#from that whole event. and the more times i repeat that and get myself to understand it. the more i’m able to be compassionate to myself now

[journal-from-the-heart]

i think, for trauma survivors, especially those who were emotionally abused, invalidated, or gaslit, it is really important not to underestimate the significance of speaking bluntly about what happened to you. Forcing yourself not to beat around the bush, not to downplay what you went through with your words. say what happened, without any caveats, without any “but it could’ve been worse”, “but i might just be being overdramatic”, “but it wasn’t really THAT bad,” and so forth. sit with the discomfort until you can begin to let yourself realize that it WAS that bad, you WERENT being overdramatic, and even if it could’ve been worse you still didn’t deserve it. It’s almost like a form of reclamation, taking back your memories, taking back your life, even the difficult or gross parts, and refusing to let anyone change the narrative or tell you how you should feel anymore, even yourself. and it hurts and it’s scary and it feels weird and awkward and sometimes you want to convince yourself you’re lying, but i think sitting in those weird feelings and letting yourself admit that you really did go through trauma puts the power back in your hands to process things and be compassionate to yourself while you heal

[traceybrakes]

Let's Talk About Un-ironicizing Art!

In light of a lot of the conversations i've seen surrounding Death Grips and recent events concerning them, I want to take the time to point out that this is a good time to start thinking about how we engage with art on the whole!

For a long time, the irony poisoned method of consumption went unchecked in all facets of internet culture. As an internet musician in current day, I have noticed a sharp disconnect between artists and enthusiasts/casual listeners when it comes to attitudes surrounding music specifically, though I've witnessed it permeate all forms of art in some way.

I see people who have grown scared to engage on deeper levels, intentionally severing any resonant connections or knowledge learned from a piece of media before it has the chance to take root. In short, dare to be vulnerable! Dare to enjoy something on the basis that you yourself resonate with it, and not for any other nebulous reasoning. When masses of people relegate art to a spectacle, not only do artists become more likely to be disenchanted with the passions that fuel their work, but the audience ultimately suffers as well. All art at that point becomes less an extension of ourselves, less a vehicle to explore our identities, and is rendered a meaningless hulking sludge, or worse, the opponent to an already shrinking and narrow worldview.

Be not afraid to be unabashedly in love with the work that inspires you. Be not afraid to have the things you love misunderstood by some. When you engage with work new and old, make sure to do it for yourself. Making and observing art is inherently selfish, but being selfish is not inherently misguided. Allow yourself to learn, grow, discover, and repeat that cycle until the day you die.

To speak more candidly about my own experience, throughout the course of my life, there has been art that I've held near and dear to my identity, and own journey of self discovery that I seldom find others who hold the same sentiments to. I've always found this exciting. Exciting to hold something close to my chest as something so personal, and even more exciting when I can ease up on that grip when I find someone who I can share that with. However, I've also been through the throes of how the internet tends to chew up and spit out art that generally isn't understood by the many. I've fallen victim myself to the hive mind mentality that circles some artists and the cult of non-identity around them. This off-color ouroboros of knowing all about an artist's work and simultaneously upholding this facade of vapid complacency. I've come to the conclusion that if being openly supportive and connected to an artist's work or a particular piece of work automatically renders a person uninteresting and unambiguous at the very least, then I will live happily as an uninteresting open book. At the worst times, we see this line of thinking contribute to Death Grips being mocked and belittled en masse by people who are unwilling to engage with their art before they even get that far. It's heartbreaking, to me at least to see people put so much effort, emotion, and passion into transforming culture for the better to be rewarded with a crowd that's plugging their ears.

I realize I run the risk of sounding self indulgent, or even patronizing to an extent; I apologize because that isn't my intention, I'm hoping to see gears shift at least on a micro level surrounding attitudes towards art appreciation. Remember to dare to be in love holistically with the art you engage with! Speak of the things you love in a way that makes that clear to others, and consider your peers to do the same! You and the people around you can only be better off for it.

[cina-full-moon-xanadium]

Heisei/Reiwa Kamen Rider Bike Riding Time research

Hello there! Does anyone remember from a little while back when this image was going around?

For a while, at least in fan communities I frequented; this was quite infamous for showing just how sharp a decline Kamen Rider's namesake had become in the last few years, with the absolute nadir of the Heisei 20th anniversary Kamen Rider using his bike for a total of 47 seconds (and also, on the other end; just how much Kuuga would not get off his bike)

Obviously, it's been a few years since Saber now; and I've found myself wondering from time to time exactly how the Riders since then have fared, especially since both Geats and Gotchard have garnered a reputation of sorts for putting a bit more emphasis on the bikes and feeling like they have more screentime than your Zero-Ones and your Sabers.

So! I went looking and found the source. This extremely dedicated Japanese poster called Yamashita Radio who of course I will be basing the majority of this on, including his rules and his counting. And when I say 'dedicated' I mean that at one point he lost all his data so he just counted Kuuga through Saber all over again. MAD respect for this man! I highly recommend a full readthrough of this 5-part post at one point because it's very impressive and interesting stuff in my opinion

One other interesting point is that that chart there? That's main rider only; and also includes any riding they did as civilians. There is a separate chart for all motorbike riding in the show as a whole; including other riders, including monsters, including even just random civilians! For posterity, I think it's important to post that chart for comparison with the main rider one -- I've colour coded here so that red is Heisei 1 (Kuuga-Decade), green is Heisei 2 (W-Zi-O) and yellow is Reiwa (Zero-One onwards). Main rider only on the left, all biking on the right.

Up front there are some absolutely fascinating observations to make here - Zero-One had the least bike scenes of any show! Brand new era of Kamen Rider! - but I think I've talked about the past enough. With all this said and what I feel is a very important plug to make, let's get into the meat of this -- how do Revice, Geats and Gotchard compare to previous shows?

Rules

... okay, yeah, sure; let's quickly establish a baseline first. As I'm going off of Yamashita's work, I'm also going by all his rules; it's a good thing I agree with all of them because I kinda didn't want to completely redo the count of every season!

TV Show ONLY! No movies, no TTFC specials, no HBVs, no V-Cinema, none of it. The main reason given is that, uh, Paradise Lost has a 100+ bike scene near the start so that's too much of an advantage -- fair enough! Personally I also think it's more interesting, because movies generally have more budget and allowances for bike scenes so those tend to be the same. Maybe a separate count would still be interesting, but I think including movies would flatten out the times too much and make the data pretty uninteresting

No openings! Agito has too much of an advantage

Non-transformed states count the same as transformed states. Godai riding a bike is the same as Kuuga riding a bike.

All motorcycles are treated equally! Mopeds and even CG scenes and bikes are allowed

Other vehicles such as cars, trains and even bicycles and hoverbikes are excluded. Two big exceptions are made for Drive and Revice as they do not have a main motorbike otherwise, but this does exclude things like Gaim's Dandeliner, many of the Oni in Hibiki's transport vehicles, Den-O's Den-Liner, Gotchard's Steamliner and Madwheel and Decade's Agito Slider

Transformations of the bike still count as long as it's being ridden. The Boostriker turns into fox mode while you're riding it? That's fair game

Flashbacks and other repeat footage ("previously on" segments etc) don't count of course. But in cases where it's clearly stock footage but it's still a new event, like the many Ryuki Rideshooter scenes, that's still counted

Count from the moment the bike is straddled to the moment the bike is gotten off, and everything in between. Scenes where the bike isn't technically visible - such as close-ups of the rider's face, or cutting to another character's reaction - are still counted if it's all the same scene

Revice

3m21s (2m23s for Revi only)

Oh lucky me, this was actually done for me! Yamashita made a small update after Revice finished to add this. I just went over and double checked it.

At 3m21s, Revice is at this point the series with the 2nd least amount of bike riding; above Zero-One and below Zi-O. For Revi alone he's in 3rd least; above Zero-One and below Saber. Happy 50th anniversary!

An interesting note here is that Ikki never rides Vice Ptera untransformed -- concerns over the actor's safety, maybe? Daiji also pulls in 58 seconds for the show on his own motorbike, but abandons it completely after episode 13; only bringing it back for the summer movie (which is also the only place he rode it as Live). Interestingly, the 12 seconds he rides it with Sakura in episode 13 is the only time he uses it in the show after becoming a Rider. The skateboarding scene in episode 7 for Jackal Form goes on for over a minute, but unfortunately can't count for this...

I think most people expected Revice to place quite low, though. So let's move on to a show I think a lot of people expect to place higher.

Geats

4m05s (3m45s for Geats only)

I keep repeating it, but this is a show where it seemed a lot of people got the impression of the bike having more importance than before. I think there's a lot of aspects that come together into that -- the bike being tied to a specific 'special' item that's even part of the main rider's main form, the upgrade forms going off of that, and the bike being used in prominent scenes including in the first episode. Geats even arrives on it in his Revice summer movie cameo!

But ultimately if you look at riding time, Geats ends up in 3rd place for overall bike time; above Revice and below Zi-O, while for main rider only Ace ends up in 5th last; above Saber and below Decade. As such he ends up being the main Reiwa Rider to use his bike the most.

This is where I started splitting main rider and untransformed rider in my personal tracking charts, just for fun -- I actually couldn't do that for Revice because as said Ikki never rides anything untransformed except his bicycle. Until episode 11 Ace actually just slightly edged out Geats for having more bike time which was enjoyable to see.

A very interesting thing happens in regards to the Boostriker's transformed state. I decided not to include finishers involving it unless the Rider is specifically riding it -- and the one and only one to do so was Buffa in episode 6, accounting for every single second he rode the machine. He had a penchant for using the buckles' weapons in ways he wasn't supposed to, and he kept up that rule even when the 'weapon' was a bike.

Geats spends a decent amount of time in the final episode sitting on his bike while talking to Regad and the other Riders, and that really saved the show's overall times.

Gotchard

5m09s (2m32s for Gotchard alone)

According to production blogs, Gotchard had a stated aim of using the bike more. Unfortunately it seems this didn't manifest itself in a very major way... but I think we did see more interesting uses of it! Spanner has his own bike (that like Daiji, he never rides transformed!), there's a version of Golddash from the future, other characters including Golddash itself ride rather than Hotaro at multiple points!

For 'others', the 3 seconds in Episode 2 is when Minato rolls up to deliver Golddash to Hotaro personally. Episode 9's 5 seconds have Renge (with Sabimaru in the back) riding it to deliver Hotaro's cards to him in Kyoto.

Spanner shockingly saved the series' overall time here in a similar way to final episode Ace, by sitting on his for an extended period of time during his conversation with Lachesis at the start of episode 47.

While it's not a very long scene nor did it change anything for the rankings, the bike scene in the final episode that just aired is notable for an extremely rare instance of a Rider Machine being ridden by a Kamen Rider's final form. To my knowledge this has previously only been done by Agito, Den-O and Revice (the latter in a movie). Fittingly for a show where part of the direction was inspired by Agito, both Agito and Gotchard do this Final Form bike scene in their final episodes.

And now, for the final count...

Gotchard ended up in 21st for overall bike time between Zi-O and Saber, but this was largely due to other characters; so Hotaro alone ended up in 22nd between Revice and Saber.

Overall we're now 5 shows in instead of 2, we can indeed see a very large dropoff in the Reiwa Era -- including Zi-O, the most recent 6 shows are all at the bottom of the list. This is especially notable when The next most recent series, Build, had 12m31s; almost double that of Saber's -- and this wasn't uncommon, with Ghost and Ex-Aid sharing similar times.

This was the main thrust of my research... but what say we go on a little addendum? Because when I mentioned Yamashita updated his post to include Revice in 2022, there was... one other series he saw fit to do a count for. One that was only halfway through, but nonetheless saw an impressive amount of bike riding time. He only got halfway, but what say I finish the job out of pure interest?

It is "Avataro Sentai Donbrothers"

The extremely normal 2022 entry into the Super Sentai series has a number of bike scenes. Some you may expect from Don Momotaro riding his CGI Enyarideon on his Palanquin for much of the first cour. Some of you might say that CGI shouldn't count, it's easy enough to animate together a scene than deal with road laws and such -- but does Kijibrother not count? Does Inubrother not count? Do none of the mech scenes count? It's a festival, people. Let's enjoy it.

Even aside from the CGI, Yamashita noted halfway through the show; that can't quite account for everything else. Sonoi has a bike he rides in multiple episodes, every time with a wheelie. Inuzuka twice within 4 episodes steals a bike and almost runs people over with it, as is perfectly fine for a hero. Don Kaito shows up with his own motorbike to promote his new book, which you should buy. For a show where it's not even in the name and for recent Sentai, there's an awful lot of riding going on.

Yamashita in his post speculates that part of this is Inoue's own habits -- as a man whose Toku experience largely consists of regularly writing for Kamen Rider in the 00s, it's natural to expect he would be inclined to write something like "Inubrother escapes the scene on a motorcycle..." as if it was second nature; as if that's nothing special for a modern show.

And I would be inclined to believe that... as such a habit is something that would likely get ironed out after a while; and sure enough, while bike scenes are frequent for the first half of the show, they disappear entirely from episode 23 to 43. It is at this point in my own count I thought we would simply never see a large bike scene from the show again, and the sheer fun of counting up Donbrothers would be lost.

And then... he appeared.

My saviour from the future.

With a full uninterrupted 1 minute 15 second bike scene

I could hardly believe what I was seeing. I remembered the future episode but I had completely forgotten this was a part of it. When I started timing this episode I was leaving the house fairly shortly and I figured like the past 20 episodes this would be easy enough to count, and I was utterly bewildered. I should never have disbelieved for a moment.

With all that said... where does Donbrothers end up in full?

7m21s (4m23s for Don Momotaro alone)

This overwhelming record easily puts both Donbrothers and Don Momotaro in 20th place of their respective charts; beating all Reiwa Riders and Zi-O -- with Don Momotaro even coming close to dethroning Kamen Rider Decade's riding time!

This is where we stand, my companions. In an era where Kamen Rider's biking time is lower than ever before and shows no sign of significant recovery, Donbrothers swoops in to steal its glory. Never lose faith. The festival never ends

[7brownsuga7]

Hi! Can you please write BTS reaction to getting rejected before they can actually confess to their crush? Not directly, just subtly. For example–their crush keeps saying that she would never date a celebrity because a lot of fans will hate and bully her. Also dating a celebrity comes with tons of hassle, secrecy and arguments etc. to let him know she has no romantic feelings).”

Hey!… A year later and here we are.. I’m SO sorry omg😭 (ps: idk I kind of felt like I repeated myself a lot on some of these points so let’s ignore that xoxo)

Namjoon:

When you randomly revealed to him that you would never date a celebrity, you didn’t see the sudden shift on his face. Eyebrows raised. He masked it quickly by giving a smile and asking you to elaborate just because he was ‘curious’

Understands your reasoning but also subtly gives you all the pros of dating a celebrity.

Is very respectful and understanding, this will definitely leave him pondering.

Will give his opinion about it not seeming that bad dating a celebrity, but will brush it off

This hurts him more than he lets on but he’ll never show it

I feel like he won’t push it. Like he’ll respect your reasonings and let it be that. He’d rather be hurt than push you past what you’re comfortable with

He’d rather remain close to you, he doesn’t want to lose you as a whole so he’ll be content on staying friends, as long as you’re around. He values your friendship and connection more than anything

He’ll definitely admire you from a distance and will probably lose himself thinking about what could have been

I can definitely see him putting his emotions into his music. Leaving hints in his lyrics about how he feels as he knows he shouldn’t voice them out loud

Jin:

When you told Jin, he initially laughed it off, masking his disappointment with humour. He’d agree with you and make jokes about it but deep down he’ll obviously be hurt.

Still confesses to you anyways lmfao

Like he’s gonna be upfront and listen to what you’re saying, but still confess because he doesn’t see the point in not

Still despite this he’ll still respect your thoughts and won’t openly ask for anything more.

He would still drop playful comments and hints and flirt but he knows there won’t be anything further and he’ll be okay with that. If you put that boundary in place he’ll definitely respect that, but you know how playful Jin is.

He’s just happy that he can still be friends with you, regardless of his feelings and your thoughts on dating a celebrity

Yoongi:

Yoongi didn’t show any emotion when you told him. He kept his emotions hidden and feelings close to his chest. Allowing you to speak freely about how you felt.

He understands your reasonings and will openly tell you it is hard being a celebrity, let alone date one.

He’s still hurt that the possibility of you two being together is less likely to happen now.

He definitely respects your perspective as he understands the pressures that come with his lifestyle

To be honest, he’s just happy that you’re being real with him, he appreciates that more than anything

But I feel like he would distance himself (knowingly or unknowingly idk) and focus more on his music for sure, expressing himself through that

He’s not gonna ghost you though Lfmao, just give him some time to process it.

Hobi:

When you told Hobi about your views, he couldn’t help but to force the smile on his face. It faltering now and then, but he made sure that his face didn’t express how he truly felt in that moment.

You know how Hobi is. He’s gonna be hurt but he’ll definitely try to stay positive about it all.

He’ll definitely make light of the situation and make jokes, you know how he is

Despite how he feels about you, he’ll still want to continue the friendship how it was going before, cherishing your friendship more than anything. He’ll quietly deal with his feelings separately.

He’ll definitely get over it though, like once he knows you’re not going to be interested, he’ll eventually get over it and the whole romantic feelings he had towards you, even if they may linger a bit deep down inside.

Note: I can also see him in the dance studio dancing to release the stress and his emotions idk

Jimin:

A mix of emotions ran through Jimin, even though he tried his best not to show it.

He’s gonna feel disappointed, sad, and will definitely doubt himself.

He understands how you feel and therefore respects your feelings.

I can see him withdrawing from being around you as he processes everything.

He’ll try not to avoid you, but knowing the things he now knows will be hard for him to see you.

Don’t worry though, he’ll be back because he truly can’t stay away from you and will prioritise your friendship above anything else

Taehyung:

He can’t help the pain in his chest, the sudden drop of reality settling in as he hears the words he fears escape your lips.

He’s able to mask his emotions quite well, not giving you the chance to sense his disappointment

To be truthful, he can empathise with your view. He respects your honesty so much that he can’t really be upset about it.

He will probably make light of the situation

Still, he will reflect on this conversation in his own way, privately so he can bask in his emotions

Probably resulting in him working through his emotions through art or music. I can see him even writing/journaling.

I can see him talking about this with his friends, seeking advice

Your bond will still be cherished despite his feelings, and he will work hard to be a better friend.

Jungkook:

He can’t ignore the sharp ache of disappointment as he listens to your words.

He will definitely beat himself up over this as he has spent his time fantasising about you and what you could have been, now he feels guilty, ashamed and embarrassed.

He will become quiet as he tries to process your words, trying his best to hide his emotions

Despite his feelings, he understands and respects your honesty about the challenges you worry about.

I can see him still try to subtly prove himself and that he could protect you from the pressure of his lifestyle. ( he won’t push your boundaries though) if you’re feelings are still clear and firm then he would accept it.

It will take him time to get over his emotions as he usually wears his heart on his sleeve.

He’s definitely gonna handle the stress by working out lfmao

[13as07]

Lesson #1

(Jiraiya & Naruto Uzumaki Smut)

[Artwork is not mine! Sadly, I don't know who to credit]

Requested by: @justanotherhqsimp

Word Count: 4,432

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Three-Some (F/M/M)

Clit Stimulation

Titty Play

Hair Pulling

Oral (Female Receiving)

Fingering

There will be multiple parts :)

———————————————————————

"Sweetheart," Jiraiya's voice soothes, one of his large hands rubbing circles into my stomach as he tries to lull me. "Wake up, Sweet Thing," he continues to coo, his lips brushing against my neck.

     "I am awake," I grumble, turning my head to lean it against any part of him I can get. "You're home earlier than I thought you'd be."

     Jiraiya's hands cup my waist, gently sitting me upright. My arms slide around his neck, clinging to him as I bury my head in his hair. "And yet you look so sexy," he compliments, his fingertips skipping down to cling to the black lace that races across the top and bottom of my nightgown.

     I knew Jiraiya was going to be home sometime tonight and I wanted to make sure I looked pleasing to him. So, before bed, I slide into one of the silky nightgowns he keeps buying and insisting I wear for him.

     "I missed you," he mutters, fingertips clinging to my thighs, slowly tugging me down the bed. "I hate being away from you so long," he continues to murmur, gently sucking on a bit of my throat.

     "I missed you too," I breathe out, the feeling of his lips sliding across my neck already igniting the flame that's been ignored the whole time he was away. "I'm so happy to have you all to myself."

     "I know, Sweetheart," he hums, pulling himself off of me before plopping down on the edge of the bed. Jiraiya pats his leg, my body eagerly buzzing with the command. I obey the order, sliding into his lap. "But," he starts, picking me up to turn me around. My hands settle on his thighs, my back to his chest as I tip my head to the side. "Naruto is staying the night tonight," he tells me, soft fingertips sliding a few strands of hair off my neck, quickly replaced by his lips.

     "Why?" I utter, soaking in the soft kisses and the way his finger draws figure-eights on my inner thigh.

