#i started writing with no intention of this happening

[cocoamide]

YOU'RE MY WISHLIST! ♡

⟡ synopsis ─ gojo satoru's the man who seems to be everywhere you go, whether it be within the comfort of your own home or miles away from the place. well, guess what happens when you show up looking a little too fine at your college's annual christmas eve party?

꣑ৎ content ─ MDNI, brother'sbsf!satoru / collegesenior!satoru x afab!reader, reader is suguru's younger sister, no use of y/n, reader can't escape him, suggestive content, reader is in love w/ gojo (and vice versa), intentional use of lowercase, usage of pet names e.g baby, pretty, good girl, etc., smut in the form of fingering, and probably more idk

◖word count — 2.6k

☆ credits ─ live laugh love @anitalenia 4 the gorgeous divider <3 no specific inspiration for this fic, just felt like writing one fueled by my christmas spirit (i have never celebrated christmas in my life, so if u caught me lacking, no u didn't!)

꩜ author's note ─ first fic ever & ofc it's ft. my man !! i'm not v satisfied with this work and it was really rushed towards the end, so feedback is much appreciated :3 merry xmas to all those celebrating and happy holidays ♡ title's from "a nonsense christmas" by sabrina carpenter :3

when you left home for college, you were certain you’d outrun the real-life horrors of your past— your parents' scoldings, the shitty food served at your school's cafeteria, the fake people you were surrounded by, and most importantly, your brother's best friend, gojo satoru, who just seemed to get finer with every single passing day.

the man was, for some reason, genetically white-haired all over. yeah, he had albinism, but god, the sight of him was no less than breath-taking. his sparkling, cerulean orbs, which glowed mesmerizingly both under the moonlight and the sun, seemed more and more enchanting with each passing moment. as the years went by with him by your brother's side, you told yourself to look away, refusing to acknowledge the feelings that flickered inside whenever you saw him. you did whatever you could to let go of them— tried to distract yourself with the shittiest of boyfriends, avoided him at school, locked yourself up in your room whenever he came over to hang out with your brother, you name it.

however, it seemed that luck hated, no, despised your embrace no matter how much you yearned for it, considering how the menace was always hovering around, inserting himself into your life at the most inconvenient moments. you're rehearsing for a school play in an empty classroom? the next thing you know, he has an arm propped around your shoulder and smiling at you in the most stupidly handsome way ever with a lollipop in his mouth as he asks you to just... practice with him around. oh, you're trying to get him off of you now? he'll steal your script before you can escape him and raise his hand up as high in the air as possible so you can't reach it. "hey, give it back!" you exclaim, only to be met by a smug smirk on his face and the most annoying "nuh-uh." he completely refuses unless you promise to not kick him out until the practice session is over.

you're walking back home with your brother, suguru? oops, gojo is there too! he's ruffling your hair no matter how pissed you get and yell at him; he only finds joy and pleasure in seeing you in this enraged state. whether he was a sadist, masochist, or simply insane, you did not know.

so, starting college felt like stepping into freedom. no more conversations centered around satoru, no more being so pissed you lose your voice from screaming, and no more late-night sob sessions everytime he got a new girlfriend.

however, it seemed that you'd forgotten that the stars didn't quite align for you, and the universe had decided to remind you of that very fact by ensuring that satoru received enough distinctions to be able to transfer universities. oh, and of course, the one he'd chosen just had to be the one you'd decided to spend the next 4 years of your life in. it wasn't until after you’d moved into your dorm and started your classes that you found out.

the first time you saw him around campus, you were freaked the fuck out. nevertheless, you simply assumed he was visiting a friend or relative and dismissed the sight.

however, much to your dismay, you discovered that he was, in fact, a senior at your college—a 2nd year, to be exact. it wouldn't be an understatement to assume you nearly had a heart attack when you found out, considering how this was the same guy who used to have a 2.6 gpa back in high school. when did he even start taking his studies seriously and lock in hard enough to meet the criteria and eligibility for your university, one of the most prestigious in the entire country? instead of rooting for you, fate just had to be your biggest hater.

every single time you saw him around, gojo would come up to you to exchange greetings and obviously, tease you about the most embarrassing things from your past while his obnoxious fangirls stared you the fuck down, wondering why he's so close to you even though you're just a freshman who should have nothing to do with him.

what surprised you more, however, was that you sometimes shared the same sentiment as them because you were definitely never this close with satoru. not in all the years your brother used to hang out with him, or all the times you'd seen each other on family dinners. sure, he'd teased you plenty, but he had no real concern or curiosity towards you. you found him walking you to classes, treating you to coffee and meals, buying you all the snacks you could ever need during exam preparations and so much more that you could never even list down.

and worst of all, the feelings you'd so desperately pushed away in the past had now creeped their way back into your heart and embedded every inch of your soul even deeper.

it struck you then—satoru’s actions might not be out of pure obligation. that would’ve been far too simple, too detached for someone like satoru. maybe, just maybe, there was something more to it, something unspoken lingering beneath it all. you couldn’t say for sure if it was intentional or not, but whatever it was, it felt personal, like you mattered in a way that went beyond the promises he'd made to your elder brother and family.

but still, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was all just in your head. satoru’s actions, the way he treated you—it didn’t necessarily mean what you thought it did. it could be nothing—satoru’s actions didn’t have to mean anything. maybe you were just fooling yourself, letting your feelings cloud your judgment. so, you buried them as deep as you could, pushing them aside, telling yourself that letting go was the only way to protect yourself from the uncertainty. it was easier to convince yourself that you were just being delusional instead of facing what could be very real.

although, you do seriously question your latter supposition at your annual college christmas eve party when satoru, dressed in the sexiest 3-piece navy blue pinstripe suit with a black tie, has you pinned against the door of the nearest bathroom. if haven't had the opportunity to pay enough attention to his luminous, cerulean eyes up until now, you do at this very moment when he's staring at you like a predator would at it's prey.

"satoru," you let out a breath you weren't aware of holding, "what are you doing?" gojo, whose gaze had shifted down to your lips, let out a chuckle. "oh, so it's satoru now," he murmured, his hand pushing your hair behind your ear. "fine, 'toru..," you pronounce, going back to the nickname you'd started calling him during the while you'd spent with him. "that's more like it." his eyes meet yours again, conveying the desire and thirst that stirred within him— for how long, nobody knows.

the air around you two was thicker than usual, laced with tension as well as something… else. "you still haven't answered my question." upon your words, the white-haired man's face broke out into a cupid-induced smile, the most beautiful you'd ever seen. "well," his right thumb traced the outline of your lips so light as if you'd break from further pressure, "i thought you looked beautiful." what he says renders you speechless, your throat gone dry and your cheeks turning the prettiest shade of rose (in his eyes, at least.) "you always do, but even more so today." and if you weren't already a flustered mess, you would most certainly be now.

your reaction only draws a smirk on his face, and he decides to tease you a little more. "so, on that note, what do you think i'm doing?," his voice lowers as his hand traces its way down to your neck. "i... uh- i don't know... you tell me." satoru grins, only wanting to push you further.

"yeah? how about i show you instead?" and a mere instant later, his lips come crashing down on yours— you couldn't say you hadn't been expecting or anticipating it, but absolutely nothing could prepare you for the way his warm and impossibly soft lips felt against yours. initially, you froze, and you came to realise that all the possibilities you'd once ignored were now very much real.

it wasn't a bad thing— no, nowhere near it, maybe even one of the best that could ever happen to you. however, it did feel like too much of a development to be able to process in a matter of seconds.

upon the realisation that you hadn't responded to his advances, satoru pulled back from the kiss, seeming rather puzzled. "was i wrong?" he inquires, voice lower and deeper than it normally would be.

the melodic sound of his voice is what breaks your trance and serves as your call back to reality. you wanted to say no, reach for his collar, get on your tip-toes and lean in to kiss him, but you were stuck in place. you couldn't find your voice or your words, and it felt like your heels were superglued to the tiles of the bathroom floor.

if it hadn't already been obvious, you'd been yearning for this moment for god knows how long, and now that it was handed to you on a sliver platter, you couldn't simply pass up on it. being well aware of the fact that this encounter could change your and satoru's relationship for either the better or the worse, you took a deep breath, cupped the sides of his face, and tilted your head just enough to be able to kiss the man. your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to pull him even closer, if that was possible.

being the way he is, satoru smiled into the kiss and lowered his hands to your hips. he could tell you were pouring each and every emotion from both the past and the present, and of course, he was doing the same.

it was inevitable, really— now that you could feel his skin against yours, it wasn't too difficult to put the pieces together and figure out that this was all bound to happen, already having been inked into the wondrous book of fate.

and so, for the first time in all the years you'd spent alongside satoru, you could say that the universe was, in fact, rooting for you. the way gojo's lips moved against yours, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world when he pulled away, the way the both of you heavily panted but still chased each other's warmth again barely seconds later, are more than enough confirmation.

"no, you weren't," you reply, feeling giddier than you ever had. "i wasn't what?" his hands caress your cheek with a carefulness that was almost unlike him, and your heart felt like it was about to beat out of your chest (in the best way possible.) "you weren't wrong."

"and i'm still not wrong if i do this?" his large hand reached under your clothes and wandered up to your waist, resting over the skin of the region. "or this?" his mouth had reached your neck, leaving kisses-turned-bites all over, which were sure to transform into hickeys.

"no... no, you're not," you let out breathlessly, unable to escape the fire coursing through your veins at the slightest touch. you wanted more, so much more, and satoru was the only one who could fulfil your needs— not that you would have it any other way.

"you sure, pretty?" the corner of his mouth went up, resulting in a lopsided grin— he was obviously teasing you, that was just the way he was and always had been.

"uh-huh," you nod to reaffirm your statement. "good girl," he breathes out, only contributing to the echoes in the parts of your body which ached for him so badly.

his long fingers played and toyed with the hem of your dress, as if to test the waters. when you didn't resist, his hand sneaked up your thigh, gently fondling the skin.

despite the confidence in his actions, he observed every expression on your face cautiously, ensuring that nothing he did hurt you or made you uncomfortable in any way. when you show no signs on unease but instead only desire, he goes on to satisfy and soothe your needs.

his fingers traced their way up your inner thighs and lurked over the already soaked fabric of your underwear, bringing about a chuckle from satoru. "so needy for me already, hm?" he remarks, as if his own pants weren't tightening upon the observation.

"shut up, 'toru..." you're trying to regain your composure and keep up an attitude, but to no avail. the fact that he has you exactly where he wants you isn't helping, either. you're even trying to avoid his gaze, but the way you can feel his presence everywhere makes it impossible to do so— besides, he's making you face him again using his index finger and thumb to hold your chin in between, as he whispers out a "look at me, baby."

and when you do, you have to let out a gasp at the sight of him— his disheveled hair which was perfectly tamed at the start of the night, his half-lidded eyes as he looks at you like you're his entire world and his lips that are now slightly bruised and swollen from the kisses you've shared. it was beyond enough to get you all the more hot and bothered.

oh, but that's not the only factor contributing to the sounds you're making— it's also the way he's pulled your panties to the side and is currently tracing your slit ever so slowly. "want more, princess?" nearly mocking tone.

you hardly even manage to let out a hum before his slender fingers are running over the most sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting a moan from you. your eyes roll all the way back when one of his digits slides inside you just a moment later— you'd never been this sensitive, but it seems that was going to be entirely different with satoru.

he added one after the other, and now, three of his freakishly large fingers were pumping in and out of you relentlessly— he was so good with them, you could practically taste your orgasm about to wash over you.

