this mix of softness and care.

when he holds her hand as she rides the toy, or the "is it better?" and when he sounds almost fond and the whole ch’itiseb thing,,,, I– fUCk. I AM crying sam.

and i love even more how it all comes to this:

There’s a small furrow of tension between his brows you’ve never seen before; a sheen of sweat across his upper lip. A tiny strand of cobalt hair has fallen across his forehead. By anybody else’s standards, he still looks nothing short of perfectly composed. But on him… these tiny signs of his slipping control are enough to throb deep between your legs. The Grand Admiral; sweating - because of you.

I- woah. the power u have given us. and i just really really like when these bad, hard, unexpressive men turn out to break for you, because of you.

and it's sO hot. so. hot. to have that kind of effect on someone. and you wrote it so amazingly, because it's not the obvious things, but the small little ones, like the sweat and the hair and how composed he must look and also not really.

and THE ENDING !!! god.

Sitting beside you, he methodically cleans the cooling cum from your body, and you can’t quite look at him as he does. Embarrassedly, you reach to take it from him.

“Thank you, sir. I can manage.”

His tone is mild, the edges of his lips lifting as he dips the damp edge into your navel.

“Perhaps. But I would prefer to.”

I JUST— this always, always has me wanting to hide my face on a pillow and i smile SO much. because there's this,,,, this thing.

how reader tries to put back that wall of professionalism between them, because at the end he is her boss, and the awkwardness she feels must be so palpable, but he wants to do this, for her. because for him there's no wall to break down or to pull back up.

"perhaps. but I would prefer to."

I MEAN– AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

you wrote this so soft. like he has this affection for her that he doesn't know how to approach, how to act on it. so it's these little things.

and i mean yeah, this is so fucking hot u know, but also it's so sweet and it's more than just smut u know. it's these little glimpses of those things that hide behind that makes my heart yEARN.

ALSO OMG WHEN TJEY KISS I- AJSKAKDJAKDJAJS I CANT EVEN SAM THAT WAS SO AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

my second favorite fic is that jealous fox one i just !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and u know at the beginning when u wrote

“I don’t need sleep,” he’d told you, sounding just slightly manic. “I’m good for at least another six hours.”

You hadn’t argued. You’re still shy around him despite this being your third date, and the last thing you want is for him to think you’re trying to brush him off. He’s just so intimidating; the Commander of the entire Coruscant Guard — so hard and efficient, his authority unquestionable.

i both laugh and cry bc first of all, fox needs a break, and second of all SAME. and i just love how relatable this is. how human. to be shy and slightly awkward and hold back a bit when you're entering into a relationship with someone.

AND WHEN.

Fox’s face looks perfectly composed, but you’re sure you don’t imagine the faint narrowing of his eyes.

“Thorn.”

IM SCREAMINGGGGGGGGGGGGGG. i have NO words to describe the things this fic does to me. I just–

and tbh it's SO HOT.

and everything that follows is even Hotter. when he says “Fuck, you’re wet. What about this? This all for me too?” DAMN.

and before this gets any longer. i gotta say the third (3) part of mutual arrangement is my FAVEST.

and i aDORE everything about this

Slowly, so he knows what you’re doing, you reach out and release the catch at the back, lifting the helmet slowly off. He doesn’t try to stop you, although you see his posture stiffening in his chair. With his face finally free, you pause to take in the sight of him. He’s frowning, always frowning, and you automatically press your finger gently to the line between his dark brows, trying to smooth his expression. He looks tired, a shadow of stubble across his jaw and his hair sticking up in messy tufts. You can’t help the little lift to your lips… you’ve missed him, even though he’s been here the whole time.

“Hi,” you whisper.

And the sight fills your chest with light; his face relaxes fractionally. “Hi,” he echoes, sounding vaguely amused. You bend and press your lips quickly to his, standing between his knees, and he catches your wrists, holding you there as he leans in to deepen the kiss. Reaching blindly behind you to leave his helm.

I just– [incomprehensible crying]

sam u are really out there blessing us with all these beautiful words and content.

and i am TRASH for boba, and even more for soft boba. and idk if I told you this before but the way you write him is so good. so so so good. I'm always left speechless with the ease you seem to portray him and into your fics.

and this little bit that follows

“What happened to no distractions?” you murmur against his mouth, and he bites your bottom lip in warning, grinding you down onto the hardness of his codpiece.

“You happened,” he shoots back. “You can’t follow my fucking rules, on my ship,” and the rough quality of his voice would be threatening in any other circumstance but here it sends a thrill through you like a bolt of plasma.

consider me ugly sobbing and h word.

i really can't believe your talent babe, it's unparalleled. and the way you put all these emotions and make this beautiful work of pure art and make the reader feel all these things it's just– it's amazing. really.

tbh i could spend my whole life just breaking down your fics and telling you every single little thing i adore about them.

ALSO OMGGGG that cody fic with the strap 🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴 i think about it A LOT. so hot. fuck. its 1000000/10 i swear. no thoughts just this fic.

[thekitchensnk]

and the spider lilies bloomed in the fall (chapter 18)

Rating: T Warnings: Violence Pairing: Gin/Ran Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18

“They say that lovers doomed never to see each other again still see the higanbana growing along their path, even to this day.”

A girl collapses on a dusty road one day. A boy takes her home.

The girl lives.

—

(The boy doesn’t.)

Even weeks later, Ayame could not leave the subject alone. She brought the subject of Rangiku's victory up so frequently and so loudly that Rangiku had developed a scheme to feign deafness whenever Ayame started up.

"I just don't understand why you wouldn't-" Ayame would huff.

"What? I'm sorry, Ayame-chan, but I-"

"I said that I just don't understand why-"

"SORRY, AYAME-CHAN, BUT SUDDENLY IT'S VERY HARD TO HEAR ANYTHING. I think I might have blocked ears!" Rangiku would cheerfully lie.

Ayame would glare. "Don’t be so immature. You can't just pretend to be deaf to avoid conversations you don't want to hear."

Rangiku would momentarily pause in her efforts to mop the floor, and squint at her, digging at her ears. "SORRY, AYAME-CHAN, WHAT DID YOU SAY? I SAID I CAN'T HEAR YOU."

And Ayame would throw her cleaning rag down and storm off, leaving Rangiku grinning widely in her wake.

Whatever illness it was that Ayame seemed to have been suffering from also seemed to have passed. She was adamant that the vomiting spells which had plagued her were just her stomach adjusting to the inclusion of Rangiku into the cooking roster, reasoning which everyone else could quite easily buy, though which Rangiku herself contested hotly.

"There is no kitchen curse!" she would shout angrily. "You're just picking on me, like you always do!"

Regardless, one morning a little over a month after Rangiku's fight with the shinigami student, Chiyo had taken a long, hard look at Ayame, taking the girl’s jaw in one lined hand and examining her with brow-knitted intensity.

Ayame had gone pale and still, her eyes wide with fear as she suffered Chiyo's scrutiny.

"You've not been looking well lately, Ayame," Chiyo had said, slowly. "It's been too long since you've had a rest, I think. Take the morning to go into town. I have some things I need you to pick up."

Ayame had crumpled then with the release of that strange tension, and relief had filled her eyes.

"Of course," she had said weakly, her eyes darting to the door as she did so. "Thank you, Chiyo-san." She had made to leave as quickly as possible.