     My question is ignored, Jiraiya's focus on trailing his fingertip up my thigh and over to my panties. The soft touches feel both so good and so bad. I need his attention, my body melting into a puddle of arousal from the tiniest of touch and yet it's greedy too, needing so much more from him. The slow-drawn figure-eights and the barely present sucking of my neck aren’t enough. I need him to touch me more, to fill my quivering pussy, to make me cum. It's almost pitiful how badly I need him.

"He asked for help," Jiraiya finally answers, his touch freezing against me.

"Help him later. I need you," I wail, squirming, almost bucking my hips to press the pad of his finger against me again.

He rubs his nose against my neck, a few soft huffs pushing out of his nose and coating my skin; the usual sign that Jiraiya is thinking. "Sweetheart," he mutters, his focus back to drawing gentle loops against my clit. "Naruto asked for help from... well... you, sort of."

"From me?" I utter, my eyes falling closed as my head falls against his shoulder. I'm going to die if he keeps moving so slow, if he keeps touching me so lightly.

"Sort of," Jiraiya repeats, his kisses aimed in a neat line across my jaw. "He asked for help with sex and well, you are who I have sex with. You are the muse of my books, of the events in those books."

"I know, I know. You're not having sex with me now though," I whine, rocking my hips in hopes of getting even an ounce more of stimulation. "Jiraiya, fuck me."

He lets out a hissy breath, hips jerking up to press his growing hard-on against me. "Sweet Thing, I don't think you're getting what I'm trying to ask you," he mutters, his lips sliding backward to nibble on my ear. "Naruto asked me to teach him how sex works."

"Ya, ya, ya. I got that," I grumble, shooting my hand down to pay attention to myself since Jiraiya doesn't seem to want to. He snatches my wrist in his free hand, his thick fingers easily wrapping around it. "Come on," I groan, letting my head lull back and forth in disappointment. "I'm horny. I need more of you. Make me cum, fuck me, please? You've been gone forever."

"It was two weeks, Sweetheart, not forever," he chuckles, his chest vibrating against my back because of the noise. "So, what's your answer?" He asks, his touch freezing again, though this time it stops against me, adding a hint of pressure against my clit.

"My answer to what?" I whimper, failing to grind my hips against what little bit of him I have pressed against me.

     "Can I use you as a pretty example? To show Naruto how sex works?"

     "Yes, whatever you want, just touch me," I whine, a pitched moan ripping from my lungs when he starts his teasing again. Jiraiya's fingertip moves faster now, more pressure added to the circles. I wither in his lap, the constant electricity from my stimulation making my muscles tighten and jerk.

     "Naruto?" He calls, making my head snap toward him. Slowly, the conversation we had, what I agreed to, starts sliding into place, finally managing to push past the fog of lust that's been building up since Jiraiya has been away. I just agreed to let my husband's student watch us have sex.

My body heats up as the bedroom door gets pushed open, moving slowly as the blonde boy inches his way into the room. "Hello Jiraiya-Chan," he mutters, eyes on the ground and his cheeks coated in pink dust. "I appreciate you and Jiraiya helping me. I just..." his head snaps up, a nervous smile on his face as he looks at us. "I want to make sure I can make Hinata feel good before I ask her to marry me." That's almost sweet. Almost.

"Anytime," Jiraiya laughs, his arms tightening around my waist to tug me closer to himself. "Lesson one, The Joys of Boobs."

     "Jiraiya," I hiss, smacking his knee and sending him a pointed look.

    "What?" He giggles, feathering kisses across my neck. "Boobs are amazing. Your boobs are the best. Now, come here, Naruto," Jiraiya orders, his hands crawling across my body, focused on shifting me on his lap. He hooks my legs on either side of his, spreading my knees apart as he tugs my nightgown off.

     Naruto settles on the ground, two or three feet away from us. "Come on, that won't work, you got to be closer," Jiraiya mutters, waving his student toward us. The boy crawls forward a bit, still leaving plenty of room between us. "Here," his Sensei orders with a huff, pointing at the ground right in front of us.

     Slowly, Naruto does as ordered, inching forward again until his chest is almost pressed against Jiraiya's knees. The boy's eyes trail after my nightgown, watching it fall to the ground, his sight staying glued to it even after it hits the carpet.

     "Alright," Jiraiya booms, his big hands jumping up to cup my breasts. "The golden rule of sex is consent, obviously," he starts his lecture, Naruto's eyes now flickering between my clothing and us. "But the silver rule of sex is remembering every person is different. Just because my Sweetheart likes something doesn't mean Hinata likes it too. Just because I like something doesn't mean you'll like it, understand?"

     "Ya," the boy mutters, his eyes lagging on us a second longer between flickers.

     "Now, if you're with an experienced person - like my Sweet Thing and me - you can just ask what they like and they'll probably know. Now, with Hinata, I doubt she has a lot of, if any experience so you'll have to experiment. Are you paying attention? Pay attention."

     Naruto slowly drags his eyes away from the floor, settling them on us. He squirms in his spot, cheeks growing darker as he looks at us. "Sometimes it's tricky to figure out what a girl likes so don't be afraid to ask. Worse they can say is they didn't like it," Jiraiya carries on, his fingers starting to fondle my chest, softly squeezing at the flesh cupped in his hands. "My Sweetheart doesn't necessarily get pleasure from an action like this but she doesn't necessarily not get pleasure, does that make sense?"

     The boy thinks for a moment, head tilted as he watches his Sensei's hands. "Like it feels good but it doesn't help her... um... prepare."

     "It doesn't exactly get her wet, no. But it does send signals to tell her body that sexual activities might happen," Jiraiya rattles on, squeezing my breasts a couple of times; a titty guy as much as ever. "But I enjoy doing it. My Sweetheart's chest is soft and always so warm. Come, try."

Naruto glances at me, uncertainty soaked in his face as he leans closer. Jiraiya's hands fall away, settling on my stomach to rub across me. His head tips down, pressing kisses into my bare shoulders as his eyes trail over his student, ready to intervene at the slightest hint of pain or discomfort. The gentle kisses eat away at the anxieties and embarrassment brewing in my chest.

The boy carefully rests his hands on my breast, eyes falling to watch his fingers. "What do I do? Just squeeze them?"

"If you want," my husband mutters, his eyes flicking toward me before setting on his student again. "Squeeze gently though. My Sweet Thing can take a lot but it can still hurt if you grab too roughly."

"Right," Naruto mutters, softly squeezing my chest. His fingers flex against me, testing different grips, each followed by a glance up to make sure he didn't hurt me. After a few tries, he calms down, moving my breasts around to toy with them. An amused smile rests on his lips as he spreads them apart and then squishes them together, routinely squeezing them after every movement.

"Hey," I softly moan when Naruto moves his hands, his palms sliding against my nipples.

"I'm sorry," he races out, his hands freezing against me.

     Jiraiya chuckles, shoving off one of Naruto's hands. "You don't need to apologize. That was a good sound. I promise if my Sweet Thing didn't like it, she'd let you know," he tells the boy, his hand busy catching my nipple between his fingers. "The actual boob of a woman might not be super sensitive but their nipples are. If you play with them it makes them feel good. My Sweetheart prefers my mouth to my hands but I'm not in the position to do that, am I, Sweet Thing?"

     He nudges me, pulling me out of the storm made of his fingertips rolling my nipple and the swimming need for attention between my legs. "Your mouth?" Naruto asks, eyes glued to his Sensei's hand, trying to mimic the toying I'm receiving. "Like you just... just suck on it?" Jiraiya hums a yes, dropping his touch away from me again to let his student do as he pleases. 

     Naruto's jaw clicks open, his mouth wide as he leans forward. "No teeth," I hiss, poking his forehead to push him back an inch or two.

     "No teeth," he repeats, closing his mouth a bit as he continues moving forward. His lips wrap around the boob my husband was just playing with, his curious tongue twirling over my nipple.

     My hands shoot down, gripping the every which way ends of Naruto's blonde hair, using it to tug him forward. A few noises spill from the boy as he tumbles forward, his hands landing on my thighs to steady himself. "Careful," Jiraiya warns, his big hands wrapping around my wrists again, trying to shake my hands into letting go. "My Sweetheart tends to pull hair, especially when you're going down on her."

     "She's fine," Naruto mutters, eyes rolling across my breast, looking over the work he did. He stares for a second before switching his mouth and hand placement.

     My husband lets out an airy chuckle, letting go of my wrists to drop his hands down. His fingertips slide down my stomach before crossing over the bend of my panties, back to drawing swirls against my panties right over my clit. "Damn it, Jiraiya," I whine, squirming in his lap again. "I need you."

     "Patience, Sweet Thing. Naruto is learning. If I do it all he won't learn anything." I whine some more, yanking on the strands wrapped around my fingers. I want Jiraiya sucking on my breasts, I want his tongue toying with my nipple, and I want his hand groping my boob. He knows how I like it and he does it so well. Naruto hasn't a clue in the world how to get me off. "If you use your words he'll be able to do it right," my husband mutters, his reading of my reaction as on point as ever.

     "You're doing it wrong," I whine, tugging Naruto off of me. Concern flashes across his face, quickly smashed by his Sensei.

     "You're not doing it wrong, it's just not how she likes it," Jiraiya corrects, softly cooing at his student. "My Sweetheart likes her nipples pinched, not tugged on. She also likes it when you flick your tongue, like this," he says, sticking his tongue out to show the motion. "Try again."

     "Okay," Naruto mutters, glancing between my boobs for a second before diving back in.

     "Damn it," I whine when the boy falls in line, doing as ordered by his Sensei. "Damn it, damn it, damn it," I mumble on repeat, tugging Naruto closer to my chest. "Jiraiya?"

"Okay, Sweetheart, I'll give you what you want," he murmurs, pushing his student off of me. Naruto moves backward, wiping at his mouth dripping with saliva. "Lesson two, The Magic of Fingers."

"Jiraiya," I start to hiss, his name soon coming out as a moan when he presses against my clit more.

"While poking around the intimate parts of a woman it's important that you're nails are kept short and that your hands are clean," he starts explaining, shifting me off his lap to set me back on the bed. "Now, go wash your hands because you're not touching my Sweet Thing unless I'm sure your hands are clean," Jiraiya orders, waving his student toward the bathroom connected to our bedroom.

Naruto looks confused but does as told, climbing to his feet and sliding into the bathroom.

"Are you doing okay, Sweetheart?" Jiraiya asks, a hand rubbing at my stomach again as he slides off the bed, situating himself on his knees between my thighs.

"There should have been more of a discussion before you invited your student into our bedroom but ya, I'm doing okay."

He hums, painting kisses across my inner thighs, his free hand busy tugging my panties down my legs. "If you want to stop, we can stop. If I say something you don't want to do, we won't do it. Just say the word, Sweet Thing."

"I know," I exhale, the slow teasing building up with every kiss brushed against my skin. I hang my legs over Jiraiya's shoulders, scooting down the bed to get closer to his face.

He laughs at my actions, his breath coating my pussy because of the sound. "Alright, Sweetheart," he murmurs, nuzzling my thigh for a second before he dives in. Jiraiya's tongue slithers through me, lapping at my clit before dropping down to poke at me.

"Fuck," I whimper, hands jerking down to wrap his fluffy white hair around my fingertips. My hips work with his tongue, grinding in tone with it to start pulling out the orgasm I've been craving for past couple of weeks. "Please?" I continue to whine, arching my back as the finish line slowly approaches.

He complies with my pleas, his focus back to my clit. His lips gently suck on me, tongue picking up the figure-eights his fingertips abounded. "Dear Lord," I hiss, yanking on his hair as if I could pull him closer to me. "Damn, Jiraiya, oh God." Words spill out of me, barely registering before they're pushed past my lips.

     His arms wrap around my knees, keeping me cemented to the bed as I spill onto his tongue. Jiraiya is quite eager with my finish, happily licking away at the mess he caused before it can drip onto the bedsheets. "As beautiful as ever, Sweet Thing," he coos, plopping a kiss on my abdomen as he pulls away.

"That's what a girl looks like when she... uh... climaxes?" Naruto's voice cuts through the room, tugging our attention toward him.

A blush coats my face as a grin coats Jiraiya's. "It's what my Sweetheart looks like, ya. Gorgeous, isn't it?"

     Stars hang in Naruto's eyes as he looks over me, an airy smile on his face. "Do you think Hinata will look prettier than that if I make her finish?"

     "No," Jiraiya deadpans, his lips busy peppering kisses across my shaky legs. "There isn't a girl in the world more beautiful than my Sweet Little Thing."

     "I beg to differ," Naruto grumbles, his eyebrows pushed together as his shallow anger is pointed at his Sensei.

     "Then beg." Shivers slide up my spine at Jiraiya's tone, my pussy tingling with the want for a second orgasm. "If you don't think your wife is the most beautiful woman in the world, you shouldn't be married to her."

     "Oh," his student squeaks out, his attitude shifting with his Sensei's indirect praise to me. "That makes sense. How'd you make your wife do that? Squirm around like that and squeal how she did?"

     Jiraiya's guard drops back down with the question, his passionate need to make me feel like the most beautiful person in the world simmering on the back burner again. "That's lesson three, let's focus on one lesson at a time. Come here."

     Naruto shoots forward, settling on the floor next to his Sensei like an eager puppy ready to learn a new trick. My husband shifts, dropping his hold on my legs before spreading them further apart, making room for both of them between my knees.

     "Alright, this is a pussy," Jiraiya starts, making me squirm as both men look over me. His fingertips slide through me, spreading my cunt open. "This," he mutters, a fingertip circling my clit. "Is my Sweetheart's clit. That's where a woman is most sensitive." His fingertip skips down, sliding into me just a knuckle to curling and rubbing against the entrance of my pussy. "This is her vaginal opening. It's where your dick goes. Are you following so far?"

     "I think so," his student mutters, heating my face even more. It's just anatomy, I don't know why it's so embarrassing. "Clit at the top, most sensitive, and opening at the bottom where the actual sex happens."

     Jiraiya's head tilts, lying against my thigh as he hums in approval. "Fingering is a way to prep your partner before having intercourse. It's not necessarily needed but still enjoyed. Usually, as long as your partner is wet, she'll be fine. Foreplay is important to make sure your partner is prepared."

     "Foreplay, important, got it."

     "Alright," Jiraiya murmurs, pulling his touch away from me. "Fingering is... well, intercourse with your fingers instead of your penis, I guess. Go at it, kid. Slow and careful though, until you figure out what my Sweet Thing likes and can take."

     Naruto nods, his focus still on my pussy for a second before he moves closer. "I just... push my finger in?"

     "Ah... ya, but that's because I already prepped her," my husband mutters, his main focus being on brushing kisses against my thigh. "Usually you should toy with a girl’s clit for a bit before so she's wet enough to handle a fingering."

     "Noted," his student mutters, carefully pushing his finger into me. Naruto's fingers are shorter and slimmer than Jiraiya’s, a difference I haven't felt since our commitment to each other. "Now what do I do?"

     "You can curl your fingers or thrust them in and out of her or both. Whatever you feel like, though my Sweetheart likes a mix of the two."

     "Fingers?"

     "I usually use two. Some people use one, some use three. I think two is the best but each to their own."

"Okay," Naruto mutters, tugging his finger out before thrusting two fingers back into me. "So, just like this?" He murmurs, thrusting his fingertips in and out of me again.

Jiraiya hums a yes, softly sucking on a chunk of my skin. "If you use your thumb to rub her clit it'll help push her to orgasm quicker." My hips jerk when the boy follows the order, the heat coating my skin quickly becoming a mix of arousal and embarrassment. Why did I agree to this? Let the boy stumble over his feet as he figures it out like everyone else.

Tingles start to stir from Naruto's curious thrusts, the unsure circles brushing against my clit and Jiraiya's mouth sucking bruises into my thigh. When the boy curls his fingers, my hips jerk a tad. "Oh, she... she did the withering thing."

"Pay attention," Jiraiya chuckles, his eyes glancing up at me. "You'll want to know where you curled in case you hit her g-spot."

"What's a g-spot?" Naruto asks, his thrusts picking up speed as his comfort level grows.

"It's another sensitive spot but inside a woman instead of outside like their clit."

"How will I know I hit it?"

"You'll know. I promise you, you'll know."

Both men fall quiet, Jiraiya's main focus back to marking my skin. Naruto's eyes stay locked on my pussy, his fingers continually thrusting in and out of me at a pace he's comfortable with. Every few thrusts, he curls his fingers, eyes flicking up at me to see my reaction. My attention is on trying not to jerk or squish the men with my thighs as they toy with me.

Naruto thrusts his fingers into me again, paired with a curl this time. "Holy," I moan, hips jerking and back arching upward. "There you go, Chibi-Chan."

"Right there?" He asks, head popping up to look at me. A toothy grin is painted on his face, filled with pride for himself. "I found your special spot?"

"Ya. Ya, ya, ya," I ramble, taking grip of his hair again. "Keep moving your fingers," I order, grinding against his stalled fingers.

"Oh, right. Sorry Jiraiya-Chan," he mutters, moving his fingers again. Naruto's movements are slow again, uneasy from my hips trying to move in tune with his fingertips. He did listen though, curling his fingers in the same spot every two or three thrusts.

"Come on," I whine, yanking on the strands of blonde hair trapped in my grasp. "Move your fingers faster."

"Sorry," he whispers again, doing as told.

"Just curl them," Jiraiya orders, gripping Naruto's wrist to stop him from tugging his fingers out of me again. "Focus on curling them against her g-spot and adding more pressure to her clit."

"Right," Naruto mutters, being as obedient as ever. His fingers constantly curl against me, adding more pressure to the circles he's rubbing against my clit.

     My back arches with every tick forward, moans, groans, and calls for my husband spill out faster than my breaths. "Pretty please?" I wail, trying - and failing, to bring my knees together.

     "Should I stop - "

     "No, no, no, no, no," I cry out, cutting off Naruto's question as I thrust my hips down, the possibility of my orgasm being lost swimming around my mind. "Don't you dare, you hear me? Don't you dare."

     Jiraiya softly chuckles again, his warm breath rolling of over spit coating my thigh. "Just keep doing what you're doing. When a woman is close to finishing the easiest way to mess it up is by changing stuff. Always keep doing the exact same thing if they're close to cumming."

     "Noted," Naruto whispers, keeping the sloppy but effective rhythm of curls and circles.

     "Jiraiya," I whine, the knot in my stomach loosening as a mess spills out of me again, coating the bedsheets and my thighs.

     "Wow," the boy mutters, his eyes burning into my cunt as his fingers keep working against me. "She just... it just... spilled out."

     His Sensei snatched his wrist, tugging his touch away from me. "She came, yes," Jiraiya mumbles, shouldering Naruto out from between my thighs. His lips are back to coating me in delicate kisses, helping me wind down from the feeling. "If you keep going once a girl is done cumming they can get overstimulated. Some girls like it, my Sweet Thing doesn't."

     "Oh, I'm sorry."

     "You're fine," I mutter, my hands wandering around to find a strand of Jiraiya's hair to latch on to. "I'm not overstimulated, just a bit tired."

     "Just like sex, different people need different things to wind down, also known as aftercare. Aftercare is the second most important part of sex, right after consent, at least in my ranking. Some people need it at different parts of sex. My Sweetheart needs it after every orgasm - "

     "No, I don't."

     "I like to give it to my Sweetheart after every orgasm," Jiraiya corrects, a rougher kiss slammed to my legs in a playful but petty get-back. "I need it when we're completely done with a round. Feeling my Sweet Thing on my chest and having her play with my hair is what I need. She, on the other hand, needs to be littered with kisses and reminded I find her beautiful."

     "So... just cuddling and stuff? Why's that so important?" Naruto asks, placing unsure kisses across the top of my thigh.

     "Aftercare gives you guys a chance to talk about what you liked and didn't like. It's also a way to reset and acknowledge the emotions and feelings of - or lack of - safety between the two of you. It's just a healthy way to reconnect with your partner."

     "Oh, okay," the boy murmurs, his kisses growing more confident with each one he lays against my skin. "Did you feel safe, Jiraiya-Chan?"

     "Yes, I felt safe with you."

     "Oh, good. I think you looked pretty when you were cumming. It's one of the prettiest things I've ever seen," Naruto rambles in between kisses.

     "Thank you," I giggle, twirling some of Jiraiya's hair around my finger.

     "Alright, what's my next lesson, Sensei?"

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

[burlowbeanie]

Locked Tomb Timeline, as far as I can tell

This is a long one, and a bit of a mess. I'll be making other posts about the fun date coincidences and my speculations about their implications, but I figured I should give some of the actual evidence in one solid chonky post so I can link to it and don't need to repeat myself later on.

(BD = before death of the earth; AR = after resurrection; BM = before millennium, AM = after millennium)

Unspecified Pre-Death of the earth: Foundation of Canaan house/the facility that Jod et al used for the cryogenic experiments. Establishment of Kuiper installation, Uranus platform, Mars installation w/ room for 5 million, the Lucifer Telescope, and fusion batteries (Ntn 14, Ntn 74, Ntn 189)

----------------------------------

Now! Some pre-resurrection numbers!

