#but I’m still not too unhappy with the hairstyle :)

[charlisabeth]

A casual classic coord for a small meet with friends.

JSK, bolero: Innocent World

Cutsew: axes femme

All else: handmade/offbrand/ vintage

[echo-bleu]

Noldor hair headcanons (2/4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | On AO3

By the time they’re settled in Beleriand, the Nolofinwëans have largely switched from elaborate styles done by someone else to (slightly) simpler self-braided styles. They’re at war now, so they turn toward practical braids that keep their hair out of their face during combat. There’s more and more of a gap between everyday styles and ceremonial styles.

The Fëanorians however are still doing things the old way. Maedhros is very unhappy that he can no longer braid people’s hair properly (especially Fingon’s) (he learns to do it one-handed eventually, but it’s never as perfect) (Fingon doesn’t mind).

The Sindar wear their hair half-up or even loose. However, they like to play with each other’s hair, and it’s not reserved for family, which is Very Weird for the Noldor to see. Galadriel has a hard time getting used to it and doesn’t let anyone touch her hair beside Celeborn, but she eventually figures out that her hair dazzles people even more when it’s loose, so she starts leaving it down.

It’s even harder to untangle as a result, and Celeborn suffers. (Galadriel is not not into hair pulling.)

Melian and Lúthien’s hair is so silky that braids just undo themselves. Elrond and Elros partly inherit that, and Elrond spends his whole life mourning that fact (he wants to do his hair like Maedhros, okay?).

Finrod is the first elf to let a Man touch his hair. He’s travelling alone and he’s touch-deprived, can you blame him? (It’s Bëor. It results in several uncomfortable conversations.)

Curufin makes himself and his brothers sharpened hairpins and various other weapons disguised as hair jewellery.

Hairstyles mingle during the Siege until, in the more cosmopolitan realms, Noldor and Sindar are no longer identifiable at first sight. Some Noldor elect to keep their hair mostly loose (though almost never entirely) while many Sindar learn the Battle Braids. They are very convenient, after all.

Avari hair customs are very different. It’s mostly about hair brushing/care being very intimate. They usually wear hairdresses or hair covering of some kind, depending on the tribe they belong to.

Gondolin has stayed highly conservative about hair, with hairstyles almost as complex as Tirion in its noontide.

Maeglin hates having his hair touched even more than his mother.

I’m tempted to make Eöl an asshole on this too, who cuts Aredhel’s hair or something, but I think she just never lets him touch her and he doesn’t care enough to try.

Maeglin grows up with his hair loose up until Aredhel takes them to Gondolin, where she remembers how Turgon is about hair, and braids Maeglin’s and her own in hopes of Looking Natural.

Maeglin’s first impression of Gondolin is that Hair Braiding Hurts (though not as much as adar’s hands). It goes downhill from there.

He’s still jealous when he catches Idril doing Tuor’s hair. Tuor doesn’t even have the decency of having beautiful Noldor hair, so it doesn’t even look that good. The next day, Idril’s braids are very wonky and Maeglin, upon seeing her, completely messes up the hair clip he was making her.

Eärendil has Tuor’s hair. It’s fine, because Elwing refuses to do Noldor braids.

Glorfindel is a Vanya and wears his hair completely loose.

We all know how that ends.

Maglor’s hair is partly burned off in Dagor Bragollach. He spends an uncomfortable few years growing it back and recovering from smoke inhalation. He revives some ridiculous hair-related ditties from his youth as voice therapy and they’re soon heard throughout Beleriand.

Finrod, badly injured and with no bodies of his brothers to bury, makes up a self-braided version of the Mourning Braids (It involves only braiding the hair from the shoulders down. That’s largely because he couldn’t raise his arms at that point, but it becomes a feature of all Mourning Braids—except Maglor’s style—for two ages to come.)

For the first time since the Ice, Fingolfin asks Fingon to do his hair, the morning after they hear of Morgoth’s victory.

He braids Rochallor’s mane and tail before setting out.

Rochallor walks back into Hithlum some days after the Eagle comes, his hair still braided. He lies down and dies with his head in Fingon’s arms.

Turgon braids his father’s hair before burying him, as he did with Elenwë, as he did with Aredhel. There is a custom that’s been developing among the Noldor of Beleriand to only give the dead a single, simple braid, so that they don’t risk being too attached to their body and miss the call from Mandos, but Turgon doesn’t know of it. No one has died in Gondolin since it was built, aside from Aredhel and Eöl.

Finrod and his Ten braid each other’s hair the night after they leave Nargothrond. Beren watches them with no understanding of the custom.

They later find out that werewolves spit out the hair when they devour someone.

It’s not a nice sight.

Beren and Lúthien do their best to clean Finrod’s beautiful golden braids of blood before they bury him, even though neither of them quite get what the braids mean to the Noldor.

Fingon’s golden ribbons are marred with blood when they find his body on the battlefield. His braids are the only way to identify him for certain.

Maedhros revives Maglor’s Mourning Braids. Mostly because Maglor does them for him. Maedhros would be fine with No One Ever Touching His Hair Again, but he’s close to catatonic.

Then the Oath awakes once more.

Celegorm’s white hunting braids and Dior’s black silky hair mingle on the blood-stained floor of Doriath’s throne room.

It takes Maglor longer to find Caranthir and Curufin. He carefully braids their hair into a single plait before they burn the bodies, in case it could help them find Mandos.

Maybe they are for the Void, but at least he feels like he’s done something.

The years up to the Third Kinslaying are awful. Maedhros and Maglor are codependent to an unhealthy degree, while the twins will barely speak to them, or each other. Maglor still does Maedhros’s hair. Maedhros doesn’t return the favour. They scream at each other daily.

Sirion is unthinkable. They attack anyway. Maedhros and Ambarussa’s braids look like bloodstains in the twilight.

Elwing’s hair floats around her as she falls.

To be continued

[anemo-hypostasis]

The Idiot | Alhaitham/Reader

Pairing: Alhaitham/F!Reader

Summary: Three gifts have been given to Alhaitham. Each is regretted. None can be taken back. By the docks of Port Ormos, the recipient himself comes knocking. TLDR: you and Alhaitham grow up together. 

“I am a fool with a heart but no brains, and you are a fool with brains but no heart; and we’re both unhappy, and we both suffer.” - Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Idiot

Forewarnings: slight nsfw, angst, hurt no comfort, childhood friends. 18+ only.

Note: This is the most convoluted and choppy piece I have ever written, so advanced apologies and sincerest regrets! 

WC: 5.3K

-

In this world, giving and receiving are referred to as a couplet. Like the concluding lines in a Shakespearian sonnet, fresh cream and cut peaches, or the blazing sun and the gentle moon. Many items, ideas, and actions are destined to pair in the same way giving and receiving are. It is a shame that you have given everything, yet received nothing. Like death harvesting life, an endless bonfire gobbling up surrounding air, or soldiers losing lives to fight soldiers losing lives. Sometimes, it is hard to define it as an equilibrium, because it never evens out. It is Newton’s cradle, never existing in the same state yet existing together. Like Kepler’s elliptical orbits. Like an oil spill in the harbor.

The anchorage of Port Ormos brings sound to a once-silent ocean. Merchants advertise Inazuman lacquerware, the newest Sumeru City fashion fads, and bottled fragrances. Rose custard is sold instead of padisarah pudding. Intricate rugs of cobalt blue and sanded beige are sold on the street corner. I remember you. The smell of adhigama leaves. I remember everything about you. 

“I didn’t expect you to be one for seafaring.” He smells like Port Ormos, even though he’s a city boy. He’s been here for too long, and the stench has clung to him. 

“It’s nice to escape for a little bit. Sumeru City is suffocating sometimes. I’m sure you know how it is,” He doesn’t respond or settle down. Just does what he always does - looms. The wind tussles his cloak as you continue, “I heard you got a promotion.”

“Not for long, I hope. Being the Grand Sage doesn’t have any appeal to me. I much prefer the mediocrity and flexibility of my last position.” He never has been one for material gains or a boost in reputation. He told me as much. Did he change his hairstyle? I wish you would’ve just lied.

Perhaps that is why you have always given. The man who is uncaring about how he is perceived disregards the people around him. How delusional were you?

First, you gave him your word. It was five years short of a score ago, by the banks of the Sumeru River. People always scold children not to play in it because of the spinocrocodiles and its pollution, but at the time, it appeared magical. The ghost of the moon floated on the rushing current, and the two of you sat on a purple beach towel in hopes of seeing the soon-to-come eclipse. It had taken days of begging, but at the end of it all, you had gained both permission and a basket of packaged baklava.

“Did you know that one pistachio tree consumes forty gallons of water?” Plucking a stray pistachio in his mouth, the boy began devouring the preserved dessert. Honey and oil coated both of your hands, catching in your hair and smudging your face.

“Then how come they’re dry?” You responded, still chewing. 

“Ew, don’t talk with your mouth full. But, that’s a foolish question. The tree is not the same as the nut.” The boy’s eyes, cut in ornate lozenges, are blocked by sun visors handed out by the Rtawahist Darshan; his focus is transfixed on the moon’s iron-blood hue as if looking away could scare the celestial bodies back to normalcy and dissipate the scene. There is an identifiable tenacity in that gaze. It’s something you know, but that you never speak into existence. Like basic arithmetic. Like the burn of a red stove. Like adult secrets.

“It’s nice that you just, like, know everything. I wish I were like that… my governess always yells at me ‘cause I never remember anything.” The words are laced with the naivety of a child, but the boy, never adhering to the norm, musters a sardonic scoff. 

“That’s why I don’t have a governess or attend school. It’s much better for self-study, and there’s no one to hold you back in the name of collectivism,” There is a slight humor in the way the boy, no older than twelve, conducts his speech. It is an ironic contrast, the sweet tone of a child pronouncing diction used in seminar recounts, research essays, and upperclassman-level textbooks. He adds, “But I understand this is a situation unique to me. Most individuals my age are not as advanced in intellect, so this method may not benefit them. People think me odd or uneducated because of it.” 

“I’d never think that of you. I mean, so many boys are so cruel and mean, but you’re so smart and never act like that on purpose. Like how you knew about everything the Rtawahist presenter was sharing. I don’t like everyone else.” The moon augments into a shade reminiscent of curdled blood as you dote, and the boy does not stray from its view. He sighs.

“It will be hard for you to make other friends that way. Isolated friendships are unhealthy. Time should be evenly distributed across numerous interests.” How cold. Chilled gales connect themselves to pale strands of hair. Like dew on a frosted morning. Like streams of snowmelt.

“But you don’t hang out with other people, and you’re fine.” You refute.

“I’m different from other people. Even though you might not realize it yet, you’re not like me. Limiting yourself to me is rash and will cause you suffering.” The cicadas descend from a choir to a solo. The moon, basking in Tevyat’s figure, converts to full crimson. The Sumeru River is alight with God’s plague as if you and the boy had struck a staff into its icy peaks and converted it to blood yourselves.

“I’ll always be with you,” Like faith and doubt. Like bread and wine. Like iron and coal. He stills, and you continue, “I won’t ever hate you, so let’s stay together, Haitham.”

The Port is privy to action at hours subsequent to midnight. Legality is blind in the encompassing darkness of dusk, and the harbor reveals its covert treasures: women, contraband, and manpower. The Sab Al Bahr, your method of transport, had docked for the customary enterprises of nightlife in Port Ormos. Three women from Liyue - Lihua, Qingyi, and Tao - had made for excellent yet bittersweet company among the crew. By now, they will have been escorted to their new residence among the harrowing back alleys of Ormos, confined to a destitute bed in a room of a dozen similar women. The aura of liveliness comes at a cost of livelihood. Giving and receiving. Ebb and flow.

“It’s been years, hasn’t it? Since we’ve talked.” Unfamiliar awkwardness permeates the air. The estrangement of the familiar always leaves unease of a horrendous nature. I remember when I knew you. I remember when you knew me.

“I’d estimate around four. Our correspondence leaves much to be desired,” He sits on the garden curb behind you. There is disfavor in his voice as he asks, “Did you come from Sab Al Bahr?” 

“It was convenient from Liyue to Magador to Ormos. They’re not so bad.” Shame crawls up your cheeks, invisible to the naked eye but prominent to your senses. 

“Liyue… Prostitutes and finery, I presume? I can’t say I judged you as the type. The lifestyle of a pirate is quite different from that of a scholar. Even living amongst them must be quite the culture shock.” 

“I never was quite the scholar. Not like you. The passion left after I had my thesis rejected four times in a row, I think.” There is humor in your tone, poking fun at the detriment that appeared so intense once upon a time. The scuffle of decal boots approaching the dock’s ledge made you look back. The man sat down, a grimace tugging at groomed eyebrows and thin lips.

“Naeem Farhat was your chosen advisor. That was your first mistake - he was known for nitpicking any details that he found tedious or against his personal bias. It takes a student with a near-identical mindset to succeed under his tutelage. Personally, I thought Kifaya Hakim was the best choice for you; she provides critical yet honest feedback and focuses on celestial movement patterns in conjunction with various geological points.” There it is. That all-knowing attitude, removed from pleasantries and ample in diluted self-righteousness. I loved all of you. Some people never change. I admired every part of you.

“Had you told me that, I would have chosen her, but you were gone for research in Devantaka. I went with my instinct.” It is a bit bitter, now that the statement has been dispersed into the salty air. Like the white flesh of pomegranates mixed with red seeds. Like raw and unaged pu-erh. 

“Sometimes,” he pauses, “It is important to make choices without outside influence.”

The second coffer offered to him was a pearl to a clam; it was your heart, faithful and unadulterated. It shined with iridescence in his monochromatic grasp, esteemed and coveted. To this day, it is your penultimate regret. Gifting love to the wrong individual is a most punishing mistake.

The boy, now eighteen, sits in his grandmother’s abundant library when you give him your gift. He has never pursued public education, but the flurry of excitement in the neighborhood as families convene to photograph daughters and sons in graduation gowns is a contagion; unavoidable. The pleated mint fabric is embroidered with the braids and twists of vines, as homage to Greater Lord Rukkhadevata. One cord with twists of navy and beige rests on your shoulders, akin to ancient Roman laurels of olive and blossom.

“Do you think you’ll come to the ceremony?” You ask, watching as he flips to the next page of Metaphysics. He doesn’t meet your eyes, opting to scribble a note in the margins of the aged paper.

“I had planned to finish reading this, but… I suppose I could attend. Just for your section. Since your class is around two-hundred people, I’ll come about twenty-five minutes in. Is that agreeable?” Part of you wonders if he is writing a reminder to himself. Nodding, your lips turn up and you ruffle the boy’s silken hair.

“Thanks! I would’ve been very upset. God, this gown is so frumpy… Oh, by the way, I had, uh, something to ask. It’s kind of important, so would you mind looking at me?” Eyes like cut jade diced with topaz flicker up, and he closes the book with slowness. He raises an eyebrow as if to say, what’s so important? Hands, nimble and uncalloused, motion for you to speak.

“So, we’ve been friends for a while, and I enjoy being friends with you, so I want to preface this by saying that no matter what, you are a friend first and foremost..” you gulp, hesitant, before sighing, “I really like you, Haitham. Romantically. Even though it’s selfish of me, I can’t help but hope you feel the same way. If you don’t, that’s fine - I would never hold it against you.” Distant cheers erupt from the parallel side of the library’s window, emphasizing the blankness of noise collapsing in on you. The boy sighs.

“I had my suspicions,” He stands from the algae-toned couch, extending with, “But I didn’t think you’d confess before graduation. Isn’t that a bit risky? Standing between fine lines seems to be a hobby of yours.” It’s zaytun peach season in Sumeru City. Bushes grow plump with heavy bodices of sugared flesh and skin, and the city becomes alight with scent. The delicate fragrance tangos around your nostrils, and you use it as a distraction. Later, when this humiliation is foregone, you’ll sink your canines into the flesh of a fresh peach, and the affliction of rejection will slide down your throat as if it had never been birthed.

“That being said, I thought it was obvious enough that I shared your sentiment. Have you really been worrying over such a trivial detail as to whether I share your affections? Relationships are of little importance to me. People in this world often cause their own problems and make life harder for themselves; pleasure seekers land themselves in debt, self-important authorities expose themselves to dangers, and lovesick partners spend their lives attempting to appease another. Having a relationship is just another engagement filled with more trifles than necessary. Do you understand?” Ice purges itself down your spine. His gaze is hot and immovable as if delving into the mush of the human psyche in an attempt to draw an answer. Like a hook caught in the flank. Like the milliseconds before an earthquake. Like a judge at the podium.

“I won’t pressure you, but I want you to know that I would accommodate you. Love is not a one-size fits all. Haven’t we known each other since toddlerhood? I think if there are any two people that are capable of adjusting to the other’s needs, it’s us. So please, don’t say yes, but don’t say no, either.” Desperation bleeds from a trifecta of the human body - tone, expression, pose - and scurries to the ground. It curdles and coalesces by the boy’s feet, a single evolutionary leap short of being able to climb up his legs, chest, and mouth. It is almost able to devour him, but not quite. He runs pale hands through sleek hair, a sparse yet meaningful action that communicates a genuine dilemma. 

“Okay. I’ll consider it. But if your expectations remain unsatisfied, and a chasm develops between us, don’t be surprised,” the boy caresses the spine of Metaphysics and excuses it to the daystand, saying, “Don’t let me ruin a good day. Graduation is meant to be celebratory. Come on, let’s go together. It’ll be faster.” 

By the windowsill, the boy’s grandmother has set out a lustreware bowl filled with zaytun peaches. Their skin is exquisite, glinting in the light as if waxed, and a pink-to-magenta gradient paints them in the image of a summer Sumerian sky. The boy grabs one as he leaves the archway. 

He grabs your hand in the same archway two weeks later, warning you of all its hazards and rough edges. But the young are naive, concerned with the future, and dismissive of the present, and two hands come to reciprocate his. 

Djafar Tavern hosts a diverse audience. Ayn Al-Ahmar Eremites sit in isolated pluckings. Street dancers weave themselves into the edges of sidewalks and patios, hoping to glean gold and mercy from tavern patrons. Researchers admit fatigue and failure in research and seek comfort in the dulling buzz of oncoming pints. The man sits across from you, one ankle crossed at the knee and knuckles flush against his cheek. Copper liquid sits idle in his mug.

“I happen to remember a certain scribe getting so wasted, he wretched into the bushes for ten minutes straight.” The tendrils of alcohol have tickled your cheeks. Each word comes out more vivacious than planned, and the man across from you observes in amusement.