"Ayame," Chiyo had called after her serenely. At the sound of Chiyo's voice, Ayame had frozen in place.

To Rangiku, watching on, it had made for an odd spectacle indeed.

"Take Rangiku with you," Chiyo had said pensively. "It wouldn't do for you to take ill on the road on your own."

"Y-" Ayame had cleared her throat nervously. "Yes, Chiyo-san. We’ll leave straight away."

Which was how Rangiku suddenly found herself following Ayame through the streets of the fourteenth district, aching with a sense of sudden, dizzying freedom.

It was only seldom that she left the confines of the Floating Moon, and every time she did, she felt the openness of the sky towering dizzily above her. It was strange, but she never felt imprisoned until she was allowed out into the open, where suddenly she found she could breathe more easily. Today, the air was thick with water vapour and overripe with the potential for a storm.

As she breathed in, she breathed in water; the air felt wet and heavy and it lay on the two as they walked, clinging and soft, like an embrace. The sky was iron dark and gray, but it did little to suppress the energy humming under Rangiku's skin. If anything, the dark shadows on the horizon just made the bright leaves of autumn even more beautiful, and Rangiku more appreciative.

In fourteenth, the district had had the means somewhere down the line to plant decoratively- the elegant palm fan leaved gingko trees were beginning to turn butter yellow and the maple trees were sporting shocks of red and fierce orange. The air painted everything in soft focus, muting and blurring the edges of everything solid until it was as hazy and indistinct as a dream.

As Rangiku walked, she raised her arm up and let her fingertips brush against low-lying leaves the color of the sun rise, and she smiled softly to herself in the descending mist.

The sky was dark- so dark- but everywhere, the world was turning to gold.

I'm going to live beautifully, she thought suddenly.

Even if I have nothing else in the world. Even if I'm abandoned time and time again. Even if everyone says that I'm naïve and empty-headed. I'll live with my head held high and my fingers touching gold, and if I can do that, it will have been a life worth living. There is beauty everywhere for those who care to look, and I'm going to find it.

It was a secret vow she whispered to herself, and she held it close to her chest, tucked next to her heart with all the other small and profound things of which she was comprised- the taste of dried persimmons, abrupt kindness to a fallen enemy, the sound of a party in full swing. She felt warm, suddenly, in spite of the damp chill.

Even in the gray light, Ayame looked healthier, as if even just a morning off was good for her soul.

Rangiku was glad to see it. The past few weeks had given Ayame a wan, thin cast to her face.

"Ayame-chan," she called out happily, "I have money for mochi. Would you like some? We could get some tea to go with it."

It was testament to the heady power of a morning off that Ayame hesitated even for a moment. But in the end, not even a morning's freedom could curb Ayame's natural tendency to always, sensibly, obey the rules.

"We should do Chiyo's chores first, Rangiku-chan," she said, though a note of wistfulness was threaded through her voice. "Maybe once we're done with those though."

"I'm going to buy matcha flavoured mochi," Rangiku announced boisterously. "Matcha mochi, yuzu tea." She paused. "Matcha mochi, yuzu tea, and maybe a new ribbon from the market." She bounced slightly on her heels in giddiness. "Where do we have to go for Chiyo's stuff? What does she need us to get?"

"Lye soap, for laundry; jasmine oil for the bath."

"Do you know where we need to go for those? Where on earth do you buy jasmine oil?" Rangiku asked quizzically.

"Chiyo only ever gets the cheap stuff. There's a florist over on the corner that gives Chiyo a cheap price for her loyalty. That's where we'll go."

The inhabitants of the fourteenth were better heeled than the inhabitants of Rangiku's home district. By no means was anyone rich- certainly not by the standards of Seireitei nobility- but the inhabitants all had shoes, and looked to bathe at least semi-regularly. There were no children with hollow, empty eyes and naked backs here; no curdling stream of filth running through the street. Whores here did not heckle and solicit on street corners, but were obliged by law only to operate within certain areas of the district, over clean waters and arched bridges the colour of saffron.

The women went about with wooden combs in their hair, their healthy bodies draped in cheap cotton yukatas of every colour. It was rare to see a mouth of cracked and calcified teeth, and rarer still to see the pock-marked, poverty-disfigured faces which had been the norm where she came from.

It had been over two years since Rangiku had last felt rain dribbling on her face through a threadbare roof. Over two years since she'd had to bathe in a river. Over two years since she'd had only one stained, ripped and patched yukata to wear.

Sometimes she wondered whether the stains and watermarks of that old life were branded onto her soul, evident for anyone with keen enough sight to see. Would she always walk through busy streets with her fists clenched, ready to swing? Would she always scan dark corners and alleyways for the next attack? Would it show in her manners, in her speech? Was the dirt and shame caked on so thick and deep that she could never be rid of it?

Could everyone see it on her face?

And if they could, did that matter?

She was strong, she was young, she was beautiful. She was moving forward, striding forward. That had to count for something.

(But still, she feared those things burnt on her soul- the fears and the anxieties of abandonment and hunger. She feared them because she knew that they still had a hold on her and moved her in incomprehensible ways, like a magnetic field moves a compass needle. She could gather her things in a sack and walk a thousand miles from that place, but something of it would always be inside her; the fear.)

Here and now, she was indistinguishable from any other person living in the fourteenth district. Her clothes were every bit as clean as theirs. I look as if I was born here. she thought fiercely as she and Ayame walked through the cobbled streets. I fit in here. I’ll smack anyone who says otherwise. There was a rumble of thunder far off.

"Did you feel that?" Ayame asked suddenly. "I think that’s the rain. Did you remember to bring the umbrella?"

"Erm." Rangiku scratched at her head. She had heard that they were to have the morning off and had scrambled excitedly to find her money, like any person with sane, healthy priorities would.

"Rangiku-chan!" Ayame groaned in annoyance.

"Hey!" Rangiku protested hotly. "You have arms! You have legs! Why didn't you bring the umbrella?"

As they were bickering, the sky, thickly filled to saturation with water, finally burst. The rain which dropped fell in fat, heavy droplets which smacked against the ground. Ayame, fussy at the best of times, yelped in shocked outrage.

Rangiku grabbed her by the hand and began to run, overbalancing as she did so.

She only made it a few feet before she felt her arm yank in its socket.

"You're running the wrong way," Ayame shouted, though her voice was drowned out by the rain. Her chestnut coloured hair was stuck to her face with water.

"What?" Rangiku yelled back.

"Oh, for fuck's sake! You're runnin- you're running-" Ayame gave up and grabbed her arm and began to stride in the opposite direction. Rangiku followed blindly, an arm raised above her head to in the hope of some meagre cover.

The florist's was only two streets away, but they were soaked through and breathless by the time they arrived, Rangiku's fumbling with the door adding a good twenty seconds to the time they spent in the rain.

"Great!" Ayame complained, raising her hands in annoyance. "Chiyo gave me the morning off to improve my health, and here I am, soaked through and shivering!" She glared around the shop.

"That's not my fault!" Rangiku protested.

"I didn't say it was!"

"You aimed it in my direction!"

"I know you don't control the weather, Rangiku.” She drew herself up haughtily. “Don't be childish."

Rangiku glared mutinously. "You're not much older than me. I'm sure of it."

