#copied and shortened from wiki

[teddylacroix]

Nongae

Nongae (Korean: 주논개; Hanja: 朱論介; 1574–1593) was a gisaeng of Jinju during the Joseon period of Korea. A popular legend tells the story of her sacrificial assassination of the Japanese general Keyamura Rokusuke.

In 1593, Japanese forces invaded the Korean peninsula during which province official Choi Gyeong-hwi [who had taken Nongae as his mistress when she was 17 after ruling in her mother's favor 5 years earlier when she kidnapped and ran away with her daughter after learning that her uncle was going to sell her off to someone for 50 sacks of rice] was assassinated in June. Afterwards, the Japanese eventually succeeded in their invasion of Suyeong Fortress (now near Jinju). To celebrate the victory, soldiers forced all the gisaeng to serve them at the Choseokru Pavilion (nugak) on a cliff that overlooked the Nam River in Jinju. Nongae was called to entertain the victorious Japanese generals alongside the other gisaeng. Nongae walked to a steep rock sticking out of the Nam river under the Choseokru, which prevented the Japanese soldiers from joining her due to a fear of falling into the river. Nongae challenged the Japanese general, Keyamura Rokusuke, to join her. The general attempted to lure Nongae away from the rock. However, she eventually led him to the cliff-side, where she embraced him, clasped her fingers with rings that locked her around him, and cast herself along with the general into the river, killing them both.

[kaledya]

Hi Hi ♥️

I'm curious about the prince ... In fact, I have a crush on him ♥️

1 - short or long hair? I saw that in the old images he has short hair, not as long as it is now.

2 - I also saw that in the old images he was wearing boots? Use it daily or only when necessary because it has hooves

3 - Did he ever have birthday parties as a child?

4 - Are your social circle mostly from the nobility?

5 - When you were a teenager, did you ever want to have social media or something like that?

6 - Do Morningstar have rules in the royal family? What doesn't he like?

7 - does he have an idea on how to solve the overpopulation of hell? [ Well look, I was looking at some Wikis about the hazbin hotel and it said that the sky increased its normal size with the number of souls Virtuosas, right, so as hell is a counterpart to heaven, maybe that happens, but with earthquakes, I don't remember which episode of Helluva Boss was, when blitz, millie, moxxie and loona Loona was screaming in panic, and the blitz says "infermoto: or hell earthquake" I don't know what it's like in English because I saw it dubbed, but I think the earthquakes are because hell is rising Its territorial size and therefore the tremors, a well-traveled theory in my head]

8 - After your sister created the hazbin hotel, I saw that in the comics he went there to help her?

9 - in the old posts I saw that he can transform into a woman?

10 - What was the best teaching that Constantine considered from Lucifer and Lilith?

(Sorry for the English, I'm using the translator)

HOWDY!! 🌸🌸

I'm so glad to hear you love Constantine!!(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

And thank you again for your questions.

1.Yes, in the first designs, I kept his hair short so that he wouldn't look more like Lilith.But as time passed, his hair grew longer on the field and became what it is today.

he prefers his hair long, but occasionally shortens it.

2.Wearing boots is not as comfortable as when walking with his hooves, but he still wears his shoes from time to time.

3.Yes he had and his Favorite thing about birday parties was The cake (he was a sweetooth, he still is)

But when he grew up, he stopped celebrating his birthday, (He thought it was a waste of time. ) But Charlie continued to celebrate his birthday for him.

4.He doesn't have much of a social circle.But if you are talking about the people talk/ see at ball or meeting, yes, they are all noble. Constsntine is not someone who has much contact with lower races, he even meets with overlords once a year at most.

5.Constantine was born in 1812. Such concepts (social Media) did not exist at that time.Even if it did, he would be one who doesn't use social media, his entertainment is books

6.There are rules, the rules Constsntine didn't like when he was young,there was forbidden books for him to use (this was a decision for his own good)

7.I don't know anything about the exact information you mentioned, but if I talk about SSAU

The over-population proglem is solved every year by the Exorsists, and Constantine approves of this method.

Constantine don't sees sinners as his own people and he doesn't value them According to Constantine, sinners are just pests that need to be destroyed.Anyway, Constantine, someone who is almost never talk to a normal sinner, he just talking to some overlords.(rarely)

8.Can't say he helped at all. When Charlie thought she was making progress, she invited Conststine to the hotel to get her brother's opinion.

Charlie did not accept financial aid etc. (this was her project, she did not want to get help from her brother) Constsntine one to gave her moral support

9.Constantine is a shapeshifter who can change into any form he wants whenever he wants.A female form or an animal form Or copy someone else's form

10.I think there may be information about how the Kingdom will be ruled.Or Lilith's advice to Constantine about the future kingship and his role in his sister's life. The advice that Lucifer gave him about how to seek the true power of magic, etc.

No need to apologize for your English!! I understand you very well and thank you for your questions!🌸🌸

[cornbread-but-minecraft]

decided to document all the biomes that have different IDs between bedrock and java edition (according to the wiki), since some of them can be a little confusing.

they will be listed in format "Bedrock ID -> Java ID" with some extra commentary for some biomes. unless specified, the reason for the difference is that the biome name changed since implementation into bedrock.

ice_plains -> snowy_plains - this biome is also known as the tundra, which was its name during the JE alpha.

ice_plains_spikes -> ice_spikes - i don't personally know anyone who would consider this biome a variant on the snowy plains, but apparently mojang did at some point.

swampland -> swamp

roofed_forest -> dark_forest

birch_forest_mutated -> old_growth_birch_forest - this biome was added during a time where many biomes would receive slight variants, most with a generic 'mutated' or 'modified' title, which java edition shortened to 'm'.

mega_taiga -> old_growth_pine_taiga

redwood_taiga_mutated -> old_growth_spruce_taiga - not sure why it specifies "mutated". pretty sure this is the only biome called a 'redwood', excluding its variants.

cold_taiga -> snowy_taiga

extreme_hills -> windswept_hills

extreme_hills_mutated -> windswept_gravelly_hills - again with the unnecessary specification. these are the only kind of gravelly hills.

extreme_hills_plus_trees -> windswept_forest

savanna_mutated -> windswept_savanna - this biome is also known as the shattered savanna.

jungle_edge -> sparse_jungle - this biome's name change came with a slight appearance change making it bigger in 1.18, but it's still technically the same biome.

mesa -> badlands - notably, non-technical aspects of bedrock edition refer to this as the badlands, while technical aspects as new as its music sound event from 1.20 refer to it as the mesa. the music sound event is directly copy-pasted from java edition (to the game's detriment), even using its 'music.overworld' naming convention, so this is seemingly a deliberate choice.

mesa_bryce -> eroded_badlands

mesa_plateau_stone -> wooded_badlands - no idea why bedrock's ID calls it that.

cold_beach -> snowy_beach

stone_beach -> stony_shore

mushroom_island -> mushroom_fields - why did they even change the name of this biome? it's intended to generate exclusively as an island and usually does.

hell -> nether_wastes - very odd that the bedrock ID would call it that when the nether as a concept had been fairly solidified for years. this was an outdated name even at the time.

soulsand_valley -> soul_sand_valley - haha lol.

and some honorable mentions:

the frozen ocean was added and then removed for a long time. when it was re-added, the old version was changed to the legacy_frozen_ocean on bedrock, making one of the very few times bedrock changed an ID that java didn't (removed biomes get merged with a similar biome on java edition, while bedrock just removes them from worldgen).

the outer end islands were never split into highlands, midlands, barrens, and small islands on bedrock, so these areas are just considered the normal "the_end" biome.

[kleineshexenkraut]

Parallels between Zaraki Kenpachi and Oni in folklore

Some of Zaraki Kenpachi's character design, namely the influence of the skeleton-monster(s) Gashadokuro, has been nicely explained in this post.

His Bankai, in which he almost literally transforms into an Oni, is obvious as well. But apart from this (and characters throughout the story outright referring to him as demon/monster) there are even more parallels that run through his design from the very beginning that link him to Oni in general, especially the ones depicted in theater, and one in particular – Ibaraki-dōji. To address all the similarities we need to first take a closer look at this legendary Oni.

Ibaraki- dōji is a famous figure in folk tales from the Heian Period with adaptations in Nō and Kabuki theater. The name may refer to the town Ibaraki in Osaka and has interesting resemblance already, at least phonetically. Zaraki (更木 ) has the meaning 'New Tree' and Ibaraki-doji (茨木童子 ) means 'Thorn Tree-Child'.

As for the tale itself I will copy some of the text from the Wiki-article (though shortened), and link the site so you can read the more in depth version:

The picture above is "Watanabe no Tsuna meets Ibaraki-dōji at Modoribashi Bridge." Ukiyo-e print by Utagawa Kunisada.

Ibaraki-dōji was the most important servant of Shuten-dōji whose gang was based on Mount Ōe. The damage caused by Shuten-dōji's gang was so large that Minamoto no Yorimitsu and his subordinates went to exterminate them. Dressed as mountain priests they pretended to request lodging and successfully got to Shuten-dōji's stronghold. That evening, they roused up a drinking banquet and Shuten-dōji became so drunk that he was unable to move. He and his Oni were all exterminated. However, Ibaraki-dōji, when fighting with Watanabe no Tsuna, saw Shuten-dōji get killed, and not wanting to die, retreated, and was the only one who was able to flee.

There are several versions about what happened after this. In some Watanabe no Tsuna cut off Ibaraki's arm in the battle, in some this happened at another date.

Tsuna showed the Oni's arm to Minamoto no Yorimitsu. Yorimitsu consulted with an onmyoji who told him to confine himself in his house for seven days and not let anyone in the house for that time. Several days after that, Ibaraki-dōji tried to invade Tsuna's estate, but due to the power of Sutras and a talisman, Ibaraki-dōji was not able to enter.

Finally, on the evening of the seventh night Tsuna's aunt, Mashiba (there are also versions where it was not his aunt, but his foster mother) came to Tsuna's estate. Tsuna told the circumstances, and said that his aunt definitely cannot come in, but the old aunt grieved, "from a young age, I raised you with great care, and my reward is this kind of treatment?" and by that, Tsuna disobeyed his instructions, and let his aunt into his estate. However, his aunt was, in reality, Ibaraki-dōji in disguise. While still in his aunt's appearance, Ibaraki-dōji expressed desire to see the arm that Tsuna cut off from the Oni, and after carefully looking at the arm taken out of its seal within a box, suddenly turned back into an Oni's appearance. Ibaraki-dōji, holding the arm, flew up in the air, and disappeared in the distance in the sky.

In this gif you can see Ibaraki-doji, played by Nakamura Tomijūrō V, in a Kabuki-play. Zaraki's hair-style during TYBW has a striking resemblance to the way Oni-hair looks in these plays. The markings on his face in his Bankai-state as well.

That he lost his arm in the fights and got it back afterwards is another neat little thing that can be linked to the folk tale. Even his brow-ridges kinda look similar to the style Ibaraki is portrayed in.

The varying background-info on Ibaraki makes things even more interesting.

For one, there is no clear consensus on whether Ibaraki-dōji is male or female. In some stories they are male and the deputy of Shuten-dōji, however, most stories and illustrations depict Ibaraki-dōji as a kijo, a female Oni, and Shuten-dōji's lover. This duality might be reflected by Yachiru/Nozarashi, who is as Kenpachi's Zanpakuto-spirit a part of his soul.