“Is that so? If my memory serves me, I happen to recall a young academic begging the aforementioned scribe to cook her a full-sized portion of biryani after a rough night out in Ormos.” Merriment is an exclusive color on the man, and it oozes from each syllable. Teasing, when done right, can be a rambunctious affair. Sweat beads on the wrinkles of his forehead and at the rear of your neck as a product of Sumeru heat and the excitement of reunion. The flax of alcohol seeps down and down, until the past and future evade your thought, leaving the remains of a sweltering fuzz.

“It’s so odd. I’ve been upset with you for so long, but now, I can’t even remember why. Tell me, Alhaitham, what did you do? I can’t recall the details, but I’m sure you’ve done something…” Hiccups bubble up and out between strung-out utterances. The man, sober as he seems, is overrun by prominent reds and pinks on the apple of his cheeks. The tab for tonight is bound to be hefty - it requires an absurd amount of alcohol to inebriate him with low-quality beer. Sitting back, the trinkets on his belt create a quiet symphony of noise.

“I think we’ve both had too much to drink. This is sure to be a headache in the morning. It’s best I get you home now.” The sky is pigmented in hues of navy and onyx. It stands out amongst the depraved prostitutes, screeching merchants, and tainted light. Like an abyss beneath the sand. Like dancers in the rain. Like a whale beneath the ship. It is so unfaltering, unknown, and expansive. Droplets dew in the corners of your eyes. Stationed in the middle of the street, eyes never blinking, you watch the sky.

“Come now. There will always be another sky to watch. I need to get you home.” He needs to get me home. The cosmos moves in synchronization. Since when have you wanted me home? The stars, gaseous and alight, provide entertainment as two strangers walk the boulevard. Since when have we been strangers?

Like the Three Wise Men, you adorn the boy with gold, frankincense, and myrrh of your own. Gold appeals to all, but its merit does not hold up to true testaments of need; it is fragile, and the teeth of the mouth can damage its delicateness with ease. Frankincense is a traditional offering to God himself, representing love and devotion. It designates its recipient as divine and deserving of worship. Myrrh anoints the corpses of the bygone, and its role as a gift symbolizes the sacrifice of death. It is giving without receiving. For the offering of myrrh, you relinquish flesh.

Rtawahist textbooks cast a shadow over the blank canvas of an assigned paper labeled “On the Relation Between Starshrooms and Celestial Objects.” Dozens of researchers and undergraduates sit in identical positions, hunched above a pile of papers adjacent to an impressive tower of established sources. Studies on the Biological Evolution of Starshrooms. Phases of Constellations and Celestial Movement. Changes in Biodiversity in Relation to Month. It sent rivulets of vexation down your limbs, increasing in intensity the longer the pen in your hand remained motionless.

“I just don’t get it. People have submitted far less appealing work to him, and he accepts it with no issue! I mean, one person was missing an entire body paragraph, and he took it!” The skin of your palms grants reprieve to the ache of your pupils, rubbing up and down in hopes of relieving a fraction of the tension flitting across your expression. 

“Currying favor is a common practice in smaller classes. If your work isn’t revolutionary and the professor has a bad impression, bias can play an important factor in whether or not you pass.” The man, now twenty-two, is enchanted by the booklet in his grasp. Homological Mirror Symmetry. Even so, he spares a glance at the disappointing lack of substance positioned on the opposite side of the adhigama desk. One blue and white lampshade illuminates the space, creating an intimate and closed-off aura.

“Do you think I haven’t tried that? I have. I gave him baklava, zaytun peaches from the Bazaar, and a coupon to Puspa. I think he’s biased against women - did I ever tell you how there are no other women in my class? Tell me that’s not the craziest coincidence!” In your petulance, the disengagement of the man across from you remains unseen. So, when he proposes a heinous question in the public ambiance of the House of Daena, it comes out rash.

“Do you dislike that we haven’t had sex?” He does not coat bitter apples in sugar or insist on that which is roundabout. It aids in the directness of communication within the relationship, but in moments such as these, it can be overwhelming. Spit sputters from your throat as you regain composure.

“I’m-I’m sorry? Haitham, you can’t just say those things in public! Jeez, imagine if someone heard you… can’t we talk about it later?” Each affricate is squeezed between teeth, hissing and aggravated. The man is unphased, eyes locked onto yours.

“It’s just a simple question. People our age engage in hook-up culture and sex, and our bodies are biologically the most receptive to desire at this life stage. Despite this, we’ve only gone as far as kissing. I want to know if this upsets you, or if it seems like I’ve neglected your needs.” It is hard not to desire the man he has transformed into. Cultivated abs peek up from beneath his augmented uniform, his hair is lush and coated in grains of moondust, and there is a unique charm to his extensive intelligence. That being said, Sumeru City has a centuries-old culture of sexual shame and repression. It is to be consumed with caution, and in appropriate amounts, so as to avoid the dissipation of rationale and pragmatism. In some ways, his ability to overlook social norms in favor of reasonable logic is alluring. In others, it is humiliating. Like crime and punishment. Like a kiss upon the altar. Like a veil raised in love and lowered in grief.

“I mean, I’m not upset! I know physical affection doesn’t appeal to you, and I would never want to force you into something you don’t enjoy. That would upset me more than not… y’know…” Galesh heels hitting stark tile reverberate in the House of Daena - the environment is anything but private.

“Having sex? I see. In that case, let’s discuss this further at my apartment after lectures.” He heralds the book under his arm and marches off, as indifferent as a rock amidst a gouging river. Meanwhile, embarrassment has yet to settle into the bottom sediment of your nerves. Praying to Lesser Lord Kusanali that no Rtwahist peers overheard the conversation, you return back to “On the Relation Between Starshrooms and Celestial Objects” with novel zeal. 

The evening of Sumeru City is lit to the firmament, artistic street lamps lining the pavement home. The man’s apartment is a short walk from the Rtwahist offices, and it has become an unofficial meeting spot between the both of you. The light emanating from inside is dim - it could be no more than a few candles lit - and a gnawing sensation comes to violate your senses. The pleasantry of knocking has long since been disposed of, and you step in.

The man sits on the ornate sofa in the center of the living room. On the coffee table sits a new book to conquer. Vita Sexualis. The corner of a navy bookmark peeks from its battered pages. It must have been too difficult to find a new copy; he preferred to have well-kept covers, if possible, so a cracked and yellowing title was a sign of uncharacteristic “settling.” 

“Do you make a habit of reading state-banned erotica?” You joke, placing your rucksack on the floorboards and taking a seat next to him. He shrugs.

“If something is banned, doesn’t that make it all the more intriguing? Looking at what society deems ‘beyond the pale’ can say more about cultural norms than an entire course at the Akademiya,” Like clockwork, he repositions himself to face you. The physical closeness is off-putting after four years of sparse affection. The man continues, “Sexuality, in all forms, is looked down upon by the youth and elders alike. However, it is hardly something worth devoting fear to. Do you agree?” 

“Sure, but that was never- I just didn’t think you’d want that from me.” His palms lift your chin. It is awkward. He has resented romance and insisted on the idiocy of its frivolities since childhood, but he knows the logistics of what is appealing and what is not. He knows you like it, and so he does it. Like covering ears and reading lips. Like fruit on the cutting board. Like an antidote to poison.

“I will admit that sex, alongside other typical gestures, is not a focus or concern of mine. That being said, I am far from opposed to it. I would like to experiment with it if you are consenting.” Silver tickles your cheek and he leans over. Excitement pulses through your bloodstream, sending tremors down your hands. 

“I think I’d like that too, Haitham.” Lips meet lips in a delicate kiss as the skin of your hand merges with his neck. Those eyes, emboldened, roll down in sync with his palms. They caress the fullness of your cheek, the tips of your fingers, the curve of your waistline, the ridges of your trachea, the divots of your collarbones. Fire perches itself as a phantom of touch, burning into the skin. The musculature of his back flexes beneath your left hand as he covers your body. Leaning back on his heels, thighs flexing on the sides of your legs, he pulls the hem of his shirt up.

You savor him. Skin glows like moonlight under the approaching moon, and your fingers slide along the expanse of his stomach. Pushing yourself up, you catch his lips another time, and another, hands roaming across his pectorals and neck.

“Can I take your shirt off?” He asks between kisses, arms supporting the circumflex of your back. His wish is granted, and as he departs from your face, he pinches the Liyuean silk between his thumb, index, and middle fingers, pulling it up to reveal your chest. There is a technique behind each audacious caress; the subtle liberation of your bra, his built arms pressing you chest-to-chest, the chaste trail he paints down your abdomen. He pauses.

“Is something wrong?” You mutter, splayed out on the couch cushions. The nakedness is frightening, and now that the action has stopped, a shiver begins to tease your skin.

“I think we’ve reached the part where we strip. I don’t want to alarm you, so I’ll ask: is it alright if I fully undress you and myself?” His constant confirmation is reassuring, but a small section of your consciousness dwindles on the robotic nature of it all. Each action reeks of formulation and plagiarism - like a schoolboy gleaning answers from a neighbor, or an essay using sections of Akasha terminal outputs. I don’t care. I don’t care at all.

“Be my guest.” Then, you are bare against his chest. Everything is warm, and the man dons a charming flush across his cheeks and chest. His fingers are akin to a honey wand in a pot, covered in the fruits of his labor as he clenches your fingers with his free hand. Small groans and intakes of breath permeate the room, creating a sickly sweet humidity. When he unbuckles his slacks, you turn to the side, shock and shame intermingling into one. Noticing, his thumb catches your cheek.

“I promise to be gentle. Tell me everything that comes to your mind. Your input is important to me.” The moonlight has enveloped the entire room. Few corners are hidden under its judgment, and the man above you is a beauty. Like sparkles at sea. Like pearls clutched between strings. Like a golden girdle lost on the battlefield. 

“I love you, Alhaitham.”

Port Ormos has one notable inn. The remaining options are either on the outskirts of town or surrounded by the “undesirables” of society. It is Najjar Palace, a one-star inn, that has the misfortune of hosting you. Outside of the dim entrance, Alhaitham holds your robes as you vomit into the bushes. It has been a few hours, and after an extended walk and a pitcher of ice water, soberness begins to creep in. Tears dot your face, and smudges of kohl mark your under eye. 

“I’m sorry. Our first meeting in years, and I get shitfaced.” Regret blossoms in your countenance. He shrugs, handing the fine robes back to you.

“I can’t act holier than thou after becoming inebriated myself. Do you feel well enough to carry on?” The moon is a picturesque reflection of Lesser Lord Kusanali tonight. Its pale expanse is large and smooth, dust catching in its earth-bound light. Sitting down, you gaze at its fullness. How is it that the moon is always there for your more humbling moments?

“I feel good now.” He nods, then connects your focus to the brightness in the sky. He stares at it, too. Sighing, you state, “It's always here when we’re together. The moon.”

“It was a full moon that night as well, wasn’t it?” Alhaitham adds, cape draped against the cement floor. 

“I didn’t even realize. I was so upset,” a breeze disrupts the branches above and you laugh, “I think there’s a journal somewhere where I compared you to about thirty different things. Some good, some bad, but the pages were filled with edgy similes. Like Kepler’s orbits, like Newton’s cradle…” You recount, snorting.

“I’m sorry,” Alhaitham says, a softness lining the clouds of his words. He stiffens, “I broke things off in a way that ignored your feelings. That was unusually inefficient of me.” 

“...I tried to forget your name. It’s been so long since I’ve said it without scolding myself afterward. I tried very hard to forget you, Alhaitham.” One leaf falls onto your scalp, and you pluck it off and throw it to the brush. The atmosphere is refreshing. Genuine, yet understood. 

“It is unbecoming to my personal morals to stay in a relationship forever tainted by inequality. For everything I gave, you gave much more. It never evened out, and it didn’t sit well with me.” He reveals, crossing his ankle over his knee yet again. You remember feeling that way - like he didn’t care. Just like he predicted. You remembered the betrayal when you found his belongings moved out and his contact changed. You remember when he left you, and you were forced to leave him. You remember thinking about him for the next year, jotting down notes in the leatherbound journal he had gifted you on your twelfth birthday.

Like the concluding lines in a Shakespearian sonnet, fresh cream and cut peaches, or the blazing sun and the gentle moon. Like death harvesting life, an endless bonfire gobbling up surrounding air, or soldiers losing lives to fight soldiers losing lives. Like Kepler’s elliptical orbits. Like an oil spill in the harbor. Like basic arithmetic. Like the burn of a red stove. Like adult secrets. Like dew on a frosted morning. Like streams of snowmelt.  Like faith and doubt. Like bread and wine. Like iron and coal.  Like the white flesh of pomegranates mixed with red seeds. Like raw and unaged pu-erh.  Like a hook caught in the flank. Like the milliseconds before an earthquake. Like a judge at the podium.Like an abyss beneath the sand. Like dancers in the rain. Like a whale beneath the ship. Like crime and punishment. Like a kiss upon the altar. Like a veil raised in love and lowered in grief.  Like covering ears and reading lips. Like fruit on the cutting board. Like an antidote to poison. Like sparkles at sea. Like pearls clutched between strings. Like a golden girdle lost on the battlefield. 

You were everything that has ever been to me, you want to say. It beats true in your heart and veins, knocking at the bars like an aggravated prisoner, but nothing spews from your lips. Nothing but this. 

“It’s late. Thank you for taking care of me, Alhaitham. Goodnight.” You don’t turn around to see his wave or nod or whatever nonchalant gesture he’s resorted to. The inn is 10,000 per night. You hand the receptionist 50,000. You unlock the room, rampant with musk and stains. You sit down on the sheets. Your eyes close.

In the morning, Alhaitham is nowhere to be seen. Everything feels a bit clearer. I think I am okay with remembering you now, you think. I am okay with forgetting, too. Remembrance and forgetfulness. Giving and receiving. What an idiot. 

[esotl]

Performance - Chapter 11 (Part 20)

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring

Characters: Hokuto, Wataru

Translation Directory

It's known as a tragedy, and yet, I can't agree with that assessment.

Location: Inside a Train

Wataru: In actuality... I've never once come across one, a person who declares "I want to be like Hibiki Wataru!"

Which is to say, I am indeed still half-baked.

Hokuto: That's because you're out of the norm... No-one can even dream of being like you.

The more I come to know you, the more I feel that distance, too.

Wataru: Eh~ even though I'm close enough for you to touch? Please do your best, Hokuto-kun!

When I first saw you, I was a bit inspired.

"Aah, he's imitating my hairstyle," I thought... "Perhaps he wants to become like me."

Remembering the previous conversation, I held an interest in you...

Your mother must have predicted that, and tied your hair in a braid.

That's why I said she's discerning.

Her preparation is flawless, she knows all about a performer's weak points. Because if you're faced with someone imitating you, there's no way you could be unhappy.

Though, with just a few minutes of talking to you, I could tell you had no interest in me at all...

You only think of yourself, don't you?

Hokuto: Should I not? I don't have time to think about other things right now, and aren't I the one who thinks of myself the most?

There's no-one who thinks of me, of Hidaka Hokuto, so... I'm the one who has to consider me, to produce me.

Wataru: Right. That's the natural and correct answer, people don't really think about others often.

Though I personally don't have much interest in myself~ that seems to be rather unusual.

I'm always thinking about the characters in works of art, and the people surrounding them.

"Hibiki Wataru" is the means by which, the point of contact for interacting with those kinds of lovely things.

Hokuto: You're pretty distorted, aren't you... Are all "geniuses" like that?

Wataru: What do you think? Geniuses, no, all people are slightly different from each other.

You can't analyse all of humanity on an individual level using inflexible interpretations or common consensus.

That's why. You, who is captivated by such things, is rather laughable.

Hokuto: Hmph... I feel like I'm being made fun of by a clown.

Wataru: What a fitting phrase! Ahaha, chatting like this is fun...☆

Hokuto: Isn't this is strangely conceptual for a "chat"?

Wataru: Perhaps it is, by common consensus' standards! You're still restraining yourself, is your braid a chain or something, Hokuto-kun?

Be more flexible!

Relatedly... I just so happen to have tickets for a play being held at a theatre near the next stop!

Would you care to join me?

It's a rather intriguing stage, quite avant-garde... perhaps your sense of values will change upon seeing it!

Hokuto: I refuse. School is starting soon, I shouldn't skip.

Wataru: Isn't it fine every now and then? Let's be bad boys together~♪

Even if you do as your parents say like a good boy, it's not like you'll be rewarded for it, will you?

Hokuto: Don't interpret me like a character from a story.

Wataru: Apologies, it's an unconscious habit! This is troubling though, I didn't imagine you'd refuse.

Even after I went through all the trouble of moving you onto a different train without waking you?

Hokuto: So you're the reason I'm going to be late for school? I thought it was strange for me to sleep past my stop.

Wataru: Apologies, I just love tricks like that!

When faced with unexpected developments, humans always reveal some sort of interesting reaction without fail!

Getting mad, losing their cool, being bewildered, speaking unfavorably of me...

They confront me without hiding their true face behind a mask, or at least, they don't ignore me.

Hokuto: Did your parents not care about you as a kid?

Well, whatever. I already studied the contents of today's lessons last night, so it won't be a huge problem if I don't attend.

Even if I'm not there, I doubt anyone would notice.

I'll accompany you, President. But only for today - it'll be a problem if I'm constantly getting kidnapped to places I don't know.

Wataru: "Kidnapped" makes it sound scandalous... But I'm glad, let's have fun watching a play together.

Both acting and viewing are lonely when done by yourself. Let's snack on popcorn and excitedly discuss our thoughts with each other.

Japan has strict theatre manners, but plays have been that sort of event since time immemorial. Like in Shakespeare's time.

Hokuto: Don't speak like you were there for it, President.

Wataru: I've been doing my research you know, Shakespeare's a classic after all.

As is the play we're going to see today, "Romeo and Juliet"♪

It's known as a tragedy, and yet, I can't agree with that assessment.

Hokuto: ? Isn't it a standard tragedy?

Wataru: If you think about it using the common rules of this fleeting world, yes. But they were surely united after death, no?

One committed suicide, the other committed murder, so they certainly both fell into hell together.

However, "wherever you are is Heaven"... is what's conveyed in the play.

Because they went so far as to repeat such a sentiment over and over, time after time, the ending is not a tragedy.

Death is not the end, nor is it hopelessness. It is proof that they were finally together.

It's a connection, a blessing. That is how I interpreted the story's meaning.

If it's not true, then... Ah, God, Shakespeare, for what purpose did you document the suffering of this man and woman?

To sneer at these pitiful two, or else, to feel self-satisfied in your pity for them?

No - "Romeo and Juliet" is a congratulatory address for the two being united for eternity!

[Chapter 10 • Directory • Act 8]

[missnight0wl]

Ok, but can we talk about Jae and his adult model? Because while I wouldn’t call it the worst (I think this title still has to go to Merula “I-have-bird-droppings-in-my-hair” Snyde), it’s just so… boring.