"'m close, satoru," you whimper out almost pathetically, and his fingers are going even deeper now, hitting the spots you'd never even dreamt of reaching on your own. "yeah? is my princess gonna cum for me?" his voice is rough and he's groaning as if he's the one receiving the pleasure.

you can only nod as your arousal overwhelms you, white ropes of cum spurting out from your throbbing hole with one final thrust of his fingers. his entire hand was covered in your fluids, which he brought up to his mouth to be able to savor the sweetness of your juices on his tongue. god, he was an obsessed freak when it came to you.

"ew, satoru! why would you do that?" you hold back a giggle, expressing faux disgust at his actions. he only kisses you in response instead of using his words, making sure you get to taste what he'd drawn out of you as well.

"you think suguru's gonna be mad?" he asks, obviously amused at the idea of your brother enraged when he finds out what you and satoru have done. "oh yeah, definitely." he sweetly presses yet another kiss to your lips.

"if it's at the expense of me getting everything i wished for, i don't care, babe."

@cuntphoric :33

[redwinewhiteroses]

The answer to the question on your mind

What will the Oracle say?

I was inspired by @capellla 🤍 who made a similar reading and I LOVED IT SO MUCH! You should definitely check out her reading.

I'm using the Wisdom of the Oracle cards in this reading and not tarot cards. You can pick a shade to receive an answer to whatever question you have in mind. The question can be anything but I won't give a yes/no but rather a general forecast on whatever it is that you are asking about. So it is going to be in the format of a combination of messages, keywords or a simple description.

Also a reminder, this is a very general reading because everyone's going to have different questions. So take the essence of the message and leave out what doesn't resonate.

Total Angel

You know the answer deep down. If you tune in and read between the lines, you will know what you should know. Your intuition is powerful, use it wisely to receive answers. Even if you think it's not easy sometimes to find the right answer, the message here is to ask and you will receive. And nine out of ten times the answer is already known to you as an intuitive nudge. You just know, don't you?

For some of you there's a message to trust your intuition for it is right when it comes to this question you are asking about.

And for very few of you, the answer is to listen intently, be sensitive and have empathy, maybe for yourself or to someone else.

Manifest It

There is some chaos and conflict here. It seems to me like there's a clash of opinions or an internal conflict of some kind. Whatever it is you are asking about might not be going smoothly as you wish. Thoughts or opinions are in a muddle. There's friction here and a hesitancy to cooperate on something. It's important to choose your battles wisely and as much as you desire to be understood, you should also try to understand where others are coming from.

For some of you, this conflict is happening purely because of a misunderstanding and a lack of insight.

For others it's because of your stubbornness and your rigid nature of not wanting to compromise and being inflexible is prolonging this state of chaos. Also you don't need to be right all the time and it's fine even if you are not.

Good thoughts

Good fortune is knocking on your door. I see a lot of positive thinking in this group and I wouldn't be surprised if you are into manifestation techniques. You are attracting abundance using your manifestation skills and law of attraction.

Success is all yours. If you've been working hard on something, know that your rewards are on the way.

There's also a message that you will be discovering even more things to be grateful about. It's all in your mindset, the more positive your thoughts are, greater treasures you will find. Abundance and fulfillment are major themes here.

Don't forget to share your prosperity and happiness with others you care about about.

Balanced

Take things slow. There's no need to rush. It's important to live one day at a time.

Whatever it is you are asking about, the answer lies in the present moment. You have to focus your energy on the things that truly matter to you, that has a bigger say in shaping your future for better or for worse.

I'm getting the message that it's important to write a good story for yourself right now. You have everything you need right now.

Stay present and create your dream now. A lot can happen right here, right now, there's so much potential that you don't even see. The past nor the future holds that power, only the present moment can give what you need.

Protection

Right when I started this, I felt like this is about a relationship. Loyalty, devotion and commitment are major themes in this group, whether it is about a relationship or otherwise.

There is undying loyalty and commitment from this person and they truly value your commitment. There's nothing to worry about for they have a loyal heart and they show it to you every day. Right now if you look around, you can see and feel that devotion that they have towards you.

For some of you, there's the message that you should remain faithful to your plans and work towards achieving them. Put in the work now with great commitment if you want to achieve desired results in the future. Your commitment and loyalty is being tested right now.

This message is for a very few of you, and that is if you've been yearning for something more passionate or exciting in your relationship and you have this desire to pursue someone else in search of that, the message here is that you already have loyalty and commitment from the person who loves you. Are you as loyal in return?

Major Change

Closing out a cycle and making amends is the main theme here. I sense some hurt and lack of closure that is here from the past. There is some unresolved hurt and unfinished business and you never really got around to seeing things through.

There could've been an argument, but you walked away without really gaining closure. So even if you want to move on, you are still bothered about the what ifs, the unsaid and the unexpressed thoughts and feelings.

It is important to heal, but it starts with letting go. Make peace, forgive and set yourself free.

In order to really move forward, you need to address the issues and fix what's broken. Clear out what's no longer serving you, gain clarity and learn the lesson. Unless you close out this cycle, you are going to be burdened without an end.

Finish what you started in order to move forward. If you've been taking more and more of something but not really completing what you should have already, you are only accumulating unwanted burden. It is very important to make amends for your highest good.

For some of you, there's a clear message that something needs to end. Nothing is ever lost or wasted so endings are nothing to be scared of.

Reflect

There is uncertainty and a sense of loneliness here. It's as if you feel like you don't belong or fit in. There's this lack of connection and feeling like you are on your own.

It's important to delve deeper and be closer to your core values and truth. This sense of belonging that you think you need must come from within in a way that is so personal to you. It is not in the outside world for you to find.

Even if you feel misunderstood by others and you feel left out, as long as you have yourself and you believe in your own truth, you are never alone.

Be completely yourself and be unapologetic about it, the people who see you for who you truly are will always find you and support you.

Never dim your light or think that you are not enough. Never think you have to be someone else to be accepted. You are amazing just the way you are.

Explore your preferences, likes and dislikes and get to know yourself fully, and try finding people or communities that resonate with you. You'll be surprised by how many like-minded individuals are there who really get you.

Lucky Babe

Finally you have approached the light at the end of the tunnel. I wouldn't be surprised if you went through a dark night of the soul recently. There's two very contrasting energies here and you are at this switch where you are moving from the bad to the great times ahead.

There's recovery, renewal and joy. It's as if you lost/broke something but now you are patching up all the pieces together to create someone new altogether.

For some of you, I see you coming out of a period of isolation and putting yourself out there more experiencing the warmth the world has to offer. Being lively and feeling full of life.

Finally seeing bright colors again, feeling alive and enjoying life comes to mind. You could meet someone or find something that helps you overcome the shadows of your past. It's as if it/they heal you and make you forget unpleasant things. A much needed change is here to welcome you to a new phase in your life.

And for others, I see new relationships, new friends and opportunities coming in. There's new beginnings and growth for existing relationships. Those who've been single for a long time, I see a lot of good fortune for you.

Something exciting could happen.

Perfect Harmony

Be honest and truthful to yourself and to others. See the truth for what it is. Don't try to alter it the way you want it to be. You are only deceiving yourself. This is the core message I'm getting.

For some of you, the message is to openly communicate with your partner, family or friend etc. Clear and honest communication is very much needed. It is important to speak your truth and to listen to others speak their truth.

For some of you, it might be necessary to put some effort to seek the truth of something yourself. Discover what lies at the core of something and don't just accept the face value of it.

Transparency, true wisdom, unveiling something and dropping the mask is also a message here. Clarity is being provided to you and you should be open to embrace that truth.

Right Path

You are finally finding the strength to complete something. It's as if you've been putting something off for many weeks, months or even years but now you are going to persevere and see it through.

Learning something, mastering a skill and being dedicated to a task is coming through as well. It's important to make amends and learn so you can have better opportunities in the long haul.

Go the extra mile comes to mind. Take a leap of faith and endure through this so you can finally complete this cycle.

Finally accomplishing something that was long overdue and willingness to be resilient is seen here.

Do not procrastinate or give in to instant gratification but instead look into the future, think of the long-term and engage in continued action.

Make sure you finish what was left unfinished.

Empowered

Take action, make a move, start something, by all means begin whatever it is you are asking about.

You have the power to make things happen so go ahead and put that creative powers into good use.

This is the sign you've been looking for, now is the perfect time to act. Don't hesitate a single bit for now the destiny is in your hands.

Take the lead, assume the position of a leader, take matters into your own hands and be confident in your ability to move forward towards victory.

For some of you, the message is to embody masculine energies and to be more assertive and bold.

You can expect to be busier than usual. A lot of action is happening.

Divine

Breaking cycles, escaping toxic habits that kept you stuck in a never ending cycle is the main message here.

You can feel as if the past is repeating itself or you have been here before, and it is only because there is something that you have to learn and integrate into your life. I see some personal growth and self-improvement happening for your highest good.

It is important to revisit this pattern from a new perspective. Learn the lessons and apply that knowledge to break free from what no longer serves you. Only repeat what works, NOT what doesn't.

Chaos and conflict will only happen if you run in circles without really addressing the root cause of the problem. I see some unnecessary drama as well that has occurred due to repeating the same mistakes.

For some of you, being attracted to familiar partners and repeating an old story might be true. It is as if you get to do things differently this time with the wisdom you didn't have the last time. It is important to not get stuck in a loop though.

I think some of you are clearing out some sort of karma from your lives and it is making you realise important things about yourself and the way of life. As difficult as it might be, you will eventually get out of it and mark the end.

This reading should not be used as a substitute for professional advice. Please use your discernment before making any important decision. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Dividers by : @anitalenia @strangergraphics @aquazero

Photo taken from Pinterest. Credit goes to the rightful owner.

[aritsukemo]

AHHHHHHH NURSED ILYSMMMM!! SERIOUSLY I DON'T DESERVE YOUR FRIENDSHIP HONESTLY :(((

So this fic was actually never supposed to be written! It was apart of a poll I did a while back and it was literally like the least chosen option I'm pretty sure. The thing is, though Furina's fic won in the end and I finished it and posted it, I had already started on this fic while waiting for the results to come in!

..And funny enough, my first intention was to make this a like super fluffy and cute fic about two imperfect, abandoned people finding peace and love within the presence of each other but uh..I listened to this sad wanderer/scaramouche pov playlist and I was like "Y'know what would be really fun.."

I wanted this fic to be a sorta piece that when you read back on it, you notice things that you didn't before! For example, did you know that this story was told in Kabukimono's pov? :) I purposely tried to avoid telling any of the scenes through Y/n's eyes because this story was meant to show negligence. Y/n's feelings are deep-rooted, he was an outcast at a very young age and had a bunch of horrible things happen to him throughout his life. He's long had mental gripes and issues, Kabukimono just never noticed it until it was too late. He only saw Y/n in this fixed lens and the lake scene where he was making the flower crown was the first time he actually saw a glimpse Y/n as what he truly was!

As mean as it is, I wanted Kabukimono to be completely useless to the situation at hand. To me, who wrote this loosely to reference 1800 - 1900 Japan, I was thinking, "Why would Kabukimono be able to pick up on signs of depression?" Throughout the story, Y/n did and said things that showed that something was wrong but they were blatantly yet unintentionally ignored and when everything hit the fan, Kabukimono truly did not help Y/n. My intention is not to make Kabukimono a bad person, it was to moreso show how innocent actions and a sheltered mindset can be just as detrimental as having a conniving one...if that makes any lick of sense.

ALSOOOO I'M GLAD YOU LIKE THE LITTLE STORY ABOUT THE LAKE AND THE VILLAGE!! IT WAS AN INPROMPTU DECISION THAT ENDED UP STAYING- 😭 IT'S ALSO HOW I CAME UP WITH THE ENDING SO THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLIMENTS!!