The assignment of gender-specific characteristics to the sword-spirits is quite fascinating. Most have the same as their wielder, but there are exceptions, such as Kyōraku's Katen Kyōkotsu; Renji's Zabimaru and Kenpachi's Nozarashi. If someone wants or needs to find a more in depth reason to make either of these characters gender-fluid or trans, this could certainly be a neat angle.

Another excerpt from the Wiki: 'In the Settsu-theory it says: 'Ibaraki was born with fangs and long hair and a glint in his eye, and power that was greater than that of grown-ups, that his family was fearful of him, and left him around Ibaraki town.'

According to the legend in Ibaraki city, Ibaraki-dōji was born after a difficult delivery after 18 months. He had already grown teeth, and was immediately able to walk after being born, and laughed with sharp eyes upon looking at his mother, causing his mother to die of shock. The oni-like child was too much for his father, so he was thrown away in front of a kamiyui in Kuzugami forest at the town of Ibaraki, and was then raised by the lady of the barbershop, who did not have a child. Ibaraki who excelled over adults at strength and physique at a young age, was also too much for the barbershop, but was taught the job and was able to be settled down. However, one day,-dōji injured a customer's face with a razor, had his hands stained in blood in fright, and tried licking his fingers clean but got used to the taste of blood. From then on he intentionally injured customers' faces and drank their blood. Having angered the barber shop, the despondent dōji leaned against a bridge over a brook and hung down his head in shame, and, having noticed how his face reflected in the water had completely become that of an oni, did not return to the barber shop.'

Sharp teeth; frightening laugh; abandoned; stronger than adults from a young age – sounds familiar, doesn't it?

The part about the barber-shop made me laugh rather hard. Not only because there's so much fussing and styling involved with Kenpachi's hair in canon, although that certainly is another funny parallel. But it made the silly omake-skit in which Kenpachi asks Ichigo whether he should do his hair as well so much more hilarious. I wonder whether that was influenced by Kubo or a totally weird coincidence?

In the Yokai-Wiki is a description of the location: 'Ibaraki-dōji’s most famous story takes place at Rashōmon, the southern gate of old Kyotos city walls. Rashōmon was built in 789, but after the Heian period (794-1185 ) it fell into serious disrepair and became known as an unsavory place. It was overgrown and unkempt. Thieves and bandits hung out near it. It even served as a dumping point for unwanted babies, and a spot to dispose of murder victims.'

That's basically what the 80th district in all it's awfulness is said to be. We could also take a closer look at the time period. Sadly the manga never shows the Squad number Unohana or the Shinigami with her have on their clothes when she first met Kenpachi. And it's all ambiguous enough that she could have been captain of the 11th or already captain of the 4th. Who says she wasn't allowed to satiated her blood-lust after changing divisions, especially since she mentioned having grown apathetic then? But if we assume she still openly carried the title of Kenpachi, then this could've been as long ago as thousand years. Quite a few big wars happened during the later years of the Heian period and these wars with the usual atrocities and unburied soldiers would fit in with the origin of the Gashadokuro. Although, to me, it's strange to picture Kenpachi roam the 80th and adjacent bad districts for that long until he made his way to the Seireitei. But who knows?

There's apparently a saying linked to the traditional depiction of Oni in which they carry iron clubs. 'This image leads to the expression "Oni with an iron club" (鬼に金棒oni-ni-kanabō) that is, to be invincible or undefeatable. It can also be used in the sense of "strong beyond strong", or having one's natural quality enhanced or supplemented by the use of some tool.'

Well...again, this sounds not only like the title of 'Kenpachi' in general and like the description we get from Hanataro before the fight with Ichigo, but all the more like someone who can explode a meteor with his Shikai while still wearing his Reiatsu-seal.

Oni have another weird hang-up; Japanese buildings sometimes have L-shaped indentions at the northeast to ward Oni away. Although the dead-ends in the Seireitei are what I'd call U-shaped, they are still inadvertent structural traps for Zaraki. Every time, even the small niches.

Sure, his nonexistent sense of direction is a running gag. But running into dead ends 10-20 times in a row, as the comments on their way to Rukia's execution suggest, is a clear enough pattern to make one's ears perk up and wonder.

[callistoivy]

I JUST COPY PASTED ALL THE II CHARACTERS FROM THE WIKI INTO GOOGLE TRANSLATE AND EVENTUALLY I GOT THIS (Also long post, it’s literally every character lol, I’ll put some of the best ones in bold)

Apple

Ball

playing baseball

Knife

menthol is the source

it's a marshmallow

nickel is the source

it's a drawing pen

Payment methods

Polite

it's a cherry

doh is the right one

fan

It has microphone checker.

soap

there is no shelter

to lie

made of textiles

trophy is a trophy

Yin and Yang |

the bomb was destroyed

Listen to me

DO IT

paper

chest

there are pickles

Salt

it's a taco

there is a water network

Really

chinese oranges

there are traffic lights

spread

there is a black hole

with tweezers

it's a wrapped scarf

it's a ball of straw

Theme

give it blue

taxi is not

it's a candle

clover is the

past

protection shield

it's a silver spoon

snow boil

flat

8 honey

banana

bell is the answer

shorten it

crispy cookies

cork is the source

Dictionary

it's ten cents

it's a guitar

Magnifying glass

it's a cake

with rubber balls

It was Sharp Mervert.

It can be seen on television.

it's a teddy bear

there is toilet paper

it's chives

it's a me pad

MePhone4S (another server).

Using MePhone4

Using MePhone7

Toilet

Available on the MePhone3GS

it's a MePhone5C

Available on the MePhone5S

Using MePhone5

iPhone6+ is the best

Using MePhone6

steve cobs is the best

[multiplicity-positivity]

im relatively new to this community and I can't google things because my mom has a parental control app on my phone and can see everything I google even if it's on incognito so. What exactly does "Endo" mean?

oh! well endo is short for endogenic - it’s an umbrella term for systems who formed without trauma. we’ll pull some screenshots (with alt text) so you can read more about it without having to click on any outside link.

this is from pluralpedia:

(alt text copied from the site:)

Endogenic is an umbrella term that refers to all systems that are not completely traumagenic in origin, it encompasses many experiences. It is often seen as the opposite to the pathologized views of plurality, although can exist in harmony, even within the same system.

History

The creation of this term can be found on this Tumblr blog in mid-2014, in addition to other terms that have not picked up much steam. Beyond the original coiner's creation, it has come to mean anything not-traumagenic.

Even earlier, "natural system" was used for any system that was not caused through trauma. It referred to the "natural" development of multiplicity in some individuals, often of spontaneous or spiritual formation (as purposely created headmates like tulpas often had their own communities and weren't commonly seen).

Related Terms

It is sometimes shortened to "endo", though shortening it like this came from system exclusionists, so not every endogenic system is comfortable having it used for them.

There are many subtypes of endogenic plurality, including those of a metaphysical nature, purposely created through tulpamancy or other created systems, or existing since the beginning. Endogenic systems are often disapproved of by sysmeds. (end alt text)

this is from the multiplicity and plurality wiki:

(alt text copied from the site for both images:)

Endogenic plurality is a catch-all term for non-traumagenic plurality, meaning the state of being more than one identity in a body in a way that was not caused by traumatic experiences. This is in contrast to traumagenic plurality, such as in dissociative identity disorder. The word "endogenic" comes from the prefix "endo-" meaning "internal/within", combined with the suffix "-genic" meaning "produced or caused by". The label was coined by The Lunastus Collective,[1] as an alternative to needing to use the word multiplicity to describe such experiences[2]. It was originally defined as multiplicity with no known cause but not since birth, but the definition has since expanded and been used as an umbrella term by the community.

Specific types of systems that may refer to themselves as endogenic include, but are not limited to, Natural Systems, Tulpa Systems, Soulbond Systems and Gateway Systems. Other types of systems that fall under the endogenic umbrella can be found in the Endogenic System Types category.

Distinguishing From Other Experiences

Mental disorders: Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) and Other Specified Dissociative Disorder (OSDD-1), are mental disorders, commonly as a trauma response, that cause pathological multiplicity. It's not uncommon for DID and OSDD-1 systems to mistake their pathological experiences for something non-pathological, such as imaginary friends, spiritual possession, an endogenic system, or other forms of non-pathological multiplicity. [3] This is because amnesia of childhood trauma is very common. Furthermore, many pathological systems are not distressed or even aware of their dissociative symptoms until later in life. [4] This is why it's very important to talk to a professional if you believe you are experiencing multiplicity in order to rule out pathological causes! (end alt text)

you can search the term “endogenic” on our blog to see positivity posts made by members of our system on endogenic plurality in the past.

we hope this helps!

🐢 kip

[mogai-infirmary]

archonkin, a fictionkin identity where one identifies, in some way, as an archon from genshin impact. this user may identify this way because they are an archon (kin/irl/da/fictive/etc) or because they simply connect with being an archon.

The Seven Archons, typically shortened to The Seven, are the seven gods who preside over the seven regions of Teyvat. Each Archon is associated with an element and an ideal, by which they formed their territories' environment and determined their method of governance over their regions. (copied from the genshin wiki)

[phantommalice]

Anime recommendation

Okay so, anime recommendation: C the money of soul and possibility control or a shortened version is just ‘C control’ or simply ‘C’

C is set in a world where Japan goes through a financial crisis that causes high rates of unemployment, crime, and suicide. The series revolves around Kimimaro Yoga, a 19-year-old boy raised by his aunt after his father disappeared and his mother died. A scholarship student of economics, his only dream is to live a stable, ordinary life. One day, he meets Masakaki, a mysterious man who offers him a large amount of money if he will allows his "future" to be held as collateral. When Kimimaro accepts the money, he becomes an "Entre"(short for "entrepreneur") and is drawn into the alternative reality of the Financial District, where Entres make transactions using a special currency called Midas Money.

In the Financial District, each Entre is paired with a special creature who personifies their futures known as "Assets"; Kimimaro is designated to be accompanied by Mysu, a horned girl who can conjure up fire-based attacks. Entres are summoned there once a week to compete against each other, betting their money in a battle known as a "Deal". Entres who lose all of their money and become bankrupt are banished from the Financial District with tragic consequences to them or their loved ones in reality. (Yes, I did copy and paste this from Wikipedia.)

The anime may not be your cup of tea, but I’d still recommend watching at least 2-3 episodes before you drop it. The animation is a little wonky and tends to switch between 2D and 3D at times, but it still looks good. The plot’s also sort of hard to grasp, but it's understandable. It's also pretty fast-paced, but that's because it's eleven episodes long, so of course you'd expect that. You'll be able to learn more on Wikipedia or the c control wiki fandom.

A character I recommend watching this show for is Masakaki. Masakaki is a representative of the financial district, he’s very cheerful and chaotic, and pops around others’ personal space unexpectedly.  I guess he kinda looks like Willy Wonka and the mad hatter rolled into one, except slightly more demonic. There’s more than one Masakaki, there’s one for every district(or every nation/country), all look the exact same except for their color palettes. They also seem to have slightly different personalities, though all are as playful and cheerful. He doesn’t show up much, but he shows up enough to make you want to watch this show for him. You can learn more about Masakaki here.