First of all, I hate that his hair looks shorter and neater. His current hairstyle looks way better, but also fits his personality, in my opinion, and the whole vibe of “always tired, always asleep in classes, not quite knowing what’s going on”. But even that aside, JC’s design is just… meh? If you ask me, Adult Jae looks like he finally decided to mature and stabilise – and he’s very unhappy about it. And in a way, it’s a bit funny because I actually had that idea a while ago that Jae gets married during the Second Wizarding World, but they quickly get divorced because his wife basically wants that regular “boring” life.

But either way, this is what I’d probably do myself:

Most importantly, I think we should keep in mind two things about Jae: 1) he likes to appear cool, 2) he comes from a rather poor family that probably still struggles with money (as we know he sends his mum money even when he’s still at school). Now, for this discussion and my version of Jae, I’m gonna assume that he will get a pretty good job affter graduation (because he’s a smart boy) – therefore, he will make pretty good money, too. I’m certain he’d still support his family, but I imagine he would also want to show through his appearance that now he can afford things. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely can’t see him spending a lot on clothes and whatnot. But at the same time, I think he’d be willing to invest in quality. For example, he’d definitely have a very nice leather jacket that he’d wear like all the time. He could also invest in some more expensive accessories like a watch or shoes. Oh, and I absolutely love the idea of including his red bandana in his adult outfit!

Also, the idea of Jae with the bandana actually makes me think of Eugene Lee Yang – and no, not just because he’s also Korean. And yes, I know Eugene is an absolute fashion icon, and I don’t think it’d fully work for Jae… But on the other hand, I feel like some of Eugene’s more casual outfits do work here.

All pictures are from Eugene’s Instagram.

[pillow-anime-talk]

dating them.

synopsis: Some sweet, funny and also crazy moments in your relationship.

# tags: headcanons; current relationships; romance; mild comedy; fluff; PDA; sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. reki kyan, langa hasegawa, miya chinen, kaoru sakurayashiki & kojirou nanjou {sk8}

author’s note: so... i’m just in love with this anime...

— REKI

↘ He’s such a precious boy who cheers you up in the blink of an eye; I think he has an extra sense, so he knows when you feel worse than usual or when you are in even the slightest pain (for example, you bumped your elbow or you haven’t eaten breakfast before ‘cause you missed your alarm clock and therefore you have a stomachache).

↘ Reki is a supportive lover; whether you are passionate about singing, learning languages, reading manga, sewing mascots or painting, a seventeen-year-old will always be right next to you to praise what you do or the way you look. He will notice every, even stupid detail about you and mention it immediately when you’re going to hang out. He’s definitely your fan and doesn’t hide it. Additionally, if you introduce him to what you love, he will also get interested in it in a way and then he will come to you to show off what he has done like a sketch of the two of you or an opinion about the anime you recommended him three days ago.

↘ The boy is really devoted to you and loves physical contact; grabbing a hand, kissing on the cheek or forehead, cute texts in the morning it’s something totally normal for the two of you. I also think that Reki could melt if you run your fingers through his soft hair or make small braids for him, decorating his head with a few colored hairpins or hairbands.

↘ If you know how to skateboarding, he will be delighted and your dates will mostly be about riding together or learning new tricks. Plus, it’s another thing Reki loves about you and wow. He’s even bigger fanboy than before!

↘ However, if you have never ridden or even tried to do it, it doesn’t matter. A teen will be happy to be able to offer you some private lessons if you wish. Again, red-haired adores physical contact, so holding your hands/waist while you stand on his beloved skateboard will be a dream come true for him.

↘ He always has ticket for you, so you make a new banner for each race to support him. Hit me, but I’m 120% sure that after race (whether he won or lost it) he takes your pretty banners and hides them in this special box that has its place on his bedroom closet.

↘ Overall, Reki is a boy who fits to the definition of high school, first love.

— LANGA

↘ Your relationship is a bit more peaceful, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a bit of humor or abstraction.

↘ Langa loves your company so, so, so badly; Reki is quite hot-tempered and is literally everywhere, so when the two of you hang out together after school or at the weekend, blue-haired feels that he can breathe and relax every muscle in his body. You’re his comfort person, and your room is a safe place without fear and noise.

↘ He also enjoys physical contact, but much more prefers to show affection in private, for example in your home or in his own bedroom.

↘ His favorite type of PDA is cuddling; he prefers to be a big spoon and hug you from behind, but he has no problem hugging against your chest or warm stomach, especially when he feels down because of school or racing.

↘ I have a strange feeling that Langa is the type of romantic who would make an amazing Spotify playlist for the two of you so you could listen to the songs, cuddling each other in the bed.

↘ If you can skateboard that’s great! For sure you, Langa and Reki will be a good trio that will meet often in the skate park or in ‘S’. I’m also pretty sure he’ll cheer for you, but at the same time he’ll be very cute with it and definitely more calm than his bestie. For example, if you do a trick... you’ll get a quick kiss on the nose or Langa will buy you your favorite drink. He definitely likes to pamper you.

↘ If you don’t know how to skateboard but you really want to start skateboarding to share your lover’s passion... Well, he will definitely give you a short (long) monologue about how dangerous it is, and you need to be careful – because he knows best of all how a fall on butt or face hurts.

↘ He always keeps a tiny set of colored plasters in his jacket or pants pocket to take care of you in the case of an unexpected accident, as Reki used to care for him.

↘ He’s a good teacher, but he will definitely need to calm his emotions, because sometimes instead of showing you how to slide down the railing, he will suggest something more down-to-earth, like going to the cinema to watch the movie you mentioned three days ago.

— MIYA

↘ Ahh, my precious smol baby.

↘ You are Miya’s first partner, so he still thinks that he’s not good enough for you, although you always reassure him with a light peck on the nose that he’s the best thing that has happened to you and that you’re very glad that you can be with him in every good and bad moment.

↘ The teenager is terribly shy about any physical contact outside, so if you aren’t at home, don’t expect a ton of hugs or kisses from him. He much prefers when you two are alone – then he doesn’t feel overwhelmed by the gazes of other people, especially other skaters who like to make fun of him. 

↘ I swear I’ll bite and beat them all...

↘ Miya is a delicate soul and he really likes to feel that someone look after him, so in a relationship he definitely prefers when you cares for him. For example; just touch his soft hair, ask about his well-being or when he will have a race and a huge smile will appear on his face.

↘ I think if he feels that you are the only one for him... Maybe he will lend you his favorite hoodie with cat ears and tail? He’ll be overjoyed to see that you feel good in it. You look extremely cute, but he’ll never admit it. 

↘ It smells like him, like wet earth and a hint of sweet perfume, and although it’s a strange combination, it feels really beautiful, downright safe and homey.

↘ For the next holiday (your birthday, your anniversary, Valentine’s Day or Christmas), he will give you a sweatshirt that matches to his own. It will be in your favorite color and will also have an animal accessory, not necessarily catish, because if you prefer dogs, rabbits or cows... You know, there are many options.

↘ If you know how to skateboard, he will be really calm and will feel that finally someone will want to spend time with him, training and riding together; not like in childhood when everyone turned away from him. He will definitely be moved when you grab his smooth hand and offer a long ride in the park. He definitely loves praise, so give him praise every now and then when he does a nice trick. He will also compliment you more than once and even give you a kiss on the cheek (of course if nobody is watching!). He’s not good at words, but he tries!

↘ If you don’t know how to skateboard... He may be a bit skeptical, but naturally he’ll agree to a few lessons in front of your or his house. Of course you originally just wanted to be close to him and hold his hand more often than usual, but it turned out to be pretty fun! Now, training is your typical dates.

↘ Miya is a sweet boy and although he may not look like that, he’s really protective, often jealous and always puts you at first place.

— KAORU

↘ This beautiful man, this angel-looking ideal, this ahhhh... Being in a relationship with him is pure pleasure and daily healing for the soul.

↘ He’s a calm, understanding and loving partner. I think he’s a bit old fashioned but that only adds much more charm to his person.

↘ He often calls you his ‘dearest’, ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’, isn’t that cute?

↘ You two don’t go out on dates too often, but I think Kaoru loves to spend time at home, having tea or on the couch while one of you is reading a book and the other is listening to music or just sleeping. He definitely doesn’t look like that, but he loves PDA/cuddling and is the best at it!

↘ He also likes it when you suggest learning calligraphy together. He never forced you to do this, but when he first heard that you would like to meet one of his passions, he was really happy and immediately showed you how to write with ink on the special paper he had in his flat. Obviously, more than once you ask him to write a simple letter or word, because you just love his handwriting and how focused he seems. He’s really hot then, I swear to god!

↘ You love his long hair and are always eager to give him a new, nice hairstyle; normal braid or fishtail braid. Maybe a bun or a ponytail with a few hairpins? He loves everything you do on him. In addition, the gentle head massage you give him each time is the most soothing thing in the world for him.

↘ If you know how to skating... He’s really surprised, but that doesn’t mean he’s unhappy or angry. He wants to see what you can do right away and you will surely feel a sweet kiss on your forehead more than once when the trick will be good or even better than you both thought. He’s a supportive boy, but doesn’t show it as vehemently as Reki, for example; he prefers to smile at you or clap softly.

↘ If you don’t know how to skate yet, but you asked him to teach you how to even stand on it... I imagine Kaoru going pale and trying to distract you from this idea because, as an experienced skater, he’s afraid that you will hurt yourself like any beginner. But your big eyes and ruddy cheeks are his weaknesses, so he’ll trust both you and Carla and help you keep your balance on his beloved, black-violet board. Reward him later with quick kisses or give him his favorites, okay?

↘ To sum up, Kaoru is a good and honest lover. He definitely loves your company and won’t mind spending his free time seriously and frivolously with you.

— KOJIROU

↘ This guy is the definition of the sentence ‘Through the stomach to the heart’. Any objections? No. So let’s gooooo!

↘ Kojirou is a PERFECT second half. Both in character and appearance. If he fall in love with someone seriously, and it will be you, then know that he’ll care for you like about a member of the royal family; breakfasts in bed, an Italian supper, the perfect choice of wine for a chicken or steak are things that have become a sweet daily thing for you at some point.

↘ He loves to show you affection and absolutely has no problem doing it in public, even when he’s working or when you two are in a tight crowd on the train or in the ‘S’ before his race. He will kiss you hard on the lips, grab your skin on your butt or hug your waist. It’s just that everyone needs to know that you belong to him. He’s just as clingy as Reki, and sometimes even worse and bolder.

↘ Of course he has cute side; he likes to lie on the bed or the sofa with you on his chest. He loves being between your thighs and sleep there. He definitely has a weak point in that when you you run your finger on his tattoo or cook dinner with him, throwing ingredients at him and laughing out loud.

↘ Another romantic who uses thousands of pet names (like babey, cutie, doll, pumpkin, kitten). Plus, he loves to dance with you in the kitchen and steal a few kisses here and there. Also, if you aren’t looking, he likes to surprise you with a big, bear hug.

↘ I think he’s a bit impatient, so he doesn’t like to sit at home and prefers dates in crazy places (such as an amusement park, swimming pool, karaoke bar) – it’s his favorite way of spending your time together. As a gentleman, he always pays for you, unless you go faster and bring your ATM card to the card reader as first. But don’t be surprised when Kojirou will just buy you cotton candy or popcorn shortly afterwards.

↘ If you know how to skateboard, he’s as excited as a kid and will definitely offer you a date at the skate park. Naturally, he wants to show off to others what a super cool partner he has, but he also wants others to know that you’re here together to kick everyone’s asses with your abilities. You’re definitely a powerful couple and you have the matching necklaces!

↘ But if you don’t know how to skating then... well, well, well. Just be prepared that one day (without even asking for it) you’ll stand on his beloved board and he will grab your hips, smiling silly. He enjoy skin ship so this guy feels utopian when he can be near you. He definitely won’t spare you compliments, long pecks, and smack your butt when you do something great, so you have to get used to it... and it’s going to be a long training session, so good luck, my friend.

↘ He’s a funny guy, but he’ll never cross your limits, so don’t worry about that. However, he will always find a topic for conversation or a joke to relax the atmosphere or cheer you up. You will never be bored with him.

[kanohivolitakk]

Is it just me or does Three Hopes feel like an official fix-it fic on Three Houses in a weird way?

A lot of Three Hopes feels..fanservicy, for a lack of a better term. Im not talking about the T&A type of fanservice (unless fem!Shez counts haha) but more things the games fans want to see/wish were different. Things like every character getting a beautiful redesign, a playable Monica who (most likely) isn't slithered, Jeralt being alive, us finally seeing Holst and Caspars dad not to mention the game having better graphics than Three Houses did. All of those are things that the fans wished in one way or another. Heck, even things like Byleth being an antagonist or Shetz being their own character rather than a silent vessel could be seen as a way to fix “PC is a silent protagonist with next to no characterization” as well as a way to give Byleth actual character and agency rather than having them be Fodlans instant fix-it button like they were in Three Houses.

And Im really mixed on this since on onehand this is a perfect opportunity to fix out things of the original game that didnt work, whether it be things like storybeats, characterizations, streamlining/explaining/retconning the lore or even gameplay aspects. As much as I love Three Houses, its far from a perfect game, and Three Hopes could seek to iron out some of its parent games bigger issues. There’s a lot they could coursecorrect from the weirder plotpoints to gameplay hiccups. Heck, we could get more gay S-supports if we are lucky, since Intsys is aware of the controversy and said they would try to give us more gay supports in future installments, so there’s a possibilitythat Dimitri and Claude could be romanceable to male player as well, among other things.

But at the same time, as much as I’m happy Intsys and Koei are listening to the fans (or at least giving us what we want). There’s lot of good criticism to be had about Three Houses, but just as much as there’s good criticism there’s things that I’d call...shallow criticism for lack of a better word. Things that are less genuine issues and more..nitpicks or someone being unhappy with the story. Just because you didn’t like Ferdinand’s hairstyle post-timeskip or one or two supports doesn’t mean they’re inherently bad writing. That sort of thing, that comes from personal complaints, rather than actual issues with the game.

Probably the biggest example of this is the possibility of Three Hopes being a “golden ending” of Three Houses. While the most recent trailer put some doubts into that, there’s still the possibility, given how we see the three lords teaming up and working together in the trailers.

And as happy as the fangirl side of me is on the concept of the three lords setting apart their differences to fight against a common good, the more analytical side of me is somewhat nervous on this. Because the whole point of Three Houses was that no lord was completely in the right or in the wrong, that they were too stubborn to come to a compromise and that no ending was completely happy, because the idea of a “good outcome” varied wildly from lord to lord. That was the point of the game and part of the message I feel Koei TECMO and Intelligent Systems wanted to send with Three Houses.

And people didn’t like that. They wanted their happy ending, an ending where the lords just sit back, talked down and joined together. Even if that does go against the core idea behind the game, the core message. People really want a golden ending no matter what.

So what if Intsys decides to double it down and make a Golden Ending for no other reason than so they can have a Golden Ending. While it can work, at worst it will ring hollow and go against the core ideas of the game.

I don’t know just...while the idea of Three Hopes being an “fix-it” of Three Houses makes me excited and nervous. Because it can act as a good way to fix core issues Three Houses had or just be a shallow fanservice that makes fans happy without thinking if that goes against what Three Houses tried to set to do.

[yandere-sins]

Masterlist lovelove-dere Yandere Starter Prompts

lovelove-dere Yandere Starter Prompts 

“Your not texting someone else behind my back are you?” / “Gosh, your skin smells so much better when we cuddle like this.” -  Atsumu (HQ!!)

“this hairstyle is so cute for you!..Hm? Oh sorry, the duct tape is muffling your gratitude.” -  Dimitri (Fire Emblem)

“Be a good girl and sit still. You don’t want me to be unhappy right?” / “One more time. I’m giving you one more chance to stop fucking resisting.” - Satan (Obey Me)

“Try that again sweetheart, I dare you.” - Sakusa (HQ!!)

“Don’t you dare take it off, I want everyone to know your mine.” -  Lucifer (Obey Me)

“My pet should hold no secrets from their owner and vice versa.” / “Don’t say such means things.. it breaks my heart to put you back in those locks.” -  Sakusa + Atsumu (HQ!!)

“Darling your such a tease. I’ll give you a taste of what it’s like playing with fire.” -  Lucio (The Arcana)

“…How fucking dense are you?” -  Suna (HQ!!)

“I’m so happy you finally wanted to take a picture with me! They can go right next to all of the ones of you sleeping.” - Midoriya (BnHA)

“I can’t resist not having some part of you near me! You wore this today right?” -  Asmodeus (Obey Me)

“You.. love me right.. not them? Oh god please say you love me..!!” / “Please! You can use me all you like don’t leave me!”.- Nagito (Danganronpa)

“Sweetie, don’t cry.. they didn’t love you as much as I did.. I’ll help you over the heart break.”  -  Yandere!Prince

“How dumb did you think I was? Of course I knew of your little prank.” -  Osamu (HQ!!)

“It doesn’t hurt too much does it sweetie? Oh dear, I hope I didn’t tie you up too roughly.. God knows your skin is glorious.” -  Muriel (The Arcana)

[ingravinoveritas]

I’m looking at the GO filming pictures from today and I have to wonder what time period they are doing at the moment? Judging by David’s outfit, it’s likely not present day, not quite anyway. Could it maybe be the ‘40s again?

Hi, Anon, and @feuerkindjana! I was also wondering this earlier, regarding the time period of what was being filmed today. Let’s get a picture of David up here, so we have a visual:

This definitely looks like 1940s-era Crowley to me, though I think it might actually be the 1950s instead. Because if you look at this picture from the 1941 sequence in the first series, Crowley’s sideburns are shorter and the tattoo is higher up on his face:

Also, the sideburns in the first picture and the slicked back/pompadour-ish hairdo started to become very big in the ‘50s, so it would make sense for Crowley to have that hairstyle at that time. So that is why I am thinking this is a new era for our husbands, one we haven’t seen before.

If, in fact, what was filmed today is set in the 1950s, I am kind of starting to get a very Rebel Without a Cause feel from all this, with Crowley as James Dean and Aziraphale as Natalie Wood. Both characters have unhappy home lives, with overwrought, abusive parental figures who make them feel rejected and unwanted. The cinema/theatre also plays a role in the film, with Dean’s character going to the Griffith Observatory to watch a movie/presentation about the end of the world...which, as we know, is something our angel and demon know quite a bit about.

Could this be a look at part of Crowley’s journey? The part where he’s not yet ready to believe in anything, and Aziraphale shows him that when it seems like there’s nothing left to believe, there is still love. Heavenly, all-encompassing love, but also the way Aziraphale loves Crowley, loves him in a way he didn’t even know he loved him until Crowley saved his books a decade earlier...and hopes that Crowley loves him, too. And maybe Aziraphale shows Crowley that love in the only way he can: With a kiss in a darkened cinema, far from prying eyes.