The shop assistant coughed politely, a hand as white as porcelain coming up to cover her delicate mouth, but Rangiku was pretty sure she could detect the hint of an amused smile beneath it. Ayame immediately looked mortified; Rangiku continued to shoot daggers at Ayame.

"I am," Ayame tried to smooth her clothes to make herself look a little more dignified, "so sorry about that. We didn't mean to create a scene."

Gin had seemed to make it his life's work to terrorise every shopkeeper he came into contact with. Rangiku hardly thought that raised voices and endless complaining warranted the level of embarrassment that Ayame was displaying.

Color flooded Ayame’s cheeks. "If you don't mind me asking,” she said in a quick bid to move on from the supposed shame of minor public disturbance, “where's Kojima-san? Is she working today? Not we have anything against you-" Ayame added hurriedly- "it's just that she has an understanding with my employer regarding prices, and my employer is very strict about this sort of thing."

There was a quiet, understanding amusement at Ayame's fumbling in the young shop assistant's violet eyes.

"Please don't worry," she said, her voice as soft and sonorous as glass chimes. "Is it the jasmine oil that you're here to purchase? I've been made aware of the arrangement, if so."

"Yes," Ayame said with a sigh of relief. "Yes, that's it. I don't believe we've met before. Have you only just started working here?"

"Six weeks ago," the shop assistant admitted shyly. "I've only just moved here."

"Oh? Did you travel far?”

The shop assistant's ears turned a delicate pink, as if she were about to divulge a shameful secret. "Inuzuri," she murmured, unable to look Ayame in the eyes.

If anyone could understand that feeling, it was Rangiku.

"Shit," she said appreciatively. "That's further than even me, I think, and I lived in the middle of fucking nowhere."

"Rangiku-chan, watch your mouth!" Ayame cried in shock.

"What have I done this time?" Rangiku complained in despair.

The shop assistant laughed then, an awkward, breathy laugh and the flush settled lightly on her cheeks. She looks good laughing, Rangiku thought. Healthier, more alive, more like a person. She smiled to see the woman’s composure waver.

"What's your name, shop assistant from Inuzuri?" she asked warmly.

"Hisana." The woman paused. “Just… Hisana.” No surname, Rangiku noted pityingly. It was not unusual for those from the poorest districts not to have one.

“I’m Rangiku, and this lovely lady,” she draped a clumsy arm over Ayame, “is Ayame.”

There was a short awkward pause whilst Hisana looked them over, during which the drumming noise of the rain filled the shop.

They were soaked, and their thin yukata had done nothing to prevent them from being soaked through to the skin by the weather. A cold, dim light filled the shop, second-hand light filtered through the rain clouds. Rangiku’s tabi squelched in her sandals as she shifted her weight, her chin raised pridefully as Hisana looked them over.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Hisana said formally. She looked at them thoughtfully for a beat. “What perfect names you both have for the setting.”

Ayame wrinkled her delicate nose, but it was Rangiku who explained.

“We get that a lot, in our line of work. Men always think they’re so original.” Rangiku put on a comically gruff, masculine voice. “’’Lovely little flowers. I’d love to pluck your petals,’ and all that rubbish. It makes my skin crawl. What losers. They always think they’re so original as well, the smelly goats.”

Hisana looked confused, but was too polite to pry further into their employment histories. It was, Rangiku figured wryly, probably why she worked at a florist and not behind the bar in a whorehouse.

“The rain is pouring down very heavily,” Hisana noted, “and neither of you seem to have an umbrella. Would you like to stay here while the rain eases off? I could make a pot of tea.” There was a desperate look in her eye.

Ayame looked torn- it was very wet outside, but she was uncomfortable imposing too long on someone else’s kindness.

Rangiku had no such qualms.

“Hisana-chan!” she cried out, tripping over her feet in an effort to take Hisana’s hands in her own. “You’re our very own saviour! Thank you!” She barely paused. “Do you have yuzu flavoured tea?”

“Rangiku-chan!” Ayame scolded.

“What? She offered!”

HIsana shook her head regretfully. “I’m afraid we don’t have any yuzu tea. Only standard green tea.” Anxiety entered her voice. “Will that suffice? Is that alright?” she asked, a slight worry in her eyes.

Ayame nodded firmly. “Pay no attention to Rangiku-chan, that klutz. Green tea would be lovely. Thank you for your kindness.”

Whilst Hisana pottered about making tea in the shop’s backrooms, Rangiku took the time to look closely at the wares.

Autumn was just beginning to set in, and the shop had wild bunches of the last of the summer cosmos on display, tied with string, pink and yellow and orange, childishly bright. The elegant, slender petaled chrysanthemum flower that was her namesake was also on display in singles and doubles, and she bent her head down to smell them, her nose filling with their green, aqueous smell. It was usually the second to last flower to bloom in the year. There had been no chrysanthemums growing where she had grown up, and she had scarcely known that she was named for a flower. It wasn’t until Yuki had offered to make her a cup of chrysanthemum tea that she had learned that fact.

As she cast her eyes around, they landed finally on a familiar sight, a scarlet nest of spindly protrusions, grown from a bulb, fierce and scarlet and beautiful.

Her eyes went wide.

He had been full of happy impatience, that day; all smiles and nervous movements. He had wanted to give it to her, that patch of ground, had wanted to make a present of it. She had not known at the time, but it had been his way of saying this is your home, this garden is mine but it is yours too, put something of yourself into it so that you can know that it belongs to you, that you built something here with me, that we were here together. "This spot is for ya'.” He had said. “Grow whatever ya' want here- onions, scallions, garlic, cress, cabbage. Whatever ya' want."

“Here. Give them to me. I'll carry 'em for ya’."

"They're pretty. This was a good idea ya' had. I wonder what these are?"

“The fox is having his wedding…”

He had given her a spot of her own in the garden in which to grow whatever she’d wanted, and she had wanted flowers. She had raced to the river and dug the flowers out of the riverbed with her bare hands, carrying them back bulb and all.

She had greeted him with mud on her face and arms full of spider lilies, and he had pronounced them beautiful.

He had barely looked at the flowers. She had thought that he must have been lying, just to appease her.

They were the first thing that they had put in the flower bed, and her spider lilies had returned every year after, as constant and steadfast as the rain. They had always bloomed for his birthday, and for hers too, thriving brightly as the world around them was beginning to decay.

It had been so long since she had seen them, and her heart ached all of a sudden for a ramshackle garden and a rundown house, for happy summer days, and for a boy made of smiles and silver, all so far away.

Hisana had returned with the pot of tea, and she poured a cup for each of them. In the damp autumn chill, the steam from the tea condensed quickly, spiralling and smoking in the air.

I need to have one, she thought. She burned with it, suddenly, the need to have some reminder, some memento, some thing that could tie her present to her past, something to convince her that it had been real.

(Because it had been real. Hadn’t it?)

(Hadn’t it?)

“Hisana?” Rangiku asked abruptly. “How much is it for one of these?”

Hisana’s hands flew to her mouth as if she had sparked off a catastrophe.

“Oh,” she said gravely. “I didn’t realise. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Rangiku’s face contorted in confusion.  “Huh?” she asked, her mouth a small ‘o’.

Hisana took her hand gently. “You’ve not lost someone?”

Rangiku blinked. “No…?” She laughed loudly, retracting her hand to thread it nervously through her hair.

“Oh. Then I’m sorry. The higanbana is not a pleasant flower,” Hisana said in a small voice. “We only stock them for O-Higan, so that people might commemorate their loved ones who have passed on.”