Hope you give c control a chance, if you do I hope you enjoy it. If you don't enjoy it then that's fine, I could see why. 💙

[mannazandwyrd]

Loki, Winter Solstice, Lussinatta, Santa Lucia’s Day, and a ginger cookie recipe

Thanks to Dagulf Loptson sharing in her book PLAYING WITH FiRE (page 220 or location 4041 on my Kindle copy) her UPG that Loki celebrates December 13th as something like a birthday, people have been connecting the dots between Loki and a winter solstice celebration:

https://ladyofthelake.blog/2018/12/14/lokis-holiday-dec-13th/

https://lokiheals.wordpress.com/2018/12/14/loki-day-december-13/amp/

About Santka Lucia’s Day in Sweden: https://www.whychristmas.com/cultures/sweden.shtml and Saint Lucy’s / Santa Lucia’s Day’s roots as the winter solstice festival and Lussinatta: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Lucy%27s_Day

So, yeah, a date long associated with all-night parties after a mad rush to get ready for Yule and escape Lussi’s wrath? That’s been celebrated for millennia with ginger cookies and saffron bread? I can totally see a Certain Hearthfire Deity with a taste for ginger and a love of a good party adopting that as Their Day, or possibly reclaiming it as theirs if Lussi was originally an aspect of Loki and the connection was lost over time. Maybe that’s also a reason we associate Loki with the number 13?

Anyway, here’s an old recipe from my family in the Canadian Maritime provinces to help you celebrate December 13th, the solstice, or Yule with our favourite redheaded mooch:

Gingerbread or Ginger Snap Cookie Recipe

250 mL brown sugar

250 mL butter or shortening

250 mL fancy molasses

2 eggs

15 mL ginger powder

5 mL salt

1125 mL all-purpose flour (sifted)

30 mL baking powder dissolved in 60 mL milk

Preheat oven to 375 F / 180 C

Mix dry ingredients and set aside

Cream butter until soft, then add sugar, molasses, eggs, and soda-milk mixture while mixing well. Add the dry ingredients a bit at a time until you’ve used it up; dough will form s ball. Roll out on a lightly floured board, thicker than 1cm for a soft cookie, thinner with extra flour for a brittle snap. Cut with floured cutter, place on parchment-lined cookie sheet, and bake for 12 minutes. (Dough may be made ahead and frozen.)

(I’ll edit to add a photo once I find a local grocer who isn’t sold out of fancy molasses... substitution with blackstrap molasses made them too molasses-y and their colour too dark to easily judge crispiness coming out of the oven.)

[glenhannah]

Jerry Lewis & the Cinderfella Album

1960 saw the release of the wonderful Jerry Lewis fantasy CINDERFELLA, a role reversal take on the classic CINDERELLA story.

You can learn more about the film here

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cinderfella

but I’d like to show you the wonderful soundtrack release that accompanied the movie. Unfortunately, I don’t own a copy but these photos give you some idea of what it looked like. According to Wikipedia it was a complete re-recording with a different cast and included songs not in the movie. It also featured a shortened re-telling of the story.

The illustrated cover contains caricatures of the cast.

The album featured a colored vinyl disc. I wonder how common this was back in 1960. It certainly added to the fantasy charm of the release.

It appears that when you opened up the LP, there was a game of sorts with a Cinderella theme (the clock)

From Discogs

 "Cinderfella Race To The Castle" board game (with spinner and attached booklet) inside gatefold. Package also includes a die-cut cardboard insert with punch-out tiara and game pieces. Early printings included a speckled plastic wand, laid in along the top seam, originally held in by the manufacturer's heavy plastic album seal. As there is no place within the packaging for the wand to be stored, open copies accompanied by the wand are scarce.                

A charming accompaniment to the film.

[fatoulein]

If your interested in the run times of the seasons, Og season 2 was 375 minutes, Wtfock was 292, Austin - 281, Druck - 266 , it*lia - 258, France - 245 and NL - 192. While Og season was 244 minutes, France - 236, Druck -223, España - 269 and it*lia - 292. I’m not sure how accurate this is because I just used the skam wiki for episode run time but it’s interesting that’s all

thank you so much for taking the this breakdown, it’s all super interesting!!!!

it’s interesting that wtfock has the longest s2 out of all the remakes, although it definitely doesn’t compare to og s2 really. it’s also interesting that skamfr has the second shortest s2 despite having 14 episodes instead of the og’s 12, which should in theory give it more time to catch up to the og’s runtime. but given skamfr’s penchant for drastically shortening the scenes that they copy-paste from the original as @isakeijser pointed out, it’s not too surprising.

then it’s REALLY wild that it*lia had the longest s3 out of all the remakes because it’s the most similar to the og by far. idk what’s going on there cause i never watched it.

[theattorneyguideblogz-blog]

Vital Considerations in Law Firm Selection

  If you are going to be facing legal action, you have to seek the services of a reliable attorney. For instance, if you are dealing with a personal injury case, you must find an excellent personal injury attorney to help you. To hire the services of a reliable attorney for your case, you have first to choose the right law firm. Today, there are plenty of law firms that you can choose from in the market. The process of choosing one is going to be challenging. Looking and choosing one in the phonebook is not the proper process of hiring a law firm. You may have to do a lot more when you want to get the best legal representation from law firms. Knowing what to look for in law firms helps you decide which one you should select. Make sure to know what questions to ask your prospects so you can shorten your list of options. What follows are some helpful guidelines in choosing law firms that would work well for the legal battle that you are facing.

 Speak with family members and friends if you want the most fitting legal representation or law firm to work with you. Get to know the reasons why they have made such a law firm or Omaha personal injury attorney suggestion to you. You can then proceed to book an initial appointment with one of their suggestions.

 When you are going to be meeting with the potential law firm for the first time, prepare yourself at all costs. You need to bring a copy of the reports and documents that are associated with your legal case. These materials should include law enforcement reports, witness accounts, contact information, medical records, and your bills. Make sure that you describe the legal position that you are in to the law firm in a transparent manner. By doing this, you know that the law firm will be returning to you in the best possible way. This will give you an idea if the law firm is worth your time or if you have to move to another option.

 If you are still not sure which law firm you must choose, be sure to ask the right questions to them. Prior to seeing a law firm or attorney, you should prepare a list of items that would help you decide better. Take the time to inquire from the Omaha personal injury attorney or law firm how long they have been practicing the specific area of law that your case is a part.

 Ensure that you are aware of the level of experience the attorney assigned to your case has. Find out how the law firm or attorney will deal with your case. Know how you will participate in your case. Find out the communication you will have. Finally, ask them about the payment terms that they will give you. Inquire if they will include your payment terms, billing, and all expenses. Find interesting facts about lawyers, go to https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Attorney.

[gabbiani-ipotetici]

You might be wondering, what does the tag's name mean? Why did I choose it? What is this all about?

Ora e sempre, Resistenza (now and forever, Resistance) is a motto you can hear used often by (usually leftist) people who oppose Fascism, right-wing government/politics, etc. It has become a kind of “catch-all” slogan, sometimes misused or overused, and sometimes those who use it don’t know where it comes from.

It’s from an incisive poem, Lapide ad ignomia (Monument/tombstone to ignominy), by Pietro Calamandrei. The poem is also known as “L’avrai, camerata Kesselring…” (You will get it, camerata Kesselring…), from its first verse.

Kesselring’s biography is extensive and I can’t possibly summarize it here (Wiki has a thorough page here https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Albert_Kesselring), but you have to know that he is THE German we Italians learnt to hate and despise. He was in charge of Italy’s defence during the Allied advance, planned many attacks against Resistance forces, and he personally issued orders for some of the worse civilian killings our country suffered (like Marzabotto and Sant’Anna di Stazzema, among others). Oh, and he used the local Jewish people of Rome and Tunis as slave labour to fortify those cities’ defences. Truly, a lovable fellow.

His trial was in 1947, he was found guilty of war crimes and sentenced to death by firing squad. Many UK politicians and military leaders (including Churchill) petitioned for his sentence to be converted to life imprisonment, then in 1948 his sentence was shortened to 21 years, and he was released in 1952 due to health reasons (the UK government feared a media backfire if he died of illness while in jail). He died 8 years later, but not before becoming active again in politics. Those who defended him often cited his love for art and how he preserved Italian cities and architecture. It’s a pity he didn’t give a damn about the people who lived in the country he so claimed to love.

When he was released, he declared that he didn’t think of himself as guilty and that the Italian people should thank him and build him a monument for what he did in Italy.

Piero Calamandrei (you'll hear about him a couple other times, in this series), a politician, lawyer, and one of the founders of the Partito d’Azione  (a progressive, anti-fascist party that also directly took part in the Resistance) answered with this poem, copies of which exist as monuments in many locations where civilian mass murders ordered by Kesselring took place. Calamandrei published it on December 4th 1952, the 8th anniversary of the death of Duccio Galimberti, a very famous partisan that was tortured and killed in 1944.

My translation is way less poetic than the original, but I hope I managed to transmit a bit of the meaning of the poem, of what Ora e sempre Resistenza means.

Original text

Lo avrai

camerata Kesselring

il monumento che pretendi da noi italiani

ma con che pietra si costruirà

a deciderlo tocca a noi.

Non coi sassi affumicati

dei borghi inermi straziati dal tuo sterminio

non colla terra dei cimiteri

dove i nostri compagni giovinetti

riposano in serenità

non colla neve inviolata delle montagne

che per due inverni ti sfidarono

non colla primavera di queste valli

che ti videro fuggire.

Ma soltanto col silenzio del torturati

più duro d'ogni macigno

soltanto con la roccia di questo patto

giurato fra uomini liberi

che volontari si adunarono

per dignità e non per odio

decisi a riscattare

la vergogna e il terrore del mondo.

Su queste strade se vorrai tornare

ai nostri posti ci ritroverai

morti e vivi collo stesso impegno

popolo serrato intorno al monumento

che si chiama

ora e sempre

RESISTENZA

Translation

You will get it

camerata Kesselring

the monument you demand of us Italians

but it’s up to us to decide

the stone it will be built with.

Not with the charred stones

of the defenceless villages maimed by your exterminations

not with the ground of the graveyards

where our young comrades

rest in peace

not with the inviolate snow of the mountains

which defied you for two winters

nor with the spring of these valleys

which saw you run away.

But only with the silence of the tortured

harder than any stone

only with the rock of this pact

sworn among free men

who willingly gathered

led by dignity and not by hatred

determined to redeem

the shame and the dread of the world.

If you wish to return to these roads,

you will find us at our post

the dead and the living sharing the same commitment

one people closed around the monument

that is called

now and forever

RESISTANCE

[aineryeo]

The Haunt of the Living and the Dead

Synopsis: Kyojuro is reminded of his goal by his demeaning father. The pressure leads him to crack and lash at you who found a cute puppy. Assigned on a mission that will decide Kyojuro's raise in rank in Tourui, Tokyo, he sees a woman resembling his mother; all the while, you haunt him.

Themes & Warnings: Coming-of-age, Slice of Life, Lighthearted Romance, Graphic Violence due to Setting, Heavy Canonical References (Theoretical calculated age to fit into the present time in the anime), Spoilers, Eventual Smut, Kind of Slow Burn, Domestic Violence (Verbal/Physical) because Shinjuro. (18+) Also, you meet Akaza, so make of that as you will. → AFAB! Reader.

Chapter Author Notes: So I just found out the exact story of Hairo vs Kyojuro from the wiki (I can't find the manga copy) and apparently Mitsuri is already supposed to be involved and a squadron of other slayers but from my timeline reference, Mitsuri isn't set to appear until about 4 years after the current timeline so I might be a little early. It was hard to find information about it aaaa but since determination of the years are difficult and it's not explicitly relevant in the main plot of the anime, we're going to adjust the story a little bit. I just don't know how every character's story intertwine with each other and it requires individual research on each of them which i cant do bc of cetr :") but rest assured that i am sticking to 80% of canon telling!