I realize that I may just as likely be completely wrong about all of this, but it is certainly a lovely thing to think about. I just love that Michael and David filmed this on Valentine’s Day, and the thought of how much it must have meant to them. So looking forward to seeing this when it comes out...

[mikaze-discord]

Love letter project ♡

Sooo to celebrate the 4th anniversary of Shining live, I put together a project! I basically got a bunch of people to write a love letter for their favourite boy. Things like, why they like them, how they got to like them and what they like about them were all accepted!

The event was supposed to have 2 fans for each boy but unfortunately I was unable to get two for some of the boys. 

Under the cut will be the love letters for all of Class A!!! Please enjoy~ And thank you for all the people who participated in the event and taking the time to write the love letters out. 

CLASS A

OTOYA ITTOKI

From @ponzu-penzui:

Hello world! My nickname is Yuki, and I’m here to tell you about the sunshine boy that is Otoya Ittoki. The redhead of the series, Otoya is your seemingly a-typical sunshine in a mascot boy character. But, as we all know with these types, the sunshine isn’t as, well, sunshine as they seem. Or, if you didn’t know, well… spoiler alert I guess. Go watch the anime, or play the otome games, then come back here. Anyways, let’s get started on our journey, shall we? Through the rabbithole that got me here in the first place!

Otoya immediately became my best boy the second I saw him. I’m not quite sure what immediately got me at first, whether it be his red hair and eyes, his voice, or his immediate friendliness, but here we are. I should also mention that UtaPri was my first idol anime, so I was completely unaware what was going to hit me later. And, if you’ve watched the entire anime, you know where I’m going.

Season 4 was an emotional wreck. I cried at least twice. Did I have a newfound appreciation for Otoya after all that heartache? Definitely. Without spoilers, it was incredibly painful for me to watch, but I don’t regret it.

After watching the anime, I soon found out about the existence of Shining Live. So, with no other UtaPri content to binge, I started to play SL in late 2018. After playing for a little more than a year, I tiered in my first Otoya event (Heartwarming Snow Festival), and achieved my first top 200. Ever since then, I’ve tiered in every Otoya event, getting top 200, then top 100.

But, why do I like Otoya Ittoki even to this day? Well, I guess this is the time where I say that, after a certain point, I started to see bits of myself in Otoya. This led me to start to RP him, and, as you probably know if you’ve ever roleplayed a character before, I started to look at the miniscule amount of translated game content (many thanks to the Ohayaho Translation Team) for, well, more content. And content I did receive. Long story short, this only served to solidify Otoya as my favorite boy of not only UtaPri, but from all anime/manga/game content I’ve ever seen/watched. His cheerfulness may have been the first thing that got me in this rabbithole, but his backstory and how he managed to grow up pulled me in even further. And, I don’t think I will or want to get out anytime soon.

Next one from; Anon

As much as we all know our Otoya for how sweet and kind he is, there is so much more to him than just a precious smile. He is uplifting, cheerful towards everyone he meets. He has empathy and goes out of his way to make sure his friends are happy. Even so, Otoya has feelings that aren’t always happiness and smiles. He can feel sad and angry just like anyone else.

The reason I care and love Otoya so much is because he has shown me that I don’t have to always put on a smile. It’s nice to show off your pearly whites, but sometimes, it’s okay to be sad too. There are times in everyone’s life when they feel out of place and that they don’t belong. Otoya also felt this way and that’s perfectly okay. He’s still being the best idol he can be: The idol that Otoya loves the most.

MASATO HIJIRIKAWA

From Anon: 

Masato Hijirikawa. Why do I like Masato Hijirikawa? I like him to the point that it feels weird for me to even question why I do. He's just- a good boy. A great boy. I love him. As a joke, I'd usually say that it was his weirdly pretty, bowl-cut hairstyle that drew me to him, or I'd say that he caught my interest when I read that he was "very good with his hands" (wink wonk) in his Shining Live description, and while both of these reasons are still true, it wasn't until I started role playing him in an old server that I really started to appreciate his character more.

Masato, despite his aloof and almost "perfect" initial image, is a very relatable character. When he first arrived at Saotome (in-game) he wasn't necessarily seen as someone with a lot of talent to become an idol, which he acknowledged with grace and worked hard to make up for. He's humble despite his privileged upbringing and is incredibly self-aware of his flaws, which are sources of insecurity for him sometimes (a lot of times). Though it should be said that most of this insecurity stems from not having a lot of control over his early life, which is why it felt so gratifying to see him break free of his metaphorical chains to pursue his happiness without any doubts. He's a hard worker and is willing to accept criticism with open arms, not only for himself but for the people around him. Despite his traditional upbringing and nature, he's very receptive to change as long as it benefits both him and STARISH. He values the people he cares about more than anything, which is why he constantly strives to be a better version of himself every day, not only for himself but for the people around him.

Though his stoicism sometimes makes him seem plain or even "boring" to some people, he hides a warm, hidden passion within that's just as bright as everyone else's. Like the springtime bloom of cherry blossoms after winter, Masato shows his passion and love with no restraint to anyone who takes the time to understand him, and I can very much attest to this. I love him a lot and I hope to see more content of him, STARISH, and the others for more years to come.

NATSUKI SHINOMIYA

From uh....me:

HELLO I’m Z~ also known as the mod of the mikaze-discord/utapri-hcs tumblrs, as well as the organiser for the event! But enough about myself, let's talk about Natsuki Shinomiya.

When I first watched the anime as a youngin, I had already known about the games and their plots but had decided to try out the anime as well since I had nothing better to do.

Natsuki was actually one of my least favourite characters in the anime just because of how they presented him. I just...didn't care for him at all. He was just some random tall guy who loved hugs and almost murder…. Yeah.

I’m sure like most, I had a changing point. Originally, I was a Tokiya rper but...I was just unhappy with how my Tokiya was, I wasn't as experienced in rping with that server being my first rp server i was ever in. I didn't feel like I matched up with the others. I felt my Tokiya was just lacking something, substance maybe. Another person actually had a similar feeling and had changed their character from Camus to Syo and since we already had an Ai, I had just decided to go with the flow and complete the rest of the cute team. Best decision of my life. I’m so grateful for Natsuki and everything I associate him with. Without him, I probably wouldn't have made my tumblrs, I wouldn't have stayed in that server, I wouldn't have gone looking for other servers to rp in. I don't think I would be the same without Natsuki. I just find him so endearing now, he is just a lovable giant who happens to be able to be a disney princess. He is just so darn cute damn it. , just look at his Christmas card, his King card, quite literally just half his Shining live URs. Also, just like his songs just slap. Natsuki to me, is just serotonin. He gave me so many opportunities that I could have missed. I don't even think I would have started this love letter project without him if I’m being completely honest. I genuinely enjoyed all the memories I made as Natsuki. Thank you to Natsuki and to the Mikaze-discord for basically starting me off.

From Luke:

Natsuki was actually the very first character I encountered before I got into utapri. A friend showed a photo of him and told me that I'd probably be into this guy. She sure was right! After installing shining live for the first time and having a familiar face on the screen, I grew curious of him each day and just had to find out why was so attracted to him. The fact that I've seen him so many times in the past was haunting me, telling me that this man actually watched me grow up from a distance without even knowing his name. It sounds weird but I find it rather comforting for someone who doesn't want to be protected but isn't strong enough to defend myself alone.

The thought of having him there was enough to get me through the day and gave me enough reason to wake up to the next. I admit I may have adapted some of his habits after looking after his account for a year but that isn't a bad thing if it means that it would turn me into a much better person than I am now. I guess you could say we've grown together now in a sense, preserving the feelings and just living through the moment no matter how happy or sad it is. What's important is that we're not alone in all things we do and in everything we feel, there will always be someone there to keep us moving when we feel like giving up.

[meechibell]

Build Your Own Sims 4 EP Challenge

Uptown World Expansion Pack

*My entry for #BuildYourOwnEPChall by #SimsBogdy99

 The 3 models I made are wearing all black salon uniforms. Dressing in all black takes the focus off of the stylists and puts it onto the clients where it should be.  All of their other outfits are made with their favorite colors in mind and are heavily themed with a 1980's vibe because I'm kind of stuck in that era because the music, fashion, and hair were so cool... still cool. So on with the pack...

Welcome to Rockin Key, the home of some of the world's greatest musicians!  Rockin Key is where the rich & famous go to play, and the locals that keep it going play here too. Located 5 miles West of Del Sol Valley, it's easy to find... follow the endless sounds of great live music across the 5 mile bridge to Rockin Key... the city that never sleeps.  Rockin Key entertainment venues are open 24/7. 

 On Rockin Key you'll find many new venues & plenty of room to build with 15 new lots to build homes/businesses! Including new lot types such as hair salons, Day Care Centers, houseboats, indoor concert halls, and movie theaters.

  Rockin Key (new) Venues Include: -Santiago's Hair Salon - Sims can now visit Hair Stylists, Nail Techs, & Estheticians for a variety of services. Don & Jori and their team are here to help you be the best looking version of yourself. Remember, it's all about the hair!

-Rockin Key's Slice of Paradise Concert Theater - This is the largest new venue. This is where the biggest names in the sim music industry come to perform. It's always the hottest ticket in town.  

-Rhapsody Twin Movie Theatre - Sims can now take their family, or a date, to the movies! The Plaza Twin Theatre has a full service concession stand, and the movie popcorn machine is always popping to make sure the popcorn is hot & fresh. To wash the popcorn down they also serve fountain sodas, and there's a variety of candy to choose from. In each theater for all sims' comfort, they'll find recliner chairs with built in soda & popcorn holders. It's stadium seating so no worries about someone's head being in a sim's line of view while enjoying their movie. And for the kiddies there are booster seats available.

-Sunny Sushi Bar - Indoor & outdoor dining w/ live music nightly by Toffee Butler (piano) or The Dunk-a-noos (steel drum band), located next to the marina. -Moody's Marina - Here sims can buy/own a luxury yacht w/ hot tub & full bar. Yachts can leave port and travel the area. Sims can fish off of a yacht or they can now charter a fishing boat.

-Lil' Sponges Daycare Academy - Sims can now drop off their children at this Nautical themed, state of the art Daycare Academy for ages infant - 5 years old. This isn't just a babysitting service; as an Academy it has licensed teachers to teach age appropriate lessons while keeping track of each child's growth and progress in their speech, fine motor skills, gross motor skills and social skills. By the time these little sponges are ready to move on to Kindergarten at 5 yrs old, many will be able to skip right into 1st grade.

NEW CAREERS

 -Hair Stylist This career is for the sim that believes it's all about the hair. Once a customer has the right hairstyle, anything is possible! Hair Stylists can wash hair, cut hair, color/highlight hair, perm or straighten hair & blow dry hair. Top level Supreme Hair Stylists unlocks hair extensions that come in long, medium, short, & extra short (to add bangs/fringe to most hair styles already in the game) with each length also being in straight, wavy, curly, or braided styles, each available in all colors for both females and males, age teen-elder. Depending on the hairstylist's level will be the outcome of the hairstyle given, so sometimes with lower levels there may be mistakes and corrections needed that result in comedic reactions by sims/hairstylists.  

 *Supreme Hair Stylist Bonus: Becoming a CELEBRITY HAIR STYLIST: Once a sim reaches top level as a Supreme Hair Stylist, they will begin to gain notoriety and in time will reach "celebrity" hairstylist status. Once this is achieved they will start to receive celebrities/rockstars as clients, be asked to go on location to music video sets, and backstage at concerts, to work on musicians'/celebs' hair, and they'll hob-nob with the rich and famous. Also, a celebrity hair stylist can be Owner & Creative Director of a very successful hair salon w/ barely any problems. They'll even be given the opportunity to own a chain of hair salons if the first one is successful. 

 -Nail Technician/Artist 

A career for sims that believe a person can't be their very best without well manicured hands and feet. Services provided, how well and how quickly done, depends on the level of Nail Tech/Artist. Lower levels may either take longer or make mistakes such as wrong nail color or spills water on the client.  Once a higher level is reached the Nail Tech adds Artist to their repertoire and unlocks fun nail art & nail accessories. When a sim visits a Nail Artist the prices are higher, appointment is quicker, and you get to choose the color(s) of nail polish used on the sim, along with a paint design (flowers/hearts/holiday themes) and/or nail accessories such as glitter or rhinestones.  

 -Esthetician For the sim that sees other sims as walking Barbie & Ken dolls and helps them reach that status through ridding them of any and all body hair through artful waxing. Starting level can only provide facials, moustache waxing, & eyebrow waxing/shaping. They also provide skin treatments afterwards to sooth the red hot burning newly waxed fresh skin after peeling off a layer with the hot wax. Clients are taken to a private area (behind a curtain or door) for body waxing. Bikini waxing for female/male adult-elder is unlocked once an Esthetician reaches the top level as an Elite Esthetician.  

(Note on how I see the Esthetician career as working in the game... Once an Esthetician reaches "elite" level they can start body waxing clients, so the nude sim laying on the table will have blurred privates, same as when they shower, but we'll know the spot the Esthetician is waxing as the sim will make some kind of horrible scream and/or face due to the wax being ripped off which makes for funny game play. You see it too, right?

 -Hair Salon Owner & Creative Director  This career is the ultimate goal for most Hair Stylists... a dream come true. This career is best suited for the sim who has achieved the top level as Supreme Hair Stylist because they know what they're doing, what the salon needs, and more importantly what their employees and clients need. Even with all of their experience and knowledge in the hair industry, they still hit bumps in the road and make mistakes. Hair Salon Owner & Creative Director may also work well for other salon employees after a sim reaches either the Finest Nail Artist level or the Elite Esthetician level. They will run into a few surprise bumps that the Supreme Hair Stylist knows how to avoid, but they have a better chance of success than a sim that has no salon experience. With that being said a sim without prior salon experience who can afford it, can be a Hair Salon Owner & Creative Director; however, that sim will  have a much more difficult time in being the salon owner & creative director with more mishaps, unhappy employees, angry clients, and more stress than the Supreme Hair Stylist that becomes an owner & creative director. Their chance of failure with the salon closing down is 50% higher than that of a salon employee & 75% higher risk than that of a Supreme Hair Stylist.  Top level for Hair Salon Owner & Creative Director opens up the opportunity for them to expand into a Hair Salon Chain Owner.

-Professional Contemporary Music Artist This career is for the sim that wants to be a Music Idol & Pop Culture Icon. Those that seek after a career as a professional contemporary music artist include sims that have dreamt about success as either a solo pop or hip-hop artist, or as a member of a rock band, or a member in a popular boy or girl band. Their journey begins when they begin to practice singing and/or playing instruments. As their skill increases, they'll gain notoriety performing in venues around town until finally a big music manager contacts them after hearing them perform in a local bar and offers them an audition. If the audition goes well, they'll then be offered a contract with choices such as music genre & solo artist or in a band to begin their musical career. Once the contract is signed, the sim will start receiving dates for live concert gigs that you will be able to follow and play sim through the onstage performances as well as the backstage after parties. At top level the sim will become known as a "King/Queen of Music" which will unlock many new items made for a rock/pop superstar including clothing,  jewelry, big hairstyles, & other rockstar items themed after 1980's musical legends that are known for their music & iconic fashion styles such as George Michael (Wham!), Prince, Bon Jovi, Tina Turner, Cher, Run DMC, Heart, Janet Jackson, DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince, Cyndi Lauper, & Boy George (Culture Club).

 NEW ASPIRATION CATEGORY: TRADESMANSHIP 

NEW ASPIRATIONS: 

-Supreme Hair Stylist 

-Finest Nail Artist 

-Elite Esthetician -Hair Salon Chain Owner -King/Queen of Music

 NEW TRAITS: 

 FINICKY - A sim with this trait is extremely hard to please & they change their minds often too. Finicky sims are the customers that businesses, hair stylists, & servers have nightmares about. They want things exactly like they want it, and if it's not to their preferences, they'll throw a hissy fit refusing to pay for services. At the hair salon they're the client that will ask for a certain hair style or nail style, and halfway through they'll change their mind or when finished burst out in tears saying they don't like it. If they place an order over the phone, or in a restaurant, there's a good chance by the time it arrives, they'll no longer want it causing them to pout, complain & refuse to pay for it. If they enjoy an activity one day, they may hate it the next. If they have a romantic interest, they may lose interest faster than other sims. They may even become the runaway bride or groom. Their likes & dislikes change often because they are FINICKY. 

LEECH - A sim with this trait is outgoing, cheerful, & charming so making a new friend, or romantic connection, is easy for them & quicker than other sims, but once another sim befriends them they will become the center of the LEECH sim's world. A LEECH will only want to do things with that one friend or love interest, and they will expect the same from that friend or love interest. They want to do everything with ONLY that 1 person, and can show up at any time, & anywhere, uninvited to be with them. When not with their friend, they're calling them on the phone, even if they're at work. And if they see their 1 friend/love interest being friendly with anyone else, they will act out in sneaky jealous "accidental" actions towards the other sim who is "stealing" their friend's attention away from the LEECH, such as spilling a drink on them, or bumping into them hard enough to knock them out of the way, or causing them to trip, or pulling their chair out from under them. A LEECH will talk to anyone that will listen to them, and when they're really lonely they will visit their favorite hangouts to talk to the employees knowing as a customer they have to talk to them and be nice. The LEECH is often a Rockin Key business' nightmare client because they tend to hang around bothering the employees or other customers looking for attention.   Some leeches even ask for free things like a drink. The LEECH doesn't have the same obsession with their family members, only with that 1 special friend/love interest which may be their spouse. With family members the LEECH is known for inviting themselves to dinner, or on outings (and of course leeches always forget their wallet no matter who they're with); however, when they make that 1 special friend or love interest their family is relieved because they get a break from the LEECH that will now come around much less often, if ever, while in the other relationship. Breaking off a relationship with the LEECH is not pretty either. They will throw huge fits no matter where or how the break up happens. And don't be surprised if the sim that broke it off now finds themselves being watched with a telescope or being followed when they go out as the LEECH has a very hard time letting go & may pop up at any time just to say "hi" w/ a creepy smile as they walk away. They also may find that their mail has been stolen when the electric is suddenly shut off due to non-payment since the LEECH out of anger stole their mail, though they're unable to prove it to the police. 