Before 2 BD: C-- sides with the crew (Ntn 13)

1 BD: Governments shift away from the cyrogenics plan (Ntn 13)

0 BD: Jod destroys the world

------------------------------------

Now, the most unclear section of the timeline: the resurrection and its immediate aftermath.

Augustine, from Htn 176: “Alfred and I were there early enough to found the Koniortos Court on the Fifth, but Lyctors like Cyth wouldn’t be born for years and years, and she spent her whole life suffering Seventh House woo-woo theories regarding the value of hereditary cancer … whereas Mercy is the oldest lag except for me, and she was out hammering at the Eighth House before the paint was even dry on the Resurrection.”

The resurrection occurs a few weeks after the death of the earth (Ntn 396). Then things get a bit hazy. We know the approximate order of the resurrections of the original ten disciples, but not how far apart they were staggered - was it minutes? Months? Years?

Similarly, Cyrus/Val and Anastasia/Samael are implied to have showed up before Cytherea/Loveday, when Cytherea was almost 30 years old. Both cavaliers have last names associated with their house, which suggests that either the third and ninth were established enough to at least have a small population by the time that they went to Canaan House, or that they took those names/were given those names later on.

Cytherea-as-Dulcinea says that she "dreamed of being a 9th nun" at age 13, and it's unclear if she's speaking as herself or as Dulcinea or how much she was lying as either persona (Gtn 104). Thus, we don't know if the ninth house was established by the time she went to Canaan House, though it seems like the sort of hint that both Cytherea and Muir would have had a fun time dropping.

Thus, while it is possible/seems probably many/most of the houses were established by the time that any of the newer disciples showed up, especially Cytherea, that is unconfirmed. However, it took until at least 30 years after the resurrection, probably more, for all 16 of the disciples to gather.

A rough order of events during this time, some of which may overlap:

Original disciples resurrected

New disciples arrive

Lyctors ascend; Anastasia fails

Alecto is put in the tomb and Cassiopeia dies

The lyctors and Jod flee to the Mithraeum, leaving the system

Particular questions that remain and would help clarify things:

Were Anastasia, Samael, Cyrus, Valancy, and Loveday born or resurrected? It seems like Cytherea was likely born.

When did Anastasia have a child and found the tombkeeper line?

When did Pyrrha (or G1deon!Pyrrha) paint a nursury? Was it the same time she visited Anastasia "before she got settled" (Ntn 85)? Was Anastasia's child the birth she assisted at (Ntn 121)?

When was the ninth founded? When was the prison installation founded? Was there anything on the ninth before Anastasia was told to prepare for Alecto's imprisonment? Samael seems to have been born or resurrected after the ninth was founded, unless he was given his name later?

-------------------

After resurrection: Actual Numbers. Once we get like 100-200 years out from the resurrection, things start to get clearer. Not clear, but clearer.

100 AR: God names himself Gaius (Htn 521). Is this when Cytherea ascends, since she is given credit for the "naming oneself after one's cavalier" thing? Or was that some God bullshit?

200 AR: Alecto put in tomb (Htn 478)

4000 AR: source gram comes from sixth house to BOE (Htn 529)

5000 AR: BOE comes to the attention of jod and the lyctors; they may have existed beforehand but been unable to find the houses/be found (Htn 154). Augustine begins questioning the purpose of the empire (Htn 483).

Moving into the thousand years before the events of the series:

9000 AR/ 1000 BM: Matthias Nonius lives (Gtn 53)

750-700 BM: New Rho contract drawn up (Ntn 206)

519ish BM: beginning planning of dios apate major (Htn 474)

300 BM: Cyth gets angry (Gtn 402). Last contact between second and first houses (Gtn 456).

100 BM: Jod leaves the Mithraeum (Htn 81).

80 BM: Jod joins the Erebos (Htn 81)

40-39 BM: G1deon starts to really annoy Augustine, who speaking in 1 AM states: “He has caused me more pain over these last scant forty years than I dare to admit" (Htn 268). I think Wake makes the most sense as an explanation for this, though it's off by about five years.

34 BM: Wake reinvigorates BOE (Htn 154). Ortus born? That’s a fun coincidence that means nothing.

30 BM: Mercy thinks Jod should have returned to the Mithraeum then (Htn 81).

25-24 BM: BOE finds out about resurrection beasts (Htn 275) because Wake talks to G1deon (Ntn 155)

21 BM: G1 begins his (final) pursuit of wake (Htn 469)

Sometime after 300 BM, most likely 20 BM, Cytherea teaches BOE about steles and obelisks (Ntn 155)

20 BM approximately, presumably, could be earlier: Augustine and Mercy talk to BOE. BOE gets accurate fleet schematics for the first time in a hundred years and eventually the location of the mithraeum, though those were probably earlier with Cytherea and two decades later with Cytherea!Wake respectively (Ntn 155)

19 BM: Isaac’s dad killed by terrorists on [redacted], presumably BOE (Gtn 459). Mercy and Augustine are “talking” (Htn 87); Dios apate major. Mercy sees Cytherea for the last time and Cytherea laughs so much she insults Mercy (Htn 120), which is an understandable response given that Mercy may have described the dios apate major plan and/or requested her involvement. Mercy sees Sarpedon as a young soldier (about 20 years PM; close enough and matches up with dios apate) (Htn 81).

19–18 BM: Wake dies (Htn 88). Gideon born. Creche massacre.

17 BM: Harrow born.

14 BM Gideon’s first escape attempt (Gtn 24)

13 BM: Gideon is not a necromancer confirmed (Gtn 24)

10 BM: Augustine sees Cytherea for the last time (Htn 120). Wake’s bones get put on rotation (Htn 476).

9-8 BM: Harrow is suicidal. Harrow opens the tomb. Harrow hears/sees the body. Onset of psychosis. Unclear in what order (Htn 49, 247).

7 BM: (Harrow is still suicidal but sees the body?). Harrow and Gideon fight (Htn 477). Gideon sees Harrow opening the tomb. Her parents kill themselves. Gideon gets nightmares about being in the tomb (Gtn 202).

5 BM: Harrow starts puppeting (?girl wtf?? What was going on in the intervening two years???) (Gtn 348). Last ninth house chaplains and adepts are lost in action (Htn 81).

2 BM: Gideon enters Drearburgh for the last time

1 BM: Number 7 estimated five years from the Mithraeum (Htn 125).

0 BM, with rough approximates:

Month 1-3: prepping for Canaan house

Month 4: Canaan house

Month 5: harrow throws up; Camilla nonverbal

Canaan house recovery missions from the emperor and BOE — what the fuck. Who got there first. How and why did they miss the other people. Seems like BOE got there, intentionally left H and I but took G’s body??????????

Month 6: Harrow and Ianthe arrive on the Mithraeum

Month 8: Harrow kills her 13th planet with Mercy. It’s desert and triple-sunned. Wake makes posthumous contact with BOE (Ntn 155).

Month 9-10: When Judith says she begins writing her report; she’s with BOE on a wooded double(potentially triple?)-sunned planet. At one point several weeks (or months?) later Mercy shows up. According to Judith, that is. Judith honey I might need to recuse your testimony for somehow being more of an unreliable narrator than the lobotomized traumatized psychotic unmedicated half-dead triple-haunted 201-souled Harrowhark Nonagesimus. Then I could bump this back to month 8 which would make more sense.

Month 10: Harrow catches G1d!Pyrrah with Cytherea!Wake

Between Month 10 and Month 12: Harrow turns 18. Harrow discovers G1d can drain thanergy. Harrow makes soup. Harrow makes Ianthe’s arm. Dios apate minor.

Month 12: Harrow finds Cam and Pal on a wooded planet and sees Judith. Judith tries to warn Harrow about Mercy’s involvement.

Mercy ditches her for unspecified business. I suspect this is when she meets with We Suffer? Was this when she heals Judith?

1 AM

Month 2: death of the emperor. Quick undeath of the emperor. Nona born(?)

Month 5: Station Red-As-Blood abandoned (Ntn 152). The demons show up on Antioch (Ntn 448).

Month (6?): Nona gets a job (Ntn 41).

Month 7: nona gets shot, cam/pal fusion reveal (Ntn 105 through the end of the chapter)

Month 8: events of Ntn

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I always repeat it but I truly love the way you write Leona ☹️ you portray not only his personality but also his inner thoughts and how he processes information around him so well... I love all your writings but specially your Leona related works (sorry for being very much biased)

I hold your Leona interpretation so close to my heart 🤲💛 I often see a lot of mischaracterization (and I kind of get it- he's hard to decipher sometimes), so seeing such a good portrayal that I feel encapsulates his whole being is so important to me ☹️☹️

[Not sure if this is feedback in response to a particular writing piece I did, but just in case, this Leona interaction was the most recent one before receiving this ask.]

cbjddbwkkeoqhd Thank you!! I try to do the same thing Yana did when first conceptualizing the Twst characters… I try to put myself in their shoes and wonder what it must be like to be them in a given situation. The example Yana provided in one interview was something along the lines of, The poison apple didn’t want to be poisonous, but the Evil Queen forced it to. How did that make the apple feel? I want to think about not only how someone would speak, but also about their body language, their thoughts, their emotions, previous interactions in similar scenarios, their life experiences, their goals, their strengths and their flaws, how those can color their perception of others and the world--everything that makes up a character! I also aim to make my dialogue distinguishable, even if there's no name attached to it. If you can swap out several other character's names and the dialogue still works, then the intended character's voice isn't coming through strong enough and I rewrite it from scratch. If I write "You've earned my brother's respect," that's not good enough for me. It has to be “Oh, would you look at that. You’ve gone and earned my dear onii-sama’s respect and admiration. How good for you," to properly convey Leona's sarcasm and haughtiness.

The Twst characters are all very complex and multifaceted (particularly those we're given the most detailed backstories about *stares at the OB boys*), and there's also tons of content to comb through between the all the characters, main story, vignettes, events, and additional materials (interviews, art books, mangas, light novel, etc.). As a result, it can be easy to overlook elements of a particular character or to simplify/condense characters--either making them the extreme of being too cruel or the other extreme of being too kind--to make them easier to write. It takes time to nail that characterization, so I encourage my fellow writers to keep trying ^^

To speak a little more about writing Leona! It's honestly hard because you have to balance his arrogance with his lack of motivation and his depression-like beliefs about himself without whiplashing between those components. He's also very intelligent, and those kinds of characters can be difficult to do, especially for inexperienced writers. Leona works in subtle ways to get what he wants, and you have to find a way to communicate that between himself and the reader, but not give away what he's scheming to the other characters involved, who are not in his headspace. Then, of course, there's that whole ongoing debate about whether Leona would treat women significantly "better" than men (which is a topic worthy of a whole separate discussion post; I won't get into that here since it would elongate this post by a ton)... There's several things to consider when writing him. If you enjoy my interpretation of Leona, then that makes me happy ^^ I genuinely do put forth a lot of effort to capture the characters in my writing, so it's nice when those efforts are recognized.

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

Would you mind sharing your planning process of the comic? I'm starting to brainstorm a fiction idea and right now the ideas are very messy and I wanted to know if you could show how you plan what happens on a season and on an episode, maybe with an example of a season episode you already published, so I can learn how to organize myself?

I really, REALLY appreciate you coming to ask me for help with this. It's awesome to hear that you respect my writing enough to seek me out as an authority on such things, or at least enough to ask for advice.

But I'm gonna be real with you - what you're asking for is not a quick slapdash reply that I can whip up in my free time. What you're asking for is an hour long video essay (with examples) on the level of an educational creative writing online course.

And I--I don't know if I have it in me to do that right now. Not with everything else I'm trying to do. (Sorry.)

BUT.

What I can give you instead is a basic rundown, and maybe some recommendations for where to this stuff.

To be absolutely brief: For me, the best way to visualize how I plan would be to make a flowchart.

Keep in mind that....... I don't ever actually.......MAKE. A flowchart.

Mostly, I am just using this as a visual representation of how my ideas flow from and to each other in a coherent way. The reality is that this skill is something you have to develop until it becomes second nature.

As an example, let's take the episode(s) where I introduced Seaglass.

This little arc was planned in season 3, but really started to come into play in Season 4.

To make it happen, I started with the obvious main idea: SEAGLASS.

I then broke it down into multiple smaller ideas:

If you notice, the main plot of this doesn't even start when the Seaglass exposition does. Steven makes Seaglass back in season 3, but doesn't know about it. But these ideas are still important to acknowledge as being a part of the main plot.

I then fill in MORE space between these larger ideas.

This whole set of steps is just a logical progression of me playing 'how do we get there'. I make up plot points and say 'what happens to get from A to B?'

And keep in mind - this may seem kinda obvious. That's because... it should be! But that's how the planning happens.

Realistically, it's just a bunch of asking myself questions. The same exact questions I refuse to answer in asks.

"What happens next? What would happen if....?" "Why doesn't Steven know about ....?"

"How would Steven find Seaglass if he doesn't know she exists?"

Well she's small and green, kinda like Peridot. So he goes looking for Peridot and mistakes Seaglass for her.

BAM! You've got yourself a plot point. That's a plan, baybee!

And then just kinda rinse and repeat.

And eventually, you want to make sure that you have some sort of connection back to the main plot point. In this case, it's the realization that Steven CREATED LIFE.

Again, I want to stress - I don't actually........plan.... by writing this down.

I do this process in my head. Often, multiple times per chapter, writing and editing to make it make more and more sense. The important part is about asking yourself questions. The same questions your readers should be asking.

"Why is this character doing this?" "Why is this event happening NOW?" "How will A find out when they realize what B has done?" "What is the BEST time for B to find out...? What is the WORST time?"

All of this takes imagination. It isn't about organization. It's moreso about learning to tetris plot events into their most snug spaces. It's about thinking of events as a staircase, which eventually leads to a larger staircase of plot arcs.

And as a final note, I will say that someday, when I'm less busy, I may make a video about plot. But it will take more time and effort, and for now, please just watch videos by other creators! I'm sure they're just as good at it as I am.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

I See You - Eddie Munson X GN (Deaf) Reader

Title: I See You

Eddie Munson X GN (Deaf) Reader

Additional Characters: Mostly random teens, along with random "friends" Terri and Stancy-Ann

Requested by: Anon!

WC: 2,794

Warnings: Teens talking behind Reader's back briefly, Reader is mentioned to be an outcast, teens being jerks, Eddie the Protector, nicknames, mentions of drugs briefly, teasing, flirting, slight angst, and fluff

You were so tired. Tired of people... And of the world really. It was like the whole world was against you sometimes, making it impossible to be anything more than an outsider, an outcast. You were deaf, unable to hear, but you did have hearing aids that did allow you to hear when you wore them. But sometimes you just didn't want to hear. Your so-called "friends" would always grow so irritated when you didn't want to wear your hearing aids, or when you simply wanted someone to repeat what they had said; people alway made it seem like it was so much work and trouble just to repeat themselves.

“But, I was thinking we should start the presentation with the history of Einstein before we go into his theory-” Terri spoke, only for Stacy-Ann to interrupt her.

“You mean his life, not his history,” She said, “I mean, really, Terri.”

You blinked as they continued to fight on whether or not to have Einstein’s important life events listed out in red ink or blue, but as their conversation veered onto Einstein’s theory of relativity, you found yourself confused… What did they just say?

“Uh, Stacy-Ann, could you repeat that, please?” You asked, your own purple pen, that you had borrowed from Terri pausing on your index cards. 

Both Terri and Stacy-Ann had turned to look at you before glancing at one another, and scoffing.

“Well, you should have been paying attention, Y/N.” Terri spoke, “We’ve said it, like, twice.”

You blinked rapidly, clearing your throat, “Well, I just missed what you had said. Could you please repeat what you said?”

Terri stared at you, as if what you had asked was dumb before she shook her head, turning down at her own notes. “No, I don’t want to repeat myself. It’s your fault for not hearing me the first time.”

Sometimes you wondered if they were even your friends at all. They would end up ignoring you, not wanting to be around you sometimes. Well, you didn’t need them. You had your boyfriend, Eddie.

Eddie Munson was also an outcast like you. He was different from anyone you had ever met. He was eccentric, loyal, and kind. A nonconformist with a heart of gold. Whenever you were with him, it was like the world was on pause, frozen. Everything seemed to fade out and disappear, leaving just the two of you. When you were sad, he would make you smile again; effortlessly with his charm, jokes, smile. He understood you and made you feel seen and heard. He loved you. He had told you so many times before, he had written it down so many times - pieces of notebook paper scrawled with his penmensip - that you knew he meant every word. He had even brought up the idea of matching tattoos once when the both of you were in his room in the trailer, staring up at his ceiling, hands clasped together as you lay side by side.

Spring break was coming fast, like tomorrow fast, and Eddie was going to some bonfire party, that some other high schoolers were having, to sell his merchandise. You had always felt so out of place in large groups of people, feeling ignored, leaving you bored and rather lonely. Eddie also knew that you disliked parties, so he told you that he’d understand if you would want to stay home, but you didn't want to be alone at home waiting for him, so you decided to come along; as long as you were with Eddie, you’d feel at ease. You did have to admit though, as you walked hand in hand with Eddie towards the bonfire, that you were happy to get out of the house, get some fresh air, and spend more time with Eddie that wasn’t at school, your place, or his. 

And everything was going pretty well, the music was pulsing loudly through the boombox, the deep beats reverberating through the ground at your feet and where you sat on a fallen log. Eddie sat beside you, arm over your shoulder as you both stared at the large fire, his small tin sitting between his feet as he waited for the business to come rolling in. 

"Nice night," Eddie began, his hand coming up to rub up and down your arm gently - instantly warming you up as a slight breeze flew by and chilled the both of you. "Cold night, but nice." He finished, dropping his arm to take off his jacket to wrap it around your shoulders before returning his arm around you, showing off the Metallica band t-shirt that he was wearing; which was a gift from you. 

Breathing in the scent of musky amber, combined with vanilla - and a hint of weed and leather - which wafted off of his leather jacket in waves; comforting, "Yeah this is nice." You spoke softly, watching as about a dozen or so teens danced, drank, or just sat by the fire talking to friends. 

"I'm glad you came with me," Eddie then spoke up, nudging his nose against your temple, making you look up at him, seeing the smile on his face, "I know how much you hate parties but this party would’ve been such a dud without you."

"Yeah, but it’s… Enjoyable with you." You answered, smiling sweetly at him as you turned your head to kiss his cheek lightly. Your eyes glanced at the fire for a few moments before looking back up at Eddie again, taking note of the way he stared at you. It wasn't the first time he'd looked at you that way, the way that made you feel special, desired, and wanted... It still made you flush. But this time something about his expression made you feel slightly nervous - in a good way. "What is it?" You asked softly, having a feeling that Eddie had something on his mind.

His brown eyes shifted from your eyes, down to your lips before back up, "Nothing. Nothing important, just... Just thinking. It’s just… You’re so bewitching." He replied, leaning closer to you as if he couldn't help himself, his warm breath fanning across your face as his gaze continued to travel down to your lips, which were parted slightly, waiting for him to kiss you... 

“Bewitching?” You muttered, your heart warming as your face flushed, “I’m bewitching?”

“Absolutely, babe. You’ve spellbound me.” He pulled you closer to him, finally leaning in, his eyelids drooping; his lips just a breath away from yours... Until...

"Hey! Munson!" Someone yelled out, interrupting both you and the young man in question as he pulled back and let out an irritated, dramatic sigh, snapping his head towards the teen who called out to him.

"Duty calls." You muttered sadly as Eddie nodded, running a hand through his hair before he grabbed his tin.

"Yeah, but don't think this is over. I plan to kiss the crap out of you when I return," He teased, pointing a finger at you before gently booping your nose as he stood from the log, "Later~" He added, winking, before heading into the throngs of teenagers with his usual avant-garde stride. You watched him go, letting out a dreamy sigh before staring back into the fire - which flickered dangerously - knowing that Eddie would keep his promise and come right back.

Even though you did still feel a bit uneasy, you were actually enjoying yourself, staring at the large bonfire, warmed by it and Eddie's jacket around you. Though, there was this tingling in your mind, that something was going to go wrong, that someone was going to say something or do something, like always, and ruin your happiness. You were getting used to the feeling, the paranoia, which frustrated you deeply. You hated this town, you hated the people in this crappy town, you hated everything except Eddie. Sometimes you wished that after graduation, you and Eddie could just ride off in his van into the sunset.

"Why are they here?" You then heard, snapping you out of your thoughts as a small group of people began to talk near you, "I thought they couldn't hear the music?"

Yeah, they were talking about you.

"They have hearing aids, idiot." Another one spoke, clearly not caring if you could hear them. "Just ask them."

"Ask them what?" Came a third voice, one sounding already irritated, crossing their arms and pivoting their weight to the side. "I don’t want to talk to them."

“Yeah,” The first teen spoke, “They hang out with that freak Munson. They’re probably a demon worshiper too.”

That last comment caught your attention, causing your head to snap up as you focused your eyes on the three teenagers. Your blood was boiling, no one talked like that about Eddie, he wasn’t a freak. What jerks.