Marry me first! (먼저 결혼해줘) — Series Masterlist (Age Guides, Playlist, Gallery/Picture References, Terminology List.)

Chapter 5 « Chapter 6 (Current) » Chapter 7

EXTRA: Chapter 6.5

It’s now officially been two years since you first met Rengoku Kyojuro. It was Spring now. You breathe calmly in meditation as the flowers sway in the wind and the leaves that once fell from branches begin to sprout. Sun shone and threatened you to open your eyes, but you remained there, palms on your knees, taking in the warmer wind. The same white haori that was once bigger on you was now starting to shorten, even just a tad. You’re in the open area in the Rengoku estate, underneath a tree stretching in. You could hear Senjuro’s huffs as he moved to swipe his sword downwards, again and again…

You release the breath you were holding through your mouth.

When your eyes open, you’re met with the same orbs you’ve been akin to. He’s sitting in front of you, leaning back on the rock beside the tree that shaded the sun. 

Kyojuro was peeling oranges.

“They’re more delicious with the peel. Wakuri-san from a few houses down says it’s healthy too.” 

“You’re the only one I know that eats oranges with their peel.” Kyojuro finishes peeling the orange and hands you a quarter of the fruit.

Kyojuro watches as you take a single carpel in your mouth and squint at him like he’ll be intimidated. He remembers the last month of February, but it was colder then. He recalls the time he asked you…

“If I liked another girl, what would you do?” He now lets go of the grip of his other hand on the hilt of his sword to look at you, who only looks back casually, elbows resting on the thick red rail.

That day, the remaining wind of winter was harsher.

Alas, despite the wind that blew his hair forward, while it flawlessly combed through yours instead, you provided a simple knowing look as your right eye squinted at the setting sun that blinded you, allowing your hand to block out the light slightly.

“If you liked another girl. Oho,” You move in a bit closer, always so bold you were. “Then it simply means that you already like me?”

Kyojuro shuts his mouth tight, a slight blush from your proximity. Your nose would go closer, close enough until you quickly bumped it gently against his before pulling back. He’d look so shy; this was not how girls act. His mother told him stories before. But you seem to take mercy from his more flustered state. His question was supposed to be severe based on his initial thoughts; you leaned half of your body on the railing, attempting to catch a Camellia when you conjured a reply to his question.

“If you like another girl, Kyojuro. Then you just have to tell me, hup—!” You almost jump off the rail to catch the well-left pale pink Camellia, his hand already grasping the back of your haori out of instinct. Turning to him and twisting the winter flower in your hands with a naturally reddened face due to the inciting cold, you continue.

“If you’re unhappy or in love, and it’s not with me, that’s okay. Because you’re a pretty good family.” Your hand that once held the fallen Camellia moved to place it on the crown of his head. “Or a friend. You’re a great friend, and if it takes me leaving to satisfy you, then... That’s okay too.”

Kyojuro moves to take the lucky flower that retained its beautiful body and petals.

“I’m not in love with you, though.”

“Then are you unhappy?”

“No.” Then your eyes, which were usually wide, softened.

“Then I’m not leaving.”

Your hand waves in front of Kyojuro, spaced out, eyes nearly blown wide, staring at you. He remembers having more oranges in his mouth than he remembered.

“Aw, he’s back now, Sen-kun. Can’t fit any more of those in.”

Kyojuro’s cheeks were filled with pieces of orange that flooded his mouth. He noticed that Senjuro’s wooden sword was on the ground now. Kyojuro wanted to speak and ask why his brother stopped, but he couldn’t, so he tried to eat all the oranges.

“Hey, don’t eat that fast! You’ll—Okay, not choking. Good for you, sweetheart.”

Then he chokes. Hitting his own chest repeatedly as Senjuro panicked to get some water. You rub and pat his back and coo.

“Oh, there we go. Sorry, not sweetheart then?” You humor him.

When Senjuro arrives with the cup of water, Kyojuro downs it all at once.

“Not anything!” He says with a red face.

“Haha, I’m just messing around.” You pull away from patting his back after he wipes his mouth from the water that fell off his chin. “Darling then?”

“No!”

“Alright, alright.” You chuckle and lay back.

Kyojuro changes the topic to his brother, asking why he’s stopped. Senjuro’d say that his arms are sore; The older brother being empathetic, allows it. The three of you sat in the grassy garden, huddled in the shade of the trees. Senjuro starts peeling a new set of oranges to eat for his own. You face back to Kyojuro, noticing his hair. He finds your look a bit bothering, so he asks, “What?”

You point to your hair, and for some reason, he copies you, but he tilts his head in confusion. Then you point to his, he’ll point to yours, and your index fingers would point to each other, touching. You then sigh and lightly slap his finger away, holding it with your hand instead; he’ll let you.

“No, I meant your hair.” 

His free hand runs through his scalp in curiosity. “I still don’t understand.”

“It’s getting longer. Do you have any plans to cut it?” This time, you were the one more curious. Senjuro hands you two of the only fruit you had around while you pop them in with your free hand.

“No, not really. My Father used to keep his hair long as well.”

“Don’t you think it gets in the way?”

“Maybe, sometimes. But your hair is longer! Don’t you find it tedious?”

You shake your head, “No. They say that cutting hair is like cutting memories. And these memories make me who I am. And I don’t think I want to cut the time from when I first met you until now!”

“Charming.” He’ll remark, rolling his eyes with a grin and an orange to enter between his teeth.

“Did it work?”

“Will I be training again? You and ane are getting closer. Too close.” Senjuro butts nonchalantly, “I won’t be surprised if you like her. Don’t worry, aneue, I don’t mind. I love ane!” The child grins mischievously, a few missing teeth on display.

You laugh your stomach off at what Senjuro said, your fist pounding the ground of dirt repeatedly. Kyojuro, on the other hand, had slightly flushed ears and thick eyebrows twitching. You hug Senjuro tightly, rubbing his head roughly as he laughs.

“Listen to your brother more, Kyojuro~.”

Seeing his brother so happy always infected the other Rengoku, so he’ll shake his head while chuckling. It was until heavy footsteps made their way onto the wooden porch that you all looked to the only figure left alone in the abode. Rengoku Shinjuro. With a glare and a click of his tongue, Kyojuro stands up.

“I have to go train.” He’ll briefly look back at you and Senjuro together, “Maybe (Name) can help you get by with some training today, Senjuro?”

Senjuro understands so he nods simply. That didn’t mean he wasn’t perplexed by the more visible tightness his older brother displayed. Your hand gently played with the little boy’s hair to confront him, “I’ll teach you many ways to become strong. Your brother’s passing you unto me because he knows I’m stronger than him. Don’t tell him that, though.”

Small hands would tighten a little on your uniform, eyebrows furrowed in worry, mouth down in a frown. “Does my brother think I’m a burden, ane?”

Kyojuro was far off by the side now, on the porch, close to the open shoji screen where his Father was. With his hearing, you doubt that he’d hear Senjuro’s worries now. Because you knew that if he did, he’d rush over immediately to console his little brother. You pat the back of his head lightly.

“No. Your brother is just burdened with many things right now. He wants to get stronger.”

“Like a Hashira?” He looked at you this time.

You wanted to answer. You really did. “Ha-shi-ra?”

Senjuro would lose his composure for a bit, “Ane… Do you not know what a Hashira is?”

“Am I supposed to know?”

“You’re a slayer!”

“The children in the Final Selection after the seven days just said Kinoe last!”

“Did your master not tell you?”

“...No, not that I recall anything. I told Haia-san about wanting to reach the highest rank, Kinoe, so I’ll know that I’ve... Reached a certain level of strength to know I can protect who I want to protect.”

“I guess we never did tell you about our Father….” Senjuro sweats, a little dejected and sidetracked. “Our Father was a Hashira, and so was my grandfather, and my great-grandfather, my great-great-grandfather, and long beyond our family line; were the Pillars of Flame in the Demon Corps. And when my Father retired while aneue was still training by himself….”

“I guess I can piece together why your Father stopped teaching your brother. He’s always drinking or sleeping the day through.”

Senjuro nods lightly, and you both stare at the intensely-focused Kyojuro. You notice his hair getting in his eyes until he tucked the strands behind his ears. The wind blew through the blond, raggedy locks that reached just a little over his jaw. You remember Senjuro’s birthday that just passed a few days ago, hand gently combing through his head as you both observed Kyojuro.

“Do you plan to grow your hair as well, Sen-kun?” You ask, glancing down at the boy who didn’t take his eyes off his brother, who was reading through the manuals.

He’ll hum lightly, thinking well about his answer. “Father and aneue both grew their hair, but I’m not sure about mine. I don’t know how to tie it yet if it does, and I imagine it’ll be sticky during Summer….” You smile at his reasons, making sounds of interest. But Senjuro stands up from your lap, expressing great admiration toward his brother.

“But I’ll grow it as well. Because I don’t think I want to let go of the memory of when I first met you as well, ane.” He faces you with a closed-eyed-sided grin with just the right amount of flippancy. “Haha, it’s also because the men in the family almost always do grow their hair. It’s a sort of trademark?”

“Your weird hair isn’t enough of a trademark?” You joke back before ruffling his hair, standing up, and stretching your back.

“It’s not my fault that our ancestors overate tempura!” Senjuro fights back, red-faced from the slight embarrassment.

“West! West! Head west! Gushiken, you are heading west for a mission!” Rintaro appears, flying.

You apologize to Senjuro for slacking off with him instead of teaching him anything valuable. You’d assure him that you’ll give some proper training for him next time to which he heeds no mind towards you, glad that he’s able to take a break after two-hundred swings. You leave the Rengoku estate in a jog, patting over your white haori to rid it from the leaves that latched on, following Rintaro’s lead towards your assignment after you said goodbye to the little Rengoku and giving brief waves and yells towards Kyojuro and Shinjuro; receiving no replies from both and only a glance from Kyojuro.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

On the 28th of April, a mild sunny day when the flowers were in full bloom, Rengoku Kyojuro was forcefully made to sit on the wooden porch of their house. The sun barely hit his covered calves.

“After you grab the portion you want to tie, you loop it while you keep your grip on the hair you’re grabbing. Here—” Your hand would take Kyojuro’s that was previously resting on his thigh, almost gritting his teeth due to the death grip you had on his hair that tugged on his scalp, leading it towards your own hand holding his hair. “Okay, don’t let go! So twist and… Loop it again, and you do that as much as you like or at least until the tie can’t anymore.”

Kyojuro was quick-to-learn; with you guiding his hands, he thinks he could pull it off. 

“But if you want a bun, you just twist your hair, roll it into a ball, and then tie it with the same steps I told you. Easy, right?” No. What were you saying?

“Haha, yes, of course!” He regrets not being honest because now you took the tie you made from his hair to give it to him. Kyojuro gives a wide-eyed smile towards you.

“Like this, ane?” Senjuro mutters from behind. Your longer hair, once just over your shoulders, reached the middle of your back. You turn and touch the hairdo that Senjuro did for you, a loose bun. It was his first time, yet he did pretty well, especially since your hair tie was not elastic or banded. It was a virtual tie, your kumihimo. You display a proud grin at what Senjuro did for you, “Yeah, not bad at all, Sen-kun!”