AND OMGOSH??? YOU GETTING INSPIRED TO WRITE A PT. 2 OF SOMETHING I WROTE?? I'M HONORED???

Seriously though I'd LOVE it if you wrote a pt. 2 to this, I'd def peep! I plan to make my own pt. 2 eventually, but you know how that goes.. Knowing me, it won't be here any time soo I'm not gonna lie- 😓

THANK YOU FOR TAKING THE TIME TO READ THIS!! I FEEL SO SPOILED!! 😖

The Oddities of Human Nature | Kabukimono

Kabukimono x Feminine Male Reader

Warnings: Wooo, where do we start? Major character death ( Reader ), implied suicide ( It's up in arms, but there are hints in the fic that reader may have drowned themselves in a lake ), self harm implied, sexual assault is loosely referenced ( only one sentence mentions it and I don't go into detail at all as to not trigger anyone ), themes of depression is referenced all throughout this fic, lots of blood is mentioned towards the end and I go into depth ( or try to ) in describing death so gore warning, the timeline is all fucked up but for the sake of the fic making sense, this takes place before Wanderer's three betrayals, reader uses they/him pronouns, finally, long story ( around 10k words ) under the cut. With all that said, happy reading!

A/N: This was a big hill for me to cross, but I'm glad I managed to do it! I juggled a lot of elements that I'm not familiar with so I'm sorry if this is all over the place. That aside, I found that a lot of the songs I listened while I was writing matched this fic pretty well! ( ..I also realized out that I maaaayyy have spilled a a little bit of myself and my personal struggles into Y/n, but don't read into that too much, okay? Okay. ) This fic is on the darker side of what I normally write, but I hope all who peep will enjoy themselves! :D ...Now I'ma go finish this finals project I got before I fuck up my grade-

Tagging: @nursedflowers / @kazusys, and @saioratral

Humans are odd creatures. They do things that may otherwise inconvenience them for absolutely no reason.

They could have a broken leg, but will still find the time to entertain friends by going out. They could be holed up in their room doing important work, but will still stop and greet their beloved when they arrive home. They could stumble upon a body in a lake and still fish it out and attempt to resuscitate it. It's strange, but what's even stranger are those humans. You know, the ones who would do things like that for a complete stranger without batting an eye.

"Are you alright?" A soft chirp echoed—one like a feather that surprisingly didn't get swept away by the harsh winds.

It was nothing like her voice.

Upon looking up, indigo hues fill with intricate floral patterns weaved delicately in a circle. Its varying colors twist and intertwine, filling the circle and providing shade and leaving those who fall under it to marvel at its beauty—which didn't soil or gray despite the downpour of rain that hit it.

That said, having been completely consumed in the art of the umbrella, it took another soft call to snap out of the trance..only to be sucked right back into it upon gazing up.

 "I noticed that you have been sitting in the rain for quite some time now. That isn't healthy, you know?" Their voice matched their features; smooth like a porcelain doll, but not nearly as tough as one; gentle, just like the silk that covered their body.

 "Do you have nowhere to go?" Upon hearing the question, the boy’s lips—which were formerly tucked into a neat line—dipped. It was unnoticeable against his pale skin, but the tender eyes that stared down at him seemed to be sharp like a hawks' and noticed it right away.

 "I suppose that means yes."

Their hand reached out to him after saying that and he found himself leaning away instinctively, making him susceptible to the sky's sorrow which drowned his already slick hair in even more chilling rain.

He's immediately saved again, and this time, he was able to watch his savior in action as they tilt their hand, tilting their gorgeous artwork forward enough to completely shield him again albeit at the cost of their own protection.

The rain took pleasure in dousing their hair, deepening it's color a little from the sheer amount it intakes. Ultimately, it's unable to take all of it and falls down on all sides, dripping down their skin, their eyelashes, nose, and lips, to where all the water meets at a point at their chin and drops from it to the wet soil at their feet like a leaky faucet.

Nevertheless, he watched a smile stretch across their face. A sight that he had begun to believe could only look so beautiful on a wandering snow spirit.

 "Please, young sir. Come with me. I have a place that could shield the both of us from the rain for the night.."

And in a trance, he—though tentatively—reaches forward and puts his hand in theirs. The warmth that touched him in that moment immediately shattered the illusion that hypnotized him and he blinks upon finding himself being tugged along by the hand. It brought on a perplexed swirl in the abyss he called a stomach and spurred him to ask the golden question, "Why are you doing this?"

And that question earned him another golden smile, unfortunately only for a quick second when they glanced back at him. It was never answered, and despite that, it didn't bother him.

Nothing did in that moment as the only thing he could focus on was the heat that spread throughout his hand which radiated from their palm.

Humans are odd creatures. They go against the purposes given to them at birth for the simplest reasons.

 "You're a man?" Was the question that filled the silence, his words filled with his almost accusing tone at the face of their casual confession.

You didn't mind, putting on the smile of a saint as tanzanite hues scrutinize and judge you as if you were some complex painting in a museum.

 "Yes, I am," You answered simply, and he once again, eyes you up and down with eyes full of disbelief. As if you had just revealed that you had a second head or something. You weren't offended. Compared to the other stares you've been given in the past, his seemed rather merciful.

 "Why do you dress like that if you're a boy?" He asks after a while; another rather offensive question that he asks with utmost innocence.

 "Because it makes me feel nice," You reply simply, and to that, your new friend looked utterly perplexed. As if you had just given him intricate, complex instructions on how to defeat the shogunate. From that reaction, you assume he was probably raised in a rather conformist household.

That said, his genuine confusion felt like a breath of cool air hitting your face after venturing days in a scorching desert, as sad as that is to admit.

 "Where are your weapons? Your armor? Your mannerisms and speech let me know you come from a noble home, so where are your servants and concubine? What do you do for work?" He shot out questions as if he only had a few grains of sand left in his hourglass. It was like he feared that if he didn't ask all his questions now—and all at once—he'd never get an answer to them. Not that you'd be so cruel as to leave your curious new acquaintance so bewildered.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, but I don't have any such means of protection," You start off slowly, but as your eyes trail down at the two needles in your slender hands—needles which had thin threads of silk woven around the points of them—you found yourself chuckling to yourself, "Though if you'd ask my father, he'd tell you that my reason for that is because I lack the determination and courage to tread the path of a proper warrior — He was a high-ranking samurai for the majority of my youth, you see.."

"As for the servants and..consorts…they're really not my thing. I find bossing someone around and using people to flaunt my own status and wealth to be rather brutish. Though, I will admit I'm quite familiar with the practices. Heh, I was practically raised by my fathers' wives and female servants growing up. Maybe that's why.."

You pause, and in the end, you shake your thought away instead of voicing the rest of it aloud. It wasn't important to the conversation at hand anyways.

 "Digressing from that, my ways of making money aren't as noble as my family's either. In fact, one would say it's quite pitiful in comparison; once a week, I go out into the nearby town and I sell my creations. Stuffed animals, knitted clothing, excess crops, and the like. I don't make all the money in the world, but I make more than enough to get by as you can see," And you flick your wrist absentmindedly at one of the corners of your room, mindlessly gesturing at whatever filled the space to better prove your point.

Your guest had been struck silent once again. It seemed he was still rather muddled. You understand it. Like many you've encountered, you were probably an enigma to him, one willing to go against all that has been taught and practiced for centuries just because of simple ideations and pleasures that someone such as yourself should never enjoy in the first place.

..Or so you thought. As you gazed up at your guest, his face made you unsure of what he was truly thinking at that moment. It was something you hadn't seen before—unlike those judge-filled, disgusted, and even pitiful gazes you had been given by many in the past. It sparked your curiosity, causing you to ask him the golden question that had laid dormant at the back of your mind.

 "Does any of this.. Do I bother you?"

His response came delayed, but you found his answer that came more valuable than actual gold. More relieving than any cool breeze or sweet treat. More rewarding than any war won or title granted. More comforting than any of the stormy nights that distracted you from your whirlwind of thoughts.

And, oddly enough, such a response was quite simple. Only three words, in fact.

 "Not at all."

Humans are odd creatures, but they can be patient and forgiving at times. Plus, being the warm-blooded creatures that are allows them the blessing of a naturally-warm, comfortable body.

 "Crap," The cursed utterance left the lips of a mouth who's felt nothing but the bitter tang of frustration coat its tongue all afternoon. The uncivilized profanity did nothing to soothe the taste in his mouth nor did it smoothen out the crinkles made by his furrowed brows. It didn't even relieve the tremble of anger in his blood-pricked hands or the aggression of his movements as his fingertips worked a string of tangles with the needles he was holding.

Knitting is awful. How do people find this relaxing? Ever since he's started, he's felt nothing but vexation, pain, and embarrassment! Not only that, but he's made zero progress after so long that he's practically forgotten what he was supposed to be making in the first place! He hates—no, despises this with his entire being!

 "Having a bit of trouble?" He heard you ask, and somehow, half of his stress fell away like a slab of rock on the side of a mountain just from hearing your voice. He doesn't get why you have such powers over him seeming as you're a complete stranger. ..Was your voice charmed by some kind of magic perhaps? Were you possibly a god in disguise?

Whatever the reason was, he found himself praying that you never stop talking if he were to ever find out.

 "Here, let me show you a trick," Your breath was fanning his ear before he knew it and your skin was warming his shortly afterwards. He froze in place, still and quiet unlike the noisy rainwater he can hear descending from the skies outside—the rain that has kept him trapped here for literal days now.

He's not complaining.

It was only when your palms found place against the back of his hands that his body relaxed. Your hands were soft unlike the many generals and the blacksmiths he had met before his forced abandonment of his previous life. It felt nice. As if flower petals were cradling his hands.

You smelt just as good as a flower too. He had never been this close to you before so he hadn't noticed it, but now that his back is to you like this..it was as if he was laying in a flowerbed.

Do men always smell this good? He doubts it. Most likely, this scent was completely unique. A fragrance only you could naturally produce. Archons does he wish—

 "—and that's how you do it," He blinks, snapping back to reality where he stares down at the cloth now weaved together with expert precision to form a bunny's ear.

You had helped him make a breakthrough at last..and he had been too busy daydreaming about how it would feel to be hugged by you to watch and learn how you even did it.

..But he doesn't feel regret looming when the realization comes nor does his annoyance return. Or maybe it has and it just hasn't set in yet. He can't tell right now, not when he's feeling as if he had just been warmed by the sun after being frozen for a millennia.

 "Alright, now you try," He hears your words, but they don't process as fast as your hands leaving him does. Nothing really processes quicker than that. Not his frown. Not his disappointment. Not anything.

But not processing something doesn't make it unclear to others. Upon seeing his downcast expression, your brows quirk up in confusion.

 "Is there something on your mind, my new friend?" You inquired, but your question is never answered. Instead, you watch as his saddened eyes turn owlish and his head spins in the opposite direction of you as he mutters something under his breath.

 "I'm sorry, but can you repeat that?" You asked softly, leaning closer in order to hear him better.

 "Can you..show me how to do that again. Please.." He repeated, and in doing so earned the harmonious gift that was your chuckle and the warmth of your hands on him once again.

 "Sure. So what you do is.."

Humans are odd creatures. They'd sacrifice countless hours of their already short life, go to ridiculous lengths doing things, and even put aside their fragile well being to do things that are completely irrelevant just because of their belief that what they do will make someone happy.

 "I'm back!" The sweet chirp of your new housemate—which you and the villagers of the neighboring town have begun to call Kabukimono— echoed through the small abode of your now shared home after not having the pleasure to in about three days or so.