You rose quickly, speeding past the trio and right towards Eddie. You wanted to leave, but you didn't want to ruin any business for him, or ruin any of the possible fun that he might have been having. So you kept walking, and only when your arms were able to loop around his, did you finally let go of the large breath you didn't know that you were holding in your lungs.

The moment your arm looped around his, Eddie turned his head, looking down at you. At your frown, he frowned as well. "What's wrong, babe?" His tone sounded concerned, his attention moving away from the potential customer in front of him.

Your body stiffened instantly, but slightly, as your eyes moved downcast momentarily before you looked into his chocolate brown eyes; the color practically drowning you in warmth and comfort, "I missed you." You said simply, and though your words were sweet, Eddie saw past them, he heard, and saw the emotion behind them.

Eddie hummed, turning to the teenager, "If you'll excuse me."

"Hey, freak!" The teen exclaimed as you and Eddie moved to turn and leave, "I thought we had a deal here?"

Eddie turned sharply, "Deal's off." Before he turned once more and began leading you to the van.

"Deal's off? Why? You need to go babysit them!?" The teen yelled out, gaining some other's attention as Eddie froze in place. 

You held onto Eddie's arm, your fingers clutching onto his skin, probably painfully, but Eddie didn't seem to notice or care as he stared daggers into the teen's head. Your free hand by your side clenched into a tight fist, your nails creating crescent moon-shaped creases into your palm before you quickly reached up and took out your hearing aids. 

For a moment, as you closed your eyes, you could feel at peace, unable to hear anything as the crowd around you faded away, leaving you to pretend that you were anywhere else. It wasn't until you opened your eyes again, blinking slowly as the bright crescent moon's beams filtered in between the leaves above you that you realized you were still in the same spot where Eddie had frozen.

You could see that he was speaking, animatedly, a dark grin on his lips as he spoke to the teen. Before you knew it, Eddie had slipped away from you, almost prancing around his new prey, a hop in his step as the teen stood, wary and unknowing of Eddie's next move. 

Though Eddie was clearly intimidating the teen, you couldn't help but admire how Eddie held himself: tall, broad shoulders, strong and powerful arms, a confident smirk on his lips as he continued to speak, his dark hair falling forward, his bangs brushing against his dark eyebrows as he tilted his head side to side, almost badgering. You had always admired how protective Eddie could be, always going out of his way to make sure you were alright, not afraid to tell others off for their behavior towards you. 

You weren't exactly sure how long you stayed there, standing, observing, just drinking in the sight of Eddie before you; trying to process all that you were seeing. It wasn't until you felt a soft tug on your hand, pulling you from your trance, that you realized that Eddie was done and the teen was out of sight.

You watched his lips move, forming your name before he continued with what you were sure was, "Let's go home." And with that said, he guided you back to the van, keeping close, watching over you.

The ride back to his trailer was silent, for you, your hearing aids carefully placed away in a small, green carrying case that you always carried with you. Again, sitting in the van, feeling the soft rumbling as Eddie drove over pebbles and a small hole in the road, you slipped your eyes shut. And again, you felt at peace, unable to hear the world, and finally, you allowed your body to relax into the plush passenger seat of the van; totally exhausted. 

With the soft touch of Eddie's calloused hand wrapping around one of yours, you opened your eyes, turning your head to see that gentle smile of his. Slowly, your eyes softened, and you smiled back, lacing your fingers with his, and giving his hand a comforting squeeze; one that silently told him that you were okay. With your free hand, you reached over and gently ran your hand along the side of his face, brushing his long, curly hair behind his ear, smiling even wider as he leaned into your touch; closing his eyes, nuzzling against your hand as he seemed to melt instantly into your touch. Bewitched.

It was like you were a part of a zoetrope, capturing each and every scene in front of you. There was an innocence in that moment, a quiet joy. It reminded you of those moments spent together when you were both younger, just Freshmans. Those little times where you would sit and watch TV or the times when you and Eddie would go out adventuring through the woods. Where just being around each other was enough to calm the chaos inside your mind. Those moments where you felt like you were seen. Eddie understood you. No one else ever did. He saw you. He saw you.

"I'm sorry, babe," You heard Eddie say as you placed your empty case on his cluttered bedside table.

Turning, you huffed, laying upon Eddie's bed, tugging the old quilt that your grandmother made over your shoulder; staring over at him. "Sorry for what, Eddie Spaghetti?" You asked him, taking his hand into yours, palm to palm, fingers lanced.

He shrugged lightly, shifting closer, his brows furrowed slightly as he searched your eyes, his own filled with an unknown look. "It was a stupid idea to go to that party. I didn’t have to go." He spoke quietly, as he stroked your knuckles softly. "I shouldn't have forced you to come."

You shook your head, "No, Eds, you didn't force me. You asked, and I agreed to come with you."

A small sigh left his lips, "I know. But, I still feel bad. I mean, the way that he was talking about you..." Eddie exhaled through his nose, "I really wanted to punch him."

"Really?" You questioned him, raising your brows, surprised, a hint of amusement present in your voice as you gave him a teasing grin. "Well, I'll have you know, that while you were telling him off, I thought you looked metal."

The look of surprise on Eddie's face quickly morphed into a sly smirk as he grinned at you, "Oh really?"

"Mhm." You nodded, smiling as you pulled your hands back to slide them around his neck, the tips of your fingers brushing through his hair lightly. "I love that you protect me, you know?" You added, tilting your head slightly, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"You think I'd ever let anyone hurt you?" Eddie replied, pulling you even closer to him, letting his arms circle your waist.

Your cheeks flushed, and a small laugh escaped your lips as your hands slid down his shoulders to rest on his chest. You lifted your gaze to meet his, softly nudging your forehead against his, "No." You whispered, "With you, I feel safe... I feel seen."

That's all it took for Eddie to pull you tightly to him, his nose gently brushing against yours, his hands soothingly rubbing up and down your back as his bangs tickled your face. "I see you..." Eddie whispered against your lips, his words causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach, sending shivers down your spine, and causing heat to fill your stomach.

You could feel yourself leaning in, your lips hovering right over Eddie's, only a few centimeters apart, before you spoke, "I see you too."

---

Main Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

[forest-hashira]

Noble Blood - Chapter Eleven

ok so life things happened again so i wasn't able to finish this chapter quite as soon as i would have liked, but. considering how long it is i am hoping you'll all have a little bit of mercy on me. i don't know how it got this long, it wasn't supposed to be this long, but i knew i couldn't split it yet again, so. y'know. also i had this song on repeat the whole time i was writing this chapter, if you want the vibes. i don't have much else to say tbh but i hope you enjoy!

fic masterlist | read on ao3 | wc: ~13k | cw: gender neutral reader, yet another festival sorry, reader has A Lot of anxiety this chapter, reader is nude around an adult they are not related to. nothing at all sexual happens but i wanted to give a heads up about it just in case.

Just as your mother had said, the rest of the week really did fly by. Because it was still winter break for school, Satoru and Suguru had nowhere else to be, so the three of you spent every waking moment together – and even some of the sleeping ones. You still slept in Suguru’s bed, wearing Satoru’s clothes every night, while the boys continued to share Satoru’s bed. You’d expected a fight to break out because of it at some point, but it never had. Which was a good thing, of course, but was still surprising.

The only downside to the week going by so fast was that, before you knew it, you had reached the day of the festival, which you had been dreading ever since Gojo-sama had informed you of it. 

That morning, you were woken by a servant entering the room and calling your name, which, of course, woke all three of you. Still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stepped out from behind the privacy screen that separated Suguru’s bed from the rest of the room. “Is something wrong?” you asked around a yawn.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” she assured. “But we need to start getting you ready for tonight’s celebration.”

“Can’t that wait until after breakfast?” Satoru groused, scowling at the servant; even after all these years, he still wasn’t a morning person.

“I’m afraid not, Gojo-dono,” the servant replied with an apologetic smile. “Gojo-sama’s orders.”

Satoru’s scowl only deepened, but you cut in before he could argue.

“It’s fine, ‘Toru,” you told him, hoping you sounded as reassuring as you were trying to be. “I’ll catch up with you guys at lunch, okay? Just go back to sleep.”

He hesitated for a moment, still glowering at the servant, but he finally relented when Suguru bumped him lightly with his shoulder. 

“Fine,” the white haired boy grumbled, though his expression softened slightly as he turned his attention to you. “You can throw a tantrum if they start to bother you,” he said, expression completely serious. “Always works for me.”

Suguru rolled his eyes at the other boy’s words, but offered you a small smile. “We’ll catch up with you later,” he promised. 

Oddly reassured by Satoru’s advice and soothed by Suguru’s promise, you nodded, murmuring one last small goodbye before following the servant out of the room, Takara cradled to your chest as always. 

You were led to a part of the house you’d never been to before – the very center of the house, if you had to guess – and were a bit confused when you were ushered into a bathroom, where there was already a tub of steaming water. 

“But I just took a bath last night,” you said, more than a little confused as you turned to face the servant you had been following. 

“Gojo-sama’s instructions were clear,” she said simply, though she did look a bit apologetic. “He said you were to be bathed and thoroughly scrubbed clean before we dressed you for the event.”

You blinked dumbly for a moment at her words before something clicked in your mind. “You mean… I don’t just get to bathe myself? And I don’t get to dress myself after?”

“That’s correct,” she confirmed, without any sort of change in her expression. “It’s how Gojo-dono has always been prepared for events,” she added, as if that made the concept of being scrubbed and dressed by complete strangers any less horrifying. “It’s just how things are done.”

Though the idea made you more than a little uncomfortable, you weren’t confident enough to try and argue, too overwhelmed already by everything that was happening, and you hadn’t even gotten started.

Thankfully, the servant turned her back and allowed you a small amount of privacy as you undressed and climbed into the tub, after setting Takara on top of your clothes; she was still so small, and you didn’t want her to get cold while you were unable to hold her.

Once you were fully seated in the tub, the servant turned and began gathering the soaps and things she would need to bathe you, allowing you to soak in the hot water for a few moments. When she turned to you, though, she gestured for you to tip your head backwards. “Need to wet your hair so I can wash it,” she explained. Hesitantly, you nodded, then did as she asked. The hot water felt good against your scalp, but the woman’s fingers were anything but gentle as they worked the soap into your hair, her nails raking against your scalp somewhat unpleasantly.

Eventually she rinsed the soap from your hair, then rubbed something that looked a lot like lotion into the strands. Whatever it was smelled strongly of herbs, but you found you didn’t mind it very much. When she told you to stand so she could give you a good scrub, you wanted to refuse, to say you were capable of bathing yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to argue with her stern expression. So you stood, keeping your eyes squeezed shut as she scrubbed virtually every inch of your body, her movements thorough and efficient, if a bit rougher than you would’ve liked; not having to look at her as she washed you lessened the humiliation you felt, even if only a little.

Once you were deemed satisfactorily clean, the servant sat you back down in the tub and rinsed out whatever it she had put in your hair. Then she ushered you out of the tub, handing you a large, thick towel.

“Dry yourself quickly,” she said, “Then come through that door over there. That’s where we’ll be dressing you and getting you otherwise ready for the event.” As she spoke, she pointed to a door on the other side of the room you hadn’t noticed before – though, granted, you hadn’t been paying much attention. 

You nodded to confirm you understood, then waited until she had left the room to begin drying yourself with the towel. The material was soft, much softer than any other towels your family had ever owned, and that, if nothing else, was a relief. Once you were dried off, you secured the towel around yourself, then turned to Takara, who was sitting up and watching you curiously, head cocked ever so slightly to the right.

“Well,” you told her quietly, attempting a small smile. “Guess we should let them finish getting us ready, hm?” You carefully scooped up the hatchling and the pile of clothes she sat on, not sure if you were meant to leave them behind or not. Crossing the room, you pushed open the door that had been pointed out to you, and your eyes widened at the scene before you.

There were at least three servants in the room, and what seemed to you to be dozens and dozens and dozens of kimonos and coordinating accessories laid out across the multiple vanity tables in the room. Most of them looked like silk, shiny and in a spectrum of more metallic shades. It occurred to you after a moment that they were trying to match your outfit to the color of your dragon as best they could.

Everyone stopped what they were doing when you stepped through the door, turning to look at you with neutral expressions. Until they spotted Takara, at least. When they caught sight of the hatchling, their eyes all flew wide, as if they hadn’t believed she existed until right that moment. Snapping out of whatever trance your dragon seemed to have put them all under, one of the servants, a girl who couldn’t have been more than five or six years older than you, turned to you with a gentle smile.

“Do you have any preference about what colors your accessories are?” she asked kindly. “If we can start narrowing things down now, we can make this as quick for you as possible.”

The question caught you a bit off guard; you hadn’t expected to have any sort of say in the whole process, so you weren’t entirely sure how to even answer the question. “I, uh…” you hesitated, glancing around at everything laid out on the tables to see what your options were. Both fortunately and unfortunately, it seemed there were accessories in every color you could imagine and then some. “I think… could we do green?”

“Of course, there’s plenty of green to work with over there. Is there a specific shade…” the girl trailed off when she saw Takara stirring in your arms, and she gasped softly when the hatchling opened her eyes.

You offered a slightly bashful smile at her reaction, and asked, somewhat redundantly, “Can we try to match her eyes?”

You’d barely gotten a nod in response before the woman who had bathed you came over to you, taking the clothes from your arms and carrying them off to some unknown part of the room, presumably to be taken away and washed. Wordlessly, she ushered you into the center of the room, only stopping once you stood in front of a mirror.

“You’ll have to put her down while we get you dressed,” she told you, with a slight nod towards Takara.

Her words make your heart stop for a moment. She was right, of course, and you knew it, but you desperately did not want to be separated from your only friend in the room, especially since it seemed that getting dressed would not be a quick, simple process. 

“…Where am I supposed to put her?” you asked eventually, still not confident enough to try and defy her, doubly so considering she was just carrying out Gojo-sama’s orders. 

“Over there.” She gestured to the closest vanity table, which had a small section at the end cleared off except for a rather fancy looking cushion. So, after another moment of hesitation, you carried your dragon over to the cushion, carefully setting her down and promising her you weren’t going anywhere.

Once you were back in front of the mirror, the woman circled you slowly, looking you up and down as if trying to imagine exactly how things would fit on you before even attempting to get you into any of the possible outfits – outfits you knew would be far too complicated for you to ever get into or out of on your own. She said nothing when she turned away from you, instead carefully examining all the options laid out. They all looked almost exactly the same to you, but the servant woman clearly had a much more discerning eye than you, and skipped over most of the fabrics without even really considering them.

When she paused in front of one of the outfits, you craned your neck, trying to see which one had caught her attention, but your view was blocked by her torso. She glanced between the clothes and Takara a few times, then picked up the outfit and, still blocking it from your view, walked over to Takara.

“Please don’t touch her!” you blurted, once the woman was standing between you and your dragon. It was the closest thing to an argument you’d made all morning, and you just hoped you wouldn’t be punished for it.

“I won’t,” the woman responded, her voice gentler than you would’ve thought she was capable of. “I just want to make sure the color matches her scales.” As she considered the match, she continued to speak to you. “There are some undergarments on the chair beside the mirror. Do you see them?”

Glancing a little to the left of where you stood, you spotted the chair and the clothes she was talking about. “Yes ma’am.”

“I need you to take your towel off and put them on. You can step behind the mirrors if you would like a bit more privacy.”

“Thank you,” you sighed, the idea of being allowed a small amount of privacy so at the very least nobody else would see you naked giving you such a feeling of relief you worried for a moment that you might start crying. You hurriedly picked up the clothes, stepping into the small space behind the mirrors, which were in the corner of the room, and dropped your towel. The undergarments were nothing special, but wearing actual clothes again made you feel a little less out of your depth during this whole situation.

The servant woman was waiting for you when you stepped out from behind the mirror. “Just place your towel on the chair, if you will,” she instructed. She had the outfit draped over her arm, and though you couldn’t see all of it, you could see that it was the exact same shade of copper as Takara, which you were a little surprised by. You didn’t have long to linger on that realization, though, because as soon as you set your towel down on the chair, you were being guided to your previous spot in front of the mirrors by another servant.

Having multiple people invading your personal space in order to dress you quickly became overwhelming and, not having many other options, you closed your eyes, hoping maybe if you couldn’t see all the people working together to fasten your clothes around you, maybe you wouldn’t feel so overstimulated. Unfortunately, that didn’t help the way you hoped, the feeling of so many hands touching you at the same time too much for you to filter out in an effective way.

The hands touching you retreated after what felt like hours – though you knew logically it couldn’t have been more than just a few minutes – but before you felt brave enough to open  your eyes now that you weren’t being crowded by strangers, a set of hands began to rake some sort of product through your hair, presumably to keep it out of your face. The rough touch was the final straw, everything now too much for you to bear even a second longer.

“Stop it!” you shrieked, shaking your head and pushing away the hands that tried to grab at you. “I said stop it! Right this second! Don’t fucking touch me!” Your voice was shrill, significantly higher pitched than usual, and frantic to the point that you barely recognized it as your own voice. You felt yourself beginning to shake on top of it, but before you broke down in front of the servants, Satoru’s words from earlier echoed in your head.

You can throw a tantrum if they start to bother you. Always works for me.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d really thrown any sort of fit, but if there was ever a time to really let yourself do such a thing, this was it. 

So you went for it. Leaned into the more theatrical parts of your current mood, keeping your voice loud and upset and contorting your expression into something demanding and angry, rather than distraught as you finally opened your eyes. “All of you get out of here! I don’t want to look at you right now. I want to see my friend.”

“Now listen here, Gojo-sama told us—”

“I don’t care what he said! If you don’t all leave and send Satoru in to see me, I’ll start breaking things.” You weren’t entirely certain where the words came from, but you couldn’t let your surprise show to the servants, or they would almost certainly call your bluff.

The servants all exchanged looks, most of their expressions rather unsure, until eventually the oldest servant gestured for everyone to leave the room. “I’ll make sure Gojo-dono is here as soon as possible to speak with you,” she told you, arching a brow at you the tiniest bit before she followed the others out of the room.

Once they were all gone, you practically deflated, all the fight leaving your body. What you really wanted to do was curl up in a corner and disappear, but you resisted the urge, instead walking over to the cushion Takara still sat on. Gently, you scooped her into your arms again, the simple feeling of her rib cage expanding and contracting with every breath she took serving to calm you a good deal. You weren’t entirely sure how long you stood there holding her when a rushed knock sounded at the door, and you turned in time to see Satoru stepping inside, barely remembering to shut the door behind himself in his hurry to get to you.

“You threatened to break things?” he asked, his eyes wide and a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “I told you throwing a tantrum would work!”

Though you wanted to join in his enthusiasm, now that Satoru was here in front of you, it was taking every ounce of your self control not to burst into tears. He noticed the way your bottom lip began to tremble, and his expression quickly dropped from excited to concerned. He held his hands up somewhat helplessly between you, apparently unsure what to do to provide you comfort.

“Oh god, uh, please don’t cry. I’m sorry, I was trying to be supportive, I didn’t mean to upset you—”

“Didn’t upset me,” you cut him off, blinking rapidly to try and stave off your tears as you returned Takara to her cushion. “Could I hug you?” you asked, turning back to him. “Or are our clothes too expensive for that?”

Your weak attempt at a joke seemed to go over his head as he pulled you close, expression serious. “Who gives a shit about our clothes?” he asked, arms wrapped tightly around you. Once you’d wrapped your arms around him in return, he began to rock you side to side ever so slightly, thought you weren’t sure he was even doing it on purpose; it was something you’d frequently seen him doing over the years, almost any time he had to stand still for more than a few seconds, though he’d stopped doing it as much as you all got older. The familiarity of the move made you oddly nostalgic, and you lost the battle against your tears.

“Are you okay?” Satoru eventually asked, after your tears had quieted down to sniffles. He didn’t move to release you from the hug, though, which you greatly appreciated. 

“I’ve been better,” you admitted. Separating from him slightly, you wiped the last few straggling tears from your cheeks and looked up at him – when had he gotten tall enough for you to have to look up? you wondered, though you kept the thought to yourself. “How do you do this all the time? Don’t you just want to explode from all the attention?”

He tilted his head slightly as he looked at you, though his gaze was a bit unfocused as he considered your words. “I don’t think I notice all of this as much as you do,” he admitted eventually. “I’ve been putting up with all of this my whole life, so I’m just… used to it, I guess.” A soft sigh escaped him, and he gave a slight shrug. “I know that’s not really helpful, but it’s true. But you wanna know what else is true?”

“What?”

Satoru’s expression brightened a bit as he spoke. “Suguru and I are gonna be right by your side the whole celebration. We’re not gonna let anyone get too close, and if you want, we’ll sic Kenji and Niji on people so they leave us alone.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, sniffling and wiping your eyes once again. Though the promise to cause chaos on your behalf probably should have concerned you, it didn’t; you couldn’t feel anything but relief knowing that your friends would be there to stick up for you. “Thanks, ‘Toru.”