Senjuro gives a toothy grin back. You two now face back to Kyojuro with smiles and tilted heads as if asking What about you? It’s not that complicated that he knew. After reading the only material around, he learned all his techniques. Sounds of summer cicadas and crickets filled the air for a reasonable time until the smiles sent towards each other weren’t enough anymore.

“Kyo, oi.” Your face recedes, and Senjuro’s face turns into a question.

“Is it… Like this?” Kyojuro finally asks, moving his thicker fingers, running through his mane-like hair. The result made your heart squeeze because the hair tie was too loose, and the portion he grabbed wasn’t enough to get the half needed.

You’ll laugh for a while, and he’ll get embarrassed and pink-faced until you help him with similarly calloused palms. And Kyojuro felt his stomach churn, like every other time you’ll find some way to give him a gift, another time when you’ll pretend to fall on nothing as you held the tea tray for his Father right in front of him because Senjuro was getting scolded, or another time when you’ll help and celebrate holidays they never celebrated. He’ll shake his head, and it’s clear again, his guided hand getting the hang of the knots and ties.

“Bark! Bark!” The sound of the puppy you picked up, straying along the streets when you were on your way here, made it as it finally finished circling their house, lying on the grassy land on its back.

Kyojuro would hear you say you’ve yet to think of a name or haven’t given it a proper bath yet, and soon you will. You’ll bring it over to Haia after, buy a lot of food and leave it there in case you have to go on a mission. Always excited, it’s been over a year since he last saw your figure like it was when you came from wherever you went. He’d never know. You never tell him about yourself deeper than what you like.

You bout up challenges and open your arms for the puppy to try and climb the porch into your arms. It was elementary to make it trust people almost like you. Calling, “Shin! Sh—”

The door behind them would slide open, and you’ll stop, nervous. “—Shiiii….t” You guess that perhaps trying out Shin as the puppy’s name must not have been your brightest idea, not like you have many brilliant ideas in the first place.

Rengoku Shinjuro hated animals. Even his children didn’t know why, but his angry face was enough to deter them from ever wanting a pet. But you were as insistent on marrying Kyojuro as you were on disobeying their Father. His glare grows weaker as each day passes by, at least for you. You quickly face back to give your greetings to Shinjuro.

“Shinjuro-san! What a surprise! What are you doing here? Wow, you should shave. You’re starting to look too old.” You waved innocently. The puppy was still barking, probably towards the new presence.

He looks at you, ignoring what you said. “This is my house.”

“Oh yes, yes.” You nod, agreeing.

Honestly, the brothers always didn’t know how to react when you interacted with their Father. But Senjuro finds it slightly amusing, though he’ll only humor it when he’s alone, through the time you talk to (argue with) his Father; he just can’t help the laughter that would bubble in his throat at the demeanor that you show. You would never show fear or indifference and silence. You were as noisy as it goes.

“Get out. Don’t bring that mutt back in here.”

“But why do you hate animals? He’s so small. He won’t be able to hurt you at all!”

Shinjuro doesn’t answer, but he grabs you by the back of your uniform, goes out to meet the puppy, who is now scared, and holds the puppy by the skin on her neck. The enraged man would stomp his way to the front door, kick it open, and throw both of you out on the dusty street. He’ll only look down at the two of you, with you cradling the puppy in your lap, before slamming the door closed. Kyojuro, who tried to follow behind, was left watching as his Father kicked you out of their house like you were nothing. He’d speak up until he’s forced to meet Shinjuro’s anger face-to-face, in which case he won’t be able to do anything.

They don’t talk, really. It was another day when you were no longer in their household, and they’d have to return to their duties.

“You plan to be a Hashira at that rate? By lounging around with pests? You’re already lacking talent. Stop dreaming.” And it’s quiet. Kyojuro’s eyebrows twitch downwards as he faces his feet. “Give up on your dream.”

Just before Shinjuro leaves, he mutters something under his breath. Kyojuro would be grateful that his hearing was not the best, though he’d also fail to hear the silent sneeze Shinjuro let out during times like these; where his shoulders were slumped, and his back felt heavy, like an anchor was setting itself on his whole body. Endlessly pushing him down.

Worthless.

He knows what his Father would breathe under his breath. He doesn’t have to hear to figure it out. He’s so close, though. Just defeat four more demons, Kyojuro. Inevitably, he’ll push himself back up. After all, nothing’s impossible if you put in your all.

“Hey, cheer up.” Kyojuro looks up, but your figure is nowhere to be seen. Until a bark follows, and he turns, immediately, he’s faced by you. Sat on the roof of the fence, the dirty puppy in your hands.

“You’re great. Just not when you slump like that.” You smile gently, legs swaying. “Bark!” 

Kyojuro turns, back facing you to hide his face. “I have to train.”

“Do you want me to help?”

He begins to walk away, “No.”

He’d feel his emotions die down once more when left alone. He’ll take his nichirin blade resting on the porch earlier where he sat. Senjuro was nowhere to be seen, and as much as Kyojuro wanted to talk to his brother, he felt that he had to get his emotions in check. Most especially his priorities. Since it was Wednesday, he had to follow the routine he made himself, working on his arms. He was going down, already starting his wide to close push-ups, until the pit-a-pat of feet on ceramic tiles come. Kyojuro would continue with his repetitions.

“Bark!” And a frantic shush. Kyojuro would sigh tiredly as he kept going, alternating his push-ups underneath the hot sun. 

You’ll call his name, and he wouldn’t answer, grimacing at his own pace, stuck in the scene where his Father would berate him. But it’s okay since you’ll continue, of course.

“It’s a pretty good day. Won’t you consider marrying me, Kyojuro?” You lightly tap around with an open grin, but he is not exactly on the best train of thought. Back still faced towards you, face met the ground.

Sounds of loud footsteps start to make their way to the garden again, prompting you to hop off. Not before you glanced at the boy who was lost in his own plane once again, not sparing you an ounce of attention. And you cradle the puppy in your hands at the empty reply.

“I’ll see you soon.”

He hums this time, sweat dripping off the ground, his uniform off its thicker layer. Since that day, Kyojuro has trained harder and honed his techniques more. He spent less time at home trying to hunt down demons themselves, getting increasingly frustrated when he’s met with empty reports. But he’d be as quick to shoot himself down for thinking that way. It was best that more people were safe. That they’re not exposed to the existence of demons and their danger. A world where he wouldn’t have to carry his blade everywhere he went. 

During the days when he was met with no missions, he’ll train. More challenging than his routine, more than a hundred, more than five hundred, it must be a thousand swings. He’ll run around from morning to high noon, and he’ll fix his form over and over again. Read the volumes of Flame breathing once, twice, or thrice more for that day. Kyojuro would fail to notice that he was ignoring you more than he should. Days, weeks, a month, and more. 

“Sorry, I’m busy right now.”

“There’s something I have to do.”

“Don’t you have anything to do?”

A tense walk, a strained dance around each other in avoidance. Kyojuro had to keep climbing up to fulfill his duty to protect the weak. Indeed, his Father would be proud of him if he did that? He’ll reach the peak only a few more, just like Shinjuro did. He can’t afford any distractions. Stop helping him; stop it. Stop giving him water, fruits, snacks, or sweet potatoes. Stop it. Stop talking to his Father like that. He’d speak nothing of it but make a tangible expression of pain whenever you did. 

The churn in his stomach worsens like a never-ending ache that doesn’t hurt too much to cause him pain but enough to start a pile of grievances in his chest. 

On the other hand, you were taking care of your newfound companion aside from Rintaro. After she was clean, her color stood out more, revealing that she’s a pretty Shiba! You feed her properly, and she’ll start getting more clingy towards you. As the days went by after the 28th, Kyojuro began to appear tenser, only softening toward his brother. Like he’s trying to stop himself from saying something every time he sees you. 

You’d be confused when he asks with a tone with anything but aggression yet with all the more spike if you had anything else to do. Then go play with Senjuro or help him cook their meals. A tight feeling in your chest blooms, like a string of an instrument that’s kept turning with a frantic tune beyond its capacity. 

He’ll ignore you, and it turns.

He’ll tell you that you should go home instead, and it turns.

He’ll stiffly reject your help, and it turns.

You admired him when he told you that he had a duty to protect the weak. But when he said he was alright with dying, you didn’t understand why. Could he not fulfill his duty more if he’s alive? This is why you didn’t accept any of your Father’s offers for his previous job. With the irony of your principle, it would definitely not fit in with the thinking of a samurai. Much of which is how Kyojuro is acting now.

The both of you would silently clash in your thoughts. And each of your ideas would seep into simple court actions. Quieter rooms and dead conversation. Shinjuro’s lesser yells aimed towards you as he, himself, would fail to notice you were there in the first place. The livelier tone from only a month ago dissipated. He’ll simply pass by, leaving to buy alcohol. Senjuro would only stare at the two of you, worried. But he’d say nothing. It was his first time encountering either of you like that, both faces made by stress. 

Kyojuro’s stomach would continue twisting, while only your ears would hear a slow, screeching sound of string that stemmed from your chest.

But the quickening tune of the non-existent harmony, assembled purely on the mutual strain, stops as the black feather of a crow fell on the ground, feet perched on the opened window of their kitchen. Kaname.

“Rengoku Kyojuro, head North of Tokyo! Head North of Tokyo! There are rumors of the Kagen no Ni (Lower Moon-two) lurking in the area.”

And what followed was another set of wings sitting on the wooden porch, claws jumping around the living room.

“Gushiken (Name), head South. You are to team up with other lower and Hinoto-ranked slayers to quickly defeat a demon in the area.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Neither of you spoke too much after that. A nod, a brief goodbye, and a strum of farewells, though you were much warmer towards Senjuro, provided him an embrace and a kiss on his temple. But Kyojuro has higher priorities set at the moment. He has to focus, and then he’ll reach his goal. And it will all be okay. He couldn’t walk, no, not at all. He was running full-force North when Kaname said that Lower Moon-two was assigned to him alone, showing how Oyakata-sama is beginning to trust him even more.

Once he finishes this job, he’ll be one step closer to being of excellent service. Perhaps then, he can make both his parents proud of him.

And then perhaps his Father could start teaching him or providing him tips. He won’t be worthless anymore. A blaze of flame trails behind him, Kaname trying to match his speed yet ultimately losing; the crow notices the impatient strokes of emotion that donned his master’s face, especially since the moment the crow divulged the information regarding the exact location. The reason why he’s been assigned more missions alone is that he’d usually make decisions by himself too fast, thus, handling the situation by himself without the support of his team. While it sparked admiration from others, it created disdain for those left, not precisely for the boy; but for themselves and their inability to provide better support for the aspiring Hashira.

It was a little far up North, yet it took him an hour of his relentless pacing to arrive to…

“Tourui, Tokyo.” The big sign on the pole plastered with many different posters read.

It was a little after the noon peak, and the sun was on its way to set in a few hours. So, Kyojuro, with the same white haori he got from you two years ago, walks to inspect and gather information from the townsfolk. The bustling districts of the town were filled with people that kept walking in different directions, set to their own individual destinations. Kaname, his crow, follows after Kyojuro’s figure, which is beginning to meld into the mass of people. Perching on his shoulder,

“You’ll be sent a group of other closely-ranked slayers to support you later. Please be careful.” And then he flies off to gather more intel as the crow in and of itself exerts professionalism except with Rintaro, who always getting on his nerves.