 WALLFLOWER- This sim is a romantic at heart, creative, super sweet & friendly, but has trouble approaching other sims, especially strangers because they're shy. They long to socialize with other sims & enjoy going out on the town to different venues/events hoping to make a friend, or meet that special someone; however, once they arrive, they will stay seated and will not approach sims becoming a WALLFLOWER while they wait for sims to approach them. Once they become friends with a sim, they're charming, super sweet, & a bit more chatty, but still more quiet & agreeable than most sims. Being shy they are the exact opposite of a leech as they will often pay for others, and wait for their friends, or family, to call them to make plans as they don't want to bother anyone. If a sim they care about takes too long to contact them they become gloomy or will sit at home & cry alone wondering why that sim doesn't like them. When it comes to business owners, the WALLFLOWER is a favorite customer/client as they're so sweet they're always happy/content with the service provided for them. 

 COUCH POTATO - They live to entertain themselves from a chair or a couch whether at home, a friend's house, or a night out. They tire much faster than other sims & have to sit down more often if out and about. One of their favorite things to do is sit and watch tv which they also enjoy blogging about their favorite shows and movies. If sim also has an outgoing trait they can often be found out at venues that have entertainment, or activities that require or encourage sitting such as a bar, movie theater, park bench, laying out by a pool, library, or hair salon. These venues look forward to visits from their COUCH POTATO customers/clients as they tend to stay awhile, spending more money, so they don't have to get up and go back home after coming all this way. The thought, or sight, of physical exercise quickly drains their energy, and they may need to stop for a power nap whether they are at home, a friend's house, or out on the town.

  New Objects: 

-Hair extensions (4 different lengths/textures/all colors) & accessories (barrets, headbands, bows, scarves) for all ages -Hair salon accessories - couches/chairs, mirrors, work stations w/ stylists' supplies, shelves, hair products -Nail Technician manicure table & chair, client chairs, nail equipment  

-Nail art & accessories -Esthetician table & supplies/cabinet -5 piece drum sets (2 sizes adult & child) -Steel drums in 4 different sizes 

-Electric Guitars 

-Bongos (2 different sizes)

-movie popcorn machine

-soda fountain

-Recliner chairs with large built in cup holders

-Oversized Kites 

A Special Thank You... I'd like to thank my daughter ( #SparkleMuffin21 ) and my son ( #DarthDjoe ) for their help in listening to my ideas and giving me their own opinions on this challenge, as well as pretty much all my sim's creations. My grown children both play Sims 4, so I value their opinions, and appreciate the kindness/patience they've shown me as they often help me by sharing their opinions on my creations. This time around they gave me a lot of advice on what I should or shouldn’t include, and my daughter helped me with the naming of the pack & the name of the town for this challenge. Thanks kids! <3

[carnistirs]

cafuné

↳ @taangweek 2020 Day 2: Modern AU 

Summary: Aang just really likes braiding Toph’s hair. 

Read on ao3 or under the cut

cafuné {Portuguese} the act of running your fingers through the hair of someone you love

‘

“Fuck, are you serious,” he hears Toph mumble in frustration as her fingers snag in her hair.

Aang clears his throat. “I could brush it for you?”

He honestly doesn’t know what possesses him to blurt that out in the open, but it’s too late to take it back now. He waits on bated breath, watches her continue to struggle with the tangles in her hair. She gives up, uttering an agitated go for it, Twinkletoes, and that’s really all the permission he needs before he’s wandering in Sokka’s bathroom, looking for a brush.

The knots look like they’re a pain to deal with, given the unhappy expression on Toph’s face, so he promises to be gentle. Ridiculously enough, he doesn’t know where to start, so he sweeps most of her long hair away from her front, fingers touching the ends of her hair and – oh.  

Oh, wow.

Her hair’s really, really soft.

“Did you fall asleep back there?” she asks archly.

“Sorry,” Aang mumbles, the heat rising on his cheeks – stop, she can’t even see you – while he carefully runs the bristles of the brush over her dark tangles.

He gets lost in the repetition of it, quietly marvelling over how smooth and shiny her tresses are after he brushes them over and over. Toph’s hair drapes like satin over his palms and even when there are no knots left to run over, he keeps brushing.

“I think the tangles are gone,” Toph says later, a hint of bemusement in her voice.

Aang sets the brush aside, but doesn’t stop touching her hair; he gathers a chunk of it at the top before separating it into three sections, slowly crossing the strands over to the center. He gathers in more pieces of her hair every time he crosses over a section, and even though he’s never done this on anyone else before, he’s seen his mother do this a hundred times when he was a kid.

Ten minutes later, a French braid falls down Toph’s back and there isn’t a single strand out of place.

“Wow, I didn’t know you could braid,” she murmurs in surprise, her fingers reaching behind to touch the plait curiously. “Thanks, man.”

Toph’s smiling at him, easy and content, and he barks out a laugh to disguise the fact that he’s blushing again.

“It’s a really nice braid,” Katara chimes in with a knowing grin, a tease dangling at the tip of her tongue. “Can you braid my hair too?”

She plops down without giving him the chance to answer – not that he would decline her anyhow. Katara’s hair flows down in pretty waves, smelling like strawberries, but Aang can’t help the frown tugging at the corners of his lips when he touches it.  

Her hair just isn’t the same as Toph’s.

‘

They’re in line for a movie that doesn’t premiere for another two hours (“We’re getting good seats this time. I’m not risking another goddamn sore neck by sitting in the front row again,” Zuko hisses—) and it’s astonishing how they still aren’t the first people in line.

“Your buns are getting loose,” Aang says idly, tugging at one of them.

Toph swats his hands away. “Well, don’t make it worse, idiot.”

“I could fix them.”

A statement, not a question – with the amount of times Aang’s volunteered to brush and braid her hair this past month, it shouldn’t exactly be news to her at this point.

He knows Toph’s going to say yes, like she’s done every other time he’s asked, so he eagerly starts unravelling her buns without waiting for her expressed permission. Aang had watched a five-minute hair tutorial a couple of days ago and he couldnot, for the life of him, stop picturing her in the exact hairstyle he’d seen.

“I’m gonna need you to bend over for a little while, T.”

“What? No.”

Aang revels in the silkiness of her hair, ignoring her refusal. “It’s an upside down Dutch braid that leads into space buns.” That’s what the video had been callled anyway. “C’mon, it won’t take that long. Just sit on that bench if you want. It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

She sighs, loud and aggravated, but Aang’s already pushing her towards the bench, his touch gentle against the slightness of her body.

“What are you doing?” Suki chirps, appearing with a bowl of popcorn that she’ll probably finish before the movie even starts.

“Suffering,” Toph grumps with her elbows rested on her knees.

“I saw this video the other day and I wanted to see if I could replicate it,” Aang tries – fails – to say casually.

But as soon as he starts braiding, he forgets that Suki’s even there because the glossiness of Toph’s dark hair honestly takes him to a higher plane of existence. Truly, it does. He’s never felt anything like it – Appa’s fur isn’t even as soft as this - and the feeling of being able to manipulate her hair to his will doesn’t help things either.

“Whoa,” Suki murmurs once he’s pinning the second bun to the top of Toph’s head. “That’s so pretty! Aang, do you just go around braiding any girl’s hair?”

“No, he’s only willing to braid Toph’s,” Katara says smugly off to the side.

Aang narrows his eyes. “No one asked you.”

He slides the last bobby pin into her hair and admires his own handiwork, unable to suppress a grin because it does look better. At the risk of getting flat out punched by Toph however, Aang keeps this opinion to himself.

“You like it?” he asks, quiet, meant for her ears only.

Toph’s fingers brush across the crown of her head. “You braided the buns too? Really. You just had to outdo me.” But her lips are curved in a way that softens her face completely and she’s just—

So, so beautiful.

‘

“You never ask me first,” Aang hums happily, fingers weaving her hair together. “What’s the special occasion?”  

“Nothing that special. Just going on a date.”

What the fuck.

Aang’s hands freeze in her tresses as he slowly tries to comprehend her statement. His heart leaps to his throat and it threatens to stay there then, suffocating him.

His chest constricts together uncomfortably, his mouth pressing into a thin line, and there’s an ugly, irrational part of him that wants to ruin her hair now. He wants to leave Toph looking like a mess, hoping that her date is shallow enough to stand up a blind girl just because she has a bird’s nest on her head.  

He immediately feels awful for thinking such a thought, but there’s something clawing at the bottom of his stomach, green-eyed and ravenous.

“Who’s—” Aang can’t even hear his voice through the shrill noise ringing through his ears. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“You know Kanto? The guy that sits in the front row of our English Comp class?”

He vaguely remembers this Kanto guy – vaguely- which means there’s really nothing that special about him in the first place.

Toph perks up a half hour later. “Oh, are you done? What’s this one called?”

“A waterfall braid.”

It’s twisted halfway up, leaving the rest of her hair to fall down in soft waves he created with the use of Katara’s curling wand. Fucking monkeyfeathers, he’d given her waves. Kanto’s not going to be able to keep his hands off her. What the fuck did he just do—

Her phone beeps then, breaking his train of thought. “Shit, I’m late,” Toph says, dragging a finger around one of her waves just to feel the gentle curl of it. “Thanks, Twinkletoes! I owe you one.”  

And then she’s grabbing her cane and running out the door, leaving Aang to blink after her with a pathetic kind of despondence. He exhales sharply, hands white-knuckled as they clench the edge of the bathroom counter.

‘

He’s halfway through a large tub of ice cream when she comes barging back into his apartment two hours later.

Toph rips the spoon out of his mouth and snatches the ice cream from his hands before dumping herself on the sofa next to him. She takes a spoonful, immediately blanching when the taste seeps into her tongue.

“Why’s this ice cream so nutty?”

“It’s dairy-free,” Aang replies, taking the tub before she can throw it halfway across the room. “So, um, was your date...good?”

“No,” comes a snort. “Asshole kept talking about himself, so I just paid the bill and walked out.”

Aang smiles in outward delight because that’s such a Toph thing to do. He should feel bad that her date didn’t work out, like any other good friend would, but he really, really doesn’t.

“Sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Nah,” she waves an airy hand. “I just feel kind of bad because you spent all that time on my hair. It feels like a waste.”  

A nervous thrumming beneath his skin. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“The date’s over.” Toph turns her head and makes a point of blinking milky green eyes at him, gently knocking her knuckles against the side of his head. “You going all airhead on me again?”

“No,” he laughs, inwardly cringing, because it sounds so high-pitched in the space between them. “Your night shouldn’t end on a bad note. Let me take you somewhere fun. It’ll be a better date.”  

And—

Terrible, horrendous silence.

“Date,” Toph repeats after too long of a while, her voice contemplative and strained with something else. “As friends?”

“Yeah, why not? Friends go on dates all the time.” Aang breathes in, lets it whistle out silently through his teeth, and he doesn’t know why he even bothers keeping quiet when he knows she can probably hear him. She can probably hear the silly, birdlike flutter of his heart as well, just beating around recklessly in his chest. “If you’re still not having a good time, just forget it it ever happened. Or punch me if you want.”

“What happens if I have a good time?”

“Then you let me take you out on another date and we keep going from there.”

Toph tips her head back towards the flashing TV and his eyes linger on the arch of her cheekbone, on the delicate cut of her jaw. “Fine,” she ends up saying, smirking through the faint tinge of pink settled on her face. “Just so you know, I’m looking forward to punching you.”

So he takes Toph to a roller skating rink that’s still open this late. Toph trades her cane for his arm as they skate slow circles around the rink, and Aang tries not to show how pleased he is just to have her hold onto him, to feel her small fingers in the crook of his elbow. She laughs with him and at him, loud and blithe, her long hair floating behind her.

Aang trips once because he stares at her too long, even taking her down with him as he grasps desperately at her hands, but she never gets mad at him.

(She still punches his arm though, despite having a good time. He’s okay with it.)

‘

“For someone who’s glaringly bald, you’re a huge hair snob.”

Aang opens his mouth to argue with her because no, he’s never been a huge snob of anything in his life, but then he takes stock of their current situation. They’re pulled off to the side, ten minutes away from the restaurant, with his hands in her hair because Toph had come to him with a look – he doesn’t even know what to call it – that had mismatched braids stretched over her forehead like they’re supposed to be her bangs.

“Who did this to you,” Aang says instead.

Toph grins widely, clearly amused at him. “Suki.”

Scoffs. “I love Suki, but that girl only has, like, three go-to hairstyles at best. You would have been better off with Katara. Or Sokka at least.”

“Damn, shots fired. Suki’s so kicking your ass when she hears this.”

“No one likes snitches, you know,” Aang says, tugging at her hair in a way that makes Toph stick her tongue out at him.

It’s very cute – the flash of a pink tongue and her nose scrunching up at him. In the end, he fixes it with a fishtail braid that has a tighly bound start and a body that curves into a shapely weave of thicker strands. It looks like a mermaid’s figure, actually, and he’s very proud of it.

Okay, wow, he really is a hair snob—

Aang doesn’t get to finish the rest of that thought because something soft is touching the corner of his mouth. It’s a teasing gesture, entirely light against his bottom lip, and he still feels incredibly breathless by the time Toph’s pulling her head back.

“I missed, didn’t I?” Toph laughs to herself, turning her face away.

He follows her helplessly though, leaning over the emergency brake to cup her face in his sun-kissed palms. He dips his head, his mouth burning hot as he brushes it against hers once, twice, three times, tasting sweet cheeries all the while. Aang feels her smile faintly against his lips and he loves it, loves feeling it grace her face, loves tracing the bend of it with his own mouth.

Toph makes a quiet noise when he scrapes his teeth along the plumb of her mouth and he thinks he’ll go mad at that sound. He presses harder against her, feels her lips part under the sweep of his tongue—

“Oh—” Aang jerks back when he realizes he’s completely pressing her into the corner of the passenger seat, when he realizes how small she is under his awkward set of long limbs. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” is her eloquent reply as straightens her sunglasses. “Did you hear me complaining?”

“It was okay then?” he asks, flustered.

“Yes. You’re a phenomenal kisser. Totally rocked my world,” Toph retorts dryly, making him beet-red at this point, but she leans in to kiss him again, not even missing his mouth this time. “This better be an amazing vegan restaurant you’re taking me to.”

Aang beams, pink-cheeked. “It is! You’ll love the chipotle tacos. It doesn’t even taste like tofu.”

Once he pulls back onto the road, his fingers twitch between their armrests, itching to hold her hand. He hadn’t been that transparent, he thinks, but then Toph lets out a mild sigh as she slots her fingers through the holes of his own, stilling his restlessness.

‘

It’s Suki’s turn for movie night – which Aang always dreads – because she always, undoubtedly, picks the scariest ones to watch. Suki is a tyrant who laughs in the face of danger (“I pick them because I know you hate them,” she cackles, “and because I like hearing Sokka and Zuko scream like little girls.”) and consistently feeds off of their discomfort.

He spends most of the time ignoring the disturbing noises coming from the TV and focuses on spinning Toph’s tresses into an intricate flower braid he’d seen on Instagram.

“You’re really not watching?” Toph whispers, body leaning against his knees as she sprawls on the floor.

“I want to sleep through the night,” he explains pointedly. “Why does it have to be horror? What’s wrong with rom-coms?”

“Everything.”

“They’re not that bad.”

“I honestly can’t believe you meant every word of that,” Toph throws back, feigning disgust.

Aang frames her face with his hands, tipping it back so that he’s treated to an upside down view. He presses a happy kiss to her mouth, flicking his tongue playfully over her teeth while Sokka squawks out no oogies! from across the room.

His girlfriend’s hair looks like the epitome of spring when he’s done with it, what with her strands braided into three rosettes at the back of her head. He watches Toph slowly touch the formed petals of the braided updo and, unable to help himself, cranes his neck a bit to kiss her fingers affectionately.  

‘

“No,” he pleads in a murmur when her fingers reach behind to undo her hair. “Leave it.”

Toph’s brow lifts, but there’s a knowing grin on her face. “Why?”

She’s sitting right on Aang’s stomach in nothing but her undergarments, hovering over him like some otherworldly creature. The crown braid he’s intertwined in her hair is still perfectly intact and she simply looks untouchable, like she can step on him and he’d very much welcome it.

“You look like a queen,” he breathes out in a rasp, swallowing tightly.

His hands slide up Toph’s thighs to rest on the creamy skin of her hips, fingers curling to hold on, to leave light impressions behind. As much as he loves loosening her hair for her at the end of the day, feeling ringlets and waves as he brushes them out with his fingers, he just wants her to keep the braid on longer just this once.

Aang takes the hand that’s pressing against his shoulder, slanting his mouth over her wrist. “You can tell me what to do. If you want.”

“Uh, I already do? On a daily basis.”

He flushes. “I meant here. In bed. Only if you want, T.”

Toph’s lips melt into a smirk and he immediately feels his blood rush so far down south at that expression. “Is it the hair? It’s gotta be,” she hums, bending over to grip his chin in her palm. He exhales in a tremor when she tugs his bottom lip into her mouth. “Alright, Twinkletoes, hands above your head and don’t touch me until I tell you to, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” comes out of Aang as easy as breathing while he crosses his wrists above his head, his heart racing.

‘

When one of Aang’s professors shortens the deadline to his twenty-page paper out of nowhere – leaving him a week to finish the assignment when he initally had three weeks left – he buries his face in his hands and screams.

Fifteen seconds later: “Aang?”

Toph appears at the doorway with a disgruntled Appa at her heels; disgruntled, because she’s no longer paying attention to the large St. Bernard licking at her ankle.

And he doesn’t care how particularly needy he looks when he holds an arm out to her, wanting her, but he does it without hesitation. Her fingertips barely have the chance to graze his before he’s yanking her onto his lap, tucking his face into her neck. He hears Appa whining before he joins them too, plopping down by Aang’s chair with a grunt.

She smells so fresh, like apples and honey, and he wants to kiss her skin all over until the taste is in his mouth.

“You okay?”

“My philosophy professor,” he groans, muffled against her skin, “is so horrible. This is the third time he’s done this.”

“He changed the due date to your paper again?” He nods, miserable. “Want me to kick his ass? Just give me some badass viking braids and I’ll fucking do it.”

Smiles. “You can’t assault the faculty.”

“Says who.”

Aang sprinkles soft kisses along her jaw, his fingers already relieving her hair from its messy topknot. The viking braids he has in mind will probably take an hour to do, judging by the sheer complexity of it, but the work will clear his mind from the stress he doesn’t want. Toph sits straighter on his lap, used to the motions by now, and it makes him grin wider.

He rubs his fingers against her scalp. “Thank you.”  

Already, it feels like his chest is less tight. Like he can breathe easier.

“Yeah, yeah,” she replies, closing her eyes in placid content. “Badass viking braids, and then I kill this professor of yours.”

‘

“You sure you want to give hair clippers to a blind girl? What if I accidentally turn this into a bloodbath?”

“I think the more pressing concern is why you’re smiling at the thought of it.”

“That’s just my face. Way to make me feel self-conscious about it.”

“You’ve never been self-conscious about anything in your life.” Softer, quieter: “And you never need to be. At least around me.”