Dropping your hands from your face, it finally occurred to you that Satoru had come to see you all by himself. “Where is Kenji, anyways?” you asked curiously.

“He and Niji are being groomed for the event.”

“Groomed?”

“Yes.”

“How do you even groom a dragon?” You felt your brows furrow as you tried to imagine it; it’s not like dragons had fur that could be brushed, so you were having a bit of trouble imagining what else might be involved.

“I heard someone say something about giving them a bath,” Satoru said. “And then they’ll probably get their fluff trimmed up a bit and have their scales polished.”

“I’m sure Kenji’s thrilled about that,” you laughed, the mental image of the boisterous dragon being wrangled into a bathtub being exceptionally amusing to you.

This time Satoru laughed with you. “I’m sure I’ll have to spend days making it up to him with treats.” 

His words had you laughing again, though you were quickly cut off by the sound of your stomach growling, and embarrassment washed over you. “Sorry,” you apologized.

Satoru just frowned. “Did they not give you anything to eat?”

You shook your head. “No, they didn’t. I’m really hungry right now, though.”

He nodded slightly, then turned and walked over to the door. He poked his head out, having a brief conversation with someone that you could neither hear nor see, then closed the door and returned to your side. 

“Someone’s going to bring you something to eat,” he said simply.

“You didn’t have to do that, Satoru.”

He tilted his head slightly as he looked at you for a moment. “I’m not gonna let you starve all day just because my dad didn’t think about the fact that you need to eat.”

You found his words oddly endearing, with how much they showed he clearly cared about you, and you thanked him quietly. Not much else was said for a few moments, and then there was a soft knock on the door. The boy was quick to answer it, accepting a tray from whoever had knocked before turning away.

When you saw what was on the tray, your mouth started watering. There was a whole breakfast spread available to you – rice, miso soup, eggs, fruit – fresh tea, and even a few little chocolates on the side. Your stomach growled again, but this time you felt much less embarrassed about it. You waited until Satoru had set down the tray before launching yourself at the food, picking up the bowl of soup and bringing it to your lips, not even bothering with the spoon as you gulped down the broth. You only stopped when you heard your friend laugh softly.

“Sorry,” he apologized with a shake of his head. “Not trying to make fun of you or anything, I’ve just never seen you go at a meal like that before.”

“I haven’t eaten all day,” you reminded him, swallowing your mouthful and wiping away a stray drop of broth from your chin before it could touch your clothes. It wasn’t that late in the day, all things considered, but that didn’t change how hungry you really were. Knowing that eating too fast would only make you sick, you slowed down as you ate the rest of your food, occasionally offering small bites to Takara, who accepted exactly one bite of egg before refusing everything else.

As you ate, you and Satoru talked a bit more, not really discussing much of anything at all, but the conversation being a welcome distraction to what had overwhelmed you in the first place. Once you finally finished, you realized you felt much better about everything – or at the very least, you weren’t dreading what was to come as much. With a soft sigh, you glanced back over at the door; all the servants had left you alone, just as you’d asked – or demanded, rather – but you couldn’t imagine they’d gone very far from the room. “I should really let them finish getting me ready,” you said, if somewhat reluctantly. “I don’t want your father getting mad because I’m not cooperating.”

“Fuck my dad,” Satoru said. “Who cares what he thinks?”

You felt as if your eyes were going to pop out of your skull from the shock of hearing your friend say those words. “Satoru!” you exclaimed, looking around to make sure nobody else had heard him.

“What? It’s true!” he insisted, trying incredibly hard to hide his grin. “You’re the most important person in the settlement now – maybe even the whole world. Why do you care what my dad thinks anymore?”

Heat quickly spread across your face at his words. Your real answer of because he’s a grown up seemed a little silly when you thought about it the way Satoru had phrased it, so you just shrugged. Then, remembering his mother’s words from earlier that week, you replied, “Everyone is important, Satoru. Remember? And nobody is more important than anyone else.”

Now it was Satoru’s turn to get a little embarrassed, his face going red almost to the tips of his ears. You couldn’t help but notice how it made his eyes look even more blue than usual, though that thought had your own face burning even more. “Why do you always have to be right about stuff?” he groaned, burying his bright red face in his hands. He’d always been one for dramatics.

“‘Cause I know a lot of smart people.”

He peeked through his fingers at you. “Am I one of those smart people?”

“Hmm… Well, sometimes. Maybe,” you hummed, then giggled as he scowled at your teasing.

“Whatever,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. As usual, he wasn’t very good at hiding his true feelings, and you could see that he was barely suppressing a smile as he looked over at you. “I’ll see you again in a bit, okay?” He took your hand as he spoke, though whether the move was intentional or not, you weren’t entirely sure.

“‘Kay,” you agreed softly. “Bye, Satoru.”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, then turned and made his way out of the room, back to wherever he’d been before you’d demanded to see him. Shortly afterwards, the servants came filing back into the room, though they looked more wary of you than they had before they’d left.

“Feeling any better?” the head servant woman asked, arching a brow at you.

“Yes,” you said, then added sheepishly, “and I apologize for my outburst earlier. I shouldn’t have screamed at all of you.”

The servants blinked at your words, exchanging looks of surprise; apparently they weren’t used to getting apologies for such behavior.

“All is forgiven,” the head servant assured you, her expression seeming to soften a bit as she looked down at you. “It’s a lot to process if you’re not used to it. We are nearly finished, though. I only need to take care of your hair while the other girls get your accessories sorted, and then we’ll be done.”

Her explanation helped you feel a bit more at ease, and you nodded, easily allowing yourself to be led back in front of the mirror. As the head servant woman went back to taking care of your hair – running her fingers through it and using some sort of product to keep it back and out of your face – the two other servants went through the green accessories that had been brought into the room, comparing them to Takara’s eyes, trying to find the ones that matched the best. Most of the items didn’t make the cut, but eventually they turned to you with a few things: a small sash belt – more for decorative purposes than to actually hold your outfit in place – and two bracelets that looked like they were strung with real emeralds, though you didn’t dare to ask; you didn’t want to know how much money was sitting around your wrists.

While one of the women fastened the belt around your waist, the other clasped the bracelets around your wrists, making sure they were tight enough not to slip off, but not so tight that they were uncomfortable. The head servant woman tilted your head up gently, making sure you were looking straight forward before she fasted a hairpiece in place. It looked like a cross between a crown and a headband, thin strands of gold, silver, and bronze woven together in a circlet, the metal so finely polished it glinted even when it wasn’t in direct light. It sat atop your head in such a way that it kept your hair from falling into your eyes, and though they weren’t visible, you watched as several pins were put in your hair to keep the headpiece in place.

You stepped a bit closer to the mirrors, examining your reflection with wide eyes. You’d been utterly transformed with just a bit of work from the servant woman, without any of them even putting any sort of makeup or anything on your face. For the first time in your life, you looked… regal; you looked like you belonged with people like Satoru’s family. The kimono you wore looked like liquid copper pouring over you, the fabric weightless on you and lending an almost inhuman fluidity to every one of your movements; it was far and away the most luxurious thing you’d ever had the privilege of wearing, and though part of your mind was fretting over not messing the outfit up, you were mostly just in awe of how you looked.

The servants allowed you a few moments to look over yourself in the mirror, then called you back so they could help you into your shoes; a pair of waraji sandals, though these ones were made with a sturdy wooden sole and brown leather straps, rather than the ones made of rope fiber that you saw many other people in the settlement wearing from day to day. Despite being made from wood, you found the shoes surprisingly comfortable. You weren’t sure how long the celebration event was going to last, but at the very least you wouldn’t be stuck in uncomfortable shoes the whole time. 

After a moment of consideration, the head servant woman turned to one of the vanities and picked up a few small tins of what you could only assume was makeup, and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed; you’d hope you’d be able to avoid that. When she explained to you that all she was putting on you was a bit of tint to your brows and lashes, and a tiny bit of blush to your cheeks, you relaxed again; at least you wouldn’t have to wear anything on your lips.

“All finished,” she said after a few moments, offering you what you were surprised to see was a small smile. “Now that you’re ready, I’ll take you to meet with the others. You may bring the cushion for your dragon, if you wish.”

You nodded at her words, scooping Takara up into your arms and, after a brief moment of hesitation, you grabbed the pillow, as well, tucking it under your arm as you hurried out of the room.

Though your nerves had settled a good deal after getting to see Satoru, they began to eat at you again, your anxiety gnawing at your stomach, squeezing your throat and quickening your pulse. The nearer you drew to the front doors of the house, the worse you felt, every step somehow making the hallway smaller and smaller around you. Each breath you took felt more difficult, not quite able to pull enough air into your lungs anymore. Faintly, you heard someone call your name, and though the voice was familiar, you couldn’t quite pinpoint who it was until they stood in front of you.

“Are you alright?” Suguru asked, his voice gentle and his face concerned. You blinked a few times as you looked up at him, though he said nothing else as he waited patiently for a response from you. 

“I…” you began lamely, then let out a sharp breath before trying again. “I’m a bit overwhelmed, I guess…” The unintentional confession slipped a bit too easily from your lips for your liking, but there was no taking the words back once they were out.

Suguru’s expression only softened at your words, and he offered you a small smile. “That’s understandable,” he assured you. “There’s a lot happening today. I think I’d be a little concerned if you weren’t overwhelmed. But it’s alright, we’re here with you.” He turned and looked over his shoulder then, and you followed his gaze to where Satoru stood with his parents, Kenji pacing beside him while Niji sat obediently beside where Suguru had been standing just a moment before. 

The sight of your best friend eased your fears even more, and it felt a bit easier to breathe when he smiled at you. You noticed then that his starlight hair had been slicked back from his face, but you already knew that he would be running his fingers through it to get it back to its usual fluffy state.

“Come on,” Suguru urged, pulling you from your thoughts. “The celebration is starting soon, we can’t have the guest of honor arrive late.” The faint hint of teasing that ran through his words got a smile out of you, and you followed him over to the rest of the group. For a brief moment, you worried that you would be expected to lead the way to the city center, but much to your relief, Gojo-sama informed you that you’d be taking up the rear, with Kenji and Niji on either side of you. Though you would have preferred to walk between your friends, rather than behind them, you said nothing, not wanting to risk invoking Gojo-sama’s anger right before you were presented to everyone in the settlement.

Before you could all turn to leave, though, Gojo-hime’s soft voice called out from down the hall. She walked quickly until she reached the group, smiling as she knelt down in front of you. “I’m glad I caught you before you left,” she said, taking you in for a moment. “You look lovely in these colors,” she added, fingers trailing down one of your sleeves lightly before meeting your eyes again. “I just wanted to come and say I know you’re going to be wonderful tonight. Being the center of attention can be scary, but you can do it.”

Her words had tears burning your eyes, and you blinked rapidly to try and keep them from falling. “Thank you, Gojo-hime,” you whispered, clearing your throat softly and looking away afterwards.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” She pushed herself up from the floor then, standing slowly as she turned to your friends. “Satoru,” she murmured fondly, then pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Can you promise you’ll behave this time?”

“I’ll try,” Satoru promised, his voice a little quieter than usual, and you weren’t surprised when you glanced at his face again and saw him blushing all the way to the tips of his ears.

That drew a soft laugh from the woman, and she brushed her knuckles lightly across his cheek. “I appreciate that,” she murmured, then turned her attention to your other friend. “Will you help keep him in line, Suguru?”

It was the raven haired boy’s turn to blush then, and he nodded. “Of course, Gojo-hime.”

“Thank you,” she sighed, seeming genuinely a bit relieved by the words. “All three of you try to have some fun together, alright? I’ll see you all later.” With that, she nodded to her husband and bid the rest of you farewell before making her way back down the hall. She hadn’t said why she wouldn’t be joining you for the celebration, but the way she pressed her fingers to her temples as she walked told you more than enough.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Gojo-sama turned and resumed his path to the front doors, pushing them open with a flourish and making his way down the walkway that led out of the estate and eventually right into the city, leaving you and the boys to scramble to catch up with him. Soon enough, though, you all fell into step behind him, four sets of wooden shoes clicking against the stones of the path nearly in sync; you were the shortest of the group, so you couldn’t quite match the rhythm of their steps without falling behind.

Your procession was slow, and while you were sure it was because Gojo-sama didn’t want to arrive at the celebration with even a single hair out of place, the longer it took to arrive and get the evening over with, the more anxious you became. In an effort to keep your mind occupied with something – anything – else, you focused on your friends, taking in their appearances for the first time since you’d reunited with them.

Satoru was wearing a white kimono, secured around the waist with a blue belt. It was simple, but paired with his hair and his eyes, it was striking. When he turned his head to steal a quick glimpse at you, he looked almost ethereal, despite the boyishness that still softened his features. Your eyes flitted away almost as soon as they met his, but you still noticed the way the corner of his lips turned up slightly as he turned away once again.

Apparently curious by what had caught Satoru’s attention – or possibly concerned about your current emotional state, or some combination of the two, you weren’t entirely sure which – Suguru glanced over his shoulder at you, as well. His features were still a bit soft with youth, but they’d always seemed more sophisticated to you, almost regal; he may not have been born with any noble blood in his family, but you wouldn’t know that just from looking at him. Dodging his gaze, too, you dropped your eyes, focusing instead on his outfit. The kimono he wore was black, though you noticed the tiniest hint of purple woven into the fabric when it caught the light just right; it seemed to form some sort of pattern, but you couldn’t quite make it out. The belt secured around his waist was yellow, and while out of context it was not a color you would have liked, knowing that it matched the shade of Niji’s eyes made it a bit more appealing.

Just then it occurred to you that all of you were dressed to match your dragons. You craned your neck to try and better see the colors Gojo-sama was wearing, but a large robe hid his outfit from your view. Maybe it’s just the three of us, you thought, once you’d given up on trying to see what Satoru’s father was wearing. Since Satoru and Suguru are the only ones with solid color dragons, and I’m the only one with a metallic dragon. Maybe we’re supposed to stand out more from everyone else. 

You continued to walk in silence behind everyone else for a few moments, when you suddenly realized something else: even if Gojo-sama was dressed to match his dragon, you wouldn’t have been able to tell; as far as you could remember, you’d never seen his dragon with him. The urge to tap Satoru on the shoulder and ask where his father’s dragon was was nearly overwhelming, but it lost to your common sense and your desire to avoid enraging the older man, especially before you were to be paraded around in front of everyone in the settlement. The curiosity still gnawed at you, though, and you resolved to ask your best friend about it later, when Gojo-sama was no longer in earshot.

Despite the slow pace, it wasn’t long until the sounds of music and people talking and laughing began to filter up from the city square. The sound was not unpleasant, but it made your situation really set in: you were about to be present to everyone who lived in the settlement. They were all going to stare at you, a lot of them were going to want to talk to you, and some of them might even try to touch Takara. Those thoughts spun around in your head, chasing each other in circles like Kenji and Niji often chased each other, and with every passing second you felt more and more consumed by the anxiety those thoughts filled you with. You were so caught up in those thoughts, in fact, that you didn’t even realize your friends had stopped walking until you ran into them.

Takara let out a squawk as she was briefly squished into your chest, the noise somewhere between offended and startled. You managed to hold her steady in your arms, though the pillow you’d been carrying slipped from beneath your arm. Suguru was quick to reach out and catch it before it could hit the ground, and for that you were thankful.

“Woah, hey, are you alright?” Satoru asked, placing a hand on your arm. His brows were furrowed with worry, and a frown tugged the corners of his lips down a bit. It wasn’t an expression you particularly liked on him, especially when you were the reason for it, but there was something reassuring about it in that moment; knowing he cared about you enough to feel such concern.

“I-I… uh…” you stammered, staring blankly up at him. The inside of your head was still so loud, so busy, that it drowned out your ability to do anything else. “I’m…”

You heard Suguru call your name, and you turned your head enough to look up at him, rather than Satoru. His expression was equally pinched, and you found that you didn’t like that, either; you hated knowing you were the cause of such worry for them, your two best friends in the world. “It’s okay,” he promised. “You’ll be okay. Can you take a deep breath?”

You tried to do as he asked, breathing in slowly, the air entering your lungs in a stutter, catching in your throat for reasons you didn’t understand. You were quick to exhale, much quicker than you had inhaled, and for some reason the act felt out of your control.

“Good, that was good,” Suguru encouraged, a small smile on his lip now, rather than a frown. “Can you try again? I’ll do it with you.” He waited until you nodded, then took a slow, deep breath in, held it for a few seconds, then slowly breathed out again. Matching him was still a bit tricky, but you managed well enough that you once again felt in control of your body.

“Feel better?” Satoru asked, once you seemed less tense and were breathing more steadily. He squeezed your arm lightly in reassurance, and you turned your attention back to him.

“A little,” you agreed. There were still nerves and a sense of unease lingering in the back of your mind, but they weren’t going anywhere any time soon, so you knew you’d just have to push through them for the evening. 

Satoru’s expression softened at your words, but before he could say anything further, his father turned around to see what had stopped the three of you in your tracks.

“Stop standing around,” Gojo-sama hissed, frowning deeply as he looked the three of you over. “We’re nearly there, now is not the time to drag your feet or start causing problems.”

“Apologies, Gojo-sama,” Suguru replied, bowing to the man as he spoke. “I just wanted to make sure they were feeling alright before we were in front of everyone.”

“Nonsense, they’re fine,” the man replied quickly, not even glancing at you; if he had, he would have seen that you were decidedly not fine, but you doubted he cared about that at all. “Now hurry up, I won’t have you embarrassing me or our family.”

“You shouldn’t speak so unkindly to them,” Satoru was quick to snap back, leveling his father with a harsh look.

Clearly taken aback by his son’s attitude, Gojo-sama simply stared at him for a moment. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said, you shouldn’t speak so unkindly to them,” Satoru repeated, an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there a moment before. “You’re being quite rude.”

“You would do well to remember your place, Satoru,” Gojo-sama warned, something almost cruel glinting in his cold blue eyes.

“And you would do well to remember yours. There’s a metallic dragon rider in your presence. Soon enough you won’t be the top authority in the settlement anymore.”

A chill ran down your spine at your friend’s words, and you exchanged a nervous glance with Suguru. Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you forced yourself to speak, to intervene before the confrontation devolved into something even less pleasant. “Satoru, Gojo-sama,” you said, silently thanking whatever deity might be listening that your voice didn’t shake. “We have a celebration to get to. I don’t want to disappoint the people, and I would hate for all the hard work to make the celebration happen on such short notice go to waste. We should go.” 

Though your words rang with conviction, you couldn’t have believed them any less. You didn’t care if you left everyone in the settlement hanging, and you didn’t really care if Gojo-sama spent more money than you could ever dream of having on a celebration that didn’t accomplish what it was meant to. All you cared about was being with your friends, and with finally being able to go home with your parents when this was all over. It didn’t matter to you that those were selfish concerns and desires, and it didn’t matter that being selfish like that was childish; you were still a child, after all. Regardless of your actual feelings, though, you hoped that your words would be enough to convince at least Gojo-sama to be practical and follow the plan for the evening, rather than lay into his only son to put him in his place.

The Gojo clan patriarch narrowed his eyes at his son for a long moment, as if silently debating the merit of beating the attitude out of his child right then and there, before he straightened up once again. “You’re right,” he agreed, sparing you only a fleeting glance before turning his back to the three of you once again. “We have an event to attend and appearances to uphold. Everyone back in line.”

You heard Satoru muttering under his breath as he followed his father’s orders, getting back into his place in the procession, his back to you and Suguru to his right. The raven haired boy offered you one last comforting smile and passed Takara’s cushion back to you, then returned to his place, as well. Kenji and Niji, who had remained uncharacteristically motionless on either side of you this whole time, chuffed quietly at each other, then bumped your sides lightly with their heads. With that, all of you were off once again, the city square growing closer with every step.

In an effort to keep your mind occupied and prevent another spiral like before, you looked down at your hatchling, now settled on her cushion, rather than cradled against your chest. Nobody had said anything to you about the way you’d been carrying her, but it had seemed obvious to you that it would look better – and certainly more dramatic – if you arrived with Takara in full view of the people in the settlement, rather than having her lost in the folds of your kimono. 

For once, your dragon was fully awake and alert, sitting oh so perfectly in the middle of the cushion and looking around at everything around her, though she still ignored Kenji and Niji; you were starting to think she was doing it on purpose. After a moment, she tilted her head back to look up at you, her emerald eyes wide and twinkling in the dimming light. Whether she knew how important she was, or how big of a deal was about to be made of her existence was unclear to you, but you could tell she did know that whatever was happening was important, not something to be slept through. She chirped at you quietly, as if to tell you everything would be okay, and stared for a few moments longer before turning her gaze forward again.

You followed her lead, though when you lifted your head to look in front of you, you were more than a little shocked to realize you were right outside the city square. The music had stopped, and everyone had gone silent, watching your procession and parting to make way for Gojo-sama. Your nerves began to creep in again, tightening your throat and chest and amplifying every little noise around you. You forced yourself to keep your eyes straight ahead, rather than darting around at the crowd in some futile attempt to spot a familiar, comforting face, and you found that that helped curb your anxiety. 