The sky was not mainly blue, and despite the taller three-story buildings, the wood was quite shabby. The road, though, was made of brick instead of bare patches of dirt that were leveled like in Shirakawa. Uneven colors of coral brick, the other darker and lighter than another, some wetter than a portion, covered in moss that’s stepped on by many wooden sandals for every day of the week. Kyojuro would think it was like the market at 7 am, but their town was filled with big houses with smaller families. A stark contrast to the busy city that Tokyo was becoming more and more of, smaller spaces with more than six people.

He’ll see a few windows open, lanterns that weren’t yet lit up, littered in each crevice of the welcoming ridges in the passing roofs. Rails surrounding just the outside lead to the heart of Tokyo, and more, a red miniature train passes by. Kyojuro even has to walk sideways sometimes due to the hurry that some are subject to, in suits more so than in kimonos. Some buildings didn’t seem very familiar to him, made more of thicker concrete and glass windows, small tips with circle windows above the cubic ones. And for a moment, he forgets why his thoughts are swirling inside his mind; encased in the ambiance of what Tokyo was. And he thinks for a moment about how he’d love to go around the city for a while, not because of a mission, but so that he could explore.

Despite the distracting views and chains scattered to garner attention, Kyojuro’s shoulders remain down. And the voice he momentarily pushes to the back of his head tears at every nerve in his brain, clawing its way out to remind him what he must do. To remind him that in the sea of people, he is anchored with many duties to fulfill; one is to protect all of which he is faced with now. And for a moment, his eyes would not be so vast in wonder. It’s pushed back down in half-lidded blinks and a mouth in a straight line.

Instead of churning in his stomach when he’s with you, it’s like a fast-beating drum in his chest, an unpleasant feeling he wishes to not have. It’s not like he doesn’t want to save people. But this sensation he currently has swirling in his chest, it’s like he’s desperately trying to crouch, wrap his whole body and hold this fire to keep it burning, to keep it from dying while he was being washed away by the giant waves of the ocean.

The sounds were white noise for Kyojuro, the discontinued talk about fixing their business, the hasty late for work, and the different yells for people to try their delicacy. But it was the sound of a familiarly polished voice. The sight of the similarly tied black hair, serious albeit gentle red irises in a light kimono…

He fails to notice that a tear formed just from examining the exact person he was so fond of already fell from his cheek. Frozen in the crowd that kept moving like waves in the ocean.

“O..kaa-san.” And Kyojuro almost panics, reaching out to her, who doesn’t even notice him, turning back from him. “Okaa-san—!”

But he can’t bear it, accidentally pushing some of the people away to reach his mother, which was alive in his eyes. Echoes of anger and surprise would fill the air around him. Still, they’ll only spare him an angry glance before walking in the direction he was already fighting. And when he reaches her figure, hand on her wrist, her face painted in shock at the boy staring at her with intensely burning eyes, she stops.

“Hello, are you lost?” She’ll say, clueless of the raging emotions mixed within Kyojuro’s whole being.

And he thinks for a while, yet he never lets go of her wrist. The woman who was a stark image of his late mother should feel apprehensive about the boy but then… He is but a boy. Troubled, no less, given by the expression that painted Kyojuro’s face unwittingly. So she softens, coming close and shifting her hand to gently caress Kyojuro’s own hand in a small effort to calm him.

“Are you okay? You seem troubled.”

Of course, my mother is dead.

“I..” Kyojuro sucked in a breath, “Mistook you for my mother.”

Her expression turns into mild surprise, but it comes down immediately. “Shall we go look for her? I have time.”

Could he perhaps stay in this moment for a long time until he’s decided he could leave? Until he’s chosen that he’s done. If he could pause for a while, see the older woman smiled at him, say nothing, and simply freeze in time. But she’s not his mother.

Kyojuro’s already made up his mind amidst the many battles he’s already gone through mentally. “No. I’m sorry for bothering you. I… Have an important job to do.”

“Well, aren’t you a hardworking young man?” She smiles, patting Kyojuro’s head lightly with the hand that used to hold his. “Your mother must be very proud.”

He doesn’t know what to feel, and it shows. Looking at the older woman with a face that didn’t know if it should convey pain, denial, or a hint of joy. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t blink. He takes in the clone of the person that made him who he was. But the woman finds this strange when Kyojuro doesn’t make eye contact. Duly interrupted by the voice of a much younger child, close but a little younger than Senjuro.

“Mama!” A little boy with a bowl cut yells, holding a lollipop, holding an older man’s hand with a big smile directed in their generation.

They’ll approach her as Kyojuro walks back slowly, taking in the image of their own family. He’ll hear the tall man say, “Rieka, who’s this boy?” And she looked back at him, who was clutching the portion of his head that was beginning to hurt. She’ll look worried, but Kyojuro would only bow deeply in silence and a painful grimace.

His lower lip would shake nervously, and the small family would disappear in the crowd just as he did. The former was more curious about where the boy they had just met went. The boy in question would walk back to the direction he came from, trying to get to the entrance or somewhere with more space as he regulated his breath. A sharp pain goes through his head, and he winces, grabbing that area in a futile attempt for relief. 

Suddenly, everything feels too noisy. The air feels stingy, and the crowd is getting tighter and tighter around Kyojuro, unwillingly getting himself pushed around. A bell that rang at intervals in his mind ravaged his brain, which revolved from the first person who yelled to the next person who needed to sell their portion for the day. And he’d almost throw up, face almost purple, but his back suddenly met a pole. The vision of the monotone sky and the heads of other people, a ring comes to disrupt his raging thoughts.

A ring and a head of dark, midnight hair catch his eye.

Ring and a voice make his breathing go faster, his chest tighter.

Ring and familiar eyes appear a mole just underneath her right eye.

Ring, and he’ll look up, and amidst the once fascinating city and other livelier colors, Kyojuro is faced with a red kumihimo that bounced on the braid of someone who could only sprint.

But his substantial worry of your presence dissipates when his vision clears, and his breathing comes back slower because when he stands tall again, his initial thought is quelled. You were not here. You were assigned somewhere South. He’ll place his palm over his chest and notice how it races, unaware of whether it was panic and worry that caused this. Kyojuro, first and foremost, did not require your help in this. Of course, he could do this alone.

It takes a moment before he regains his composure, hands running through his hair, pushing it back before wiping his sweat. He’ll simply reset and…

Alright, he’ll be alright. Kyojuro regained the intervals in which he took his breath, wiping the thin layer of sweat that formed on his forehead. Takes his time to calm down. He’s too tense for no reason at all. He calmly plays memories in his head of when his mother would wrap her arms around him, comforting him whenever he expressed his worry about her impending death. He was very young then, barely understanding why his mother had to go away. But it was okay since he was left with a wish that he could fulfill for her.

“Rengoku-san!!!” A male voice behind him called. When he turned back, he saw that the call was followed by many other slayers tagged with the boy.

Kyojuro, at this point, has come back to his senses. Putting on a smile, that’s right. Time will keep on moving even when he continues feeling terrible. Even when his body rejects the training he’s putting upon himself, time will keep moving. When he throws up what breakfast he had that day after jogging for four hours straight, he must simply keep going. When he walks and fixes his composure and stature, plain white haori wrapped snugly around his shoulders, he gives a wide grin back towards the group of other slayers in their own uniforms, except the lot of them didn’t mainly wear haori at all in this season.

When they finally manage to get together, the boy requests that they could move into another, more open space to discuss. Arriving in the less dense portion of Tourui, the evening moves faster, and the sun begins to set. The chatter between slayers stopped, now beginning to put their heads together. Still, Kyojuro exuded such energy that made all of them look at him expectantly. He, of course, catches the ball with no complaints.

“I believe the best course of action is to split into two groups. You’re all Kinoto, so you should stick together and alert me as your Senior if you gain contact with the suspected demon. I will do the same on my part.” He crosses his arms proudly, “But I trust you all to prioritize the safety of any and all civilians.”

The enthusiastic boy exclaims worriedly, “Wait, is it really okay for you to go alone? We can help you!”

He laughs with his throat, his voice loud. But it didn’t exude overflowing pride; it was more of an assurance, which sparked the others to remind the boy that Rengoku Kyojuro was no ordinary demon slayer. He was a person that was going to be a Hashira. Next to the many other people in his bloodline before him who became the respective Flame Hashira in their generation.

“I guess it’s alright after all. Okay, we’ll send a person or a crow, Rengoku-san. Thank you!” They all bow to him synchronously as they leave to scout potential areas where Kagen no Ni is staying.

He’d bow back politely as he made a loud hum of appreciation.

When the sun was already down, and Kyojuro was wandering in a less populated neighborhood still littered with western-inspired buildings as he’d observed, the masses of people were not as bad as in the central area. But still, a lot considering it was already dark and relatively unused to seeing the sight. The neighborhood had its own eccentricities, but the buildings were not nearly as sophisticated as he had faced earlier. A big brick path, probably meant for carts, was led in a straight line until it hit a dead end. The sidewalks that accompanied the road lead to eerier alleyways. Kaname is nowhere in sight, and he figures that there must not be any news yet from his other comrades.

The area was quiet; orange lights illuminated the whole place. It was until a creak of big wooden oak doors that led inside an empty chapel caught the ears of the specific boy that finally made him look to his side. But the chapel was not so empty, as tied dynamite was set off right in the center of the open building. The loud explosion caused some passersby to gasp and escape from the blast in immense shock. He, in turn, covered his face to avoid any rubble injuring him vitally as he dove backward.

The cogs in Kyojuro’s brain turn, and for a second, he thinks, looking back at the mangled chapel: Is this a terrorist atta—

But his instincts do work faster than his brain because just when the bullet went through his head and killed him, he moved an inch just in time to only allow it to scratch a few strands of his hair instead. Kyojuro sees the bullet dig into the brick road as he whips his head to the source of the said bullet’s trajectory. His eyes moved to the figure standing atop the building at the end of the road, revealing a man holding an M1903 Springfield sniper rifle with dark hair pushed back and a few strands pushing out, long enough to reach either side of his chin. He wore a black suit and a white shirt underneath with what seemed to be paired with lighter hakama pants tucked into black boots.

The man that hid on the rooftop of the building who shot the bullet clicked his tongue in annoyance, scratching his head harshly. Frustratingly muttering about missing his shot and failing to kill Kyojuro, looking away from the boy who was previously keenly observing him so that he could reload his rifle angrily. His hand would slam the magazine roughly; if he knew any better, it hurt his fingers.

Eyes set back on the scope to look at the distant Kyojuro from before, lying on the street. But he sees a shadow looming over him in the air.

“Ichi no kata: Shiranui.” Kyojuro says, his sword aiming to behead the man, yet his blade could only reach so far to only cut the man’s right hand that held the sniper rifle as the man was left to lunge back, seeming to not care about losing his arm.

When the man and Kyojuro both land on the roof, the former uses his elbows to support himself back up to look at Kyojuro with scrunched eyebrows and a colossal frown that showed his surprisingly sharp shark teeth. Eyes that bore only rage had the written markings of Ka (Lower; 下) and Ni (Two; 弐) on each of his light irises that contrasted his extremely dark sclera, which proved to Kyojuro that the man was true, a demon, a Junikizuki. The devil looked so angry at Kyojuro yet showed hints of joy, but the Kinoe slayer did not care for whatever this demon felt for him.

Until he kept repeating whispers to yells of “Rengoku… Rengoku... Rengoku! Rengoku.” Pushing his hair back with the arm that grew back despite the show of blood splatter from losing it earlier right beside him. “Everything, everything I did, it’s all for you. It’s all for this. For this exact moment.”