“Ugh, it’s too early for you to be this sappy.” Clicks on the clippers. “Okay, let’s do this. I actually miss touching your bald head.”

“Maybe let me do it with you first a few times? And once you get the feel for it, I’ll hand it off to you.”

“This is fucking crazy.”

“You trust me?”

Mocks back in a voice that’s supposed to sound like him: “I think the more pressing concern is if you trust me.”

He laughs, bright and easy. “Yeah, I trust you.”

[wonderofwillows2]

The Training 3

Why had he agreed? Why the hell had agreed? This was seriously odd, so very odd and he couldn’t explain why, why was he so pliant to the demands of these strange women? He had just had an orgasm in front of his longtime friend and sister for god’s sake. He should be mortified and he did feel the smallest twinge of it. He wasn’t though and that was the baffling part to him. In fact he felt good, free of a burden. He even had begun to notices Jen’s full red lips and their elegant coating of some or another product. He noticed also, and possibly not for the first time, that Priya was in fact very beautiful. That she had such fine features soft and feminine her cute pert nose and deep brown eyes that were currently fixed on his deflating penis. He noticed how sweetly her figure curved as she sat upright and attentive, surveying the whole situation. Her breathing was slightly rapid and he breasts rose and fell in the tight sweater she wore and in the warm room Victor guessed she might be perspiring just slightly.

“We’re so very glad for you Victor. Really we are glad you would accept our conditions. It’s a funny thing we happen to have a doctor who would be eager to assist. What luck she wants to help with our cause. I’m sure Anna and Priya are happy you agreed as well. Aren’t you?” Said Jen the smirk still graced her lips as she talked.

“We really are, Victor I have had my share of men and without giving too much away I want to just say that sex is better with a circumcised man. They’re cleaner and prettier and they make a woman feel nicer.”Anna added with enthusiasm.

“Also do you remember when Mary gave you the handjob after the house party last year? Well here is the thing she wanted to give you a blowjob originally. It’s just that when she found you weren’t cut she didn’t want to. A lot of the girls at school prefer a cut man though some more strongly than others. I feel the same way Anna does too and I’m not from a culture where it’s common either.” Priya added in her excited and very nearly agitated voice.

Victors head was swimming and he did not know what to think anymore. He had just blurted out his answer and after the thoughts his sister and Priya had just shared he was more than certain they had known of this aspect too, they had known he would be cut. He was also shocked to learn his brief interest in Mary had come to an abrupt end due to his foreskin. He was actually disappointed to learn that. It made him wonder how many other girls at the school might have been interested in him and decided not to pursue it on the grounds he as uncut. He still wasn’t sure why he’d agreed but it was a comforting idea that it might be more appealing to women for him to be cut and he was also very certain that these women might really make good on their promise to educate him. Maybe he’d finally get better at talking to the girls at school. Maybe college would be so much easier that way. He’d already been accepted and the humanities programs were often dominated by women.

“Please Victor, you have a nice sized penis we see that now and I’m not ashamed to say that as your sister. I’ve learned a lot from participating in the other side of the program as a mentor to other young men and I’ve learned that even if I am not attracted to you it is ok to appreciate that you’re a sexual being and even to admire that you could learn to please a woman well. Do us a favor and pull back your foreskin for us. Hold it tight and let us see how it might look.” Anna added

“Yes let’s see Victor I want to see it that way now that I’ve seen it covered and erect.” Priya added with great vigor. ‘

Victor was now certain that Priya and Anna were enjoying his show and he surprised himself when he wanted very much to show them. And so he did it. Slowly Victor reached down and began to slide his foreskin back from his now largely flaccid and slightly sticky penis. He winced as the glans was still tender in the post orgasmic moment. His glans was clean aside from the slight coat of shiny ejaculate. It was a prominent size and a deep shade of mixed mauve and red. Priya looked at it fixed her already large eyes wide. Anna remained more composed but stared and smiled as well. The other three women stared but remained otherwise stoic in their expression. Nadine seemed most interested. Victor noticed Priya seemed to flex her legs slightly.

“Don’t you see how much better it looks now Victor? It’s a really nicely shaped glans and a prominent glans can really assist when one makes love. I Think it feels lovely. If you were cut the skin would pull tight and pull on the glans itself making it firm. It enhances the sensation for your partner you’ll have to trust me.” Anna said still smiling.

“It really is a nice penis, I mean that. Let the doctor cut you Victor. She’ll do a good job. Anna has seen some of the men she’s worked with. She’s precise and has years as a urologist. You did already say yes” Priya added sweetly.

“I know I said yes but I am still not really sure. I just, are there side effects?” Victors asked

“None that you need to worry about. It’s a simple procedure and we even happen to have our good doctor on hand.” Jen added promptly and with her wry smirk returning.

“But what will I say to my parents? What will I do about gym?” Asked Victor now slightly alarmed at the way things were going.

“Don’t worry about the school, our doctor can give you a note. She does have a practice other than this and can easily write you a note.” Added Jen now with a full smile.

“You don’t need to worry about mom and dad either. I doubt they’ll find out what happened and we’ll get you some pain killers. My excuse will be that you sprained you ankle. It won’t be so unusual for them to see you walking funny for a few days.” Anna added with a wide smile.

“I… I guess I agree to at least see the doctor.” Victor said and his eyes down cast with the shame of how easily and willingly he’d just submitted to the whims of this strange women and the surprising desires of the ones he had known for so long.

“Get your clothes on then.” Jen added aloof but compelling.

Victor began to dress, first his underwear then his pants and finally the long athletic shirt with insulation. He felt some of his former shame disperse as he dressed. Anna and Priya continued to smile at him. He felt his cheeks grow a bit hot and realized he did love that they were proud of him and happy for him. This was a surprise to be sure but he was not so unhappy with it at the moment. They loved him and he did not need to know more than that. He began to think trusting them was a good idea. Anna saw him look at her and got up from her seat and touched his back gently. Priya stood as well and walked over to him. She gave him a gentle kiss on his cheek and he could feel himself start to blush again, hot blood rising in his cheeks. Priya gently took his hand while Anna left her hand on his back and moved it in small circles.

“Please trust us.” Priya said and Anna nodded with agreement.

“Trust us, just see the doctor.” Anna added.

“I trust you, I’ll go.” Victor relented with a sigh.

Jen motioned to her compatriots and began to walk past the group towards the door and Priya kissed Victor on the cheek again and they began to follow. They walked out of the door, turned the corner of the hallway and walked to the single door that stood in the middle of the hallway. They entered room and found it to be a small medical office complete with an examination table, a scale, the normal bland anatomy posters, and bizarrely enough two extra chairs. Victor was instructed to sit on the exam table and did so dutifully. Jen then instructed Anna and Priya to sit in the chairs. She told them the doctor would be there shortly before exiting the room. The young women didn’t seem to notice but Victor was sure he saw her walk with a sort of flourish she hadn’t previously had and which made her all the more appealing even in her seemingly starched yet figure hugging clothes. Victor was still strangely without much nervousness but he chalked it up to the presence of the comforting others he knew. It was not long before a middle aged woman of African decent entered the room and greeted them.

“Good morning, I’m doctor DeSantos. I’m glad to see you here today Victor.” She said with a wide bright smile displaying her pristine teeth. She had fine dimples and high cheekbones that were complimented by a short, natural, hairstyle. She reached out to shake victor’s had. Then she shook hands with the two young women who seemed to be familiar with her already though neither directly commented on that.

“I want to congratulate you on being accepted to the program Victor. Not many young men receive such an honor. Of course in accordance with the rules I will be performing your circumcision should you accept your place in the program and I do hope you will accept as your sister was very enthusiastic about us taking you and she really made a case for you.” Dr. DeSantos added with a smile.

“I am glad that she was so for it but I really am not sure that I want to be cut. I just don’t think it would be nice, is my foreskin so bad?” Asked Victor in a meek voice.

“It is not that it is bad, your penis isn’t bad as it is Victor. It’s that it isn’t as good as it could be for your partner.” Dr. Desantos said maintaining her smile with the same extraordinary consistency that the women in the room did. It was both eerie and pleasant at the same time. The deliberateness of it frightened him a bit.

“But what about the sensitivity?” Victor asked.

“Don’t worry about that at all Victor. Most men experience no change at all and besides a bit less sensation can be a positive. Besides isn’t a bit less sensitivity a good thing in a man?” Dr. DeSantos asked the two attending young women who both nodded in fervent agreement.

“Don’t you want to be a better lover Victor? Or a lover at all? That is why you’re here. I think that you are far from lacking Victor so let’s cut to the chase, do you want to lose your virginity Victor? Do you want to be the young man on campus whose prowess is known and admired? Well this is how you do it Victor we can teach it all. The social cues you would have missed, the way to best bring them to climax orally, even the best way to stave off your own orgasm. We can teach it all and more. What’s best is that you’ll be able to lose your virginity in the program itself. You’ll get to have sex with a number of the young women who volunteer to teach. Don’t you want that?” The Doctor finished with refinement. If this were a practiced speech she did not indicate it, if it were not then she was a talented person. Victor’s head swum briefly, he did not know how he felt just then and suddenly he was pulled from his reverie by someone holding his hand.

“Please Victor, please do this.” Said Priya who currently had wrapped her own small and delicate hands around his own and had directed her gaze to his own eyes. He noticed then the soft and pleasant scent he thought the doctor was wearing was actually Priya. He couldn’t help but notice her pleasant features. He thought she was so soft and feminine and felt a fool for ignoring it.

“It was me, I’m the one who contacted your sister. I’m the one who pushed her to find a solution. I’m the one who wants this for you and I’m the one who wants to take your virginity when the time comes.” Priya continued and it took Victor a short time to process the fast and nervous words the young woman had spoken. She continued before he could speak.

“I know it sounds strange and to be honest I think we might just remain very close friends but Victor I want you once while we’re still young and I want to help make you the best you could be as a lover. I want to.” She bent down slight but enough to make the curve of her breasts even more visible and let go of his hand then moved in suddenly and kissed him on the cheek.

“Please, for me. I so much prefer a cut man.” She added.

“You know she is worth it.” Added Anna. She was smiling too.

Victor’s mind was in turmoil, he was anxious and afraid for what would happen but he knew at his very core that he wanted Priya and wanted her badly. It was true they might not be in love and true that it might only be a few times but, he wanted that and was prepared for it. He made his decision then.

“OK, cut me then. I want to be in the program.” Victor said with a faltering voice. The Doctor seemed to stir slightly at this and Anna and Priya both threw their arms around him and Priya kissed his cheek again.

“Don’t worry, you won’t regret this at all. I think you may even love it.” Anna said.

“There is one last thing to discuss we’ll be back shortly.” Dr. DeSantos added before ushering the two young women out of the room. Victor was left to his anxious thoughts, though it was not for long before the women returned.

“Let’s get started Victor. Please take off your clothes and lie down on the table.” Said Dr. DeSantos

Victor complied for the second time that day and still he couldn’t understand why he suddenly was without the anxiety that commonly pestered him and the doubts he should reasonably have. He took off his shirt and then pants and finally his underwear for the second time that day, and it occurred to him it was still probably before noon. He watched all of the women stare as he lowered his underwear and felt slightly bashful before complying fully and lowering his underwear entirely. He felt the cold rush of the air on his most intimate parts despite that the air was well heated. He then lay on the table and allowed his body to relax. Dr. DeSantos walked over to the table and placed her hands on his penis and began to manipulate it. He was slightly shocked and drew a quick breath when she retracted his foreskin and examined it. Satisfied She went and donned a mask, gloves, and hat then she ordered the young women to leave the room. They complied immediately, both still smiling.

“Now just relax, I am going to give you a few pain killers than sterilize the are.” Said Dr. DeSantos. She turned and walked to a small cabinet and pulled out a syringe and a small vial of liquid. After filling the syringe she grabbed a few small alcohol wipes. Victor was already shaved so she could dispense with that step. She found it a pleasant surprise. Little did she know that Priya had previously advised him to shave for any encounters he might have at school. She rubbed a small area at the base of Victor’s penis with the disposable wipe and them injected some of the liquid. Victor winced at the sensation. She repeated this three more times before disposing of the Syringe and grabbing a bit of iodine and some cotton balls from the closet. She proceeded to very thoroughly clean Victor and before long the whole area was a solid dark red color. Satisfied with this Dr. DeSantos began to prep other instruments. Victor felt a bit Dizzy with anticipation of the final event. Dr. Desantos returned to the cabinet and then to Victor with some sort of cloth. She expanded a frame hidden within the cloth and before long the thing had formed a small tent. She placed this over Victor.

“It’s so you don’t get anxiety.” Dr. DeSantos said and gave a reassuring squeeze to Victor’s leg. He felt a slight tugging on his penis.

“Do you feel any pain?”

“No, no pain, just a tugging.”

“Then we’re ready.”

With that said the doctor commenced her work. It took nearly twenty minutes total to complete and Victor almost wished he could see what she was doing to his penis but wisdom suggested it might be better is he did not. There was a lot of tugging including in areas he did not expect and he assumed the operation might be more complicated than he had thought. When that was done the doctor grabbed a small tube of liquid and then applied a bit of it to the wounds. She explained that it was a new flesh glue and better than stitches. This was much to Victor’s relief as he hated the look of stitches and would not want them in his penis for a week. And then it was done. Victor was a circumcised young man. With that the doctor took off her gloves and handed Victor a card bearing her name and the address of her clinic. It was surprisingly close to him.

“You’ll have to come back to see me in about a week. We’ll see how you’re healing then. My private number is on the back of the card and you can call me if you have any problems or questions. I will send a note to the school and your sister has a brace for your foot to allow you to feign an injury. Do you have any questions now?” Asked Dr. DeSantos.

“No not right now.” Victor’s felt too muddled to ask anything. Perhaps it was something she’d given him.

“You dress and let’s rejoin the girls.” Said Dr. DeSantos. So Victor did, though very carefully and Victor left the room without his foreskin.

[bldreamer]

LOOK | MorkSun

Dark Blue Kiss : MorkSun

Summary: Five times Sun is surprised by Mork’s appearance. One time they surprise each other.   Genre: Fluff. Hurt/Comfort. 5+1.  Warnings: Tiny mention of power tools and stitches(?) 

A/N: I miss MorkSun. @kdramama thank you darling x

1.

When Sun notices Mork sitting on the couch by the window of the cafe, he has to do a double take. He’s still in his uniform, brow creased in deep concentration, pen in his mouth as he chews on the cap. The coffee table is covered in textbooks and his calculator is resting on his thigh as he jams his index finger mercilessly into the buttons.

It’s not the first time Sun has watched him do his homework in the cafe. So that’s not the thing that surprises him.

Sun smiles, holding his pad and pencil for extra smugness.

“Can I get you anything, sir?” he asks in his perfect customer friendly tone.

Mork mumbles something Sun thinks sounds like a combination of ‘No’, and ‘Go away’. But he can’t help himself to tease a little more. He’s enjoying the view far too much to leave so soon.

“You can’t sit here if you don’t order anything, I’m afraid.” He taps his pencil, pressing it to the paper. “So, what can I get for you?”

Mork pulls the pen out of his mouth and looks up through his thick lashes. Sun can actually pinpoint the exact second where his glare falters and he realises Sun isn’t going anywhere unless he plays along for a moment or two.

“Iced tea, and a restraining order,” Mork grumbles.

“Restraining order?”

“Mh,” Mork hums, “There’s an annoying barista harassing me.”

Sun grins. “I bet he’s handsome though.”

“And he’s really humble about it.” Mork turns back to his papers, pushing his glasses back to his brow. “His personality needs work, if you ask me,” he mutters, jotting something down.  

Sun pouts. “You’re so cold,” he says.

“Was there something you wanted, P’?” Mork asks, distracted. “Or do you just enjoy bugging me even on my day off?”

Sun chews on his bottom lip, feeling a little sheepish all of a sudden.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he says, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Surprise.” Mork pushes them up his nose again, as if on instinct because Sun has brought them up.

Sun won’t say this aloud, he values his life. But the glasses are undeniably cute. Slim black frames, soft round lenses, and a silver bridge curved across Mork’s nose making him look equal parts adorable and sexy.

“Don’t get used to it,” Mork tells him plainly.

“Oh?”

“I get my new contacts in a week.”

That means Sun gets to see Mork wearing them for the next five or six days at least. He isn’t disappointed in the slightest. Specifically at the thought of tugging Mork into bed and taking them off for him before they kiss.

“What happened to the old ones?” Sun asks out of curiosity.

“They were making my eyes itch,” Mork comments, clicking his calculator and turning his nose up, apparently unhappy with the answer it gives him.

Now that Sun looks past his lenses and the blue glare they’re giving off, he can see Mork’s eyes are a little red and irritated. He wonders if the AC is making his eyes dry and he needs to turn it down or change the filter. He makes a note to do both before morning.

“I like the glasses,” Sun mentions discreetly. “They make you look distinguished.”

Mork looks up past the reflective lenses. “Distinguished?” he asks slowly, like he knows what Sun is getting at but he’s still curious.

“Like a sexy librarian,” Sun tells him.

Mork sniggers. “Pervert.” There’s a faint pink glow that blossoms from his cheeks and Sun can’t help but grin at the sight. “Hurry up with my order or I’m going to Boss Cafe to study.”

“Yes sir, coming right up sir.” Sun jots something down on his pad. “One iced tea, coming your way,” he assures with mock urgency, tearing off the paper and putting it down on the coffee table.

He walks away back to the kitchen to make Mork’s drink. He looks up from behind the counter to see the boy reading his note.

-Stay over tonight and I’ll show you how I feel about sexy librarians.

He doesn’t miss the smile that spreads across Mork’s face as he tucks the note into his top pocket, going back to his homework.

2.

Mork starts growing his hair out some time around monsoon season.

His fringe is the only thing that’s different at first. It gets too long to lay over his forehead and Mork flicks it out of his eyes about a thousand times an hour until it's long enough to tuck behind his ears.

There’s an awkward stage where Mork grumbles about cutting it until Sun finds a new niche in threading his fingers through the long strands and brushing his thumb over the hairs at the nape of Mork’s neck in the quiet moments when they’re alone.

When it almost touches Mork’s jawline and starts to curl at the ends, Sun jokes he’ll have to start wearing a hairnet when he’s working.

The next morning Sun comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist to see Mork in front of the mirror, attempting to pull the front half of his hair into pineapple looking sprout at the top of his head.

It’s ridiculously fluffy and Sun hadn’t expected it to be so wavy when he started growing it out. It makes Mork look like a completely different person than the arrogant troublemaker he used to be. His rough and jagged edges softened into something warm and content.

Rain has taken to calling his best friend Mushroom Head and Sun often watches fondly as his boyfriend puts Rain into an unforgiving headlock and drags him around the cafe. It’s the only act of violence Sun permits under his roof.