At first, the only sounds that filled the air were your procession’s wooden shoes on the stone of the square and the soft tinkling sounds of the glass windchimes as a breeze passed through. You weren’t sure if you were thankful for the silence or unsettled by it, but once people noticed Takara, you wanted the silence back.

It wasn’t hard to figure out when your hatchling was spotted by people; whispers swept through the crowd like a river, everyone’s voices hushed, and yet still it nearly made your ears ring to hear so many people talking all at once, especially since it was you they were speaking about. You couldn’t make out any particular words, but you knew what they were all wondering: why here, why now, why you, of all people? Things had been peaceful for your entire life, and as far as anyone else was aware, there were no looming threats on the horizon, no reason for there to be a metallic dragon showing up so suddenly, much less bonding with a commoner like you when there were plenty of other children about your age from more important and respected families than yours.

Everyone is important in their own way, Gojo-hime’s words rang in your head. Everyone is equally important. None of us can do what we do without each other.

The reminder washed over you, clearing your mind of anxieties almost entirely; it didn’t matter if anyone else didn’t think you were important enough to be a metallic dragon’s rider, because they weren’t any more important than you were. And even if there was anyone that was more important than you, that didn’t matter, either. Takara was your dragon, and you were her rider, and there was nothing that could be done to change that, regardless of what anyone in any position of authority might have wanted.

Though it felt like an eternity had passed since you first stepped into the square, you eventually ascended the steps of the platform in the middle of the square. Satoru and Suguru stepped off to the side, Gojo-sama standing directly behind them. Knowing what was expected of you but nowhere near happy about it, you stepped forward until you stood in front of them, then turned to face the crowd. This time, you weren’t able to keep yourself from searching the crowd for someone – anyone – you recognized, whose face would hopefully bring you some level of comfort. Just before Gojo-sama began to speak, you spotted your parents, nearly as close to the platform as they could get. They both smiled at you, relief at being able to see you again written plainly across their faces. That same relief nearly overwhelmed you, and you had to blink rapidly to avoid bursting into tears right then and there; it would displease Satoru’s father, and you didn’t want the small amount of makeup the servants had put on you to run down your face.

“Friends and neighbors!” Gojo-sama called out. Despite the fact that your back was to him, you knew he was wearing a fake, if somewhat smug, smile as he spoke. “I apologize for not telling any of you what this celebration is for before this, but I didn’t want to spoil the surprise! As you can all see, our settlement has once again been blessed with the presence of a metallic dragon. A metallic dragon has not been seen anywhere in the world since the last one was born here and bonded with one of my ancestors, over three hundred years ago.”

You felt the way his eyes landed on you before speaking again. “The dragon may not have bonded with someone born into the Gojo clan this time, but I assure you that my family will be taking a special interest in the care, training, and education of both the dragon and her rider. Whatever the reason for this dragon’s arrival, we will be well prepared.” Another hushed murmur rippled through the crowd, but Gojo-sama was quick to keep it from growing into complete unrest. “For now, though, let us celebrate! We are blessed to be in the presence of such a creature.”

The murmur quickly roared into a cheer, and the music was quick to begin playing again, loud and cheerful, a perfect fit for a celebration such as this one. Unsure of what you were or were not allowed to do, now that the announcement about Takara had been made, you glanced over your shoulder at Satoru, trying to catch his eye. When that failed, you turned the other direction in an attempt to catch Suguru’s eye, instead.

He didn’t look your way at first, but when he did, he offered you a small smile and a nod; even without words, his assurance did wonders for the anxieties that still plagued your mind. As best as you could, you glanced behind Suguru to Gojo-sama, then back to Suguru. You wanted to know if you were allowed to move, to leave the platform and enjoy the festivities that were happening, but you didn’t dare to turn around and ask.

Apparently catching your silent question, Suguru nodded again, then turned to Satoru and bumped him a bit. You turned back to face forward, then, not wanting it to be obvious that you were the one with the question to begin with. As you heard the boys shuffling a bit behind your back, you looked down at Takara; she still seemed more alert than usual, but far less interested in her surroundings than when you’d first stepped into the city square.

“Father,” came Satoru’s voice. “We’re going to find our friends and grab something to eat. We’ll be back.” The fact that he didn’t phrase it like a question, and didn’t ask if you could go with him and Suguru both thrilled and terrified you, especially since he had already butted heads so intensely on the way to the festival.

“The two of you may go,” Gojo-sama replied easily, “but be quick about it. They must stay here, however.”

Instantly, tears filled your eyes, and your shoulders sagged, the sadness from not being allowed to even try to find your friends much heavier than you could have anticipated. All of this had been planned and was happening in honor of you and your dragon, and you weren’t even allowed to participate. It was a crushing feeling to experience.

“Why?” Satoru snapped, the edge from before sharpening his voice once again. “This festival is for them, is it not?”

“They are the reason for the celebration, yes. That means they need to be visible to people, to remind them and inspire them. So your friend must remain here.” Somehow the Gojo patriarch maintained his cool, but you knew he couldn’t possibly be so relaxed about the attitude his son was giving him.

“Wouldn’t they be more visible and inspiring if they were allowed to walk around, to talk to people? Don’t you think people would be better reminded of the reason for all this if they got to see Takara a little closer?” You couldn’t remember the last time you’d heard your friend this worked up, but it made your stomach flip to know he was so willing to defend you against anything he perceived as unfair.

There was a long, tense silence, and you were pretty sure you stopped breathing, the urge not to draw any further attention to yourself winning out against everything else, if only for a few moments.

“…Very well,” Gojo-sama eventually conceded, though he still sounded a bit irked. “Don’t be gone too long, though. The dancing will begin as soon as the sun goes down.”

“Thank you, Gojo-sama,” you heard Suguru say, then felt a hand at your back, gently guiding you back towards the steps of the platform. “Come on,” he encouraged quietly. “I doubt he’ll change his mind, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

You didn’t argue, not wanting to risk being called back to stand in front of everyone like a statue simply because Gojo-sama changed his mind. Chancing a glance over at Satoru as you all hurried down the steps and into the crowd, you saw his face was flushed with anger, his brows pinched together hard in the middle of his forehead; he was even more upset than you realized.

“‘Toru?” you called softly, trying to get his attention and hopefully pull him out of his negative thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

“Nobody should get to take youth away from young people,” he replied. His tone had softened a bit, now that he was talking to you and not his father, but he didn’t seem any less upset. “Nobody, no matter what power they hold, should be allowed to do that. We’re still just kids, why the fuck can’t we act like it?”

Though you had heard your friend swear before, it still caught you off guard a bit when he did; you weren’t sure if it was because he swore rather infrequently, or because you were all still “too young” to be using language like that – according to the adults in your lines, anyways – or if it was something else entirely, but you supposed it didn’t really matter all that much, since your reaction was still the same every time. 

“What do you mean?” you asked tentatively.

A long sigh escaped him then, both frustrated and weary. “My father,” he said after a moment, running his fingers through his hair to get it back to its fluff, perfectly messy state; the slicked back style had lasted longer than you expected, but you were glad he was undoing it now. “Expecting you to just… stand there like a decoration, or something, and not letting you even say hi to your friends or even get a snack, or anything like that. Not wanting to let you still be a kid, even though we’re not even teenagers yet. It’s stupid, and it’s not fair. I can’t let him do that, especially not to you, or us.”

A brief pause, then Suguru spoke. “You really shouldn’t use language like that, Satoru. It’s not polite.”

Satoru scowled at his friend, but he pointedly did not acknowledge his words. “What do you guys want to eat, anyway? I’m starving, and we need to eat something before we have to dance.”

“Dance?” you asked, pausing long enough to lift Takara from the pillow and drape her across the back of your neck so you wouldn’t have to worry about dropping her. The words really hit you just a few seconds later, and you remembered that Gojo-sama had said something about dancing, too, before you’d all hurried off. “What dance? What are you talking about?”

“It’s a traditional dance,” Satoru explained, looking around at the various food stalls as he walked, trying to find something he wanted. “When the sun goes down, they’ll light a bonfire, and a few of us will do a very fancy looking, very annoying dance until we’re almost sweating through our clothes, and then we’ll all go home because we’ll be too tired to participate in the festivities anymore.”

“…will I have to dance?” you asked after a moment, glancing over at Suguru somewhat nervously. Nobody had even mentioned a dance to you, much less bothered to teach it to you, but you couldn’t imagine that you would be allowed to abstain from the activity. 

Satoru paused then, turning back to face you, confusion plastered on his features. “Nobody said anything to you?”

You shook your head, swallowing thickly. Before you could get too caught up in your thoughts again, though, Suguru carefully took your free hand in his own, giving it a light squeeze.

“It’ll be okay,” he promised. “You probably will have to dance, but Satoru and I will guide you through it.”

“It’s not hard,” Satoru added, and you could tell he was trying to hide his annoyance, but he wasn’t all that good at it.

“But you just said—”

“I said it looks fancy,” he interjected, his expression truly softening now. “But it’s not hard, I promise. If it was hard, I would tell you. Have I ever lied to you before?”

“No,” you conceded, then let out a shaking breath. He really hadn’t ever lied to you, and you couldn’t imagine that he would start now, not when it would lead to public humiliation for you. 

“Exactly. Now, come on. We really do need to eat something before we have to dance until our legs fall off.”

Ignoring all the festival attendees was easier than you expected, as you allowed yourself to be led to various food stalls. Kenji and Niji walked far enough away from the three of you to create a bit of a bubble, and nobody was able to get close enough to make you uncomfortable, which was a big relief. Though you’d originally said you didn’t have much of an appetite because of nerves, both boys insisted you needed to eat so you didn’t collapse during the dance. You decided to humor them, and once you started eating you realized you were famished, and you distantly realized it was probably because the only thing you’d had to eat that day was the snack Satoru had managed to get for you when he came to see you after you’d thrown a fit.

Before you knew it, you’d devoured a taiyaki with red bean filling, four takoyaki so hot you’d burned the roof of your mouth, and an onigiri with curry in the middle. After that, Suguru convinced you to take a break and get something to drink. “We really don’t want you getting sick,” he’d explained when you tried to argue. 

Just as you finished the tea that Satoru had gotten you, you noticed the lanterns being lit around the edges of the square, and your heart sank; it was almost time for you to perform a dance with your boys – a dance that you had never learned, at that – in front of the entire settlement, and you hadn’t so much as glimpsed any of your other friends.

“We should go,” Suguru said softly, taking your hand once again and leading you back towards the platform. Satoru quickly reached your other side, taking your other hand – you’d misplaced Takara’s cushion at some point, and though you were sure Gojo-sama would be less than pleased about that, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care at that moment. You allowed your friends to lead you back to the platform without any sort of fuss, not having the energy to fight anything, even if you had wanted to fight them in the first place. When the three of you reached the platform steps, Satoru and Suguru released your hands, both of them turning to face you.

“Are you ready?” Suguru asked gently, tilting his head slightly. You knew he meant well and was just trying to check in on you, but the wording of his question felt a little silly; no, you weren't ready, and you never would be, but what choice did you have? You said none of that, though, giving a slight nod instead. 

“As I’ll ever be, I guess,” you sighed, offering him your best smile in return, though you doubted it was very convincing. 

“You’re gonna want to put Takara down for this,” Satoru said, and you felt a small, sharp jolt of panic, that you realized afterwards wasn’t entirely your own; maybe your bond with Takara was going to take longer to get used to than you thought.

“Why?” you asked, a frown tugging at the corners of  your lips.

“There’s a lot of twirling and spinning. I don’t want her to fall, or to claw up your neck trying to hold on,” he explained, his expression nearly as soft as his snowy hair, and you felt your worry melt away nearly as quickly as it had hit you.

“Oh, okay. Uh…” you looked around for a moment, trying to figure out where to set your hatchling down; you were regretting misplacing the cushion now. “Where should I put her?”

“I’ll hold her for you, baby,” your mother said, and you turned to face her with wide eyes.

“Mom,” you sighed, breaking out into a grin before you could help it. You nearly threw yourself at her, and a small, shaky breath escaped you as she held you close. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before pulling away. “I’ll take good care of her, I promise. And when this is all over, your father and I are going to take you home, okay?”

You nodded again, almost feeling as if you were going to cry again. You managed not to, though, and carefully lifted Takara from her place under the neck of your kimono. She chittered softly at you, but she quieted down quickly once she was in your mother’s arms.

Once you were sure Takara was taken care of, you turned back to your friends. “How does the dance go?” you asked, hoping your nerves didn’t bleed into your words too badly. You trusted Satoru when he told you the dance wasn’t hard, but you were still worried about making a fool of yourself in front of everyone.

“It’s hard to explain,” Satoru replied, his head cocked slightly to the side; he looked like he was trying to think of a way to explain the dance to you, though unfortunately he seemed to be coming up dry.

“Satoru and I will go first,” Suguru said, stepping in while his friend seemed to struggle. “Just watch us for a bit, and one of us will bring you in when it’s a good time, okay?” His usual gentle smile softened his face as he spoke, and, just as it always did, it put you at ease.

“Okay,” you agreed, managing to offer a small smile back. 

Both boys nodded at you, then commanded their dragons to stay back as the two of them stepped into the space that had been cleared in front of the platform where fuel for a bonfire had been built up. Your friends stood next to each other on the side closest to you, and you watched as a few other people stepped out of the crowd to stand around the bonfire. You thought you recognized most of them as members of other well to do families from the settlement, though you didn’t know their names. They seemed to be about your age for the most part, a few of them maybe a year or two older, but it quickly became apparent that no adults would be involved in this dance. 

A hush settled over the crowd as Gojo-sama approached the pile of wood, a lit torch in his hand. He looked slowly around the square for a moment, expression unreadable, then said in a booming voice, “Now it is time for the new generation to honor those that have come before, and perform the traditional dance to welcome a metallic dragon.” He tossed the torch into the woodpile, the dry branches roaring to life almost instantly. The roar of the fire and the cheering of the crowd drowned out any other words the man might have spoken, so he simply gestured for the musicians to begin playing again before he stepped back onto the platform.

As the music began – a very different song than before, this one sounding old and promising and full of magic – Satoru and Suguru turned away from the fire to face each other, each of them offering the other a slight bow before they really began to dance. Their movements were elegant, nimble, and seemingly effortless, not a single breath out of place as they moved, spinning and winding and stepping away from each other before coming right back. You noticed quickly that it was really only a few movements repeated in about three different patterns, and for that you were thankful; at least once you got used to the movements things would go smoothly. Distantly, you realized that all the other dancers around the bonfire must have been dancing the same way, but you didn’t care about them, not when you couldn’t take your eyes off of your friends and the way they moved together as if they were born to do this dance together. Watching them dance was like watching Kenji and Niji fight; fluid, coordinated movements without needing to communicate, black and white in a natural push and pull that was nearly impossible to look away from.

It was unclear to you exactly how much time had passed since the dance had begun, your focus more on watching the boys and trying to get a sense of the dance you would soon be pulled into, but soon enough they split apart; Suguru turned to dance with one of the girls from the other families, and Satoru turned to you and held out his hand. Heart hammering in your chest, you were quick to take it, not wanting to cause a disruption in the flow of the dance. You stared up at Satoru with wide eyes then, the crackling of the fire louder now that you were up close with it.

Your best friend looked down at you with a smile, releasing your hand and taking a half step back. “You’ve got this,” he assured you, then offered you the same small bow he’d offered Suguru before. You managed to return it, then jumped into the dance itself. You’d never been the most graceful person, but you felt especially clumsy trying to do the dance with no practice. Though you knew it wouldn’t do your balance any favors, you kept looking down at your feet, trying to make sure you had all the steps right. A set of waraji sandals entered your view – wooden-soled just like yours, but with white leather straps rather than brown – and a familiar voice called your name.

“Don’t look down,” Satoru encouraged, and when you lifted your head, you saw he was still smiling at you. “Look at me. It’s just us right now, yeah? It’s just you and me. You can do this.” He spoke with such conviction that you couldn’t help but believe him, and you nodded, smiling back at him.

“I can do this,” you agreed. The steps came easier to you after that, and you kept your eyes locked on your best friend as you danced, spinning and winding around him just as Suguru had, though your moves were a bit less polished.

Just when you felt you were really getting into the rhythm of the music and finding your stride, Satoru spoke again. “We’re about to be finished,” he explained in a low voice, only for you to hear. “You’ll be dancing with Suguru next. When it’s time to switch, I’ll tell you to turn around, and he’ll be waiting for you.”

All you could give in response was a nod, feeling a bit more out of breath than your friend, who still hadn’t even broken a sweat, as far as you could tell. It was only a few moments later that you heard a slight shift in the music, and Satoru told you to turn around before doing so himself. You did as you were told, turning around to become Suguru’s partner.

The dark haired boy smiled at you when you were facing each other again, and you blinked in surprise when you saw his hair. It was pulled back from his face in a bun, like he usually wore it now that it was getting longer, but all the dancing and spinning had caused a small, slightly shorter section in the front to fall down in front of his eyes.

“Your hair looks nice like that,” you panted, not even thinking about the words before you said them aloud. Once you realized what you’d said, you felt your cheeks burn a bit more than they already were.

Suguru seemed a bit surprised by your words, but not upset, if his smile was anything to go by. “You think so?” he asked, as the two of you exchanged bows. “Maybe I’ll wear it like this on purpose now. It never wants to stay put, anyways.”

A small laugh tumbled from your lips at his words, but it was all you could manage before beginning to dance again. Now that you were more familiar with the steps and how they flowed together, you were able to loosen up a bit, and worry less about whether you were going to accidentally step on Suguru’s feet – something you did, in fact, wind up doing, but he waved off.

“I still have my toes,” he teased softly, and you chanced a quick look down to make sure he wasn’t lying about not being hurt. Sure enough, his feet were fine, his own sandals still held securely in place by their black leather straps. Once that little hiccup was out of the way, though, you felt much better. 

By the time you were passed back to Satoru, you were much more comfortable, smiling more easily despite how breathless you felt. You danced until you felt certain your legs were going to collapse beneath you, and until you began to feel a bit dizzy from how much spinning around you were doing. Just before you were going to have to step out of the dance, though, the music crescendoed before ending with a flourish, and you nearly wept with relief. The gathered crowd broke out into cheers and applause again, and at the same moment, your best friends both threw themselves at you to wrap you up in a hug. You laughed and hugged them back as best you could for a few long moments, only pulling away when you heard your mother call your name.

“It’s time to go home,” she told you gently. “It’s getting very late, and you need to rest.”

You nodded at her words, knowing she was right and longing for your own bed back at home, but you were reluctant to part from the boys; you’d spent every waking moment and then some with them for over a week, and you didn’t know how you were going to be able to sleep without them in the same room with you.

Sensing your hesitation, Satoru squeezed you tighter. “Go home,” he murmured. “We’ll see you soon. You’ll be attending lessons and training with us now, remember?”

“Get some sleep,” Suguru agreed, also holding you a bit closer. “I’m sure Satoru will drag me into town tomorrow to cause problems.”

“I’ll wait until after breakfast,” Satoru promised, and you all laughed softly. 

“Bye,” you whispered, finally releasing them from your hold. They whispered it back, waving as you walked back to your parents. You gladly accepted Takara back from your mother, smiling as she bumped her head against your cheek before draping herself around your neck once again. 

Your parents kept you close as they picked out a path through the crowd, somehow managing to get you out of the square without anyone trying to stop you to talk or to ask to see your dragon. Having Spark around to growl at people is nice, sometimes, you thought to yourself. Once you were away from the brightly lit city square and the heat brought by the bonfire and the crowd, you found yourself yawning and shivering as you walked, the faint breeze quickly chilling the sweat on your skin.

“Your bed is ready for you when we get home,” your father promised, and you nodded, thanking him softly and leaning against him slightly as you walked. It wasn’t too far to your house, thankfully, and your parents quickly ushered you inside. You stumbled a bit on your way to your bedroom, and you didn’t even dream of protesting as your mother followed you, being quick but careful as she helped you out of your kimono, folding the material and placing it on your dresser, then setting each of the accessories you wore on top of it: first the belt, then the bracelets, then the headpiece. She helped you out of your sandals, then placed them by the door. You weren’t sure why she was being so careful with everything, but you were too tired to ask. 

Giving you a moment to pull on something else to sleep in, your mother stepped into the bathroom, returning a few moments later with a damp cloth. She knelt in front of you, her touch gentle as she wiped the remains of your makeup from your face, though you were fairly certain you had already sweat most of it off. Eventually she deemed you clean enough, and you yawned, rubbing your eyes; you couldn’t remember the last time you were so tired.

At some point while helping you undress, your mother had placed Takara on your pillow, and she had fallen asleep waiting for you. Gently, you lifted her from her spot, holding her in one arm as you crawled beneath your blankets for the night. You looked up at your parents as they walked to your bedside, and you smiled as they took turns leaning down to kiss you on the forehead and tell you goodnight. You mumbled back an almost unintelligible “goodnight,” sleep quickly overtaking you now that you were in comfortable clothes and in your own bed for the first time in so long. Tomorrow was the first day of your new life, but for now, you were glad to be home.