After moving in a week prior, Kabukimono had been adamant on pulling his own weight to prove that he was worth keeping around despite you having the compassion to allow him to be a freeloader otherwise. That said, after your own clumsiness in the field left you with a sprained ankle, your kind new friend had offered to go out and sell all of this week’s goods on your behalf and how could you refuse such an offer when he looked so happy and eager to help out little ol' you?

Well, the real answer to that was that he gave you no choice in the matter, but you digress.

 "I'm in here," He heard you call from the kitchen and he immediately set off in that direction, just barely remembering to slip off his shoes at the door from how eager he was to see you.

If it wasn't obvious already, it had taken some time—both the journey to and from the village and the actual process of conversing with people and getting them to buy everything—but he believes he did pretty good. At the very least, everything was sold. He even managed to make enough to buy you something with some of the excess money!

 "Y/n! I got—! ..Huh?" His words died as quickly as his pace as he stilled to a full halt at the entryway. His eyes grew wide bit by bit as he took everything in.

Banners of silk and thread had been strung along the walls, flashing their abstract patterns of blue and purple at anyone who'd spare a glance. Candles—which are usually set alight atop your nightstand and bookshelf in our room—now clumped and coddled on the table like one big sun with the varying foods surrounding them posing as the stars that helped light up the wooden sky they sat on.

But such a beautiful display was only given a moment's glance as Kabukimono seemed more interested in what you thought was a less-than-average sight; yourself.

Nevertheless, the adoration you felt seeing the sparkle of surprise in his eyes—even if for only a second or so—made you crack a smile as you recited the line you had gone over just about a million times during the time you spent waiting for him to arrive.

 "Welcome home, Kabukimono."

He was at a loss for words and not for the reason you wanted him to be. With the intent of easing his perturbed shock, you walked towards him, steady and slow, but all that proved to do was snap him out of the spell your heavy eyebags and dreary, drooping eyes had put him under.

 "What is all of this? And more importantly, why are you standing? You're not supposed to be putting pressure on that ankle!" He quickly met you the rest of the way, and to your dismay, he had beat you to the comforting, his hands shooting out to grip you by the hips and ease your bandaged leg of your body's weight.

Ignoring his other questions, you began explaining, telling him, "It's a celebration feast. You told me yourself that you, along with not having a name, you haven’t had a home to call yours yet. I thought it would be good to make an occasion out of you finding one at last."

Kabukimono felt bad to admit this even in his own head, but your words were going in one ear and out the other. Yes, he had asked, but you weren't giving him answers to the other questions he simply found more important at the moment, and because of that, it caused his face to look rather tense. Certainly not cheery like you had hoped.

It seems you have made a mistake. It wasn't a surprise, it was you after all, but the thought still hurt considering how much time it took preparing for this moment.

And so, in an attempt to lighten your thoughts and the overall mood, you ask him, "Aren't you happy?"

And unfortunately, your dear housemate didn't answer in the way you had wished he would, instead replying with, "Why would I? You look like you're about to drop dead!"

 "I'm fine," You said; a futile attempt of reassurance when you probably looked like a Sumerian Akademiya student who just finished pulling an all-nighter to write a one-hundred page research paper.

 "As if!" Kabukimono said. That's when he slung your arm over his shoulder, forcing your bodyweight onto him without your permission, and began trudging you along in the direction of your room.

 "What're you doing—" "Taking you to your room so you can lie down like you probably haven't been doing!"

 "Seriously, you should take better care of yourself! Don't tell me this is normal for you.. If it is, I won't be able to let you out of my sight from now on!"

In the end, both the feast and Kabukimono's gift for you had been forgotten. Even though you ended up enjoying it later, your sadness about the initial surprise being ruined was hard to get over even with the delight of a new hairpin being added to your collection..

Humans are odd creatures. Their inability to do much makes them become overawed by the simplest things. Their eyes shine just from seeing a coin flipped in an unorthodox way and they clap and gasp watching the stars twinkle overhead. It’s so nice to see stupid.

 “You know how to dance?” The excitable question left your usually composed lips as you stared at Kabukimono with stars in your eyes.

 “Well...I used to perform sword dances so I suppose yes,” He clarifies, arms crossed as he stared off at the wall to his left with full interest. His azure eyes darkened as if someone had pulled wool over them only to light up like a room to an oil lamp at the question that followed his response.

 “Can you show me?” The way you asked him reminded him of a little kid asking their mother to buy them a toy; full of innocent expectancy. It made his lips thin into a line just hearing it.

It had been ages since he’s danced, and in the past, there weren’t many who gawked at or praised him for his moves. Not his mother. Not any of her servants or soldiers. Certainly not her familiar. At the time, he hadn’t cared about their reactions much at all, seeming as the purpose of his dancing wasn’t for frivolous entertainment, but you, however, were different. You weren’t his mother who had abandoned him. You weren’t the servants or soldiers who never spoke to him. You aren’t his mother’s glaring familiar. You’re you, and the thought of seeing such a lackluster expression painted on your face puts a bad taste in his mouth. It makes him gnaw at his bottom lip from the feeling of a wave rocking unsteadily in his stomach cavity. It made him feel..anxious.

 “Ah..” His mouth felt like chalk—uncomfortably dry—as he spoke and his eyes couldn’t remove themselves from the walls he was surely burning holes into with his nervous glare as he tried to find something—anything—to refute you. He, at last, does and sputters it out in an uneven tone, “But..you aren’t going into battle though.”

You hum in acknowledgement, and for a moment, he thought he could successfully negate you from the topic, but then your lips move to say, “Sword dances are to summon strength, right? Though they’re performed for battles, war isn’t the only thing that requires strength. Farming, cooking.. Even getting out of bed in the mornings needs some strength to complete. When put in that way, don’t you think I’m in need of just as much strength as one of the Shogunate’s men?”

 “We- Well, a typical sword dance requires a sword and a fan and we don’t have anything like that lying around the house,” He shoots out. His brows knitting at the odd feeling of his skin damp with moisture he wasn’t aware he could produce before now.

 “I do have a fan,” You retort, “It’s mainly preserved for hot weather, but it'd be perfect for this occasion! And for the sword..ah! Would a wooden stilt suffice? It’s a little longer than the typical sword, but if I were to shave it down a bit..”

 “I..” He looks at you, face uncharacteristically spooked as he repeats himself, sounding like a broken record at this point, “I.. I..” but you don’t pay it much mind as your excitement gets the better of you and you chalk up his reaction as pre-performance jitters before running to find the items needed, leaving Kabukimono no choice but to watch helplessly like some baby kitten.

In the matter of an hour, he was outside. His body donning one of your many creations while holding a summer fan and wooden stick that didn’t come close to matching anything he was wearing. You—smile etched on your face despite feeling as though you were being stabbed all over—sat a little aways from him on the white cushions that had completely covered the green grass, patiently yet eagerly awaiting for the invisible curtains to rise and for his feet to begin to move.

Despite the biting cold, his hands were slick with sweat, forcing him to grip the wood and fan with inhumane force as to not drop it. His breath came out thick and labored, freezing over immediately upon leaving his lips and ultimately coming out as puffy, white clouds. His only saving grace here was that his feet were firmly planted into the dirt circle you paved out just for his little show. It was even rid of the transparent icy layer; an astonishing feat to be done in so little time.

Even from where he stood, he could see the reddening of your face and hands. The slight tremble of your limbs.. You were freezing to death, that much was certain, but you didn’t care. That’s just how adamant you were to see him perform.

And so, feeling as though he had no other choice, he began. His feet started to glide, starting slow as did his arms—languid and mesmerizing—before it began to pick up just a little whenever he’d twirl or spin or hop. He was sure his movements were sloppy, that his improvision to the original dance he was taught shone through like a stain to white cloth..but as he snuck a glance your way, he found himself uncaring.

..Because the way you looked at him was as if you were gazing up at a god who had just saved your life; amazement brightened your hues like comets in the sky as you followed his every move, utterly enraptured by him. He had managed to evoke that from you. Only him.

Ironically, he had found he himself charmed by your expression and microexpressions. Completely hypnotized as he slid and flowed around the small circle, his clothing–the clothing you had gifted to him—fluttering like angel wings which only further added to the beauty of each swing he took with the stick.

But alas, as the dance went on, Kabukimono found himself going into autopilot. Simply going about the motions as he took every chance possibly to glance your way, his eyes like a distant memory—a past life—whenever they locked with yours..

Humans are odd creatures. Deceptive by nature too. Without a perceptive gaze and trained ears to catch onto their lies, they could make you believe anything as the truth.

 "Hey, Kabukimono, could you pass me the carrots I cut up over there?" You asked, using your head to gesture over in the direction of where you had left the cut carrots on the low table. Kabukimono jumped to your request; crossing the kitchen, picking up the bowl, and walking back over to where you sat comfortably at the kotatsu in record time.

He hands it to you, and with a flick of your wrists, the orange delicacies had joined the rest of the vegetables in the boiling pot on the table. Kabukimono sits back on his knees as you do this, taking comfort in propping his elbow up on the wooden surface before laying his head on his fist as he watches the slow travel of white steam erupt from the pot into the air. His eyes like staring on like a dormant beast at the boiling vegetables crackling as he sighs dreamily at the smell of heaven they produce.

He didn't need to eat. He had told you that at some point in time along with other things, and yet, you had somehow trained him to yearn for food regardless—to salivate when he saw a tasty-looking dish and even grow excited at the thought of what to cook for dinner. It was such a mundane thing that was once so foreign to him. Such a human pleasure and yet he so eagerly partook in it regardless. All because of you. All for you.

Another thing he does because of you now is small talk. Before, if there were silence between him and another person he'd embrace it without a second thought and wouldn't leave that comfort unless forced to—and even then, only a select few would actually elicit a response from him. Nowadays though, it seems he grows quite restless whenever words aren't filling the air. Though, this applied more so with you than anyone else.

 "How did it go in town?" He asked, "You were selling those new cat-shaped stuffed toys you worked yourself ragged making..so? Did anybody like them?"

To such a simple question, your reaction was bewildering. The way your grip tightened on the ladle, the narrowing of your eyes and brows, the tut of your lip.. It all gave a bad vibe.

And so he frowned and asked, "Did they not like them after all? ..Or did something—"

 "It's nothing," And you presented him a closed-eyed smile, both your expression and your grip on the ladle relaxing as you went on to further say, "I just..thought about this girl I met at the villager. I assume she was an orphan from her attire and the way she followed me around without a care.. Anyways, she ended up tripping and hurting her knee pretty badly so I gave her one of the cat plushies, free of charge.”

 "Anyways, the food is ready so let's drop this topic. After all, we don't want it to get cold," The topic changed as suddenly as it came. Odd, seeming as how you're usually rambling all afternoon and evening about your travel to the village, sparing absolutely no detail about even the tiniest things.

The thought lingered for a time, but as he watched you stuff your mouth and saw your eyes shine joyously at the wonderful flavor that coated your tongue as you began to ramble about your relief about the dish turning out good despite this being your first time trying out the recipe, that thought eventually fluttered away with the wind that came through the crack in your sliding doors that allowed more of the evening oranges and yellows to seep into your home.

You were probably just really hungry and eager to eat, he thought as he finally took a bite of the potato he had picked up with his chopsticks, his eyes closing as he hummed out in delight at the taste.

Unbeknownst to him, your face dropped as soon as his eyes closed, your eyes uncharacteristically fogged and dull, as if it were displaying the thick fog that shrouded your mind, your thoughts, your heart. It was a fog that Kabukimono never caught on to, blissfully unaware of what stained your mind, body, and soul.