Kyojuro remains guarded in a standard stance, curious about what the demon is talking about. The monster continues talking, beginning to stand up, his face shifting from one emotion to another. Looking sad, he’ll say, “You don’t know… The shame you put me through. I’ll never forget it, no. I’ll kill you.”

“Who are you?” Kyojuro says, drawing his blade closer to his own face.

His question must have snapped a nerve because the demon started pulling on his hair with grunts and complaints, muttering and uttering the audacity he had for forgetting the monster. 

“How could you, how could you, how could you? After what you did to me? I’ll kill y—!” Then taking out a Webley revolver to shoot himself in the mouth, pushing himself back from the impact before getting back up, breathing deeply, less frantic than before. 

“Hairo.”

As he pushed back his hair and sniffed, the sound of a loud explosion and shrieks of panic caught Kyojuro’s attention, setting his sights away from the calmer demon.

“They’re all around Tokyo. What will you do now, Rengoku?” He snides, tapping the revolver on his cheek with a grin.

Nerves appear in the slayer as he becomes at least a little angrier. He has to tell this to the other slayers so they can handle the hidden explosives and usher the people. But Kyojuro wasn’t given a second to think as many bullets in record speed began to barrage their way toward Kyojuro, who moved quickly enough to block all the shots with his katana. The demon now had kept frustration as the smoke went off from the multitude of guns such as Springfields, Mauser C96s, and the encompassing Webley revolver he’d never let go since earlier, manifested purely from his right arm.

With a click of his tongue and another barrage making its way to Kyojuro, left with no choice, Kyojuro rushes to a metal billboard to block the bullets from moving ultimately toward him. But the shots will still penetrate through, a few would graze Kyojuro’s uniform, ripping and hitting his skin, and he’d wince in temporary pain before getting thrown back into the battle.

“Stop hiding, Rengoku. You’ve changed. You’ve messed with me while drunk before and humiliated me.” The demon recalls, and the shadow cast by the billboard on the ground where Kyojuro was, starts to move and morph, turning into multiple Mauser Model 1893s and Arisaka Type 38s, ready to begin firing at Kyojuro who was almost caught off-guard, jumping off.

“Shi no kata: Sei En no Uneri!” And his sword moves to swipe in a circle in defense and offense to destroy the weapons aimed at him below, the billboard getting caught in the fray.

Shocking Hairo, the demon instinctively put his hand up to shoot Kyojuro, still coming down from the air. Firing the bullet from a Gewehr 1888 that successfully only grazed Kyojuro’s cheekbone. Because of this, Kyojuro, who landed on his feet, immediately launched himself toward the demon, Hairo, once more. Aiming to simply cut off his neck.

But the blade met hard skin. The once pale skin was taken over neck-up by a darker coating. It’s as if it’s eating Kyojuro’s sword. At the same time, the skin begins sprouting eyes that are devoid of irises, coated only with concentric, repeating ripples. This dulls the attack that Kyojuro did, more so that it prevented him from escaping due to his katana being stuck on the demon’s neck. And the monster knew this, producing a ton of set dynamite to blow the floor and the rest of the top half of the building, blowing himself out.

While the building that Kyojuro and Hairo once stood on exploded and shattered into many pieces, the sounds of quick footsteps approaching made their way to the deserted neighborhood. White haori swayed slightly at the speed that the runner was set upon. And the sight that met your irises was a building blown to bits. Rintaro informed you that Kyojuro had gone there. Your mission was finished quickly with a typical demon who ate twenty or fewer people, as always. Easier than you were always with a group, a group you’ve told to look for the other slayers assigned in the area to coordinate and then leave with no further messages. Set only South of Tokyo. Apparently, you were a reserve backup for this assignment. When you got to the actual scene, rubble in front of the door and destroyed windows, furrowed brows wondering wherever your friend went; but in the quick second that you’ve gotten close and were planning to enter and take out your nichirin blade, a hand made its way to tug on your braid.

Slamming your whole body on the ground and wrecking cement walls.

“Are you looking for your friend?” The demon asks, barely having a head, eyes pulled up by still forming nerves. “Don’t worry, lady, he’s still alive. That Rengoku will suffer all the pain in the world and more.” This time, his face is back, his hand moving from your always loose braid to your scalp, pulling harshly while looking almost docile.

“You see, I was great at torturing other humans when I was a human. You seem special. Were you the wife Rengoku was mourning for before while he did my job for me?” He faces you towards him, your hands moving to take the blade off your sheath before he continues, hitting your head once on the fallen concrete from the building, forehead bleeding, and his trusted Webley revolver in his hand pointed to the side of your face. “You’re supposed to be dead. Don’t worry. Getting shot calms me.”

He says that as if it should calm you as well.

“Go no kata: Enko!” Once more, you’re subjected to the image of a flame bursting, running passionately, never stopping, in the form of a tiger as the demon is pushed off you.

Kyojuro was covered in his own and the demon’s blood from half of his whole torso. He’d barely escaped with a bit of skin tearing off at the seams of his feet. 

“I’m a demon slayer,” Kyojuro begins with enough volume to reassure the shaking feeling inside of him, “And defeating you will help me fulfill my duties rightfully. It doesn’t matter if you knew me because no matter what, you will not leave this place alive.” He finishes, sword clashing against the metal rim of a gun.

You fall for a bit before catching yourself with your palms sticking out to the ground, breathing heavily at the notion of once more losing your life. But you hit the floor with your right fist, a bit frustrated at yourself, before gritting your teeth and grabbing the hilt of your sword to support Kyojuro. But you didn’t expect him to simply deny your help.

“Leave here, tell the others, and accompany them to disarm the explosives spread around Tokyo,” Kyojuro mutters for you.

You were about to protest, angry, but he started to yell; the taste of blood dripped to Kyojuro’s teeth, falling on his tongue with its coppery taste. He must have expected you to not follow, “That’s an order!”

You absolutely despise the way he denied more support for himself. You believed you were sufficiently strong. Enough to help him, at least; you could relay the information and come back, but he seems determined to keep you and everyone at bay. So you listen and rationalize, dashing out of the scene.

Hairo speaks. “So I was right. Your wife is dead. Must have gotten her wrong.”

Kyojuro still furrows his brows at what the demon was talking about, unable to think anymore as he’s using more than enough functions as of late. And a churn in his body that traveled through his torso came back when you came out of nowhere. But he has an inkling, an understanding of what Hairo kept talking about, from what he heard when Hairo ridiculed you and what he’s been saying since the beginning.

“A gun will always beat a sword, Rengoku. And demons will always be stronger than the Demon Slayer Corps.” He finishes, the battle of endurance and strength continuing on, both Hairo’s arms restrained. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Suppose anyone would describe the type of person Rengoku Kyojuro was. In that case, he was fiery, passionate, honest, selfless, and an immensely hard worker. Everything he showed radiated any of the qualities above. Kyojuro was unafraid to show that he was dedicated to protecting others and that he’ll do anything to achieve that goal; to save every life he’s to touch if given a chance. Because if you are born stronger than others, you’re obligated to protect those who aren’t. He was the sole principal left to him by his mother before she died.

And if anything, it was the sole thing that kept Kyojuro who he was until now. The fight with Hairo was over, and the slayers were long gone from Tourui, Tokyo. Now recovering. Everyone else was okay, save for the boy who was covered in multiple blast injuries from the close-contact explosion from before, bullet holes that he couldn’t block in time, or scratches from bullets that were a close call. Nobody else was hospitalized in the Butterfly Mansion, just him. 

Oyakata-sama was proud when he received the news that Kyojuro had defeated a Lower-Moon demon. Proving more that he’s a true Hashira, not a filler that Ubuyashiki had to place in the roster just because they needed to fill the pillars that would help hold the Corps together. And when he wakes up after his full recovery, he’ll be a much more honorable Hashira. The Flame Pillar. But while everyone was gossiping and talking about the young boy taking a seat at the table of the strongest swordsmen in their generation, Kyojuro was on a different plane.

He was in numb tranquility. A dark space where he couldn’t feel himself at all, but he knew that his consciousness was there. And once he realized that his thoughts functioned again, Kyojuro asked himself where he was. He simply couldn’t hear anything apart from himself. It was dark, and he couldn’t see. Still, it felt like he was just coexisting, like he was just there, not necessarily floating or sinking.

What happened?

And nothing changes from the pitch-black plane he’s unwillingly placed in. But his mind answers, and somehow he’s put back in the position he was in before, before getting stuck here. He won’t think about moving, but his body will move, and he remembers the memories of the fight with Hairo. It felt so long for him before he defeated the demon. He thought it would be done after he complained about not being able to use his guns anymore. Having a sort of Bushido technique, as the demon was relaying to his former self now.

Sword-clashing sword, the memory serving as a bridge to the momentary forgetfulness that Kyojuro went under.

“My wounds may have healed since that day, but I cannot control my fear and anger. I cannot stand to live in fear of him! My rage will kill me! Revenge! I will have my revenge... Kyojuro Rengoku!” He said this after Kyojuro revealed that he was not the man the demon was talking about. It didn’t take long after the explosion for him to put two and two together after getting a little breather to gather his thoughts.

At the time, he didn’t feel quite affected. He felt more relaxed when the memory relayed the time the fight ended, Hairo’s head on the ground as the smell of dust and ash fought its way to his nose. After that, he came here.

I did it. Are you proud of me? He thinks. Indirectly asking for his mother’s approval despite knowing he’ll receive no response.

He’s finally earned the title of Hashira. What will his Father think? Will he also take pride in his achievement?

“I’m proud of you, Kyojuro.” And his ears perk surprised that someone could penetrate the environment he was encased in for who-knows-how-long. But he couldn’t quite make it out, who it was, or from where it was coming; muffled, it sounded, similar to when you’re underwater.

But he didn’t need that when the black plane turned into a sight of horizontal slits, closing and opening of its own accord, at least until he realized it was his eyelids. It felt hard to open his eyes fully. When he tried to, it felt like a sharp pain was sending itself across his skull in a warning. So he remained more than half-lidded, really. Met by the wooden ceiling of the Butterfly Mansion, a sense of feeling returned to him. Kyojuro realized he was in a soft bed; his arms stayed on each side, not moving.

He breathes shallowly in hopes to null the pain but the sound of a chair creaking backward causes him to look at the noise. Soon enough, he was met by none other than… You. 

You were surprised, wide-eyed, both hands clutching the blanket that covered him. You wouldn’t speak, and he wouldn’t start anything either, just the dark, empty room and unmade beds with the only light coming from the moon, shining only on the chair you once sat on.

“You’re… Okay.” You finally breathe as if you’ve been holding it for a long time.

Kyojuro doesn’t reply as he only blinks weakly but provides a delicate hum for you.

“I should call Kanae-san, but I—” You stop, tensed shoulders falling along with your visage that looks down, away from his face. “They’ll take very long with you, and you’ve been gone for three months, but you still look bad.” You ranted, mouth forming a deep frown, with your teeth biting your bottom inner lip to stop yourself from going further.

“What were you thinking?” Kyojuro looks straight ahead, and once more, he is reminded of the situation he’s left you to deal with. But first and foremost, he asks.

“Were all the explosives disposed of before anything else set off? Were no civilians harmed?” He whispers.

“Yes, we all split into pairs. So far, the kakushi has only reported a few from the second blast that was wounded but not nearly fatal. The damages will be handled by Oyakata-sama.” You comb through the details quickly.