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[i-heart-hxh]

I was rewatching HxH recently and I’m kind of confused about Killua’s doubt about Gon’s friendship in the CA arc. Gon has told Killua multiple times that he is his best friend and even stated that Killua was part of his current life goal (meeting Ging but specifically introducing Killua to Ging). So why is Killua wondering if he’s a teammate or a friend during the palace invasion? Nothing actually happened up until that point to make it seem like Gon no longer considered him a friend so where is this doubt even coming from? I just don’t get where this “which is it” crisis even came from. Gon never suggested Killua was no longer a friend but now he has to pay the consequences of not knowing what’s going on in Killua’s head.

And on that note, I think it was unfair of Killua to part from Gon letting him think that his actions caused the separation. Especially when he is clearly contrite and was in the middle of a psychotic break when he snapped at Killua.

Hi! This is a great question, and something that confused me my first time through the series as well.

I actually talked about this topic here as an addition/extension to @tjlnn22's awesome post about how the aftermath of Gon's date with Palm and Gon's concern about Palm during the palace invasion played a role in Killua feeling uncertain about his role in Gon's life. I highly recommend reading the whole post because it makes the series of events more clear and understandable and lays it out with actual manga pages, but I'll talk about it a bit here as well. (Apologies if I end up repeating myself some--I sometimes I like to restate things in case it's helpful to someone!)

It is strange that Killua fixates on this friend/tomodachi vs comrade/nakama topic during Chimera Ant Arc, after Gon declared Killua his best friend in the whole world not long ago at all. As the audience, I think we're supposed to question this as well--after all, that declaration from Gon at the end of Greed Island was a major moment in the series, we haven't seen the two of them have any major falling out, and Gon hasn't directly said anything to Killua that might contradict them still being best friends. So, why this crisis all the sudden?

Killua's insecurity boils down to two major factors:

Gon wants to fight Pitou alone, and Killua defines himself in relation to Gon via acts of service--his self-esteem hinges on how useful he can be to Gon. (Remember when he nearly died and the last thing he said was apologizing to Gon for not being of more use?) Gon denying Killua the ability to fight alongside him in such an important mission likely feels to like a rejection to Killua, to a degree. Think of how much it meant to Killua to be relied upon by Gon in the dodgeball match. This is in conjunction with Killua feeling like he failed Gon when he fled from Pitou and left Kite to die, and also the needle's effects in general (causing him to flee when up against strong opponents) make Killua feel like a failure, someone unworthy of being at Gon's side.

His sense of his place at Gon's side is also disrupted by Gon's date with Palm and Gon being worried about Palm during the mission. There is very strong evidence (again, here) that the date and aftermath of it seriously impacts Killua, including over the longer term, and makes him wonder who he is to Gon, anyway. This idea gets brought up again and again, and when Killua has his sobbing breakdown in front of Palm, it's because he's thinking about the possibility that Palm means more to Gon than him.

It's both of these factors, not just one or the other.

Chimera Ant arc keeps circling back to questions around Killua's relationship to Gon and what the meaning of it is, specifically bringing up the concept of romantic love directly around it repeatedly. As the audience, many of us find it confusing that Killua is wondering if he's still Gon's friend when their status as friends has been so clear throughout the series and never seemed to fall into question. Even Gon choosing to fight Pitou alone doesn't explain the crisis Killua is having over this.

I personally think this crisis is really about Killua's romantic feelings for Gon, with the language somewhat obfuscated because ultimately this is a Jump manga and I believe Togashi knows people who understand the subtext will get it (keep in mind just how much subtext there is in this arc overall), and those who don't will just puzzle over it a bit and maybe consider the context the rest of the arc provides. Killua himself also might not have full awareness of or be unwilling to admit to himself fully why he's so upset about this situation and therefore mentally frame it as "friends or comrades," too. It's basically about how much he means to Gon, regardless.

If you remove Killua's romantic feelings for Gon from the puzzle, the conflict he's having doesn't entirely make sense, but when you do consider it, it suddenly makes a lot more sense. He's worried about whether Gon sees him the same way he sees Gon, and because he believes Gon is "dating" Palm and has feelings for her, he's struggling with what he sees as a mismatch in their feelings for each other. Is he Gon's beloved #1 person and partner, or is he just someone Gon works with to reach goals? Does Gon love Killua the way Killua loves Gon, or not? It's a common trope in romance, something you'd see in a shoujo manga. Taken in conjunction with all the other romantic subtext in the series, it's a conclusion that works for me. I think it's just lightly "coded" to keep it somewhat below the surface and have some plausible deniability.

On your final point, we actually don't know what Killua said to Gon about the parting because we never saw the full conversations between them on the subject. During the separation, Killua teases Gon about what happened during Chimera Ant Arc, but he doesn't blame Gon or say that Gon is why they're splitting up. If anything, he emphasizes it's because he decided he needs to be with Alluka and protect her. So, I don't think it's fair to blame Killua for something he didn't actually do, as far as we know.

[bitethedevil]

Hi! Here's a short little prompt for you!

Raphael talks about reeducating Yurgir when he has him back into HoH.

How would that reeducation look like if it's about Tav instead of Yurgir?

Raphael "reeducating" Tav, who has been a very naughty little mouse and tried to steal/destroy her contract while Raphael (as he should) had extra copies of that said contract

CW/Tags: NSFW, Violence, Blood, Sex Pollen, Dub-Con, Humiliation, Bootlicking

As always, I'm slow as hell to answer my prompts so thank you for your patience and thank you for the prompt ❤️‍🔥

It became pretty long for some reason. Also: what is it with me and always having Gale be cucked in my writing? It's somehow always him. Justice for Gale.

AO3 Link

Reeducation

“Clause 10, subclause II: In the event of the loss or destruction of the original contract, any existing copy thereof will assume the validity of the original document…”

Raphael’s voice snaked its way into her ears. Tav opened her eyes and let out a small groan. Everything in her body hurt. She was lying face down on the cold marble floor of the House of Hope.

She could hear his heavy footsteps walking a slow circle around her as he kept reading aloud from the document.

“Should the signee be found responsible for said loss or destruction, the drafter has the authority to choose a fitting punishment for their crime in accordance with the Corpus Juris Infernum.”

His steps came to a halt. She pressed her palms to the floor. She yelped in pain and quickly realized that getting up was not an option. She rolled onto her back instead. He was standing right above her, in his cambion form, looking down at her with a smile and a copy of her contract in his hands.

“You disappoint me, Tav,” he chided and made the copy of the contract disappear in flames. “Betraying me is one thing, but I find that your sheer arrogance and idiocy somehow offends me more…”

She tried to speak but quickly choked on the congealed blood in her throat. She coughed wildly until she found her voice.

“Where are the others?” she asked with a hoarse, wheezing voice. “Are they dead?”

His eyes narrowed at her and his nose wrinkled in disdain. She received a swift and hard kick to her ribs. It pushed the air out of her and her eyes teared up from the pain.

“I believe a slight adjustment to your priorities is in order, my dear,” he said cooly. “You need not worry about anyone else, in this realm or any other, than me at this moment. I could have killed each and everyone of your dear little friends for trespassing. I could tear you apart limb from limb and put you together again in a variety of new and interesting ways…”

He looked down at her pathetic, bleeding form with a smile.

“You should be exceedingly grateful that I won’t do so,” he purred. “Instead, I believe a bit of reeducation will sort out those priorities of yours.”

She was bleeding from…somewhere. It was hard to discern since her whole body ached. She felt herself growing cold and faint. Her eyes began to flutter shut.

She heard a small huff of annoyance before she felt two hands grab onto the front of her shirt and lift her up and off the floor. Her whole body was quickly beginning to numb from the blood loss.

She frantically flailed her limbs as she was submerged in water. She gasped for breath and coughed when she surfaced. Raphael had thrown her into the restoration pool. By the time she caught her breath, her injuries had already healed.

“Strip,” Raphael ordered from the edge of the pool. “And while you do so, kindly explain why you thought it a good idea to cross me in this manner.”

Her mind was still just as scattered even though her wounds had healed. She looked down at her now wet and torn clothes as if seeing it for the first time.

“Do not make me repeat myself,” Raphael said in an impatient tone. “Or you will learn just how unpleasant drowning in water that keeps you from dying can be.”

Her hands fumbled as she began to untie the belt around her waist.

“Speak, girl,” Raphael growled, the sound almost echoed off the walls of the boudoir, making her jump.

“Mystra,” she said quickly. “Mystra gave us a better offer. One that would save Gale from the Orb.”

“Mm,” he hummed in a calm tone that belied the anger he had spoken with just a moment ago. “So, your grand plan was to rob me of what I was owed, please a goddess, save your little sweetheart, and keep your soul. How very greedy of you.”

Your little sweetheart. Raphael must really have kept an eye on them since he knew she was with Gale.

She had stripped down to her smallclothes and looked up at Raphael. He was watching her with an intense gaze.

“The rest too,” he said.

She swallowed hard. She truly did not like wherever this was going, but she was alone with someone who could kill her in a heartbeat. She reluctantly removed the last of her clothing and covered as much as she could with her hands.

Raphael gave her a pleased smile and picked up a fluffy towel for her. He held it out between his hands for her. She stepped out of the pool and reached for it, but he pulled it away from her.

“Step closer…”

She did and Raphael began drying her off with the towel. He was surprisingly gentle, which only managed to make her even more nervous.

“I own you, as things now stand, my dear,” he said from behind her as he dried her off. “Which means, there is only one you should worship and give your undivided attention and love to, and I will make sure that you are not confused in the future as to who that is.”

She looked at the floor in front of her as his hands moved the towel over her naked body. She felt utterly hopeless, and she felt more and more anxious about where this was going. She cleared her throat.

“Please,” she pleaded quietly. “I made a mistake. I will honor our agreement in the future.”

“You certainly will,” Raphael growled into her ear and threw the towel on the floor. “Turn around and get on your knees…”

She slowly turned to face him. She was shaking, but she tried to garner up some bravery in the face of her fear. There were lines that she would not cross, no matter what the price was, and he needed to know that.

“I am loyal to Gale,” she stated as firmly as she could. “I won’t do anything that jeopardizes our relationship or his trust in me.”

Raphael smiled as if what she said was amusing to him.

“On your knees,” he ordered again.

She hesitated for a moment but then reluctantly sank down to her knees in front of him.

“Good. Now, clean your blood of my boot.”

Her brow furrowed and she looked down at his feet. The tip of his right boot was still glistening with her blood from when he kicked her in the ribs. She reached for the towel that Raphael had discarded, but he caught her by the hair to stop her.

“Ah-ah,” he said. “Use your tongue.”

“You can’t be serious…”

“You are eager to test my patience, aren’t you, dear?” he said with a cruel smile. “However, you are not the first disobedient pet I have dealt with…”

He let go of her hair to snap his fingers. A riding crop appeared in his free hand in a flash of flames. She looked from the riding crop to him. He was giving her a moment to reconsider, but when she did not move, he brought it down hard on her thigh, making her yelp. He kept going, one hit after the other.

Crack, crack, crack.

By the fourth strike she was bent down over his boot with tears streaming down her cheeks. She heard the sharp sound of the riding crop being pulled back for another strike, and immediately put her tongue on his boot.

“Good girl,” he praised in a mocking tone. “Wonderful to know that there is some sense in that empty little head of yours…”

The taste was disgusting between the metallic tang of blood and whatever Raphael cleaned his boots with. There was so much blood, and she felt like throwing up.

“I do wonder where all this reluctance is coming from,” he mused from above her. “This is hardly new for you, I mean. Since, evidently, you would gladly prostrate yourself for a goddess you barely know and who once slept with the man you love…”

Her jaw clenched as she gagged and tried not to throw up. There was still blood left on the leather of his boot. She whined quietly before putting her tongue to work again.

“It is difficult to imagine anything lower than that,” he purred. “Though don’t you worry about her any longer, my dear. I promise that I am a much more forgiving and generous god than Mystra…As long as you honor your agreements and show me due respect, of course.”

There was nothing forgiving about what she had experienced so far, but she held her tongue. She focused on finishing her task before she accidentally would empty the contents of her stomach over his feet.

“Up,” he ordered suddenly.

She had no complaints about stopping what she was doing. She scrambled to her feet fast in fear that he would whip her again. He smiled at her.

“Very good,” he walked further into the boudoir. “Come.”

She followed him and prayed to all the gods that would not hear her anyway, that he would not make her do worse.

He gestured for her to sit on the bed before walking to a small table where a bottle of wine stood. He poured a glass for her, and she saw him pour a vial of something else in, before handing it to her.

“What is this?” she asked hesitantly.

“Simply something that will help you understand the level of devotion I expect from you in our future endeavors. A little gift from Haarlep. They could not be here themselves unfortunately, since they are currently rotting in a dungeon for letting you steal from me.”

“Incubus spittle,” she muttered and then started to slightly panic. “I don’t— I meant what I said earlier, I won’t be unfaithful to Gale.”

“Perish the thought, my dear,” Raphael said in mock innocence with a placating gesture. “I assure you that you don’t have to do anything that would anger your little sweetheart. Now, please: drink.”

She looked from the cup in her hands to him and then to the riding crop in his hand. Her thighs still stung with pain from his last couple of lashes. She brought the cup to her mouth with shaking hands and took a small sip.

Raphael placed a finger on the bottom of the glass and tipped it towards her, urging her to drink more.

“All of it,” he said and smiled when she complied. “Good girl. You are learning quickly.”

He gently took the cup from her before sitting down beside her on the bed. She jumped when she felt him place his hand on her head. He gently combed through her hair with his fingers and massaged her scalp.

The spittle took effect almost immediately. It washed over her, calming her nerves and making her body less tense. Every sensation in her body blurred for a moment, and it felt amazing.

“Look at me,” he purred.

She turned her head and looked at him. Then came the second wave of emotions: her body started to heat up, and she felt herself become increasingly sensitive to his touch. He smiled lazily at her while he kept playing with her hair.

He chuckled when he saw her beginning to squirm. She could feel the arousal starting to take hold, but it was along with a sense of infatuation that she had not been prepared for. It was more than just a sexual attraction: she felt fascination, trust, safety, love.

“Oxytocin,” he explained as if reading her mind. “A little chemical in your brain that is produced when you orgasm, when you hug a friend, when you hold a loved one close, when feel your child’s skin on yours for the first time… You brain is currently being flooded with it.”

Her pupils were so dilated that there barely seemed to be any color left in her eyes. She could not pry her eyes away from him. The only thing on her mind was how much she longed to touch him more.

“Does it feel good, my sweet?” Raphael purred in a patronizing tone and chuckled.

She felt amazing, but she needed more. She put her hand on his that were in her hair. Her breath hitched slightly at feeling his warm skin against her palm and it sent a jolt of arousal through her abdomen.

He pulled his hand away from hers with a smile and moved off the bed. She almost whined at the loss of his skin on hers. He walked over to a table and grabbed a small tin of something before handing it to her.

She looked at it. There was no label. She opened it and smelled it. She recognized it as the stuff Karlach had once taught Wyll to wax his horns with. The smell was so distinct, like leather and something that was hard to put a finger on.

Raphael sat down in front of her and leaned his head back slightly.

“Go on,” he purred.

She felt that it was cruel that he would limit her to the one part of him that wasn’t his skin, but she obliged. She sat on her knees behind him and began applying the product to his horns.

This close she could smell him. She had never noticed just how good he smelled. Yurgir had been right: cherries and musk, but also something else. Something spicier, along with the leathery smell of the product she applied to his horns.

She barely noticed that the front of her body had become glued to his back as she worked, and somehow, she felt the need to get even closer. She could feel just how wet she was whenever she adjusted her position to better reach his horns. Surely, he could smell that too.

She pressed her legs together, trying to deal with the feeling. She pressed her chest against his back. The friction of his clothes against her hard nipples felt amazing. A small part of her somewhere in her mind knew how pathetic she was at the moment, but she did not care.

Raphael chuckled at her.

“Careful, dear,” he teased. “You are being awfully clingy. We can’t have your lover being jealous, now, can we?”

Gale. Right. She had almost forgotten him for a moment. She felt partial to forgetting him again. She needed this. Needed Raphael. Surely Gale would understand…

“It almost hurts,” she said in a breathy voice.

She finished with his horns and moved her hands over his shoulders and down his chest. She leaned her forehead against the back of his shoulders. She could not help herself anymore. She grinded her dripping pussy against her foot under her, desperate for any kind of friction. She moaned softly but it wasn’t enough.

“Do you think you have learned your lesson?”

She nodded against his shoulder. Her breath was heavy. She moved her hand up his neck, past his collar to touch his face. The feeling of his skin and slight stubble against her hand almost made her moan.

“Can I trust that I have your undying loyalty in our future endeavors and that you will never cross me again?”

She nodded again.

“Use your voice…”

“Yes,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “I’ll bring you the Crown of Karsus. I promise.”

She trailed her lips across his shoulders and buried her nose in the back of his hair. She needed him so much that it felt as if it was killing her.

“Good,” he said briefly. “Then you are free to leave.”

She stopped breathing for a moment and tensed completely.

“No, please,” she pleaded quietly. “I need…”

“What do you need?” he asked in an almost teasing tone.

“Please…” she repeated.

He hummed as if considering it for a moment.

“Stand up.”

She pried herself away from him to do as he said. He sat slightly further back on the bed. He beckoned her closer and then reached out to grab her face by her cheeks. He pulled her into a kiss, if one could call it that.

He stuck his long, forked tongue into her mouth, almost as if trying to lick the remnants of the wine and spittle from her mouth. He pulled on the ties of his pants and pulled his cock out. He did not even rid himself of the rest of his clothing, as if it was a mild inconvenience for him to fuck her.

She straddled him and he helped her lower herself onto his already hard cock. Despite his size, she was wet enough that it went with ease. She almost screamed at the feeling of finally having him inside her. He let her do all the work, while he looked at her with a lazy smile and an almost bored look in his eyes.

She quickly started riding him at a faster pace, eager to chase her pleasure. She cradled his face with her hands, needing to feel more of his skin. He did not stay unaffected for long. Despite his nonchalance, she saw how dilated his pupils were getting too and his breathing was starting to change.

He pulled her closer so that her chest was flush with his. He grabbed her hair roughly and yanked her head back, while his other hand was on her hip guiding her movements.

“I wonder what your dear wizard will say once he learns what a little whore his lover is,” Raphael growled.

Something about his hearing such words from him in that smooth voice of his almost made her come apart in itself. She rode him harder, earning her a groan from him. He bit her neck, giving her a mark that would with out a doubt make her companions ask questions. She didn’t care at that moment.

“Poor Gale Dekarios,” he growled. “Doomed to keep his unpleasant condition and displeasing his goddess. The only thing left he will have is you, dear…and the knowledge that you willingly and eagerly fucked the devil who took everything from him. Such a naughty little thing…”

In one rough movement, she was lifted off his lap and slung over the edge of the bed. He held her down as he entered her bent over form from behind. He gave a few slower thrusts before he began to pound into her at a pace that was bordering on violent.

She was all but screaming in pleasure. Her toes curled as his hips snapped against her. Raphael was groaning and grunting into her ear, chasing his own pleasure. The air was squeezed out of her when she finally came, and her walls clenched around him. All that left her mouth was a breathless gasp.

He buried his cock deep inside her as he came with a growl so deep that it barely sounded human. The effects of the incubus spittle finally started to leave her after she came. He pulled out of her and admired his work for a moment.

She moved to sit on the bed. Her legs were still shaking uncontrollably from her orgasm. Her mind was starting to buzz with a raging storm of unpleasant thoughts and guilt. So much guilt…

His smile widened at her change in expression. His eyes drifted over the still bleeding bitemark on her neck and the blooming bruises and claw marks on her hips from his grip on her. He stuffed his cock back in his pants and ran a hand over his hair to adjust a few loose strands of hairs back into place.

“A fitting punishment, I think,” he mused. “A betrayal for a betrayal. I trust we will see each other again soon. I will eagerly await your delivery of the Crown. Until then…” he gave her a cruel smile, his white sharp teeth visible. “Give your lover and your friends my very best regards.”

She panicked and grasped for anything to hide her naked body with when he moved his hand to snap. She heard the click of his fingers before she was sent back to camp.