“Need some help?” Sun dares to ask, despite being on the receiving end of a glare in the reflexion of the mirror.

“This is your fault.”

“My fault?” Sun echos, taking the hair tie from him without prompt.

“You told me I’d look good with long hair.”

Sun frowns. “I did?” he questions, racking his brain for that particular memory.

“You were drunk,” Mork says.

“That doesn’t sound like me.”

Sun manipulates him so he can reach the top of his head. Raking his fingers through Mork’s long hair and gathering the front section into his hand.

“You said I’d be as fluffy on the outside like I am on the inside.”

“That sounds like me,” Sun agrees. Drunk him anyway.

He twists the hair tie and makes a small if slightly messy looped knot on the top of Mork’s head. He steps back to admire his masterpiece, smiling at the cute hairstyle and Mork’s grumpy face below.

“You look adorable,” he beams, proud of himself.

“I look stupid,” Mork complains, not even looking in the mirror. “I’m going to the barbers on my lunch break.”

Sun wonders if the sounds of his shattering heart reach Mork’s ears. If they do, he doesn’t seem to care.

“Mork,” he cries, reaching for his hand.

“Shut your face, I owe Rain 500฿.”

“You guys had a bet going?”

Mork nods, disgruntled. “He bet me I couldn’t last six months looking like a mushroom.”

“Then wait until it’s been six months,” Sun tries to persuade but the expression on Mork’s face tells him he’s not backing down.

“It’s almost summer. I’m going to suffocate under all this mess.”

It’s probably true, Sun hadn’t realised Mork could have so much hair.

Sun pouts, Mork’s hand cupped in his own.

“Don’t cut your hair. Please,” he moans. “Please, pretty please, Mork.”

Mork shoves him away with his elbow, like Sun’s whining is the most annoying sound on planet Earth -it probably is- and says, “Give it a rest,” reaching for the doorknob.  

Mork keeps the topknot in even after Rain outwardly cackles in his face and Sun follows him around for the entire morning sulking. He switches between pleading aloud and throwing him sad puppy eyes whenever their eyes meet but to no avail.

Sun is thoroughly heartbroken when Mork unties his apron and grabs his wallet and bike keys from behind the counter just after one in the afternoon.

Almost an hour later he comes back with decidedly less hair and less curls than he’d had that morning. It's a shade or two darker without the sun lightened ends. Neat at the back and longer on the top, catching on his eyelashes and Sun carefully pushes the fringe from his eyes. 

It’s still just as fluffy.

“How does it look?” There’s a hesitance to Mork’s words, a nervousness about the way he holds himself.

Despite being in a state of mourning, Sun can’t help the smile that spreads across his entire face. He doesn’t deny Mork looks breathtaking. He twists his boyfriend around, hands on his hips so he can tie the apron around at his back.

“You have a tan line on the back of your neck,” Sun tells him with a small chuckle, brushing his fingers over the pale skin at his nape as he ties a knot in the neck of the apron “You look very handsome, boyfriend,” he whispers into his ear.

Mork smirks at him when they’re back facing each other, slipping something into Sun’s hand. “500฿ says you can’t pull off a top knot.”

Sun opens the hand as he walks away. It’s the hair tie Mork had had in earlier and he grins, eyes following his neatly trimmed boyfriend across the cafe.

“Oh, you’re on.”

3.

The sight of the bandage around Mork’s hand makes Sun’s stomach drop to the floor. Especially when Rain trails into the cafe behind him with a sullen expression and a split lip.

Sun forces air into his lungs, taking a slow and calculated breath before he does something stupid like start throwing accusations around before he knows the full story. He’s made that mistake one too many times. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like throwing up as his brain leads him to the most obvious places when the two boys shuffle towards him.

“We know what this looks like,” Rain starts and the sound of his voice alone makes Sun jump out of his skin.

“And what does it look like?” Sun asks, his voice more level than he would have thought.

He clenches his jaw, preparing himself for the worst but hoping for something better. A good excuse at least.  

“P’Sun, it’s not what you think,” Rain assures. “I promise.”

Mork glares at him, looming large while Rain shrinks under his gaze. A stiffness that falls over the cafe, like time gets stuck and Sun can hear his own blood pumping in his ears.

“It was an accident-”

Mork throws his unbandaged hand at the back of Rain’s head making him yelp.

“Dude, what was that for?” Rain rubs the back of his skull. “I said I was sorry.”

“For the tetanus shot.” Mork wacks him again, gaining another yelp. “And that’s for the stitches.”

Sun puts down the tray he’s holding -it’s starting to wobble- and places his hands on his hips as he waits for the full explanation. Eyebrows raised, looking between both boys.

“I was using a saw in the workshop and this idiot,” Mork growls, “Decided it would be hilarious to jump out behind me. You’re lucky I didn’t slice my whole hand off and make you eat it, asshole.”

Rain’s eyes widen and he shudders, knowing his friend isn’t kidding. Sun is still trying to digest the part about the saw.

“What happened to your face?” he asks instead, working himself up from the smallest injury.

Sun highly doubts Mork punched his best friend, but it’s nice to have confirmation. Even if it sounds like Rain deserved it.

“He jerked his elbow into my face when I jumped him,” Rain complains, poking the cut with his tongue like he’s the terribly injured party in the whole thing.

“Be grateful P’Sun made me promise not to use violence anymore.” Mork clenches his good fist. “Otherwise you’d be scraping yourself off that saw.”

“Mork, darling,” Rain pouts.

Mork raises his hand, looking like he’s about to give Rain another head wack when Rain’s phone starts ringing -they all know who it is- and he skulks off to the side to answer it.

“Manow,” he whines into the phone. “Mork’s scolding me.”

Mork’s nostrils flare, glaring holes in the back of Rain’s skull as he walks away towards the stairs, trailing his backpack along the floor as he goes.

“Come with me,” Sun says, grabbing Mork’s arm and tugging him towards the couch by the window of the cafe.

He makes Mork sit down and gingerly takes his hand in his lap, holding it with the lightest touch, unsure where the injury is specifically under the thick bandages that go from his wrist to the knuckles of his fingers. Stark and white, contrasting with Mork’s tanned skin.

“It’s fine, I went to the clinic on campus,” Mork says, answering the question Sun hasn’t even asked yet.

Sun winces, looking from Mork’s face to the bandages. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s okay. Just a scratch,” Mork shrugs, letting Sun hold his hand without complaint. “The nurse said to keep it dry and change the dressings tomorrow.”

Sun furrows his brow, studying Mork’s face for a moment. He reaches out to feel Mork’s forehead with the back of his hand.

“You look pale,” he says, despite not finding much -or anything- of a fever.

“There was a lot of blood,” Mork comments flippantly like it’s the most throw away thing in the world.

“You said it was fine!” Sun scolds.

“It is.” Mork taps him on the cheek. “You worry too much, P’.”

“You make me worry.” Sun tuts, pursing his lips and he brushes his thumb over the edges of Mork’s bandage. “Don’t do any lifting with this hand, and make Rain clear your tables.”  

“No arguments from me,” Mork shrugs.

“Sit down if you feel lightheaded.”

“Anything else?”

“Don’t scare me like this again.”

Mork’s face curls into an all too pleased smirk, “You thought I’d punched someone, huh?”

Sun weighs up his options of telling the truth verses how effective a bold face lie would be.

“You really have so little faith in me?” Mork questions, because apparently Sun took too long to decide his silence is answer enough.

“No,” Sun pouts. “But you can’t blame me.”

Mork huffs a short laugh. “Well, at least you didn’t yell at me before hearing me out.”

“It’s progress?” Sun offers with a weak grimace.

“Sure, P’. Whatever you say.” Mork pushes to stand, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “I’m going to go get changed before my shift.”

“Yell if you need help,” Sun says, and he’s not even being naughty.

“I cut my hand, not had my arm amputated. I think I’ll manage.”

“Tell Rain he’s on toilet duty for the rest of the month for his sheer stupidity.” And for giving him a mild heart attack.

“You’re the boss,” Mork mock salutes him.

Sun sighs, lying back against the couch. Those two idiots are going to be the death of him.

4.

“What’s this?”

Sun holds the pendant around Mork’s neck. It’s hard to see in the dim lamp light as Mork looks down from on top of him, the chain hanging in the air inches from Sun’s face. He knows instantly it’s different than the dog-tag Mork has always worn.

“It was cheap at the market,” Mork mumbles. He leans down, the metal pendant cold as it touches Sun’s skin and they share a chaste kiss.

“Is it what I think it is?” Sun breathes when they pull apart and Mork threads his fingers into Sun’s hair.

“Like I said, it was cheap.”

“It’s a sun,” Sun says.

“I thought it looked cool, don’t read too much into it.”

“You’re wearing my namesake around your neck?” Sun hums, not ready to let it go.

“It was a happy coincidence.”

“Some would call that fate,” Sun muses.

“You’re so cheesy.”

Sun grips the pendant and pulls Mork back down into him. He tastes of the hot chocolate Sun made for him downstairs before they clumsily stumbled up to the bedroom.

“Did you choose it for me?”

“If I say yes will you shut up, P’?”

Mork doesn’t wait for an answer before nuzzling into Sun’s neck, placing soft kisses from his ear down to his collarbone. He doesn’t like leaving bruises. He’s much more tender and gentle than Sun would have ever imagined but he loves it. Adores it. How careful Mork holds him despite the strength in his hands.

“Yes,” Mork admits between kisses. “It’s for you,” he murmurs. “Sap.”

“It suits you,” Sun tells him, bliss swelling from his chest as he trails his hands over Mork’s shoulder blades. “I love you,” he says, breathless and content.

Mork doesn’t return the sentiment in actual words, but the tenderness he gives Sun that night is more than enough.

5.

Sun almost falls over a chair when he sees Mork coming down the stairs.

It’s the cafe’s grand reopening after Sun decided it was a good idea to remodel the whole place after the new year. Luckily he has a boyfriend and a brother, both of whom are good with power tools and a paint roller between them.

Sun had attempted to make himself useful over the last several weeks, but he was quickly demoted from project leader to the mere drinks maker when the two delinquents in his care pointed out that there’s a reason why Sun is a barista and not a carpenter.

Rain whistles behind him, eyes on Mork as well as he approaches, grabbing himself a glass of champagne -the cheap stuff, Sun was poor before the remodel, now he’s bankrupt- on the way.

Sun has so many things he wants to say, so many things he wants to do to this boy.

“You own a suit?” he manages to squeak out and he’s worried if he grips his own champagne flute any tighter it will shatter.

“I didn’t before today,” Mork shrugs, sipping his alcohol.

“You look…”

Sun trails his eyes over Mork’s form from head to toe. Mouth salivating. Mork is dressed in a royal blue suit with a pointed black collar, a black shirt, and matching tailored pants. He’s even wearing patent dress shoes and they shouldn’t be sexy but for a boy who wears nothing but faded henleys and Vans sneakers, it’s everything Sun never knew he wanted until now. He wants to rip the jacket from his muscular frame and weave his way into his neatly buttoned shirt.

“P’? P’Sun?” Mork clicks his fingers in front of his face. “You okay?”

Sun blinks, looking at his glass and wondering how much he’s drunk this evening.

“Huh, what?”

“You’re drooling,” Mork says, and Sun reaches for his chin so fast he almost slaps himself in the face.

He is in fact drooling. The corner of his mouth a tiny bit damp from saliva. And he’s supposed to be the dignified one.

“Are you having a stroke?” Mork sniggers.

“Maybe,” Sun admits, fingers reaching out to smooth the slight kink in the shoulder of Mork’s jacket. “You look incredible.”

Mork smiles, “You don’t look so bad yourself, I guess.”

Sun looks down at his own attire. He’s also wearing a suit, but it's grey and boring and he feels a little underdressed as the host now he’s standing beside his boyfriend, adorned in blue that brings out the golden flecks in his eyes and matches with the new blue of the Blue Sky Cafe.

“Do me a favour?”

“Mh?” Mork hums.

Sun leans in closer, his warm breath next to Mork’s ear, the scent of his cologne warm and woody. “Keep the jacket on until I take it off you later,” he whispers.

Mork chuckles, draining the rest of his glass.

Sun suddenly wishes the party was over and he could have his way with his impossibly suave boyfriend.

+1.

It’s late. The moonlight casts a haze over the otherwise dark room, the curtains blowing in the cool breeze from the open window.

Sun is lying on his front facing the wall, arms tucked under the pillow and his cheek smushed into the fabric. He blinks, wondering what woke him from his slumber. It feels like hours have passed but given how black the sky is, it’s probably been less than one.

He feels a faint touch on his left shoulder blade. Warm fingers moving over his skin and the markings there. They swirl with the lightest trace along the intricacies of the lines, so gentle it makes the hairs on Sun’s neck stand on end. The once rigid hands moving with ease and grace, outlining the black markings with beautiful familiarity.

Sun keeps still and lets himself enjoy it for a while longer. Quiet moments like these are precious to him.  

“Are you having fun?” Sun asks against his pillow eventually.

“Mh,” Mork hums, unsurprised he’s awake. “I like it.”

Sun turns his head so he’s facing the room and more specifically, the boy beside him in his bed.

“Nong Mork,” he smirks. “Are you flirting?”

Mork tuts. “You wish.”

Sun takes a moment to study his face. 

“Everything okay?” he asks, “It’s late.”

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Nothing to worry about, old man.”

Sun huffs a quiet laugh, fondness spreading throughout his chest. He turns his body over and rests his head on his hand as his eyes adjust to the dark room and the features of Mork’s face become clear.

“What’s so funny?” Sun asks when he notices the faint smirk across his pink lips.  

“Still hard to believe you have a tattoo.”

“Why is that?”

“You’re so vanilla.”  

Sun won’t deny he makes every effort to live his life with the safety bars firmly locked in place.

“I wasn’t always,” he says, finding Mork’s hand on the sheets and lacing their fingers together.

Mork snorts. “I can’t picture that either.”

“I was worse than you, trust me.” Sun studies Mork’s fingers. They’re softer than they used to be. “I put my father through hell.”

“So the tattoo was at the height of your teenage rebellion?”

Sun shakes his head, “No, that was just before I opened the cafe actually. I’d got my act together by then but I thought it could bring me good luck.”

“That sounds even harder to believe,” Mork says. “That you would waste money on a stupid superstitious tattoo when you were trying to open a coffee shop.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Sun counters. “I have a coffee shop and I even gained a boyfriend because of it.”

Mork pushes him on the shoulder. Sun knows if he turned the lamp on he’d see the boys cheeks flushed.

“Did it hurt?”

“I suppose.” He doesn’t remember actually. It wasn’t a pleasant time in his life and he regrets not getting it when he was in a better place. It’s worked out in the long run but it's taken a long time for him to look over his shoulder without his chest aching.

“Did you cry like a big baby?”

Sun chuckles. “It hurt a lot less than when you’re applying antiseptic to my face.”  

“Where did you get it done?”

“Some place my friend's brother owns,” Sun says, twisting the silver ring around Mork’s thumb. A gift for the News Years just gone. “Why are so curious all of a sudden?”

Mork shrugs. “Thinking about getting one.”

“Really?” Sun says, surprised.

“I’ve always wanted a tattoo. Just never had the spare cash to pay for it.”

“Where would you get it?”

“I wanted something on my arm for a long time.” Mork traces their entwined hands on the inside of his forearm, just below his elbow. “But I guess it would be better if I got it somewhere hidden.”

“I like that,” Sun tells him with a knowing look. Thinking about being the only one that would have the privilege of seeing it. “But it’s up to you. It’s your body.”

Mork blinks at him, looking like he’s taken aback slightly at Sun’s words.

“Did you expect me to talk you out of it?” Sun guesses with a smirk. “I’d be a bit of a hypocrite don’t you think?”

Mork huffs. “Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

He has a point.

“Do you have a design in mind?”

“Haven’t thought that far.”

“We could get one together?” Sun grins, waggling his eyebrows.

Mork’s eyes widen and he looks mindly horrified for a second before he narrows his brow and glares. “I’m not getting a couples tattoo with you.”

“It would be cute.”

“It would be over my dead body.”

“Fine,” Sun grumbles, pouting. “Will you tell me? If you decide what you want?” He doesn’t like the idea of Mork slipping off by himself and coming back with a fresh bandage and a sore patch of skin.

“Sure,” Mork says.

Sun looks over at the pile of clothes scattered across his bedroom floor starting at the door.

“Do you know where my t-shirt is? I’m cold,” he pouts, hoping the look is enough to get Mork to reach for it.

The boy just sighs, tilting his head and not falling for it as Sun would have liked. There’s a hint of something he can’t quite put his finger on in Mork’s eyes however. Disappointment, maybe?

Sun raises his eyebrows. “Unless you plan on admiring my stupid superscician a little longer?”

“Shut up.”

Sun bites his lower lip. “You like it that much?”

“So what if I do?” Mork says, rising to the challenge.

“Nong Mork,” Sun teases, squeezing his fingers to clasp the boy's hand a little tighter.

The boy glares, but there’s no heat behind his eyes. “I think I preferred it when you were sleeping.”

“Then let’s sleep,” Sun says, tugging his hand until he begrudgingly lies down. “I love you,” he murmurs when they’re facing each other.

“Mh,” Mork hums in return. “You’re going to wear that phrase out.”

“Maybe I’m saying it enough for the both of us.”

It’s not a dig. He knows how Mork feels, in fact he knows how the boy feels before he knows it himself. It’s just he’s more of an ‘actions speak louder than words’ kind of guy and Sun can’t help but admire him for it.

“Night, P’.”

Sun brushes the fallen hair from his eyes. “Sweet dreams, Mork.”

He feels Mork shuffle closer, not touching, because Mork isn’t a cuddler, at least not for longer than five seconds under extreme circumstances. But he’s close enough that Sun can feel the heat of his bare skin and the warm breath from his lips.

Sun wants to lean over and place a kiss on that pink mouth, but Mork looks tired and he doesn’t want to ruin the moment of quiet stillness that settles around them. And so Sun closes his eyes to the boy's soft face and lets himself drift off, knowing by the sounds of the slow breaths, Mork is already ahead of him.

~Fin.

[all-of-the-above]

Being a woman today

As a woman in today’s world, you may feel…

a)     Insecure

b)    Body conscious

c)     Unpopular

d)    Not pretty enough

e)    Not perfect enough

f)      Weak

g)     Scared

h)    Unsatisfied

i)      Pressured

j)      All of the above?

Well, I think most of us can say me too. One thing I think we know for certain is that we are not alone in how we feel, yet the world can still make us feel like the odd one out. You see, being a woman is entirely one thing, but to be one in the society we have today is another. We face so many different things, fight for so many rights and are still put down, shamed and ignored. To feel uncomfortable in this world I think is honest and true. I hear you, so many of us are listening its just not enough. Who knew those princess stories weren’t true?