Humans are odd creatures. Their outside appearance never matches how they feel or the thoughts that poison their mind. They never voice those thoughts either, making it impossible to guess what’s truly going on with them. There are some who’d bless you with a morsel of their inner world—give you a crumb of the turmoil that constantly leaks in their head—making you feel as though you’ve truly come to understand them when in reality, you haven’t even scratched the surface.

It was the middle of the night. The once navy blue sky that had overcasted the world when the sun first fell was now dark due to even the stars going into hiding to slumber, leaving the moon as the only beacon of light to shed away the shadows. It was pitch black everywhere you turned and cicadas buzzed loudly outside, likely complaining about the sweltering heat of the summer, making it impossible to even hear yourself think. It was like some mundane hell.

So why were you out here?

It happened by chance. He had heard some odd noises and went to investigate it. Not expecting to see a silhouette walking out of the door. Thinking it was some thief, he followed after the person, and as the sounds of the cicadas grew distant and an earthy smell invaded his nostrils, the silhouette became less and less obscure. Becoming as clear as day by the time the person had reached their destination.

That person was you.

 “..What is this place?” The question came tumbling out before he could stop himself, his words loudly piercing the quiet of the night. It alerts you of his presence at long last and has your head spinning in his direction.

 “Oh.. It’s just you, Kabukimono’.. Heh, you scared me,” You said. Your head turns forward once again as you force your shoulders to relax, allowing the basket on your back to slide down your arms and to the ground. As you slowly set yourself atop the gentle grass, Kabukimono takes a step forward. Then another, and another, until he’s right beside you, who was digging for the items in the basket.

After a moment of silence allows you to, at last, gather everything needed out of the basket, Kabukimono decides to ask his question once again..or he planned to. As he opens his mouth to let his words free, your voice breaks the silence.

 “There used to be a small village here,” You told him, your hands beginning to twist two long stocks together, “If you go the opposite way of the path we usually tread, you can still find the remnants of what it used to be.”

 “The village's main source used to be this lake. Everyone relied on it for everything. To drink, to cook, to bathe.. Even some of the oddest ways of entertainment came from here..” You laughed, but it was drier than any desert depicted in the novels in your room. It felt wrong to hear—kinda like hearing a baby’s cry come from a grown man—and it felt almost unnerving to have it come from someone like you, who he’s come to associate with the sun itself.

But you were probably really tired. Looking at you, the deep bags that hang your eyelids down indicates you probably haven’t gotten much sleep lately which makes sense seeming as you’ve been running around and, as you told him, ‘preparing’ for something really important.

He wonders what it is you’re preparing for. Whenever he’d ask, he’d never get an answer..

 “This lake, though bound by the earth to this one place, saved that village so many times that the townsfolk began to believe that some powerful being was secretly living in the depths of it and protecting them. They began to idolize it, nurture and take care of it, and spoke about it as if this little lake was some otherworldly deity which created tall tales and legends that they’d go on to tell their children…believe it or not, I once took part in such absurdity.”

 “So..what happened to the village?” Kabukimono hesitates to ask. After all, the obvious context clues pointed him in a tragic direction, but he couldn’t resist his own curiosity in the end. Not when the look in your eyes—that were lit by the lantern of the water’s ripples—reflected nothing but pure sorrow.

At his question, you took a glance his way. As you broke away from the lake that practically glowed in the moonlight, your eyes were stripped of the illuminating gleam of the waves and casted into the darkness of the night. In fact, if it weren’t for the lake, he probably wouldn’t have been able to see your face at all.

Part of him wished that had happened. If it did, he wouldn’t have been forced to stare into the abyss that had overtook your hues for those small handful of seconds.

 “The lake failed them,” You finally spoke shortly after returning your gaze to the water, “A fire of unknown origins enveloped it in the dead of night. It wiped out half the village and forced the other half to flee for safety..some of which came to me, who lived on the outskirts of town.”

 “No one knew how it started. After all, fire wasn’t anywhere close to being the most accessible resource they had. It was a luxury, even. It also never spread past the village and by sunrise, it ceased to exist altogether. The oddity of the situation made the survivors believe that it was some punishment from their lake deity,” As you went on, you had been weaving the strands until one end had connected to the other in a circle—though your sloppy craftsmanship caused it to look more like an oval in your opinion.

As eyesore of a sight it was, you persisted. Your hands reach for the clipped flowers beside you, "That thought clouded their minds and the thought of disappointing their all-forgiving god drove them mad,” Kabukimono watched as you spoke, sticking flowers in one by one and twisting it into the circle, making the dank green pop with each pristine white you carefully placed around it.

 “Convinced that it was their fault everything was lost, the surviving villagers went about the rest of their days repenting by praying to the lake from sun up to sun down...until the waters rose and they disappeared while being enveloped by the deity's embrace."

The story seemed like something straight out of a fairytale. Nonsensical like a myth that he usually wouldn't believe...but the same could be said about his very existence. With that in mind, who is he to be so narrow-minded? He decided to keep his thoughts to himself, locking them tight behind his lips as you continued.

 "The lake failed them. It made a fatal mistake. Saved not one villager from that fire, yet nothing changed. Not their love nor their devotion..if anything it only made them see this lake in an even more divine light...so why didn't the same happen for me?"

The tail end of your sentence made him perk up with unease and as his brows knitted together, Kabukimono opens his mouth as he worriedly asked—or rather, attempted to ask, “What do you mean—” but you shifted the topic faster than he could get the full sentence out.

 “ Do you remember the tales I would tell you about my childhood—my brother specifically? ..I ran into him some time ago while I was out selling in the village.”

 “Whether they wanted to seize from me the goods I was selling that day—or perhaps mistook me for a woman and wanted to have their fun with me as some men have in the past—they began harassing me quite aggressively,” You started, “They bothered me for quite awhile and grew progressively violent the more I tried to politely get them to leave me be—one of them even snatched me up by the wrist. That’s when he intervened.”

 “He didn’t recognize me, not that I’d expect him to. After all, I’ve changed a lot since we were kids..and it seems the same went for him as well,” After placing all the whites of innocence, you went on to grab your smaller, yellow sundrops, your hands meticulously working them in between the white flowers as you continued talking in a cheerful tone. 

 “Though it’s only been a decade or so since I’d last seen or spoken to him, he’s already been through so much. He told me himself, you see, that he had just returned from the war and was passing through villages trying to find a suitable gift.. Can you guess for what?”

 “I don’t know..maybe your parents?” Kabukimono guessed; the wrong answer. You didn’t give him another chance to theorize.

 “It was for his wife and daughter,” You corrected, and if once wasn’t enough, you repeat yourself, “He was returning home to his wife and four year old daughter and wanted to get them something special.”

Gaining the courage once again, Kabukimono attempted to question the point of this conversation in the first place by asking, “What’s wrong with that?” He grew hopeful at first when you allowed him to get his words out. Maybe, at last, he could get his questions answered, he thought.

He thought wrong.

 “He’s really tall now, you know? —I mean, he was always taller than me, but now he’s like a tree! When we spoke face to face, I had to crane my neck all the way back to look up at him,” His question is, once again, ignored as if he never asked it. He began to frown, not liking the thought of you possibly ignoring him, but that crease in his skin quickly grew less prominent when he caught a glimpse of your joyful smile.

 “He’s also got big muscles and a handsome smile,” You add, “That paired with his headstrong, chivalric nature..I’m not surprised that he’s made a name for himself and started a family in such a short time,” Your voice then drops to a murmur as you turn you creation left then right, inspecting it as said, “In only a small handful of years, he’s achieved someone’s dream and so much more.. He’s managed to exceed even the impossible and make everyone proud..he’s truly amazing..”

You grasp at pink petals—deteriorated by the chilling weather—as you fit them as you see fit. Filling in each space like a piece of a puzzle.

 “That encounter made me think back to the lake. It made me realize how similar we are. We’re both fragile and delicate and were surrounded by people who’d still expect us to give away our bones despite already relinquishing our flesh and blood…so what went wrong with me?”

 “Wh.. What?” He stammered. You lift your handiwork into the air, presenting it to the moon for judgement before you finally repeat yourself..

 “What went wrong? I made mistakes just like the lake, so why wasn’t I given the benefit of the doubt? Why did my family–my father–abandon me?”

Abandon. That word stuck to him like a burn to his skin and it felt as if he had just opened his eyes for the first time in a century. It made him realize all the little things at last; how tense the air was, how dim your eyes were, how often your brows twitched, how your eyes seemed like glass balls, how forced your smile seemed.. The illusion he had absorbed himself shattered in that instant, allowing reality to set in like a heavy weight. The person who sat beside him, the one who he’s come to view as the sun that brightened up his day, had looked so different in that moment that he could mistake them for an entirely different person. Did they always look like that? If so, for how long? How long has his sun been this dim? And why didn’t he notice it sooner?

 “I’m sorry, that was cruel of me to ask you that,” You profess in a raspy whisper before turning to him, plopping the finished product—a tri-colored flower crown—atop his head as you mutter, “There’s no way you can answer that.. It was my mistake..”

Kabukimono blinks, his eyes looking up as he tries to peer at the crown to no avail. It was like watching a kitten play with a toy; adorable. Kabukimono didn’t catch it, but upon seeing such a cute sight, you bit down on your bottom lip as your eyes narrowed—damn nea glaring—his way. Luckily, you catch yourself before he notices, trying to laugh it off as you look over at the lake once more. Though your laugh was even drier than the previous one that left your lips and came tumbling out of your mouth like gravel.

 “You know, you remind me so much of my brother,” You said, “You have so much potential to live whatever life you want, to make everyone happy and still keep yourself intact..I almost envy you.”

Kabukimono—hands delicately tracing the rim of the flower crown on his head—grimaced at your comment. Envy. Such a negative feeling to harbor towards him and for no reason at all. After all, he’s nothing special. If he was, surely she wouldn’t have discarded him and left him to rot alone. Alas, before he can tell you that, you started rambling again.

 “I used to make mistakes all the time when I was younger. Especially with swords,” You told him, though it looked more like you were talking to the lake at your knees by the way you were so intently gazing at it, “I just couldn’t get the hang of it. That applied to a lot of things my father tried to teach me… Heh, it makes sense why he gave up on trying after my brother was born.”

 “Wh- What are you saying..?” Kabukimono asked. It came out as a hoarse whisper that was easily carried away by the warm winds and far away from your ears. Hence why you continued instead of answering, surely.

 “You asked me once about the story behind how my obsession for knitting came about.. Why I enjoy it so much.. Well, the reason I never told you was because the truth is quite silly in hindsight; it was to apologize to my father.”

 “I felt sorry for him. After all, his oldest son—who was supposed to carry on and lift a weight off his shoulders–was completely hopeless in every way. I truly did feel bad..and so I thought the least I could do was ease his mind—to reassure him that his useless son could do something right.”

 “You shouldn’t talk about yourself like that–” “After keenly watching my mother sew clothes and observing the female servants make clothing they could otherwise not afford, I was able to do something out of these impractical hands..” You held your hands up and kabukimono winces at the sight. They look like the aftermath of an intense fight, scars—some new, some old—littered your skin, some even stained it with the ugly dark crust that forms when the skin begins to heal. Did they always look that way? “Would you like to know what I made?”

 “I– I’m not—” “I made a fox. A tiny little fox attached to a string,” You said, “I thought it would be cute if he would tie it around the hilt of his sword and carry it around — similar to how one would a good luck charm. I was so excited when I finally finished and ran straight to my father's dojo on the far edge of our home to show it to him.”