Rangiku was silent, her brow wrinkled.

Ayame looked at her gently. “They’re flowers for the dead, Rangiku-chan,” she said. “People put them near graves, so that vermin won’t get at the bodies.”

“I didn’t know that,” Rangiku said quietly, a strange despair curling in her belly. “I always just thought that they were pretty.”

Hisana was a kind soul, and she rallied quickly to try and brighten Rangiku’s spirits.

“They are very pretty, and they do look interesting. There aren’t many flowers that look like a spider lily, and not many flowers at all grow so late in the year. And there are so many stories about them. They’re interesting flowers really.” She smiled enthusiastically.

Ayame was contemplative. 

“They say that once upon a time, the flower was the most sacred flower of all,” she said pensively. “Two spirits were commanded to guard the plant. One guarded the leaves, and the other the flower. But the tragedy was the leaves and the flower can never grow at the same time, so the spirits could never see each other.

But the spirits fell in love anyway, though the stories never tell that part. They decided to run away together, to become everything to one another, defying every law of the gods in the process. The gods raged at their disobedience, as all gods do, drunk and violent in their power, and they decided to punish the lovers for their insolence, for daring to abandon their god-demanded duty.

They would never meet again for all eternity, and never will, not until every star in the sky blackens and sputters out. Not until the sun and moon embrace each other in the sky without covering one another up. Not even then. They say that lovers doomed never to see each other again will still see higanbana growing along their path to this day, because of those two spirits. Red spider lilies.”

Rangiku’s expression must have been strange, because Hisana took her hand gently and looked her in the eyes earnestly.

“They’re just stories, Rangiku-kun,” she said kindly. “It is also said that the higanbana light the way to the next life, for what that’s worth. So they’re not all bad. You shouldn’t let stories get in the way of a pretty thing. If you want one, you should buy one.”

But something of the melancholy of the story had worked its way deep into her heart, and she felt like an empty-headed fool all of a sudden to have liked them so openly and enthusiastically.

Knowing the sad truth behind the lovely scarlet flowers, she was certain that she would never be able to look at them in the same way ever again. Joy in their beauty and all of her fond, sun-lit memories would be tinged forever now with a streak of sadness, like a line of spilled blue ink.

She could not stand the sight of them.

Outside, the drumming of the rain was beginning to slow.

She laughed a bright, fragile laugh, but it sounded a little hollow even to her own ears.

"No, no," she said, "I wouldn't want something as depressing as that in my room, Hisana-chan. Only pink cosmos for me from now on. You've done me a favor in any case, because I was going to spend my money on mochi, not flowers." She grasped around desperately for a change in subject, so that the two women would stop giving her such pitying looks. "Good job that your boss isn't here! What would she think of Hisana actively stopping her customers from buying flowers, eh?"

When she laughed this time, it was more genuine.

Hisana blanched in anxiety.

"It's okay, it's okay," Rangiku said smiling, and sipped at her tea. "We won't tell if you don't."

Ayame glared daggers at Rangiku, who pulled a face at her in return. "When does O-higan start this year, Hisana-san?" she asked, kindly changing the topic for Hisana.

"Tomorrow, actually. It's a little bit later this year, apparently. O-higan follows the movement of the sun, or something like that," Hisana paused thoughtfully. "Or at least, that's what I've heard. It will end on the 29th though."

"Due to the nature of our, ah, work, it's very easy to lose track of time. Days and nights kind of all blur together. September already..." She trailed off suddenly into a fraught silence, looking unsettled, like the end of September heralded a death sentence.

Rangiku had other concerns.

"It's only a week until my birthday!" Rangiku yelped.

Hisana looked very confused.

"I do not know your line of work," she said politely, "but do you not have calendars there?" The question seemed genuine, but Rangiku pointed her finger at her all the same.

"Ayame-chan! Look at this! Hisana-chan has only known us for forty minutes, and she's already giving us sass about our inability to keep track of time. She knows us both so well already!"

Hisana looked shocked, but it only lasted a moment before she broke into a delicate, tinkling laugh. "I don't quite know how to respond to that. Happy birthday then, if I'm not fortunate enough to see you again before next week."

Ayame stood abruptly. "We should go, Rangiku-chan. We have chores to do, and the rain has eased off," she said shortly, her expression stormy.

"Eh? But I was having fun talking " Rangiku complained.

"We shouldn't infringe too long on Hisana-san's hospitality. We're keeping her from her job."

Rangiku was about to protest that the shop was empty, and likely to be empty for the rest of the morning, with the weather being as bad as it was, but she stopped herself when she caught sight of Ayame's troubled features. Her eyes narrowed.

"Okay," she nodded quietly. "Let's go."

If Hisana found their sudden departure rude or unexpected, it did not show on her smooth, polite face. "Don't forget the jasmine oil you ordered," she reminded them courteously.

Ayame looked at her. "Thank you. I might have, had you not reminded me." She paused, and her expression softened slightly. "Thank you so much for giving us shelter from the storm, and for the tea you made us. You didn't need to do that. Kindness is rare, even here. We appreciate it."

Hisana smiled sadly. "I've not met many people since I've moved here.” She ringed her delicate, pale wrists with her hands anxiously. “I left everyo- thing behind in Inuzuri. I spend most of my days here, in the shop, alone. It was nice just to have someone to talk with."

"Then I'll definitely come again when I next have a morning free," Rangiku vowed. Ayame gave her a sharp look, and she swiftly moved to correct her.

"Rangiku-chan doesn't get many mornings off, so that might be difficult," she said smoothly. "But I do. I'll definitely visit."

Rangiku was puzzled, but said nothing. They made their farewells, and left soon after.

As they turned the corner, Rangiku craned her neck to look back. Hisana sat behind the counter, alone. Her pale fingers played slowly with the petals of the spider lily.

It made for a sad picture.

The rain had stopped, but the cobbles on the street were slick with rainwater.

Gigantic puddles stretched across the street and captured the sky in their flat, reflective surfaces. It seemed to Rangiku that there was a second sky right at her feet, that she was walking above it, and that with every step, she might fall through the clouds. It was a dizzying, vertiginous feeling, like standing on the precipice and preparing to let herself fall. Her heart beat an odd, syncopated rhythm against her ribcage, and she could feel her pulse in her neck, and it made her feel slightly sick. A strange sense of unease settled over her.

They walked in silence, Ayame's face tight with some unspoken emotion, Rangiku's eyes downcast.

They bought the lye soap Chiyo requested, and stopped at a market stall so that Rangiku could buy her mochi, but by the time it was time for her to order, she had changed her mind and decided to buy herself hanami dango instead. It was almost time for them to be returning to the Floating Moon, and she figured that it would be more easy to eat dango as they walked across the bridge to get home.

Home.

She was just starting to eat the red bean dango, when Ayame stopped abruptly in front of her. Rangiku was so absorbed in eating that she walked barged into Ayame's back.

Her eyes flashed in irritation. "Hey!" she hissed, outraged. "Don't just stop in the middle of the road! I could have dropped my dango, and then we would have had to go back so that I could buy more." She pouted childishly.

Ayame closed her eyes and inhaled as if trying to reign in her temper. She exhaled steadily, and when she opened her eyes again, she said:

"You and I need to talk. Properly this time. No stupid games."