“I’m glad,” Kyojuro says before finally letting out an exhale. While the weight from his shoulders wasn’t precisely any lighter, it was heavier with the position he would be placed in when he got back; the fact that the mission beforehand was a pure win for them made him feel better, still.

But if anyone could describe the type of person you were, apart from the face you’ll show when you’re happy and everything else, the part where, as of now, only you knew. Only if anyone could, then they’d see that you were a selfish person. They wouldn’t notice it at face value because your other demeanor is perfectly covered by the overbearing personality that took over half of what you hid. You’re not one to share any details about yourself, and Kyojuro would notice in the uneventful two and a half years you’ve spent together as friends that not once had you celebrated or mentioned your birthday to either of the brothers. They don’t know your parents or why you don’t live with them. They don’t know why you even stuck with them.

And you’d slip slightly, just a little. A minuscule portion comes out in dribbles of water from a leaky faucet. When you’re reminded of your Father, bloodied on a similar bed with no leg to accompany his other.

“Why, why could you just not accept my help?” You reason, “Or anyone’s help? Just yell the information. Our crows are on standby to get them. Rintaro was there. I could, I could’ve protected you.”

The once tangy relationship that you two left behind before Tourui began to surface. If a musician could play the tunes in both of your hearts, the violins would snap and lose all their strings.

Kyojuro didn’t know what to say exactly. But he was confused. How could you protect him? 

When his mouth finally chose to utter words, it chose the wrong ones. “Those born strong have to protect the weak.”

And you look at him, confused at what he is trying to imply. But Kyojuro’s thoughts once again begin to swirl, and he fails to notice that his stomach doesn’t churn while doing so; he remembers that time and time again when he’s with you, he somehow feels weak. He doesn’t need to be protected, and he’s proven his strength clearly, time and time again. Kyojuro has for when he’d feel embarrassed when you have to hand him a little bit of money before, when he fails to calculate his spending for groceries, or when you’d stop his Father from hitting him when he was protecting Senjuro. 

Stop it. Kyojuro hates it when he sees you smiling with a red cheek and hates it even more when sometimes it ends up bleeding.

Sometimes when he would come later than you, he’ll spot a sort of injury covering you. He’s not stupid at all. He knows it’s not from a demon. Why do you keep telling him that it is? Suddenly, Kyojuro remembers why he was angrier than he should have been when fighting Hairo.

If my Father loved okaa-san that much, why… Why can’t he continue loving us as he did that way?

You and Kyojuro were consumed by the eating feeling of separate unshared and similar yet ultimately contrasting emotions. While it both ended in some form of loss and the fear thereof, you feared losing the people you valued. While Kyojuro was angry at anything or anyone who would go against the principles of the person he’s already lost. Sad that he lost the affection he once received wholeheartedly. Afraid that he won’t see his brother once more. He was conflicted about fulfilling his duty and what was only for himself; because he was not like you.

In the brief seconds that all of your shared thoughts spun around in your own minds when you thought that you’d break the silence, Kyojuro reached a conclusion. And for the first time in your arguments like this, you were not the one that spoke first.

“You’re weak. What do you think you could do that I couldn’t already do myself?”

He didn’t say it angrily. It was simply quiet. Honest. For you, that’s what made it hurt more, maybe because it was that true. For a second, your anger sparks, and you kick your chair back. The difference between you and Kyojuro, despite being both loud, boisterous, joyous on many occasions, and honest, was that you were a different kind of honest. You express the things you observe. While Kyojuro could suppress his emotions better than you could, the same way, he did his thoughts until late. Until now.

Kyojuro himself, thinking that he must’ve offended you for telling the simple truth, was genuinely expecting more anger from you. From what he said, from what he did. But the feeling of something brewing in his stomach, something stinging his eyes when you look at him with furrowed brows and pained, watery eyes after turning back to him, came back to taunt him again. Your lips were down, mouth slightly open with your teeth showing, as if grimacing the pain from what he said and more. And he’d feel bad.

He’d feel worse.

He feels the worst when you move towards him slowly, arms encasing his head with a bit of space to not squeeze him. His messy hair, touching your face’s skin, reaches down to your neck. You’d feel his hair tickle your whole visage, from your eyes to your mouth. But you bury your nose more deeply into the crown of his mane while your hand gently strokes the side of his head after yours. Your thumb going in circles, just grazing his ear.

A wet trickle bellows upon Kyojuro, who was now wide-eyed, the sharp pain ignored; goosebumps rose on his bandage-covered skin. You moved so slowly as you whispered all the same,

“I’m sorry.” Your lips ghost over his head as you pull away, covering your whole face with your arm. Kyojuro was lying on the bed, still as ever, never saw your face when you left the room.

When the room was empty and quiet, the chair backward on the floor was the only thing he had to reflect upon. Kyojuro sniffs, the sounds of multiple quick footsteps making their way into his room from the hallway.

“Rengoku-san, are you alright? Why are you crying?” Kanae asks worriedly, Shinobu right by her side.

Chapter 5 « Chapter 6 (Current) » Chapter 7

EXTRA: Chapter 6.5

If you'd like to buy me stars after touring my universe, visit my ko-fi. ⭐

[undergroundbillions]

Despite Vinnie consoling me that they weren't gonna remove shit and the warning would just stay up forever, they did remove shit!

A Lot Of It.

Hhhhhhh I'm torn of course. On one hand it was a long-ass page, Vinnie admitted that himself, with a lot of extra info that probably could have been shortened. I know Wikipedia has a standard to uphold, they want it to be an easy overview for people to take in, and it still functions as that.

On the other, a lot of the parts cut were the important ones, the hooks, to get people invested. Over 100,000 characters removed, which seems a bit excessive, though it includes all the sources quoted. The section about R.A.R.E. was labeled as "blatant self-promotion" despite the fact that Vinnie had no contact with the group at the time, and whose efforts are still separate from the main server.

At least I copied it over to the new Fandom wiki, which can be its resting place until we set up an official website. All the citations would still need to get re-done.

TLDR: Wikipedia heavily edited down the Raggedy Ann Musical page, not mad, just disappointed.

-Brooklyn

Someone bring me Wikipedia's head on a platter the Raggedy Ann musical page is beautifully written and only long as hell because there's a lot to fucking say. 90% of which is only known through materials not open to the public so of course there's a million citations because otherwise you wouldn't BELIEVE this crazy shit. Eat your heart out Wikipedia it's a good thing I was copying it all over to the Raggedy Ann Wiki anyway where no one can tell us we know too much about the show.

[worldtravelerbuff]

Back on July 5th i uploaded a SHORT reaction video about Spirit Untamed along with my review of the movie, The TV series and Spirit Stallion of the Cimarron in the description box. It got a little too long (over 5000) and had to shorten it down just for a little bit. So here’s the re-edited version of my review of Spirit Untamed

Spirit Untamed.... people are having mixed reactions about the movie. As for me...i'm not going to see it and the reason is because they decided to reboot the first episode of the TV series Riding Free and not a sequel to the 2002 Spirit Stallion of the Cimarron. I was 12 years old when Spirit Stallion of the Cimarron came out into theatres. I didn't see it in theatres but have watched it on VHS and still have the copy to this day. When the first time I saw anything about Spirit I was amazed by the animation, music, characters, etc and loved it even more when i watched the film. I also have a love for horses, since they are my favorite animals and my Chinese zodiac sign and Spirit gave me a love of horses even more. Spirit was made over the course of four years of a blend of traditional hand-drawn animation and computer. James Baxter who famously animated Who Framed Roger, The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, The Lion King, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Prince of Egypt, Gravity Falls, Steven Universe, Wolf Walkers and many more also animated Spirit Stallion of the Cimarron. 

He animated different expressions for the horses and mentioned that Spirit was the most difficult piece of animation that he has done. They also brought in a real Kiger Mustang horse named "Donner" renamed "Spirit" as a model for the movie. The other animators studied the horse(s) anatomy, movements featuring hoof beats and vocals that were used to express their vocals in the film. That's right...the horses don't talk in this movie...but you can imagine what the horses are saying in your mind. The music of course was composed by none other than Hans Zimmer himself with songs by Bryan Adams who became the horse(s) voice in song during the film. Matt Damon did the voice of Spirit even though Spirit didn't actually talk. Now I've wanted to see a Spirit 2 movie for a LONG TIME...then years later and was quite surprised that DreamWorks did a TV series of Spirit: Riding Free. 

To be honest, I'm not a big fan of the show. I didn't like how the animation looked, including the horses and didn't know that this "Spirit" character was actually the son of Spirit and Rain from 2002. This version of Spirit was a clone of Spirit with just a stripe which doesn't resemble his mother Rain. If there was a reanimation of Spirit and Rain's son or daughter, they would have done the version from the Breyer Spirit Stallion of the Cimarron figurines that also had the baby figurine that has markings of BOTH Spirit and Rain. Also Spirit Riding Free ruined the tagline from Spirit "Some spirits can't be broken" and decided to give Spirit a rider throughout the series while in S:SOTC Spirit gets captured by the Army and tries to break him including the Colonel and thinks that he successfully tamed Spirit and tells the others of speaking his idea of how any wild horse can be tamed but becomes unsuccessful as Spirit finally throws him off.  During the film Spirit and Little Creek had a TRUE bond, even though Spirit is a wild mustang. Even in the end when Little Creek names the stallion the "Spirit-Who-Could-Not-Be-Broken" and sets both Spirit and Rain, Spirit will never forget him and how both Spirit and Little Creek won their freedom together. 

One other thing i would like to point out for Spirit Riding Free, they don’t show or even mention the names of Spirit and Rain during the entire show run except for the one flashback episode "Fast Friends: Lucky & Spirit Meet for the FIRST Time!" (didn’t like how Spirit and Rain looked). It was earlier this year that I saw on Wiki that it was announced that in Oct 2019 a “new” Spirit movie will be released on May 14,2021 then got changed to June 4, 2021 and finally after many years, (not sure of what my reaction was) but was excited to see a Spirit 2 movie. When the trailer was released, it was revealed as a reboot of the first episode of the TV series Riding Free. When I saw the trailer, I was not happy that the movie was going to be a reboot of the tv series, not an original story from the 2002 movie. It would have been nice to see a movie without modern day politics and agenda. Maybe that’s why the colonists/Native Americans were no longer in Riding Free and Untamed. The production along with animation was done during the pandemic.

 They decided to dedicate it to the memory of Kelly Asbury, the co-director of the original Spirit film, who died on June 26, 2020. So that’s one positive thing. I wasn’t thrilled about the animation of how the horses looked (including their faces) and could have worked a little better on the human characters. When they created Lucky they followed the modern day standards not the period of time which Spirit universe and also don’t quite match up between original movie and show if Spirit is the father of Spirit Jr. Which also makes the period of time even more confusing. I have been told that on average horses live long enough (For Example: The real Spirit who lives in the Return to Freedom Wild Horse Sanctuary in Cali is 26 years old!) but the complete disappearance of colonialists and them being replaced with settlers is never explained. also it’s weird to make the colonel and his goons disappear into thin air. 

They would have made better villains than the random horse wranglers-thugs Lucky and her friends had to deal with. But they did change the ending...which i’m not spoiling it. But I did like the different color schemes for the different horses. My advice is to just watch the original. You can love Untamed/Riding Free or not love it and I won't judge, just don’t make nasty comments. This is my honest review about Spirit Untamed and a little bit of Riding Free and I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, comment, like, subscribe and hit the bell for future videos. Until next time, safe traveling everyone. Bye!