 “Y/n–” “At the sight of my creation, my father frowned so deeply I thought his face would become permanently creased by it. ‘Is this what you waste your idle time doing?’ he asked me before cutting my little fox to shreds. ‘No wonder you’ve become such a disappointment! You sit around knitting animals instead of dedicating yourself to training!’ he went on to say.”

 “He went to grumbling under his breath after that. He kept his voice low, but I still heard what he said.. Wanna guess? He said—”

 “Y/n, stop!” The sound of shuffling of him as he stumbles to his feet is loud—though small in comparison to the boom of his scream. You pause, surprised albeit you barely show it—or rather, you’re barely able to force yourself to react—only being able to slowly blink his way in the end as you stare up at your darling housemate, who’s pretty eyes had welled up with tears.

 Stop..please..” He pleaded. A sniffle pushing him past the line of embarrassment, causing him to hide his face from you, “I- I beg of you.. Don’t say another word..not if you plan to degrade yourself like this!”

 “..Kabukimono, don’t..—” He hears you call from the other side of the barrier he created between the two of you, but he’s finally quicker, interrupting you for the first time tonight.

 “Your family abandoned you, but that helped you find your way to me,” He choked, “They didn’t see your worth for what it truly was..but that allowed me to! Who cares what they think of you? How they perceive you? They aren’t in your life anymore, I am! So stop talking down on yourself like they are!” With every word that leaves his lips—that seep through the unseen slits between his fingers—Kabukimono seems to crack more and more until he falls apart, collapsing to the ground in a fit of sobs which causes the flower crown to fall ungracefully off his head.

 “I- I’m in your life now, and I don’t care what you’re good or bad at! I don’t have any expectations for you to meet! It doesn’t matter if you don’t meet society’s standards! I don’t care about any of that. I just want to stay by your side! Isn’t that enough? Aren’t I enough?”

 “Kabukimono..” You call. A moment of silence passes and a chime of bells in the form of your choked sobs fill his ears as you snivel, “No.. No, no— I- I'm sorry. Don’t cry, please don’t cry..”

He suddenly feels the warmth of your arms surrounding his kneeled being and he finds himself crying harder to the point every sorrowful yell and sniffle rattled his entire body. You had wrapped your arms around him in an attempt to comfort him, but it was rather pitiful and futile, seeming as you were sobbing yourself, repeating, “Sorry.. I’m so sorry..” over and over like it was your matra.

You two stayed like that; sobbing amongst the serene sound of the water until it drowned you two out altogether. After some time, your loud croaks had been reduced to weak whimpering—though if the reason for that was because your voice grew too hoarse to form proper words or another reason was unclear.

Neither of you cared, or at least, Kabukimono didn’t. All that he cared about was the feeling of being tangled in your arms and the sound of your heartbeat singing in his ear—which he had pressed against your chest.

 “Promise me,” He whispered, his voice rasp, “Promise me that you’ll be honest with me from now on. A- And promise me not to degrade yourself anymore..that you won’t think about the past..all of it. I want you to promise me that you’ll move on..with me,” He clutched at your kimono, crumpling the flowers on it with his grip as he awaited your response with bated breath.

And when you finally did—when you finally mumbled your response and in the exact way he wanted you to—he felt as though the sun had finally come out again, better and brighter than before..

 “I promise.”

Humans are odd creatures. They’re treacherous liars by nature who spew falsehoods for the sake of their own twisted amusement, uncaring of those affected by their games.

 “There was once a small village here. If you go the opposite way of the path we usually tread, you can still find the remnants of what it used to be.”

It’s been two weeks since you left for the village to sell goods. You still hadn’t returned.

It’d usually take no more than a few days for you to sell everything and come home, so after said days had passed and you were nowhere to be seen, he grew worried and—in the end—went to the village in search of you.

..But you weren’t there either. In fact, from what he gathered from asking around, you had left the village days ago.

 “The village's main source used to be this lake. Everyone relied on it for everything. To drink, to cook, to bathe.. Even some of the oddest ways of entertainment came from here..”

You weren’t here at the village, but you weren’t home either..so where had you gone? The question sunk into him, weighing him down like an anchor and causing his stomach cavity to drop. A feeling of dread set over him as he came upon the unsettling realization; you were missing.

Where had you gone? What happened when you left the village a few days ago? Had you been kidnapped? Grown more frantic with each thought that popped into his head, Kabukimono ran around, asking every villager he came across about you until he finally gained a morsel of information—a speckle of hope—when a man mentioned seeing someone that fit your description walk towards the entrance of the village with an empty, woven basket as big as themselves hanging on their back.

And without much thought, he took off in that very direction, heeding the man no mind any longer despite his warnings about the impending storm that was soon to consume the area.

 “This lake, though bound by the earth to this one place, saved that village so many times that the townsfolk began to believe that some powerful being was secretly living in the depths of it and protecting them. They began to idolize it, nurture and take care of it, and spoke about it as if this little lake was some otherworldly deity which created tall tales and legends that they’d go on to tell their children…believe it or not, I took part in such absurdity.”

Kabukimono remained unfazed when the path beneath his feet began to turn dark and slippery, when the graying sky finally shed its tears, when those tears dampened his clothing, not even when he nearly fell into a puddle. All that he could focus on was the possible places you would have gone and why the place you chose wasn’t home where he was.

 “So..what happened to the village?”

 “The lake failed them.”

 “Y/n! Where are you? Can you hear me?” After a while of running with no destination in mind, Kabukimono found it best to call out to you in hopes you’d make your way to him, call his name back, something–anything–that would hint towards you being near.

He raised his voice as high as he could, his voice likely being carried across nations from how loud he was, and yet, he was met with nothing but the deafening sound of thunder roaring to life. It was disheartening, but as he stood amongst the rain, the final wire in his head finally clicked and the memory of you sitting before crystal waters was pushed to the forefront of his mind.

It’s a slim chance, but maybe you had gone there and, for whatever reason, stayed.

In an instant, he was running at full speed once again, steering in the direction his memory remembered best.

 “A fire of unknown origins enveloped it in the dead of night. It wiped out half the village and forced the other half to flee for safety..some of which came to me, who lived on the outskirts of town.”

 “No one knew how it started. After all, fire wasn’t anywhere close to being the most accessible resource they had. It was a luxury, even. It also never spread past the village and by sunrise, it ceased to exist altogether. The oddity of the situation made the survivors believe that it was some punishment from their lake deity.”

 "That thought clouded their minds and the thought of disappointing their all-forgiving god drove them mad..”

He made it to the lake by nightfall—not that he could tell by looking up, seeming as it's been the same color since earlier that afternoon—and as if a light was shining down on it from the sky, the lake gleamed almost magically. Its darkened waters seemed to shine like a ruby even under the thick clouds and he sees the ripples from where he stood in the distance. The waves paving a clear way for him to follow, slowly leading up to the center where he spots something.. 

 “Convinced that it was their fault everything was lost, the surviving villagers went about the rest of their days repenting by praying to the lake from sun up to sun down…”

As he slowly walked closer, familiar strands of hair became noticeable. Though cut into uneven chunks and spread out to be nearly invisible in comparison to the deep red of the water that it floats in, he was sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. That said, he found himself following the strands to the origins of where they once flourished from. His eyes locked on the indistinguishable lump once again and he was sure that it and the reason he came here were unrelated…until something floating beside it caught his eyes.

That something was a hairpin. One with a golden base and purple and red flowers dancing along the edge of it…just like the one he bought you the day you decided to throw him that welcoming party.

 “...until the waters rose and they disappeared while being enveloped by the deity's embrace."

 “Y/n.. Y/n!” Despite the pressure of it dawning on him felt like two boulders falling on his shoulders, Kabukimono rushed into the water and immediately the white clothing that covered his being stained a murky crimson whilst a putrid smell invaded his nostrils. It made him feel sick—nauseated, even—but he did his best to push it all down as he clumsily swam towards the center of the lake.

It wasn’t true. This wasn’t happening. This surely can’t.. What’s floating amongst the water truly isn’t what he thinks it is.

It isn’t you. There’s no way. You made a promise that you still haven’t fulfilled, after all. You wouldn’t break your promise, not someone like you.

After what felt like an eternity, he reaches the center of the lake which he now notices is more of an inky black and only stretches as far as a few rogue strands. He grabs ahold of the lump, sucking in a breath when his fingertips sink in slightly as if pressing against a firm, wet cushion. It felt disgusting. He hesitates, but ultimately squeezes down enough to pull it along even with the sickening slick gushing at the pressure and making his grasp unsteady.

He reaches land at long last, immediately escaping onto the wet grass and tugging the lump out along with him. It looked less like a lump now, and though swole and looking like some abstract art piece, there was no mistaking it. It was flesh. This was a person, or rather, the remains of one..and they looked eerily similar to you even when all blotched and bloody, there was no denying that.

But even if this was you, there’s no way you could be dead. No, that’d be impossible. You have to be asleep. You had to have decided to take a dip in the lake and fell asleep. That’s the only thing that makes sense.

His shaky palms reach out to you and he touches you with his cold, wet hands that were actively getting more and more drenched with every raindrop that fell on them. He gently swept your hair from your face, tucked it tentatively behind your ear, and cupped your cheek.

His breath stutters. It was as if he was touching pure ice. But that can’t be possible. You’re his sun, his light, somebody like you shouldn’t feel like this.

..Well actually, it makes sense. You fell asleep in the water plus it’s raining. Even someone as warm as you would succumb to the cold under these circumstances. It makes sense. It’s okay. He’ll help you warm up in the comfort of your home as soon as he wakes you up.

He slides his hand down your face—past your now oddly grayed lips and down your neck—until he reaches your bare shoulder, which wrinkles had been exposed due to his rough handlings in pulling you out of the water by the drapes of your clothing. He promises to apologize when you awake. Because you will wake up. There’s no doubt. Because you’re just sleeping.

 “Y/n..” He calls softly. Too softly seeming as you remain unmoving. He decides to give your shoulder a gentle shake, calling your name once again, “Y/n.”

 “Y/n. It’s time to wake up,” Your lashes don’t flutter. You don’t grimace from the discomfort of his shaking growing more and more aggressive. You don’t do anything.

 “I don’t mean to disturb you, but you’ll probably get sick if you lie here in the rain any longer,” The same result. Blood begins to seep under his fingernails from how hard he’s digging his nails into your skin. He continues to shake you anyways, even going on to grip your other, covered shoulder.

 “Come on, you can’t sleep around forever. I- I planned to surprise you by making dinner all by myself tonight. It’s your favorite so you have to try it,” His nose was beginning to tingle from the odor that was invading it. Where was it coming from? Why is it so much stronger than before now that he’s closer to you? He forces his mind not to make the connection. Not that there was a connection in the first place. You were just sleeping, after all.

Just sleeping, nothing else.

Kabukimono’s hand trails down your arm, down past your wrist, to your hand where he enlaces his fingers with yours, “Come on,” He said, though his voice was quieter now, more shaky, and his words cracked like glass, allowing his desperation to seep through just a little, “We have to get home..”

 “I- I want to go home now, so let’s go..please..” He lifts your hand, raising your arm into the air and ignoring the deep, dark lines etched messily into your skin—the deepest looking one right over the vein of your wrist—and giving it a firm squeeze. You don’t reciprocate the action.

His grip loosens after a while and your fingers slide down his palm and flop to the ground beside you. You had to be really, really tired. But that’s okay, he’ll help you out!

He moves to hover over you, a grim smile etched on his face as he loops his arms around your waist and hoists you up. Your body collides with his as all your weight shifts to lean on him.