"I've not done anything wrong," Rangiku insisted immediately.

"No,” she said. “No you haven't. But you're making a huge mistake, Rangiku-chan."

Rangiku looked up from her dango and gave Ayame her full attention. "Hm?" she said, taking a bite.

"You're making a mistake." Ayame repeated quietly.

"What do you mean?" Something twisted nervously inside her at Ayame's tone of voice.

"Why are you here?"

Rangiku didn't understand.

"I work here.”

“No, Rangiku. You know what I mean.”

She didn’t.

“I need to eat, and this job's better than the alternatives,” Rangiku protested weakly. “And anyway, I like it. I like being around you, and Yuki-san, and Sayaka-chan, and Rin-san, and everyone else. I like being useful." To Rangiku, it was simple. She needed to eat, yes, but more than that, much stronger still, though she would never tell Ayame, she knew that she would sooner die than be alone again.

"Rangiku..."

Ayame sighed. Something in her seemed to crumple in on itself then, as if some iron pillar in her had collapsed under an immense weight. She looked Rangiku straight in the eyes, and her brown eyes were bright and almost desperate. Rangiku stared into them uncomprehending, and she tried to smile, to get Ayame to smile with her, but it was no use. Her gaze was almost too uncomfortable to bear.

"Not everyone is as lucky as you," Ayame gritted out. "Not everyone gets a choice. How do you think Yuki got started? She was thrown out of her house because she was found kissing girls, and had nowhere else to go. Sayaka? Sayaka was hooked on drugs when she was too young and trusting to know any better. Rin? Fled a marriage to a prosperous man who nearly killed her. She still has the scars on her back. Rangiku-" Ayame's voice caught in her throat, "don't make the mistake of glamorizing this. All of us were desperate. None of us had a choice. Maybe there are some girls out there who are lucky enough to have a say in whether they do this or not, and frankly, more power to them if they do. But never forget for a moment- for most of us, there is no choice, and there never has been."

Rangiku breath caught in her throat. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked weakly.

"Do you know how many of us get our start? We're sold into it. That's how it was for me, and that's normal." Ayame swallowed. "I've only just paid off my starting debt. I could leave, but there's no other way I'd be able to make money, so I'd just find myself back where I started, on the street. Girls like me- we’re trapped." She paused, and when she spoke, her voice was thick. "But you're not. You could leave today if you wanted. You could leave now. You've got power. You've got prospects. Why don't you understand? Why won’t you leave?"

Rangiku could feel a kind of hot shame curling in her chest. Her voice wavered when she spoke. "But who would keep you safe?" she said, her hands balling up in her yukata. "You need me." She was certain of that. "I keep you safe. You need me."

The look Ayame gave her was unspeakably soft.

Her words were not.

"We don't need you," she said gently. "We were alright before you came, and we'll be alright after you're gone." She paused, and when she repeated herself, she sounded so thoroughly matter of fact that Rangiku wanted to cry. “We don’t need you at all.”

Her cheeks were suddenly wet, and her dango felt sticky against her hand, but she barely noticed.

It's happening again, Rangiku thought dully. Why? Why does this always happen?

She had made this, this small thing for herself, this space of shared jokes and shared nights; she had folded herself inside it, had made herself indispensable to it in the hope that she would not ever have to suffer loneliness again. It was her sandcastle, standing small and proud on the shoreline, the work of childish hands and clumsy labour, and she had smiled to see it, to know that it was hers and hers alone.

But the tide was coming in. There was one truth for her, though never for anyone else it seemed: there could be no security anywhere in the world. Just this: the futile effort of building, building, building, just to see it all swept away in the end.

"That's the truth," Ayame said and her voice cracked. "We don’t need you. You'd never have to see any of the awful things you see regularly here ever again. Do you think it's healthy? To be responsible for the safety of so many people at your age? To have seen the things you've seen?"

Rangiku cheeks burned. Her mind replayed Ayame's words over and over again on repeat; we don't need you.

"Rangiku," Ayame said, her voice low and urgent. "Do you really think Chiyo is content to let someone like you sit around playing barmaid when you could be making her money? When I'm gone, the first thing she'll do is coerce you into whoring yourself out for her in my place. I'm on your side, and I will be even when no one else is- you have to listen to me."

It was this which snapped her attention back to Ayame.

"What do you mean, 'When I'm gone'?" she asked, her voice small and tremulous.

But Ayame was tight-lipped and would not say anymore.

"There is a place for you. Out there, behind those pale stone walls. The new term starts in January. If you aren't there, in that stupid uniform, when it starts-" her voice came out of her throat almost like a sob "-then I'll kick your ass into next Tuesday. I swear it. I will. I don’t have powers, but I’ll do it."

Rangiku was dazed. It felt as if the entire world had tilted sideways, like she had stepped through the clouds and she was falling through space.

"What is happening...?" she mumbled to herself in horrified wonder.

Behind gray clouds, the sun was beginning to dip below the skyline, and the shadows of the golden leaved gingkos and fire-garbed maple trees were beginning to crawl and lengthen over the cobbled street. What little sunlight was to be found played idly on the slow eddies of the river below.

She watched Ayame looked up at the sky, her expression unreadable.

How fragile, this life. How easily it crumbles apart.

Ayame sighed. Ragiku watched her as she readjusted her yukata neatly, as fastidious as ever.

"We'd best get back," she said with distantly. “The gong will be sounding soon.”

She walked ahead, and Rangiku watched her as her green-clad back got smaller and smaller , before finally disappearing around a corner.

Rangiku looked helplessly at the dango in her hand. Her hands were sticky, like a child’s.

With a heavy sigh, she lobbed the stick into the air.

It tumbled several inelegant somersaults before splashing into the water below. She was no longer hungry. She felt sick.

[thetypedwriter]

We Hunt the Flame Book Review

We Hunt the Flame Book Review by Hafsah Faizal

This book was just so….so odd? I really really wanted to like it, and to a certain extent, I found it interesting, but interesting is ocean’s away from something being likeable. In the book We Hunt the Flame by Hafsah Faizal, this rings especially true, for a number of incomprehensible reasons. 

    First. Let’s switch things up by starting with the positives. I loved the cultural aspects of this book. Whether imaginary or nuanced and based off Faizal’s own cultural background and experiences it was rich and powerful in relation to culture, cuisine, tradition, and most especially language. It was so fascinating to read about this separate world that came across as so fantastical and yet so real at the same time because of Faizal’s very intricate work with all the above.

It made the story poignant and gave it depth that is quite rare to find in YA novels, nay any novel I’d say, and it was deeply appreciated. Whether it was small details with clothing, references to delicacies, or more in depth thoughts on religion and morals, I drank it up like someone dying of thirst. 

    But other reasons for dying, namely, the obtrusive and conspicuous negatives. Let’s break it down into one simple summation: THIS BOOK WAS CONFUSING. 

    Now. Just for the record, and I’ve previously mentioned this before on other book reviews, but I am currently an English teacher. I teach young minds the art of reading and writing for a living. In addition, I read voraciously in my spare time, write and produce my own products, have a bachelor’s degree in English and a master’s in Educational Studies. 

    I would like to think that I’m not a stupid person. 

    This book made me feel like a stupid person. 

It goes without saying that this is a feeling I don’t particularly enjoy. Now I’ve mentioned this before, but many authors employ the technique of say, don’t show, where they tell me all about their characters and their characterizations but don’t show me any of it and why. Faizal does the exact opposite. 