[the-real-aku]

Note: Posting because i kinda like it atm and while I'm not happy with it I'm trying-

~~~

"We deserve a good story before we get too fuckin' pissed to walk straight," Johnny whined.

"Couldn't walk straight even if we held your 'and while sober, MacTavish. I got one, but mnot gonna repeat it after this. Got it?" Ghost stared at Gaz and Soap who gave him a mock salute before leaning on closer to their lieutenant.

"Couple years into the start of 141, was just me n' Price, you and Gaz hadn’t even been born yet-  We got sent to some base in Colorado...Colorado or somewhere around there.  It doesn't matter.  We were doing some glorified hide and seek for a training exercise. Easy enough, good at hidin'." Ghost paused, taking another sip of his glass of whiskey. 

"People forget to look up.  Holed myself up in some sturdy tree, held my weight, and kept me out of sight.  Probably too well.  Had groups of hunting parties pass me looking for others.

"Still,  no one ever looked up.  Got a few good hours of peace and fucking quiet up there.  Even had a book with me.  Dime novel or some shit I picked outta the trash.  It was nice for a shit training exercise.  Until the sun started setting, that's when more of the nocturnal beasts came out.

 "So color me surprised when a half-decent buck bursts out of the bush and slams head-first into my tree. Horns don't stick, doesn't care, it backs up and does the same thing. Over and over. I've seen heads splatter, I've done the splattering. I don't understand what it was trying to do because it kept going until brain matter splattered against the tree and an eyeball popped under the pressure.

"Then it stopped.  Not stopped 'cause it died, not just stopped and stood there before sniffing the ground. I had been holding my breath the whole time. Don't know why, everything told me this was wrong and that I needed to shut up and stay still.  But eventually, it stopped sniffin' and twisted its damn fucking broken neck to look up.  It was quiet but clear, not like anything else was moving anymore not even the wind, and whispered "I know you're there", then ran off.  

“I stayed in that tree the whole night. Pissed myself too.  Didn't care. I wasn't coming down or moving unless someone or thing dragged me down.  They found me there in the morning.  Thought I froze to death.

"They had to get Price to get me to come down from my spot.  Wouldn't say a word to them, which didn't help my situation.  They thought I was 'avin an 'episode', went crazy during the training event, and killed something or maybe even someone from the mess they found around my tree. Who was going to believe that I watched the deer do it to itself?  So I kept quiet as Price and the others escorted me back to base.  Never found it.  But no one ever said anything about it seeing as how I was clean of blood."  

Gaz and Soap turned to their Captain, eyes weary and expectant.  Price huffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, I remember. We had searched for this twat almost all night before some private found'em. He thought it was weird, the tree, and looked up to investigate and came face to face with Ghost's blank stare under his hard plate skull mask. We had two sets of pissed pants after that. When Ghost wouldn't talk about why his hiding place was a fucking mess of bone and meat he had mandatory psych evals for the next month."

[beauty-and-passion]

CCCC Vol.1 - Concord: end and beginning (2/2)

Hello and welcome to the final part of this analysis.

Oh boy, what a long ride it has been! But now, it’s time for the last recap, so we can finally wrap the loop - and connect it to the beginning, as Chonny intended.

So, what happened until now?

We know the story is a loop. The starting point of this loop is an event, a calamity, that leads to a split in Chonny’s mind between Heart, Mind and Soul: a failed romance (probably)

At first, the three sides tried to cooperate as one, but then Mind started to point out the flaws in Chonny’s plan to confess to his crush

Scared by Mind’s influence, Heart intervenes, tries to subdue him (the Juno Incident) and pushes Chonny to confess. Chonny doesn’t: he misses his shot and so does Heart

Overwhelmed by apathy, Heart leaves full control to Mind

Mind tries everything to get a reaction out of Heart

When he fails, Soul intervenes and they get reunited again

The joy of being whole again gives Chonny a rush of optimism and enough confidence to revisit his memories of the failed romance.

And now, here we are. Chonny remembered what happened. What will he do now? What did he already do in all of the previous loops?

<- Previous post - First post

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Greener: declaration of intent

Right after the end of this failed romance, Chonny does the most human thing ever: he wants to talk about it. And since he’s an artist, what better way to do it, if not by using the artform he knows?

This song is a declaration of intent: Chonny wants to talk about his experience - but not just that. His mind is dark, twisted and chaotic, so why just talk about one experience, when he can let out some of this internal turmoil too? As he said in the Q&A, he wanted to talk about duality and logic vs emotions, so why not add them to the story he wanted to tell? Why just talk about a failed romance, when he can expand it by showing the contrasts in his own mind through Heart, Mind and Soul’s characters?

Chonny starts to think about this. He wants to do it and he states it with these words:

Wherever this goes, whatever ensues These songs are my own, these songs aren't for you But still, I'm so glad you're listening

Chonny reconfirms what he said since Mucka Blucka: he’s not writing these songs for the public but for himself. To better understand himself, his own mind and that duality of logic/emotions he’s (rightfully) fascinated about.

That also confirms he’s a real artist, because artists don’t make art for others: they make it primarily for themselves. Not because they’re heartless, but because making art is a need. When I write, it’s because I’m pushed to do it. It’s because I have a weight on my chest or words in my head or images that keep repeating - and the only way to calm them down (and calm myself) is by putting them on paper. It’s like breathing: you just have to do it, to feel better, more satisfied and more complete.

Even though the public isn’t the primary reason behind art, every artist wants a public and every artist is immensely grateful a public exists. Even if the art is personal, knowing that someone else got something from your work, experienced, lived it… it makes everything even more important. You’re sharing a part of yourself and someone else, no matter if it’s next door or on the other side of the ocean, accept it and react to it.

And I want to focus a bit on the last point, because art is all about human connection. You’re reaching people you will never reach nor meet and with something you created, you touched them. You made them happy, sad, angry, it doesn’t matter: you still influenced them and they reacted to it. You made a connection and I can assure you, 90% of the artists need it to feel less alone.

This is what makes art so precious: it’s not just a way for us to express ourselves, but also to get a connection with another being. To not just be in our place, alone, but find others, talk to them, talk with them.

If Chonny hadn’t made this album, cj-anon would’ve never told me about that. I wouldn’t make these posts. You wouldn’t interact with them. We wouldn’t talk, connect, have fun together. We would be alone. If we’re not, it’s only thanks to art.

_______________________________

Special: inner fears

Chonny has a plan, a story he wants to tell, things he want to talk about. So, what’s the first feeling he get right after this planning?

Asking himself if he’s special or not.

Mood.

Seriously, when has anyone started doing anything, by thinking “Man, I’m so great and this will go as smoothly as I planned it”? Of course Chonny questions himself, of course he’s full of doubts. And it’s even worse in his case, considering he’s full of dark thoughts and recently came out of a failed romance - failed because he didn’t give it a try, because why should his crush stay with him? He’s not special at all.

So, again, very understandable.

But while in the past (and in the future of the loop), Chonny would’ve surrendered to these thoughts, now he thinks he can find a way to cheer, by switching perspective (aka “the key change”).

And it works:

So maybe I'm unique and maybe not But I might as well deliver all I've got

He’s still full of doubts, he still don’t know if he’s special or not. But he’s an artist and making songs is “what I can do” (The Whole World & You). So he will do it.

_______________________________

Taken for a Ride: a perfect conclusion

I have two possible interpretations for this song.

1) This song is meta from the real Chonny

The real Chonny (not the character) takes center stage to talk about his whole album: he explains the thinking process behind the writing of every song, his goals, the problems he faced. He emphasizes how personal this whole album is, because he poured a lot of himself inside it (“my blood, my sweat, my open doors”).

And now, the story is over. He’s aware of the missing parts/explanations, but there wasn’t a beginning either. And why shouldn’t there be a beginning or an ending? He’s still young, he still has a lot of years ahead. Maybe his story hasn’t begun yet. Maybe the real obstacles will come in the future.

For now, all he knows is that he’s whole again. He told the story he wanted to tell, he reached Concord and now his artistic need is satisfied. He doesn’t need to write more, at least for now.

And yet, his public asks for more.

However, Chonny doesn’t give a straight answer. By mentioning his public, he acknowledges people want more. He’s aware of that - and who knows? Maybe this will push him to write more in the future.

For now, he knows people want more from him. Maybe, when the artistic need wakes up again, he will make more songs and tell another story.

2) This song is still part of the storyline

In Special, Chonny said he would “deliver all I’ve got” and so he did. He made an entire album, to talk about his failed romance and all the themes he wanted to explore.

So, he talks/remembers the process behind the writing, his goals, his difficulties. He makes it clear he poured all of himself in it, as he promised (“my blood, my sweat, my open doors”).

Now the album is done, the story is told.

And the public’s reactions is strong. Stronger than he expected. They want more songs, more covers, more of him.

So... what happened? Well, we can guess from the previous hints scattered throughout the album:

Chonny is a man with dark thoughts, anxiety and low self-esteem

In The Heart Acoustic, Heart said “as complacency settles, anxieties will rise/And part this Soul as Jekyll parted Hyde”

Over and over Chonny will point out all he does are covers

And this part of Time Machine:

So, look Oh God, look at what you've done now to me Locked into eternity I'll be back here one day, so they say Rumors have that I will write a different song Trying to get it right all afternoon

I believe Chonny’s mind started to spiral. What if people liked his songs, only because they were covers? What if all they wanted wasn’t him, but to listen to songs made by others? Was he even able to write anything by himself?

His anxiety rose, while his self-esteem sank: he was stuck in a loop, always making the same covers. He wasn’t able to get out, not while his mind kept spiraling down. The “me left on the shelf” (aka Mind) was put aside, while Heart and his chaotic feelings were taking control.

Therefore, this song becomes the starting point of Time Machine: a man with a confused, fractured mind. A man who wasn’t believing in himself. A man who was stuck always doing the same thing. A man closed in a loop, in which he doesn’t feel like he will go out and is forced to relive the failure that started the loop in the first place.

That makes CCCC a loop that keeps repeating over memories of what happened. The first time, Chonny failed his romance, wrote the album, anxiety took over, made him feel he wasn’t able to achieve anything by himself, and started the loop. The loop is a constant reminder of how much of a failure he is, only to cheer himself up, to fall again into a new depressive cycle.

I don’t know if this second interpretation is correct and Chonny said it’s up to us to interpret his album as we want. But from someone this skilled and clever, I like to think he played a lot with metaphors and tragedy, so I prefer this second interpretation too. Also because it connects extremely well to Time Machine and what kind of loop would it be, if the beginning and end don’t coincide?

_______________________________

In conclusion

It took me an eternity to make this analysis of the whole CCCC album - and I was trying to restrain myself. Just imagine the endless pages if I let myself ramble about every little stupid thing XD

But I really, really wanted to talk about this album. It has been a wonderful surprise and I enjoyed it a lot. It was clever, it was interesting, it was funny. And Chonny really has a way with words. Good for you, mate, I wish you a great career.

Also, there were you all. You, with your kind replies, reblogs and your incredible affection. I've been in several fandoms and, despite being small, this is one of the nicest I've ever seen.

So, for you all who stayed with me until the end: thank you. Thank you for all the time you spent here, with me, listening and appreciating my ramblings. I hope those posts have been a good reading and you enjoyed yourself as much as I did by writing them <3

If Chonny makes something else, maybe we will meet again in the future to talk about him and CCCC again. Or maybe, we will meet in some other posts soon. Who knows? If the future can still hold a lot for him, why not for us too? ;)

Thank you for your time and always take care of yourself <3

(How about a coffee? ☕)

_______________________________

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[yaeggravate]

brief post about kaeya's potential future arc (or why 5 star kaeya will totally happen 🔮✨️)

so something i noticed is that kaeya always removes or distances himself from the end of any situation he's in. (it's much more noticeable in his hangout).

first is crepus's death. he hangs back and doesn't get involved in his final moments.

kaeya disappears in the final section of the ballads and brews event. you can find and talk to every character except him.

in the venti route of his hangout, kaeya stays back when it's time to sing with everyone. venti then drags him back in. (what's odd is that venti didn't even notice he was gone at first 👀 "now you see them, now you don't")

Kaeya: Slipping away before the final verse is sung, before the poet has uttered the last line, before everything has concluded… I don't know, something about it just resonates with me.

klee says kaeya hasn't read her the end of the book series the fox and the dandelion sea yet, which is about a guy stuck in a loop. in somewhat the same vein, in the secret summer event, he tells her a story about the jinni and a shepard boy but changes the ending from what we know from the in game book…

and then we have the prince qubad play, where he quietly exits after it ends. he explains why himself (through nahida's auge):

(Use Nahida's All Schemes to Know on Kaeya, optional) Kaeya: (I always like to extricate myself before things start getting tedious.)

in the same route, kaeya quotes the character jaques from shakespeare's play as you like it

Kaeya: Let me think... "All the world's a stage, and all the people merely players."

which is very fitting considering, quote the wiki:

Jaques takes no part in the unfolding of the plot, and confines himself to wry comment on the action and exchanges with his fellow characters.

he also silently does things for others without wanting to take credit, i.e. being rewarded.

and i think i know why 😏

in his character story, kaeya is referred to as a chess pawn in CN, he then repeats this in his hangout.

Kaeya: But I shall not bow to the will of fate. I am no pawn in heaven's plan.

further emphasizing it's not a random throw away term.

i'm neither chess expert nor chess amateur. but anyone can pull up a wikipedia page 😤

pawns are the only pieces that can't move backward, pawns can get promoted to another piece when they reach the end of the board, and… pawns are expandable, made to be sacrificed for the kingdom.

he even expresses the desire to age backwards….which pawns can't do of course.

A very simple such analogy is the Pawn — the expendable, powerless, nameless foot soldier who may, if his actions are brave and his heart is true, become a Queen (although someone more practised at the game may note that the pawn is really a symbol of why you should never overlook apparently powerless people).

that sounds exactly like kaeya's situation, doesn't it? many people have questioned why kaeya is a 4 star given his importance to the main plot, but i think it could be a deliberate narrative decision. (at least i hope it is 😬)

if kaeya is a pawn he can be promoted to a queen when he reaches the end…. except kaeya doesn't want to, as demonstrated by his unwillingness to see things through till the end.

why would he do this?

simply put, it's foreshadowing 😏

kaeya will have his character arc eventually, where the only sensible path is accepting that he must reach the end because pawns cannot stay pawns forever

Promotion is mandatory when moving to the last rank; the pawn cannot remain as a pawn.

there is some sick sense of irony in him declaring he won't be heaven's pawn, when a pawn can only stop being a pawn by moving forward.

i think kaeya's birthday letter about tcg of all things is also hinting at his arc:

If you think about it, playing cards aren't easy at all — you gotta do the math before throwing the dice, and be extra careful with your every move. One step wrong, and the whole table is turned. When that happens, don't you think it's most amusing to watch your opponent's frustrated face, hmm?

(uh oh, celestia 🤭)

say he does reach this metaphorical last rank, what would that look like for him? gameplay wise it would mean a promotion to 5 star status. story wise? a magical girl transformation into the second coming of fischl.

haha ok but, unfortunately i doubt it's that simple.

something else that has been foreshadowed is kaeya's eventual fate…

Traveler: What did you think of the story? Kaeya: It was alright. I suppose the hero always has to sacrifice himself to save others, and it does make for some good storytelling. But it leaves you wondering how he really feels about the whole thing. Did he ever have second thoughts? Only he can know, I suppose.

Kaeya: My dear audience, I ask you this: Do you believe in fate? If fate decreed that your life was to end in tragedy, what would you do?

Kaeya: I, Qubad, will spend the rest of my days in a foreign land, till I breathe my last in a place far from home.

Kaeya: And anyway, life is short, so we should make the most of the time we have. Right now is the perfect time to relax and enjoy ourselves, and who knows how many other chances we'll get. So come on, what do you say?

Fallen I 还没尽…兴… Haven't enjoyed...to the fullest...

When It's Windy 真是和平啊、可又能持续多久呢？ How peaceful, but how long can it last?

Traveler: Good night, Kaeya. Kaeya: Is it that time already? I'm not sure I'm ready to say goodbye.

let's face it, these are death flags. no, kaeya is not going to perma die, but this might be what he has seen through the Auge der Verurteilung and why he's so reluctant to reach the ending of his story.

but in order to defy fate and become a 5 star you have to throw yourself into the embrace of the immernacht first 😈

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for almost killing my 8th grade english teacher? (warning: racism, sa mention)

I (M16, 14 at the time, white (this is important later)) was part of the newspaper in middle school. The teacher running the newspaper (F… 50? 60? i have no idea) was always really nice to me, and we got along really well. I was ecstatic to see that she would be my english teacher in 8th grade.

That is, until the class actually began.

This english class we mostly read books about oppression and historical atrocities and genocide because our history class wouldn’t cover that for some reason (the reason is racism). It seemed like this teacher would have done a good job of teaching this material, but well. you can see where this is going.

a week into the school year the whole class saw that she was pretty racist - not like overtly racist; she sort of said she cared about fighting oppression and then… was a part of that oppression. like she’d say “i could never be racist” and then she would be racist. it’s hard to explain. she would always be incredibly weird about disciplining the Black kids in the class, blaming one guy in particular for like. every time a guy in the class acted like and eighth grade boy would act. she was also really condescending to him; she’d constantly make comments about how he couldn’t follow rules (which obviously isn’t true). she did this to an extent to all the other Black kids in the class as well; later when some of them went to the principal to talk about what happened they said they didn’t feel safe in her class.

additionally, pretty much nobody even stood for the pledge of allegiance (we were usually busy reading cause the library in that school was really nice and had a really good collection of books), and when they did they’d never actually say it. this teacher had a problem with this, and every time she saw absolutely nobody in the class standing for the pledge of allegiance, she’d make the entire homeroom (oh yeah i was in her homeroom too, forgot to mention that) tell her why they didn’t for literally the entire class period. Every time someone mentioned systemic racism or racist history she’d butt in either saying “my parents were immigrants and they stood for the pledge” or she’d start talking about her gay son. some kids told stories of being called slurs when they were younger. some kids cried. she would always bring up her gay son as a rebuttal. and i get that being gay is hard, i’m gay myself, but that is not in any way applicable to the situation at hand here. This happened on three separate occasions - sometimes a single person would stand for the pledge just so there was at least one person doing it and so we wouldn’t have to have that conversation.

And then there was the actual teaching. oh boy. so, as i said before, almost all of our books in this class were about some sort of historical atrocity because the history class didn’t have time for it apparently. and uh. uhhhhhhh yeah. with this teacher it was not a good experience.

We had read books about racism for summer reading and we were reading the novel Chains at the beginning of the school year, and the teacher would always talk about how “resilient” the characters in the books were and how they made the best of their situations and fought back, but never about how these characters should have never had to be in these situations in the first place and WHO PUT THEM IN THESE SITUATIONS, WHAT SYSTEMS PUT THEM IN THESE SITUATIONS YOU KNOW THE KIND OF STUFF ONE WOULD NEED TO KNOW FROM A COURSE LIKE THIS TO MAKE SURE HISTORY DOESNT REPEAT ITSELF. Later in the year we read Warriors Don’t Cry and it went exactly how you’d expect. “Resiliency”. Also worse than you’d expect. The teacher victim blamed the author, a real ass person writing about real fucking events, for almost being assaulted at a young age. And though we focused more on the systems of oppression, thankfully, we also watched and interview with the little rock nine and some of the people who harassed them in school, and one of them, a white woman, said the n word and refused to apologize. and this teacher defended her???? On another occasion we had a lesson about feminism and we read some of Sojourner Truth’s writing, and she interpreted it as solely being about womanhood and not race - and when I tried to talk about how race is an important factor in the message of one of the speeches, the teacher called my parents. We also read books about the holocaust and this teacher was surprisingly respectful throughout the whole thing. No victim blaming, no talk of resilience, nothing.

I had talked to her about all of this before. We knew each other from the newspaper, and it even seemed like I was her favorite student. She would not budge. Sometimes she even made the argument that I was smarter than the other kids, that I cared more than the other kids, that I would notice these things and care about them but other kids wouldn’t and I should just shut up because nobody understands me because i’m just so smart. which made me fucking pissed. i don’t care any more than the other kids who told you stories of being harassed and ridiculed at 8:30 am on a weekday so that the whole class could excercise their freedom of speech. i’m not any smarter than the other kids who cited countless examples of the atrocities this country committed against people of color to you who you didn’t listen to. in fact, i’m not even that smart. i’d say i’m kind of an idiot. and i want to be an idiot, because then i’m not put on a pedestal to push other people down.

This happened two years ago so i don’t exactly remember the order in which these next three events happened.

Since during these talks sometimes i’d start to cry, in may my french teacher asked me if i wanted to transfer to her homeroom and i did. It was a lot better there.

Around this time about eight of the kids from my old homeroom went to the principal to talk about this teacher and how her class made them feel unsafe.

Anyway, my backpack is very heavy. I usually have a lot of books in there, until this year I used five subject notebooks, I never clean out my folders and I brought a laptop as well. Even with all this though, my backpack always ends up being heavier than I expected.

So, one day my anger toward this teacher boiled over. On my way out of english class, when she went to say goodbye to me, I shoved her to the side with my backpack. It turns out that broke her hip, and she was out of school for two weeks. When she came back she said she had almost died in the hospital. She also announced her retirement, and that she was going to go and “end racism”, ironically. She knew I was the one who hit her, but she didn’t say anything about that. I was still her favorite, apparently. It left a bad taste in my mouth that she still thought of me like this. Eventually I graduated from that school and I haven’t seen her since.

tldr: A teacher of mine was racist and making a lot of the kids in the class feel unsafe, and she tried to keep me from arguing with her about it, so I hit her with my backpack and broke her hip, almost killing her.

AITA???

What are these acronyms?