To be male or female in our society is highly pressurising, but I think we can all agree it is more so for women. Social media has infiltrated our lives, bringing connection, laughter and creativity but also pressure, bad body images, abuse and suffering. We scroll through pictures and think this is how I should look, why am I not that skinny, why don’t I have her hair, my teeth aren’t perfect, my lips are too small, I should wear more makeup, but also, I shouldn’t wear too much makeup. I need that outfit, I should go there, I need to be that happy, I should have that by now. No. Stop. Stop hurting yourself, stop hurting your body image, stop hurting your mental health. Take a breather, step back. No one is that happy all the time, no one looks like that 24/7. Stop comparing yourself to others, stop putting yourself down and wishing you could be more. You are already enough, and I know it is hard and it is tough, but so are you. Since when did life become this huge competition sometimes with complete strangers? Why put yourself through more stress just to look good for people who don’t really care. We consistently want something we don’t have and forget what we do have. You don’t need to post every time you do something just to show off. You don’t need to edit your photos so much that you lose yourself. You need to be you, post reality, post if and when you please, post for you. Stop editing and instead start loving what you see, embrace your ‘flaws’, your individuality. Life is for living, for real conversation, for smiles and for sunsets, for food, for music, for friends, for family, not for a screen that makes you feel unhappy in who you are. Stop competing, stop wishing to look like them or be like them, stop scrolling and start being you each and every day and don’t hide it from the world, share it, make a change, be someone who posts life and inspire others to stop wasting precious time editing and putting down and under appreciating themselves and their life.

Something else that really bugs me is the cost of being a woman. Why is everything so much more expensive? No, I don’t want to hear all that rubbish about women being the bigger consumers okay, I get it, we all do, but its still no reason for such stark differences. Why can a man get is hair cut for £10 whilst I have to pay £40 and up? So, women’s hairstyles can be more complicated, okay, but that’s a lot of money! Why is my plain white top £10 whilst his is £5, there’s no difference? Oh, and last time I checked sanitary products still cost. Those are not cheap, it is something we haven’t even chosen, we have no choice, but have to pay for it? What’s all that about? And why in the hell are they considered a luxury? It is a necessity, a healthy and clean way of caring for our bodies and they should be available everywhere for everyone, free of charge. But no. We pay again. And not only this but men have the gall to say periods aren’t painful, we shouldn’t be so moody, there’s no need it’s just natural. You see they refuse to understand, to listen, to help. A Professor of reproductive health at University College London, John Guillebaud, told Quartz that patients have described the cramping pain as 'almost as bad as having a heart attack.' Even a fact like that isn’t believed. Yet again women feel another form of pressure to be a certain way, to deal with it and move on. We are told to look certain ways, so we buy the latest fashion instead of being mocked, we cut our hair to just simply keep it healthy, we get our nails done, our eyebrows, eyelashes, we tan, we wax, we shave. We do so much, yet still pay more. How is it fair that we should pay more for things that men have too (like a haircut) when we also have so many other expenses. To be a woman means to feel under constant pressure. Maybe we don’t need to update our wardrobe every year, or consistently get our nails done, okay, but I think the point still stands. To be a woman is not cheap, it’s not easy, it’s not for the faint hearted, it’s tough.

A woman feels pressure from many aspects of society, and I know one in particular is clothes. We can feel insecure and even scared to wear a particular outfit to a particular place at a particular time. Why is that a thing? How is that fair? Its not. I should be able to walk down the street in a dress and not be starred at by men that are old enough to be my dad. I shouldn’t worry that someone may take my outfit as an invitation. I should be able to wear what I want and not be called out for it. Why am I starred at for wearing leggings and a top yet when I wear jogging bottoms and a large sweater, I’m invisible? You see sometimes it’s like a disguise, a safety net, a comfort blanket. My own invisibility cloak where I can go out and feel maybe just that bit safer, less looked upon, freer. This isn’t right, we shouldn’t be creating a world where girls are scared to wear skirts, to wear shorts or a dress or even jeans or leggings. Girls shouldn’t feel scared to wear their clothes. We don’t take a guy walking around with no top on and shorts as an invitation do we? So why take a girl in a dress, more covered up than a guy like that, as an invitation? I think we’ve proved that even at this point sometimes it doesn’t matter what you wear, its still scary out there. So how on earth have we built a society where women now could wear a mini skirt or high-vis coat and still be taken advantage of, still abused, used and even killed? Its wrong. Why is being a woman labelled as easy, that we don’t have to do much or worry about much. If you listened, looked, read, researched, you would see just how hard it is. It’s not easy, it’s scary, it’s pressurising, it’s tough.

To be a woman today means to be tough, it means to have a hard shell, to be prepared for the world, to support yourself, to love yourself as much as possible and feel comfortable in who you are. It means to be satisfied in your life and in you, whilst trying to not let the world around you scar your skin. This is for all the women out there, I hope you know you are not alone, you a brave, beautiful, bold and brilliant. The world is cruel but don’t let it stop you, know you are strong and capable of so many things. Know that who you are right now is more than enough.

[chestnut-b]

Himawari Chapter 10

“Is he happy there, Kakashi?” Sarutobi asked.

The man had looked oddly sheepish.

“Frankly, if I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t have thought we were talking about the same person.”

Then Kakashi cast his gaze down in thought. Looking up again, his eye turned into a thin crescent.

“When he’s with the children, you couldn’t tear the smile off his face even if you tried.”

Chapter 10 of a Demon Slayer AU

“Please make yourself comfortable, Hatake-dono. I’m afraid the Master was called on some urgent business, but will be returning shortly.” 

The servant bowed apologetically, and left Kakashi, who had just arrived at the Sarutobi estate, to his devices. 

The former Flame Hashira was one of the lucky few who had lived to retire, with most of his parts intact, having lost only a leg vanquishing an Upper Moon demon. After he was sure the performance of his successor and students were satisfactory, he’d taken the ridiculous salary afforded to his position, and charted what was one of the first expeditions West by ship. For all his worldliness, Sarutobi was soon dubbed ‘The Professor’.

The collection of paraphernalia and tomes from his years abroad was proudly displayed in the room he favoured for entertaining guests, and Kakashi was only too happy to browse. 

Grabbing the nearest book, curiously bound in animal hide, he found it unsurprisingly filled with words foreign to him. The illustrations; of man-bull beasts, winged men, one-eyed cyclops’, of ships rocked against cliffs, all seemed to depict epic myths and cautionary tales. 

Between its pages were several loose sheets of paper, and as soon as his eyes settled on the writings, his lips quirked into a smile.

The language, familiar. The handwriting, even more so. 

Ever the studious one...

He could easily see a younger Iruka listening intently to Sarutobi narrate these fantastical tales, enthusiastically writing these down for his own future references. Browsing through the notes, it seemed the book was about ancient mythology, of civilisations long past. 

He closed the book, not wanting to deny himself a chance to quiz the teacher about it later.

Kakashi turned his attention to a shelf along the edge of the room, lined with framed pictures. Products of one of the more fascinating curiosities Sarutobi had returned with. The first time he’d had his photo taken, it was on his last visit here together with his Father. A camera, he’d called it. 

Among the photographs one seemed to draw his attention. A grinning boy, and a young child with dark eyes, sporting the traditional doll-like hairstyle, dressed in kimono woven with wisteria motifs typically worn by the Senju girls. 

Before he could conjure any particular thoughts about it, he heard a happy giggle from the corridor. He turned to see a brown-haired toddler staring at him from the doorway. His appearance was followed by the sound of mismatched footsteps, and the child was quickly scooped up from the floor, into the arms of the person who had summoned Kakashi in the first place.

“Excuse my lateness, Kakashi, I had some troublesome things to attend to.” The master of the house called for a servant, and one came running in, taking the baby from his arms and retreating just as quickly. 

Soon, he was sitting on the tatami floor with a cup of tea before him. Sarutobi always took pleasure in the ritual, something Iruka had obviously inherited from his master. Kakashi wasn’t nearly as fond of it, but the grateful smile that usually followed his efforts was not something he disliked.

“I appreciate you taking the time for the detour.” The elder started, reaching for his pipe. “How is Oyakata-sama?” 

Still alive, for some reason. Is what he would have liked to say, but Kakashi was here on a little mission of his own, and so he reconsidered.

“His condition was not as favourable as it was on my last visit, I’m afraid. But it’s been nearly a year since I’ve seen him, things might have changed.” Kakashi replied. Sarutobi’s brows furrowed unhappily.

“That is unfortunate to hear, but I suppose it is unavoidable. Tell me Kakashi, how fares that foolish student of mine?”

He’d expected a little more fondness, and a little less frustration. It only served to prick at his curiosity. 

“Iruka seems to be managing just fine.” He said jovially. “Last he wrote, he was having some fun with gunpowder.” There was a series of coughs, and the smoke made his own nose itch, but he resisted the urge to react. 

When he recovered, he flashed Kakashi a considering look, but instead of asking what he really wanted to, he grunted. 

“Trouble and him are never far apart, as usual.”

“It is as you say.” Kakashi followed, secretly hoping for him to divulge a little more.

Sarutobi directed his attention past Kakashi, towards the rock garden beyond the room, bathed in afternoon sun. The troubled look on his face erased any doubts that he was recalling something unpleasant.

“Iruka has already told you most of it, I presume.” Kakashi nodded, affirming his suspicions. There was a deep, long sigh. 

“It’s been nearly three years since he left here with Naruto, and frankly, I still get ulcers thinking about it.” 

“Then why let him go?” 

“Hmph, you think I wanted to? Of course not.” He scoffed, taking another drag of his pipe. “I thought he would have moved past it, but his reaction ended up being inexcusable. Still too impulsive, too hot-headed.” 

Kakashi thought of the person he’d come to know. On the surface; easy smiles and laughs, a warm hand. Sincere.

But then he remembered the flickers of darkness, the wildness of his gaze, barely reined in when it was directed at Kakashi one night, but completely unbridled when he’d met the demon in the cave. The teacher had known full well Kakashi was there, he could have requested help and spared himself further danger and potential injury, but chose not to. 

He’d seen many warriors in his time, and the need to prove oneself was something he’d witnessed again and again. They didn’t always survive it.

“That much I told him. I suggested he return to the Senju where his skills would be of some use, and what does he do? He proceeds to prove my point!” Sarutobi seethed, and Kakashi waited with bated breath. 

“The fool steals a horse, disappears for a month, and comes back near death with that scar on his face, and a complete map of the forest, Gods!” 

If Kakashi weren’t himself, he’d be smiling, rubbing his hands together while urging him to continue, but he figured he’d have a lot to answer for if their meeting had induced an aneurysm. 

His friend would be most unhappy, and not in the fun way.

With a cool look that belied his interest, he took a sip of tea. 

A few minutes passed, and several drags of a pipe later, the elder had calmed down, somewhat.

“So you did too good of a job, perhaps.”

It induced a regretful sigh. The man got up from his seat with practiced ease, despite the wooden prosthetic. He walked towards the shelf of photographs, and stood nearly in the same spot Kakashi had. He was even looking at the same photograph, he realised.

“This is not what his parents intended for him.” 

It was subtle, but he could feel Sarutobi’s heckles rising as he stared at the photo. 

Kakashi recalled the Senju girl in the photograph. Familiar dark eyes. His mother, perhaps? He could see the resemblance. But he quickly realised his mistake; there was no way it could be her. At that age, Sarutobi hadn’t yet acquired his camera. The boy’s grin was familiar too, and in hindsight, obviously belonged to that of a Sarutobi. So who-

“Asuma was a terrible influence.”

Ohhh.

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“I trust you’ll make sure these reach him, Kakashi.”

“Why of course, the Hashira Delivery Service always comes through.” Kakashi murmured as he finished securing his sandals, furoshiki tied and slung across his shoulder. 

“Hmph. Make sure the demons don’t get your tongue, boy. Unlike theirs, ours don’t grow back.”

Kakashi stood to take his leave, but Sarutobi quickly retreated back into the room. He began to rummage through one of the more well hidden cabinets, and having found what he was looking for, emerged once again. 

“There is a saying in the West, you know,” 

Kakashi turned to face the man.

“Care will kill a cat.” 

“Oh, I suppose it’s a good thing I’ve always been more of a dog person.”

“I wasn’t referring only to you.”

Sarutobi continued. 

“I’d ask you to be a friend to him, Kakashi, but it seems you already are. You have my thanks.”

“None necessary, really. I happen to enjoy his company.” 

There was a laugh, and it disturbed Kakashi somewhat, to see Sarutobi smile at him so smugly. The elder held up whatever it was that he’d fished out, and Kakashi took it from his calloused hand.

Almost against his will, his gaze softened.

What could only be a younger Iruka, his features just a bit rounder, cradling a sleeping Naruto in his arms. The toddler was dressed in more clothes than he’d probably ever been in, and was obviously spent. If Kakashi wagered a guess, they’d just returned from receiving the blessings for his third year of life at the temple. 

To anyone else, it was a sweet, touching momento. A pair of mismatched brothers, on a memorable day.

To anyone who knew the story, it was...complicated.

Set in the garden during the day, implied that it’d been taken not long after the youth had learnt of Naruto’s true nature, and just over a month past the anniversary of his parents’ deaths.

Iruka’s visage still lacked the distinct scar that highlighted his eyes; the line that moved like a wave on the shore in tandem with his ever-changing expression. But unlike the smiling self that Kakashi had come to naturally associate him with, the boy in the photograph was looking upon the child’s sleeping face with an almost unreadable expression. 

Vaguely, it brought to mind the portrait of a merciful, motherly deity. 

His eyes were warm, yet burdened with melancholy.

Kakashi recalled Iruka’s confession, as he recounted everything he’d lost, and later lived for.

Looking at the scene, it made something in his chest ache.

“Are you sure about this one? Might be a bit of a downer, you know, considering everything else.” Kakashi asked cautiously.

Sarutobi did not rescind. 

“Tell that foolish son of mine, not to lose his way.”

“Which one?”

“Both, if you happen to see the other one.”

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Sarutobi watched from the gate as Kakashi left the estate with his hound.

“Well, you might not need to worry about that. Iruka’s probably got the best sense of direction I know of.” The Hashira had said without turning back.

Yes, but tunnel vision is a fearsome thing. 

He felt a tug on the sleeve of his haori, and looked down to see Konohamaru gazing up at him. Once again, he scooped the toddler into his arms.

The boy sends you and Konohamaru his regards, sensei. 

He remembered his meeting with Jiraiya seasons prior. His former disciple had arrived with news that only added to his worry for his two former charges, along with Iruka’s specific request in writing not to divulge any of it to Kakashi.

Frankly, he did not know why he was agreeing to it at all.

Carrying his grandson back into the guest room, his gaze settled again on a single photograph, to a pair of eyes that were once free of the terrible burden of loss and guilt.

He wondered what they looked like now. 

After a newborn Naruto had been delivered to him, he’d searched everywhere for Iruka, but there wasn’t a trace left amidst the chaos and destruction. He’d spent a year thinking he’d failed Kohari, who’d been like a daughter to him, and Ikkaku’s empty scabbard, delivered by the Kakushi, loomed over his conscience like a phantom.

Then came a cold autumn day; a boy arrived at his doorstep, clothes threadbare and mangled with tears, and without so much as a pair of sandals on his feet. Almost unrecognisable, if not for the nichirin blade he carried, rusted and chipped, and a kunai hanging at his waist. 

“Now that I’ve been left behind, what should I do, Jii-ya?”

His eyes then were devastatingly hollow.

It was a memory so vivid, the bitterness was still palpable in his throat. When Iruka had accepted his proposal to stay with him as his student, he’d stopped calling him “Jii-ya”, as his mother did when she wanted to tease him.

He’d never told him, but the day they’d found out about Naruto’s immunity to the sun, Sarutobi had been ready to commit seppuku for having allowed it to go that far. If not for Hashirama’s intervention, he wasn’t sure if they’d both be alive today, with him carrying Konohamaru in his arms like he was doing now.

“Sensei, please allow me to go with Naruto!” 

Soon after, upon hearing Naruto would be sent to the Forest of Death, he had barged in, pleading desperately with his forehead glued to the ground, but he’d been staunchly, repeatedly denied. The eyes that looked at him held the same terrible hollowness, just as the day he’d learned of Naruto’s origin.

It was the look of someone who’d been once again, stripped of a reason to live.

A month passed. 

When he’d ran, stumbling, to Iruka, collapsed outside the estate near death in a slayer’s uniform that was clearly too large on him, his eyes were gilded with a fierce determination he’d not known the boy was capable of. 

They burned, just like Kohari’s had when she told him they had deserted.

“There has to be...some reason why I’m still alive, sensei. Let me stay by his side, please.”

He was utterly defeated. It was the moment he knew he’d have to let go.

“Is he happy there, Kakashi?” 

The man had looked oddly sheepish.

“Frankly, if I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t have thought we were talking about the same person.”

Then Kakashi cast his gaze down in thought. Looking up again, his eye turned into a thin crescent.

“When he’s with the children, you couldn’t tear the smile off his face even if you tried.”

That alone was worth having called the young Hashira here. 

He looked at Konohamaru, who had fallen asleep in the nook of his neck, much like in the photo he’d sent along. 

It brought back memories of a time when he’d carried Iruka like that too.

Take care of that foolish child of mine, Kakashi.

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End of Chapter 10

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Author’s Notes:

Ohh, another fun chapter to write! I can’t wait for Asuma to get in here (though it won’t be for another 2 chapters or so). I really wanted to explore the relationship between Sarutobi, Iruka and Naruto more, so I was quite satisfied with this. 

As usual, I’d love to hear what you think! Is it moving too slow? This is all very self-indulgent, I know, haha. 

See you in the next chapter!

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Fun facts and Terminology:

Shichi-Go-San (7-5-3) Festival

In Japan, ages 7,5,3 have always been celebrated as prosperous milestones for children to have reached, even way past in the Heian period. They’re dressed up and brought to the temple to receive blessings. It falls on 15 November, and Naruto’s Birthday (and by extension, Iruka’s Parents’ death anniversary) are in October. So yeah, just over a month between them.

“Care will kill a cat.” 

The origin of the phrase “Curiousity will kill a cat”. I didn’t want to use it in that exact phrasing here (it also wasn’t recorded till 1868, which is a bit later than the setting of this story anyway) 

In this case, care = “worry” or “sorrow for others”.

I felt it fitting for both Iruka and Kakashi. :D

Jiiya - An affectionate way of referring to elderly men. Kinda like “Gramps”

Photography/Cameras - The first camera was imported into Japan in 1848 through a Dutch Port. The story takes place a few years earlier than that (more or less)