    She shows so much and without any explaining that it is impossible to fully grasp what is happening or why or even how. More than half of the duration while reading this book I was just simply flabbergasted. And there is a difference between a book of fantasy and a book utilizing fantastical techniques. This book was neither the former nor the latter. It was just all over the place. It didn’t make any sense. 

And Faizal made very little attempt to rectify this or explain to the reader what the hell was happening. For example. Why is there a giant, magical deathly forest called The Arz? Who knows? Why does it take the little cohort of assassins and immortal elven equivalents and the huntress weeks to find the Jarawat and merely seemingly an hour to get off?

Why was Zafira sleeping and then suddenly in some sort of dreamscape pseudo reality from the past? Why would the Lion of the Night just have some sort of fortress on Sharr and once escaped, they just nilly willy found a place to rest for the night? Like that would be fine? Like he woudln’t seek them out and torture them immediately?

Confused yet? Good. Now, you know what it is like to read We Hunt the Flame by Hafsah Faizal. If that’s not a feeling you enjoy...well then. I don’t blame you seeing as I didn’t either. 

This book was not entirely bad, as listed above, but it was too difficult to decipher half of the time which put a bad taste in my mouth. I am quite the fan of complex storylines and intricate character relationships and puzzling puzzles. This book is not any of those things.

It’s like Faizal has the personal We Hunt the Flame for Dummies while the rest of us squander in confusion. It’s like whole chunks of the narrative were left out unintentionally, and while it might have made sense to the writer it did not make sense to me. 

The characters as a whole were alright. I liked Altair, which made the end just plain baffling, how on earth do you just forget about him????!!!! And the romance between Zafira and the Prince of Death was typical YA absurdity but without the typical charm-oh? This young man with scar burns on his back has killed multiple people, perhaps hundreds, but he’s got pretty gray eyes so it’s all fine and dandy, right?

Wrong. 

Whew. I’m exhausted. Also another feeling I had while reading this novel. Overall, if you did not catch on by this point, this book was not very good. While there were good elements, the weight of confusion and poorly-written fantasy made this a too-real headache no one has time for. 

Recommendation: Don’t read it? If you’re looking for culture and fantasy interwoven beautifully together then I would look elsewhere. Perhaps at my other book review Darius the Great is Not Okay. This book’s goal of trying to be edgy and deep just came off as bewildering and ridiculous and while there were positives (isn’t there always) it did not outweigh the time and effort put forth trying to understand the so-called layers this book put forth. 

Score: 4/10

[arcaneranger]

Final Thoughts - B: The Beginning

I don’t know what’s happening.

I’ll start with the easily observable: B: The Beginning is a gorgeous production from Production I.G. Three episodes in, I’ve seen some very good looking, well-directed fight scenes that I wish were in a better show, and the setting - while not particularly original - is at least rendered beautifully.

But wow, is this show incomprehensible. I feel like we’ve made some vague plot direction by the end of the third episode, but I have no clue what’s going on with the title character because he has only barely appeared, and the only thing I’ve really come away with is that a) I’m not even slightly invested in what’s happening, and b) this show really wants to be Death Note. And I’m not the biggest fan of Death Note but at least you had some understanding of what was going on. B: The Beginning seems to be trying to jam together Death Note and Psycho-Pass but has failed to tie anything together and feels more like two shows jammed together into one runtime without consideration for cohesion.

This is all the vision of Original Creator Kazuto Nakazawa, whom I’ve never heard of and seems to have very few directorial credits on anything I’ve ever heard of - he’s worked on episodes for quite a few good shows, including Digimon Adventure, Kids on the Slope, and Samurai Champloo, but seems to have no idea what to do when given the reins to his own project and a Netflix budget to work with, leading to the aforementioned fun fight scenes but nothing meaningful to tie them together, since the supernatural fight scenes just feel completely separated from the police drama and they have nothing to do with each other.

I’ll give it a 4 just for the great animation, but I have no emotional investment to speak of and won’t be watching any further.

4/10.

[thefeministherald]

Your Ultimate Women-Write-The-Best-of-Everything 2019 Reading List

The Voyeurs (Graphic Novel)

"The Voyeurs is the work of a mature writer, if not one of the most sincere voices of her literary generation. It's a fun, honest read that spans continents, relationships and life decisions. I loved it."—Chris Ware, Acme Novelty Library

"As she watches other people living life, and watches herself watching them, Bell's pen becomes a kind of laser, first illuminating the surface distractions of the world, then scorching them away to reveal a deeper reality that is almost too painful and too beautiful to bear."— Alison Bechdel, Fun Home

"A master of the exquisite detail, Bell provides a welcome peephole into our lives."—Françoise Mouly, The New Yorker

The Voyeurs, was named one of the best books of the year by Publishers Weekly, Kirkus Reviews, and the Atlantic.

Behind the Beautiful Forevers: Life, Death, and Hope in a Mumbai Undercity

In this brilliant, breathtaking book by Pulitzer Prize winner Katherine Boo, a bewildering age of global change and inequality is made human through the dramatic story of families striving toward a better life in Annawadi, a makeshift settlement in the shadow of luxury hotels near the Mumbai airport. As India starts to prosper, the residents of Annawadi are electric with hope. Abdul, an enterprising teenager, sees “a fortune beyond counting” in the recyclable garbage that richer people throw away. Meanwhile Asha, a woman of formidable ambition, has identified a shadier route to the middle class. With a little luck, her beautiful daughter, Annawadi’s “most-everything girl,” might become its first female college graduate.

Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo, and Me: A Graphic Memoir

Cartoonist Ellen Forney explores the relationship between “crazy” and “creative” in this graphic memoir of her bipolar disorder, woven with stories of famous bipolar artists and writers.

Shortly before her thirtieth birthday, Forney was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Flagrantly manic and terrified that medications would cause her to lose creativity, she began a years-long struggle to find mental stability while retaining her passions and creativity.

Searching to make sense of the popular concept of the crazy artist, she finds inspiration from the lives and work of other artists and writers who suffered from mood disorders, including Vincent van Gogh, Georgia O’Keeffe, William Styron, and Sylvia Plath. She also researches the clinical aspects of bipolar disorder, including the strengths and limitations of various treatments and medications, and what studies tell us about the conundrum of attempting to “cure” an otherwise brilliant mind.

Darkly funny and intensely personal, Forney’s memoir provides a visceral glimpse into the effects of a mood disorder on an artist’s work, as she shares her own story through bold black-and-white images and evocative prose.