He holds you tightly, his head turning so as to not hit his nose against your chest and instead allows you to lean against the side of his face, his ear pricking up at the sweet symphony of...silence.

Sitting there, amongst the loud rain with his ear pressed against your chest—right over your heart—he’s met with deafening silence instead of the usual beat your heart strings typically produce. Your heart wasn’t playing its usual tune. It wasn’t playing anything, in fact, because it wasn’t beating. If your heart wasn’t beating anymore that meant you weren’t breathing anymore either which meant..you..

Tears—ones that he wasn’t aware of—were building up in his eyes, falling like a castle under attack. They slowly descended one after another, quickly fusing with the rainwater and forming as a long, thick stream along his cheek and past his mouth—which he had cracked open to bare his clenched teeth.

 “Y/n..what have you done?” He whispered. His voice sounded small like a baby fox’s cry for help; vulnerable and weak. He then repeats himself one last time, slowly, “..Why have you done this..?”

Silence. His teeth crackles under the pressure of him forcing them impossibly closer together.

 “Answer me,” He says through gritted teeth before yelling out, visibly and uncharacteristically enraged, “Answer me!”

Silence. He shakes you hard, your head rolling every which way like a ragdoll to the point it’d make one believe that any harder would cause it to roll right off your shoulders. Luckily, for his sake, it doesn’t.

 ��You promised me!” He shouted, his voice then dipped, “..you promised me..”

Silence. A choke spells his demise quickly after that and his strength suddenly fails him, allowing your body—your corpse—to fall unceremoniously to the ground. He follows suit soon after, and when he does, he lets out a scream. One that clawed its way out from the depths of his chest, spilling his agony out of his throat and laying it bare for the entire world to see…alas, with nothing but the moon to comfort him.

Humans are odd creatures. Ones that cannot be trusted, no matter who they are or what past they may harbor, at least, that’s what Kabukimono.. Kunikuzushi…

That’s what Scaramouche has grown to believe after centuries of nothing but betrayal.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[monogamia]

im so embarassed of sending asks but I LOVED YOUR LAST POST. Idk what to say, but could you do character analysis? If you only write as x reader it could be relationship hc or analisys of how they act w reader JUST DO YOUR MAGIC 💗💗💗💗

੭⠀ A deeper look into the relationship.

⋆⠀AUTHOR’S NOTES: I’m not sure if this is exactly what you wanted or which character you had in mind, but here it is! If it’s not quite what you had in mind, feel free to send another ask. By the way, to the people who sent requests,thank you! I’ll be posting soon, I just need a little time to write 🫶🏻

⋆⠀FEATURING: Frederick Kreiburg 'Composer'.

⋆⠀WARNING: This post contain spoilers of Ashes of Memory and Frederick’s backstory.

The room was silent. Frederick stood by the window, his silhouette framed by the faint glow of moonlight. He didn’t look at you when he spoke. “I never planned on letting anyone get this close.” His fingers tapped idly against the windowsill, a subtle betrayal of his nerves. “But now… I can’t imagine leaving without you.” He finally turned, his eyes meeting yours. “Tell me you’ll come with me. That this—whatever this is—wasn’t a mistake.”

⋆⠀Frederick grew up carrying more burdens than he could handle. His father’s rejection, combined with his disorder, instilled in him a constant need to distance himself from others to feel “safe.” The disappointment of realizing he didn’t inherit the natural talent that ran in his family’s veins didn’t help either, and his paranoia only worsened over time.

⋆⠀His perception of the people around him is always the same—neutral, if he even cares enough about them to give them any space in his mind. So, when you were introduced, Frederick was polite and brief, treating you just like anyone else who had entered the manor.

⋆⠀His thoughts about you only began to change after you confronted Orpheus for overstepping into matters that were none of his business. At first, Frederick assumed you were just a people pleaser trying to lower his guard. However, later that same day, he overheard you chatting with Alice and Melly once again, telling them about how you were against being so impolite and disrespectful.

⋆⠀The closeness between you two didn’t happen overnight, but small gestures and actions here and there gradually allowed you both to feel at ease in each other’s presence. He listened to you, engaged in normal conversations, and stopped giving short replies just to end the discussion. He even waited for you to arrive at the table before starting to eat. For others, it was surprising to see Frederick interacting without being defensive, though they simply assumed it was a budding friendship.

⋆⠀In the beginning, that’s all it was. Frederick wasn’t exactly thrilled about having someone he could call a friend, but he wasn’t upset about it either. When he realized his feelings were changing, though, he tried to deny them to himself. Yet, seeing how futile that was, he was left with only one option: acceptance.

⋆⠀Being in a relationship with him can be complicated. Even if he trusts you, he’s unlikely to let you know much about his past—unless it directly affects your relationship. The thought of you abandoning him is something he cannot bear, and he is willing to do anything to prevent that, from killing to opening up about some past traumas.

⋆⠀Frederick’s paranoia is no secret. He feels not only jealousy but also a deep-seated anger toward anyone who dares to take your attention away from him. He firmly believes that people have ill intentions when they approach you and wants you to believe that as well. And if you dismiss it? Oh, God, either he’ll manipulate you with tears, or he’ll accuse you of betraying him.

⋆⠀If you ever get upset with him, he’ll send romantic letters, dedicate songs to you, and do things straight out of a romance novel. Part of these actions can be a sincere apology; the rest, although, can also be just an attempt to make you forget whatever mistake he made.

⋆⠀Above all, once you agree to be his partner, Frederick will include you in his plans for life after leaving the manor. Even if he doesn’t fully explain what those plans entail, one thing is certain—leaving you behind is not an option for him.

[noodle-is-unstable]

Hey, just a question but why were you fine with the abusive power dynamics between Sukuna and Uraume (Ume being so devoted to Sukuna and Sukuna only that they killed themself and Sukuna being fine with this blind devotion + Sukuna, a curse/cursed user, making Uraume, a human, cook human meat, including children, for him) so far but the moment he might have met them as a kid/teen you aren't fine? It was a "problematic" ship from the start, idk why everyone is acting horrified that the villains do villain things. But also meeting as a kid and dating as a kid is soooo different, they're both thousands years old in current days so like...

So first of all, you're more than welcome to ask questions and have a discussion but the tone in which this is written is coming off as agressive in my opinion. I don't appreciate that. Perhaps I'm reading into it wrong and that wasn't your intent, but it still has an unnecessary agressive tone to me. Especially in how you chose to end it with "so like..."

I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume I'm misinterpreting the tone because it's very possible I am.

Now onto the actual question.

So unless something happened in the epilogue I missed I don't agree with your assessment of their relationship at all. If this context is given in the epilogue the point is moot because it was still something I wasn't privy to.

So I'm going off the manga for my knowledge of their relationship.

I think it's possible and valid that this is the interpretation you got from this, but it's simply not the same one I have.

I don't see their relationship as an abusive dynamic. (this can change with the new knowledge or context in the epilogue but we're taking about my perspective and why I wrote about it before this)

I saw Uraume as a very loyal servant, but not an abused or manipulated one. I didn't see Sukuna forcing things onto Uraume, I saw them choosing to do these things. (Remember this is in the context where we didn't know how Uraume and Sukuna met). I saw Uraume as choosing to follow Sukuna, choosing to cook humans, choosing to be devoted to Sukuna. They chose to follow him. They chose to be reincarnated to stay by his side. Uraume isn't some innocent little lamb being tricked by a wolf. They killed many people too. Also I think you forget Sukuna was a human too. Sukuna was a human eating humans and Uraume was a human cooking humans. They both participated in fucked up activities. Uraume isn't innocent and being forced to do anything. If they were I doubt they would have worked so hard to bring him back rather than just leaving and living their reincarnated life without him.

Simply put I saw Uraume as a very willing participant in everything that happened. I don't see their dynamic as abusive. You do and you have every right to, but I don't.

I also don't agree with your logic that their villains and do villian things so I should be okay with everything. Stealing is against the law, but so is murder. They're both bad, but they aren't equal. There is so much nuance to situations like this it's not realistic to just make it all equal.

Not to mention there is zero feelings that aren't platonic shown in the manga, that's all headcannons. It's not actually apart of the series at all. This is something fans have put onto the characters. This whole argument is in a fan made concept.

I am uncomfortable with pushing a romantic relationship on them when the situation is that he took Uraume in as a kid. I don't like it, it gives me the ick. So shocking, but if I don't like or agree with something, I'm not going to write about it.

Like I said in my last post I don't give a shit about the argument they're 1000 years old now, I don't like it.

He met Uraume as a child

He helped raise them

I'm not going to push a romantic aspect to that situation

You're allowed to disagree. You're allowed to not have a problem with that dynamic. You're allowed to see their dynamic differently than I do. But at the end of the day this is my page and I'm allowed to decide what I do and don't want to write for. And I don't want to write for that dynamic

[disastrouscanasta]

@evidenceof happy christmas yna!!!! i was your secret santa this year, and it was an absolute BLAST! you were the best giftee, very thorough in your answers to my asks, and if i didn't need to maintain anonymity for so long, i would have picked your brain on soooo many of your wonderful thoughts. YOU UNDERSTAND ALL THE PAIRINGS SO WELL, and literally every prompt and idea you gave me was SO amazing, and incredible to explore. thank you for being so lovely <3 for you, i have a fic that i've worked on over the past few weeks, inspired by your prompts!

A Busy Blur | runner/leckie | 2k | post-war, developing relationship, a touch of epistolary & long-distance love

**

“You’ll write to me, won’t you Cobber?” Runner said, a playful lilt in his voice. Leckie could have sworn he caught a flash of something more vulnerable, more honest, from around the bags under his eyes, under the furrow of Runner’s brow. 

“If you learn how to read, sure.” Leckie said.

And Runner laughed, mouth splitting open in a bright smile that drew Leckie’s attention away from the bruises and the sling his friend’s arm was suspended in.

**

The first letter was simple.

Leckie,

I bet you’re home safe, now. And if you’re not, well, that’s your fault for being the only idiot sonofabitch to get hurt on the train ride from the harbour, instead of being killed by artillery. Somehow, that sounds about right.

Hope the mailing address is right,

Conley.

Leckie smiled wide when he read it, forgetting that he was sitting across from his stone-faced father at the table, half-eaten eggs forgotten in front of him when he had Runner’s letter in his hands.

“Did you get a cheque?” His father asked, speaking up for the first time since he’d come into the dining room and filled the seat at the far side of the table, away from his son.

“No,” Leckie answered simply. If his mother was there, she might have pried, probably asked about a girl, she’d have put just an inch more effort than his dad ever had.

His father made a short grunting sound before turning back to his paper.

(He read the Philadelphia Inquirer. Leckie himself worked for the Philadelphia Record. Figures.)

**

Leckie kept a notebook on him at all times, but he used it most at sports games, taking notes on the plays and activity of the baseball season. The notepad was filled with shorthand accounts of who was doing best, who was doing the worst, teams and rosters and everything he could come up with.

Some days (most,) he wasn’t granted the privilege of good seats, or even tickets to whatever sport was being played. But he had to write the damn article, anyway. So he sat by the radio, listening to the play-by-play accounts as they happened, with their paper’s roster open on the table in front of him.

His notebook looked something like this:

23/04/‘46

NY Giants vs. P. P.

JUDD, Oscar - pitching.

^ 3 SO

NORTHEY, Ron - batting

^ Home run, flyball to deep RF

SEMINICK, Andy - batting

^ Single, F. MCCORMICK SCORES

Playtime : 2hrs 14mins

PS: tell Runner about the weather

**

He’d been surprised at how easy it was to slip back into camaraderie with Runner.