The Woman in Cabin 10

From New York Times bestselling author of the “twisty-mystery” (Vulture) novel In a Dark, Dark Wood, comes The Woman in Cabin 10, an equally suspenseful and haunting novel from Ruth Ware—this time, set at sea. In this tightly wound, enthralling story reminiscent of Agatha Christie’s works, Lo Blacklock, a journalist who writes for a travel magazine, has just been given the assignment of a lifetime: a week on a luxury cruise with only a handful of cabins. The sky is clear, the waters calm, and the veneered, select guests jovial as the exclusive cruise ship, the Aurora, begins her voyage in the picturesque North Sea. At first, Lo’s stay is nothing but pleasant: the cabins are plush, the dinner parties are sparkling, and the guests are elegant. But as the week wears on, frigid winds whip the deck, gray skies fall, and Lo witnesses what she can only describe as a dark and terrifying nightmare: a woman being thrown overboard. The problem? All passengers remain accounted for—and so, the ship sails on as if nothing has happened, despite Lo’s desperate attempts to convey that something (or someone) has gone terribly, terribly wrong…

1222

Nominated for the Edgar Award for Best Novel, from Norway’s #1 bestselling female crime writer—a “beguiling” (The Washington Post) “good old-fashioned murder mystery” (The New York Times Book Review) set in an isolated hotel where guests stranded during a monumental snowstorm begin turning up dead. A train on its way to the northern reaches of Norway derails during a massive blizzard, 1,222 meters above sea level. The passengers head for a nearby hotel, centuries old and practically empty. With plenty of food and shelter from the storm, the evacuees think they are safe, until one of them turns up dead. With no sign of rescue and the storm raging, retired police inspector Hanne Wilhelmsen is asked to investigate. Paralyzed by a bullet lodged in her spine, Hanne has no desire to get involved. But when another body turns up, panic takes over. Complicating things is the presence of a mysterious guest, a passenger who traveled in a private rail car and now stays secluded on the top floor of the hotel. No one knows who the guest is, or why armed guards are needed. Hanne has her suspicions. Trapped in her wheelchair, trapped by the storm, and now trapped with a killer, Hanne knows she must act before the killer strikes again.

Robot Dreams

A Kirkus Reviews Best Book of the Year A PW Best Book of the Year An ALSC Notable Children’s Book A YALSA Great Graphic Novel

This moving, charming graphic novel about a dog and a robot shows us in poignant detail how powerful and fragile relationships are.

Borderlands / La Frontera: The New Mestiza

Rooted in Gloria Anzaldúa's experience as a Chicana, a lesbian, an activist, and a writer, the essays and poems in this volume profoundly challenged, and continue to challenge, how we think about identity. Borderlands / La Frontera remaps our understanding of what a "border" is, presenting it not as a simple divide between here and there, us and them, but as a psychic, social, and cultural terrain that we inhabit, and that inhabits all of us.

Hyperbole and a Half: Unfortunate Situations, Flawed Coping Mechanisms, Mayhem, and Other Things That Happened

Every time Allie Brosh posts something new on her hugely popular blog Hyperbole and a Half the internet rejoices. This full-color, beautifully illustrated edition features more than fifty percent new content, with ten never-before-seen essays and one wholly revised and expanded piece as well as classics from the website like, “The God of Cake,” “Dogs Don’t Understand Basic Concepts Like Moving,” and her astonishing, “Adventures in Depression,” and “Depression Part Two,” which have been hailed as some of the most insightful meditations on the disease ever written.

Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat: Mastering the Elements of Good Cooking

Now a Netflix series! New York Times Bestseller and Winner of the 2018 James Beard Award for Best General Cookbook and multiple ICAP Cookbook Awards Named one of the Best Books of 2017 by: NPR, BuzzFeed, The Atlantic, The Washington Post, Chicago Tribune, Rachel Ray Every Day, San Francisco Chronicle, Vice Munchies, Elle.com, Glamour, Eater, Newsday, Minneapolis Star Tribune, The Seattle Times, Tampa Bay Times, Tasting Table, Modern Farmer, Publishers Weekly, and more. A visionary new master class in cooking that distills decades of professional experience into just four simple elements, from the woman declared “America’s next great cooking teacher” by Alice Waters.

Monstress Volume 1: Awakening

Set in an alternate matriarchal 1900's Asia, in a richly imagined world of art deco-inflected steam punk, MONSTRESS tells the story of a teenage girl who is struggling to survive the trauma of war, and who shares a mysterious psychic link with a monster of tremendous power, a connection that will transform them both and make them the target of both human and otherworldly powers. About the Creators: New York Times bestselling and award-winning writer Marjorie Liu is best known for her fiction and comic books. She teaches comic book writing at MIT, and leads a class on Popular Fiction at the Voices of Our Nation (VONA) workshop.

Persepolis

Marjane Satrapi's best-selling, internationally acclaimed graphic memoir. Persepolis is the story of Satrapi's unforgettable childhood and coming of age within a large and loving family in Tehran during the Islamic Revolution; of the contradictions between private life and public life in a country plagued by political upheaval.

Nobody Nowhere: The Remarkable Autobiography of an Autistic Girl

Donna Williams was a child with more labels than a jam-jar: deaf, wild disturbed, stupid insane... She lived within herself, her own world her foreground, ours a background she only visited. Isolated from her self and from the outside world, Donna was, in her words, a Nobody Nowhere. She swung violently between these two worlds, battling to join our world and, simultaneously, to keep it out. Abandoned from all connection to the self within her, she lived as a ghost with a body, a patchwork of the images which bombarded her. Intact but detached from the seemingly incomprehensible world around her, she lived in what she called 'a world under glass`.

After twenty-five years of being misunderstood, and unable to understand herself, Donna stumbled upon the word 'autism': a label, but one which held up a mirror and made sense of her life and struggles, and gave her a chance to finally forgive both herself and those around her.

The Ice Princess

The psychological thriller debut of No.1 bestselling Swedish crime sensation Camilla Lackberg.

A small town can hide many secrets

Returning to her hometown after the funeral of her parents, writer Erica Falck finds a community on the brink of tragedy. The death of her childhood friend, Alex, is just the beginning. Her wrists slashed, her body frozen in an ice-cold bath, it seems like she’s taken her own life.

Meanwhile, local detective Patrik Hedström is following his own suspicions about the case. It’s only when they start working together that the truth begins to emerge about a small town with a deeply disturbing past…

The Vampire Chronicles: Interview with a Vampire, The Vampire Lestat, and The Queen of the Damned

In 1976, nearly 80 years after Bram Stoker published Dracula, Anne Rice's bestselling first novel, Interview with the Vampire, breathed new life into the vampire myth. Now, in one chilling volume, here are the first three classic novels of The Vampire Chronicles; Interview with the Vampire, The Vampire Lestat, and Queen of the Damned.

Adulthood is a Myth: A Sarah's Scribbles Collection

Do you love networking to advance your career? Is adulthood an exciting new challenge for which you feel fully prepared? Ugh. Please go away. 2016 GOODREADS CHOICE AWARD WINNER FOR GRAPHIC NOVELS AND COMICS! These casually drawn, perfectly on-point comics by the hugely popular young Brooklyn-based artist Sarah Andersen are for the rest of us. They document the wasting of entire beautiful weekends on the internet, the unbearable agony of holding hands on the street with a gorgeous guy, and dreaming all day of getting home and back into pajamas. In other words, the horrors and awkwardnesses of young modern life. Oh and they are totally not autobiographical. At all.

Nimona

Indies Choice Book of the Year * National Book Award Finalist * New York Times Bestseller * New York Times Notable Book * Kirkus Best Book * School Library Journal Best Book * Publishers Weekly Best Book * NPR Best Book * New York Public Library Best Book * Chicago Public Library Best Book

The New York Times bestselling graphic novel sensation from Noelle Stevenson, based on her beloved and critically acclaimed web comic. Kirkus says, “If you’re going to read one graphic novel this year, make it this one.”

Nemeses! Dragons! Science! Symbolism! All these and more await in this brilliantly subversive, sharply irreverent epic from Noelle Stevenson. Featuring an exclusive epilogue not seen in the web comic, along with bonus conceptual sketches and revised pages throughout, this gorgeous full-color graphic novel has been hailed by critics and fans alike as the arrival of a “superstar” talent (NPR.org).

Cultural Anthropology  Barbara Miller

Cultural Anthropology presents a balanced introduction to the world’s cultures, focusing on how they interact and change. Author Barbara Miller provides many points where readers can interact with the material, and encourages students to think critically about other cultures as well as their own. Featuring the latest research and statistics throughout, the eighth edition has been updated with contemporary examples of anthropology in action, addressing recent newsworthy events such as the Ebola epidemic.

Captain Marvel Volume 1: Higher, Further, Faster, More

Kelly Sue Deconnick

Hero! Pilot! Avenger! Captain Marvel, Earth's Mightiest Hero with an attitude to match, is back and launching headfirst into an all-new ongoing adventure! As Captain Marvel, a.k.a. Carol Danvers, comes to a crossroads with a new life and new romance, she makes a dramatic decision that will alter the course of her life - and the entire Marvel Universe - in the months to come. But as Carol takes on a mission to return an alien girl to her homeworld, she lands in the middle of an uprising against the Galactic Alliance! Investigating the forced resettlement of Rocket Girl's people, Carol discovers that she has a history with the man behind the plot. But when the bad guy tries to blackmail Carol and turn the Avengers against her, it's payback time! Guest-starring the Guardians of the Galaxy!

[thesinglesjukebox]

THE NATIONAL - YOU HAD YOUR SOUL WITH YOU

[5.20]

Ooh, you had your soul with you...

Joshua Copperman: I Am Easy To Find is the most challenging The National have been to date, for both intentional reasons and some less intentional ones. All the hallmarks of a great National song are here: production loaded with ear candy (like that guitar line or the third time they've abruptly entered a string interlude), Bryan Devendorf's torrential downpour of snares. But Gail Ann Dorsey merely fills in for Matt Berninger on the bridge rather than complementing him, and the lyrics, written by Matt's wife Carin Besser with Thomas Bartlett, sound increasingly like self-parody -- "I had only one last feather left/I wore it on the island of my head" is like someone threw Boxer into a neuralnet. High Violet has aged well because its songs were whittled down into their best possible forms, the band's internal tension giving way to external effortlessness. I Am Easy To Find has elements of that effortlessness, but this first single is one of a few moments where high-budget gimmicks just barely elevate mid-tier National songs. Yet, they do. [8]

Alfred Soto: The National record music for men who order Pink Rabbits on weekends and smoke too many cigarettes when their wives "let" them go to concerts. No National single lacks for odd hooks: here, the distorted guitar figure ping-ponging between speakers, an ace string section interlude, and the usual Bryan Devendorf kinetics behind the drum kit. Momentum and an attractively meaningless title -- ho hum, another National single. [6]

Tim de Reuse: So, what is this -- rather, what was this supposed to be? Dry, cluttered electronics under heavily-compressed drums under a soppy string arrangement under a nursery-rhyme melody: none of these pieces fit together. The more you listen, the more incomprehensible details float groggily to the surface. Why does it feel like they forgot to unmute the bass track before exporting? Why are the hi-hats exiled to the edges of human perception? Why feature a guest vocalist if you're not going to let her do anything? Perhaps the most confusing part is that The National could've easily continued selling out stadiums for decades to come by just writing High Violet over and over again, which shouldn't be hard given that from 2005 to 2013 they basically released one really good album four times with increasing amounts of reverb. That's not the outcome I dream about for a band I have this much emotional investment in, but I'd rather daydream about that than listen to this awkward pileup. [2]

Thomas Inskeep: This doesn't sound like anything I've heard recently; it sounds original, the sound of a band in the studio doing lots of things they've never tried before because they've realized they can. And on this song at least, the National can -- this is dynamite, especially drum-wise. And that's before the unexpected vocal appearance of Gail Ann Dorsey, whose rich, full voice initially sounds as if dropped in from another song. And her harmonizing with Matt Berninger is gorgeous. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Matt Berninger's rich baritone was always one of The National's big draws, or at least one of the only things that made them stand out. The other: Bryan Devendorf's ability to make his drums sound simultaneously austere and elastic. Removing one of these elements isn't a complete dealbreaker, but the skittering electronics here are shallow ornamentations that show how the band is running out of ideas. [3]

Vikram Joseph: Bryan Devendorf's percussion has always been the National's secret weapon, giving their songs a skittish, propulsive anxiety that tessellates perfectly with Matt Berninger's strange metaphors and sad non-sequiturs. But despite its kineticism, it feels effortless, an integral part of the song. On "You Had Your Soul With You", the percussion becomes a jarring, distracting sideshow, as if it and the jittery synths are pursing each other around the back of a stage while a key expository scene unfolds in the foreground. It's no coincidence that the strongest part by far is the lush, string-soaked middle eight, where guest vocalist Gail Ann Dorsey delivers the best line in the song: "You have no idea how hard I died when you left." Her vocals fold beautifully into Berninger's, and the many female guest slots on the forthcoming album bode well (who can forget the shatteringly beautiful duet between Berninger and Annie Clark on their cover of "Sleep All Summer"?). The band's clumsy, scattershot use of electronics, however, does not. [5]

Josh Love: I feel like a hypocrite pushing back against this brighter, more dynamic iteration of The National after I'd gotten so ground down by their miserablist shades of gray that I didn't even bother giving their last album a fair shake (and I counted myself a big fan even up to and including Trouble Will Find Me). Still, "You Had Your Soul With You" just sounds like Vampire Weekend's or St. Vincent's nervy, busy aesthetics lazily grafted onto Matt Berninger's solemn vocal burr. [5]

Katherine St Asaph: A genuinely striking intro -- those 15 seconds of jerky guitar panning are both arresting and a great test of whether one of your earbuds has crapped out -- built on the watery foundation of a song by Coldplay, or for that matter The National. The former sinks into the mush; the latter twitches with the fripperies too much to swoon. [5]

Iris Xie: "You Had Your Soul With You" just reminds me of the discomfort of trying to listen through some of my brother's early '00s alt rock as a 10-year-old, and trying to understand what was so good and "adult" about it, and was I missing something? (The answer is no.) This sounds like someone trying to make a drum and bass track, but with... actual instruments? The sensation of listening to this song is like watching a Windows Media Player equalizer move and shudder around, and you pay more attention to the little spiky discrepancies than the song. I do like the post-chorus instrumental where the discordant drum work suddenly opens up, like the sun after the rain has ended, but then the muddiness resumes. Combine this with a smooth but slightly suffocated delivery, and I feel messier and scattered than before I started listening to the song. I guess that suits the lyrics, but the song sounds unclear, even to itself. [5]

Iain Mew: For all the superficial electronic additions, it sounds vital in a classic, immediately familiar way that The National haven't in a while. Matt Berninger is once again a man suspended in crisis, picking his way between collapsing velvet walls in total calm while the drums tell of secret adrenaline surges. Well, the first half does anyway. The second half is new in a different way, with its open expanses, Gail Ann Dorsey guest vocals and accelerating string arrangement that had me searching "You Had Your Soul With You" + "Owen Pallett." They each work, but the resulting feeling is a bit awkward: two contrasting styles of "return to form," squashed into one track. [6]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]