But then again it had been easy on the boat, too, when—

Well, that was in the past. And even if there had been a few road bumps, they had never stopped being friends.

The war being over, reassuringly, didn’t stop that.

**

Runner,

He wrote at the start of his response, and paused. 

Runner’s letter sat next to him on his desk, under the warm light of the lamp. It had been dark for hours, and Leckie just couldn’t bring himself to put anything on the page until nearly midnight.

That letter had started with Leckie, and wasn’t that awfully formal? They’d gotten to know each other more intimately than most people would ever manage and— Leckie. It was impersonal. He’d expected something more ridiculous, Peaches, Cobber, something like that.

Leckie was sticking with Runner, for his own purposes.

(It had taken everything in him not to write Dear Vera. Less out of intent, and more out of habit. He’d never sent her any of his letters, and by the time he got him, she was already married. She looked happy, at least.)

Runner,

Got home in one piece. Based on your letter, and the fact that that chicken-scratch is unmistakably yours, I’ll guess that you’re alright stateside.

Since we haven’t got a war to talk about, I’m telling you a bit about work (a bit of complaining, so that you know it’s really me.)

The Philly Phillips won, 5-2. The paper made me sit by the radio box and take notes like some kind of spook, you’d think I work for the Russians, if you saw me hunched over my notebook like that. Last week, they got me a ticket to the actual game. We lost, with three points down. I think I’m cursed, if my presence makes the team lose.

Whatever. It’s still better than scraping out a latrine, with you sorry folks for company.

Leckie.

He posted it in the morning, and tucked Runner's letter away in his drawer.

**

Hoosier promised to write, so did Chuckler, and that Phillips kid, but ultimately, every time he got handed a personal letter by the postman, it was always, always, from Runner.

It felt ridiculous. He’d gone a whole war with those fellas, and they didn’t say so much as hello? But hey, what was he supposed to do?

(Their mailing addresses were tucked away in the same drawer that he kept any letters he got from Runner. They had his, he had theirs, and maybe his was part of some ongoing game of Chicken that he was playing with Hoosier. Either way, Runner didn’t care.)

Cobber,

The newest letter said, because Runner had quit with the Leckie pretence and cut to the chase with the stupid nicknames. Leckie couldn’t help but feel relief. Too many people had called him by his surname in the Marines. And back home, too many people called him Bob. Runner managed to find that surprising middle ground, by letting Leckie be someone else completely, just for a moment.

I’ve got a reason to write this, for once. Today, is Memorial Day. Which, as far as I’m concerned, is the government telling me to take the day off and get wasted, flashing that little veteran’s tag to get a discount at my local drink house.

Now, you’ll get this on, what? Beginning of June? Take some time for yourself, have a drink. (I’m not paying, though. That’s up to you, and your fancy paper job.)

Runner

If there was one thing that Leckie could be assured about, it’s that Runner’s letters would make him smile. He started reading them in his bedroom, instead of cracking the letter open in the dining room, where his parents had to see.

Everyone seemed to expect him to have left the war overseas. And it might have been over, but he couldn’t help but yearn for something that he’d had then. Not war, but something that had been so closely linked with the brutality of it all, that he didn’t think he’d be able to articulate it to anyone.

Maybe, he pondered, Runner understood him. Runner had understood him better than a lot of people had. On the boat ride home from that Australian hospital—

Runner just got it.

**

Runner,

He started, a couple weeks later.

You should get this by July 4th, and I wish you a good Independence Day. Go to a barbecue, wear your dress blues, go to a banquet. 

I hope it’s better for you than it will be for me. My parents are leaving me all alone to spend time with my brother and his wife, a couple towns over. I’m expecting to spend the night tucked up in my bedroom, shouting bah, humbug! everytime I hear fireworks. I hope the reference doesn’t go over your head— I can explain it in my next letter.

Leckie

**

The Fourth of July was more miserable than he’d expected. The commotion stirred up more in Leckie’s chest than he wanted to admit. The fireworks were too loud, and July was too hot. He laid on his childhood bed in nothing but his boxers, staring up at the ceiling, working through his third glass of beer.

At some point, he got up, pulled a paper from his desk and started writing.

Runner,

These damn holidays might be more exciting if you got closer.

There’s a good bar near my work, they do swing dancing on Thursday nights: I’m sure it’s your venue. You’re the best dancer I know!

I hope you can hear the sarcasm.

I won’t pick Hoosier over you, this time.

Leckie.

In the morning, after a cup of coffee and an aspirin for his headache, he read it through (as well as a typed page-and-a-half of hazy memories from Mbanika, which he crumpled into a ball and tossed under his bed.) and tucked it carefully into the drawer with Runner’s letters.

He didn’t really want to think too hard about all that.

**

Peaches,

I got the reference, thanks. I like to think you have those big mutton chops that I remember from those old pictures. You’re called Peaches, but you’re not all that sweet, are you?

That’s not a real question. I know the answer.

Hope your Independence Day was as boring as mine. I forgot how loud those things were.

Runner

**

Leckie couldn’t stop writing them. Stupid, ridiculous messages that really meant nothing.

He put them in his drawer, tucked away just in case he ever needed it. Leckie didn’t think it was vain, but some of them were well written. He didn’t feel that too often, so he kept them.

**

I saw a guy with your haircut, made me look twice just to be sure. I should have known it wasn’t you; he was taller.

That one was scribbled in his work notebook, while he was at the game (Phillips vs. Chicago Cubs), and the audience clapped and jeered around him.

You’re a marine, but how well can you swim? I’ve never asked.

Leckie wrote that question on a napkin in a diner. His pen ripped through it at the end.

**

I miss the boys. I miss you.

He didn’t write that one, but he heard it reverberating in his head when he flicked the lamp off. It was burned into the backs of his eyelids, anyway.

I miss you.

He was surprised that he meant it.

**

Professor,

That was how Runner opened his next message. It made Leckie smile. (Of course it did. They all did.)

Why DO we celebrate Labour Day? I saw them putting streamers and banners and what-not up in the streets today. New York City is a funny beast— you should come by, watch the parade.

Hope you get a day off work, and some time to yourself. (I’m still not paying for your drinks)

Runner

Leckie stared at that message for longer than he had any right to. By the time he sent his reply, Labour Day had passed, and he could only wonder what Runner had meant by any of it.

**

Runner,

I’ve got to come up with something more exciting for you. It’s difficult when I can’t see all the ridiculous shit you’re getting yourself into. And you don’t have the inclination to write it to me, I bet.

I’d call you a coward, but you’d call me one right back. Have you ever realised that we bicker like school children?

Leckie

**

To the man who mocks me,

Yeah, well, it’s hard to come up with nicknames for you too. That one just now was shit.

You want to know what I’ve been up to? Really? Well, I’ve got a job at the steelworks, which is great and all. Except I ran into a piece of machinery the other day, busted my lip wide open. There was a hell of a lot of blood. I think the 16-year-old kid who works next to me fainted. How’s that?

We’re both cowards, so what? We served our damn country.

Buster (I sure buster’ed my lip open. Get it?)

**

Bruiser,

All I have to say is that: you’re an idiot!

Yours,

The brilliant professor who’s kept himself out of danger

**

Leckie thought about Runner too much, he realised.

Some part of him was always waiting for the next letter, waiting to write, to come up with something short and stupid to say to the man, just so that he could imagine Runner’s familiar laugh.

Shit. Leckie thought, as he folded up another half-drafted, but unsendable letter.

**

Professor,

Tell me a story, if you’re so wise.

Your bruised-lipped-friend,

Runner

**

Runner,

If you really want to know, I’ve been more of an idiot to you.

My mother asked me this morning if I was getting married soon. I told her no.

She said that she thought I had been in contact with “that lovely girl from across the street,” and the woman she meant was the dearest Vera that everyone was so tired of hearing about. I had to break my mother’s heart and tell her that Vera moved away months ago, and that she was already married— to an army man, no less.

The old woman was more distraught about it than I was. Turns out she thought that Vera and you were one in the same. I’m surprised she never sent you an engagement present.

Leckie.

**

Leckie,

Hell, why didn’t you say so? I would have acted soppier.

In that case, you should come to New York this November and visit your sweetheart, how’s that?

Runner

**

Leckie blinked at that, then he stared for a long time, hoping to make sense of it all.

**

Runner,

November’s no good, I’m all booked up. How’s early December?

Leckie

**

To a difficult guest,

I guess I can fit you into my busy schedule.

I’ll see you in three weeks, then?

Runner.

**

Leckie booked a train ticket before he could convince himself otherwise.

Then, he stuffed a handful of his little messages into an envelope, scribbled Runner’s address, and mailed it all without a second thought.

Five days letter, he got an envelope back, inside, with no signature, was something simple, etched in Runner’s charming chicken-scratch:

We should have done all this in February. I would have wished you a happy Valentine’s.

[affogato-analysis]

Art as resistance in Arcane

Disclaimer! I’m not an artist, I don’t study art, I will have the most obvious takes on art and will avoid discussing any technicalities of art! I wholeheartedly beg for someone to come and tell more stuff about art in the comments/reblogs, either because you agree or think I said a lot of sht throughout this post :D

What I am, however, is a student in political science working towards my master’s degree! Which clearly doesn't mean you have to just eat what I’m saying without critical thinking but I do have some idea of what I’m saying and I will be quoting my sources.

Also, heads up, spoilers ahead for the entire show.

So! Art and resistance and Arcane.

One of my favorite things in Arcane is the worldbuilding, because it’s exceptionally well done. I do not know if 100% of it was 100% intentional or if some things just happened to be there but I can not say anything about the way the show writes the inequalities between Piltover and Zaun and introduces the two parts of the city. It doesn’t mean we’re not allowed our grievances with the show of course, but i’d defend that this element of it is almost flawless.

And thus, let us talk about art as domination, art as resistance.

So! How is art resistance in Arcane? Well in multiple ways of course!

It's very obvious in Paint the Town Blue, where art very much is the weapon of rebellion (that and molotovs i guess).

Blue is the symbol, the rallying force, Jinx's blue is the answer to the enforcers’ blue and Zaunites riots are the answer to Piltovian oppression.

Jinx's monkeys are known in Piltover, it's the sign of her bombs and it's a threat. Since the assault on the council, she's proven herself to be a terrible, terrible threat.

The spray paint also is the weapon, both because it creates art and because it fights the representation of the situation.

Representations are how we are shown a situation, and therefore influence greatly the way we picture it and that immensely influences how we decide to act upon an event. So this!

is reframing Jinx as Vander's legacy, and it's fake because revolts are not Vander's heritage and Jinx is not walking in Vander's footsteps until Isha comes along, but it's efficient. Vander was a respected man in the Undercity while Silco was violent and brutal with Zaunites.

And it works really well, else the Jinxters would simply not be, let alone that many.

And this!

is also a fight for representation, but it's against Piltovian propaganda. It's still very much Jinx Blue versus Piltover Blue, it's fighting the idea of a consensual intervention based on cooperation between Zaun and Piltover; fighting the idea of kind, violence-i-dont-know-her enforcers by demonizing their picture; showing Caitlyn as blind but not untouchable and refusing to let Piltover expose their propaganda in their city. This is powerful, art and its materials are used as a weapon against Piltover's domination.

And in an even more obvious way, these

are paints and they’re here to say ‘you’re safe nowhere, expect us’, both in season 1 and season 2. Season 1 especially is Jinx mocking Piltover’s core values as the city of progress.

In a slightly less obvious way, this mural:

is resistance too, because it’s fighting how Piltover and the chembarons would describe them: punks, terrorists, hooligans, you get it. It also is because it’s motivational for the resistant forces (the Firelights).

Contestation and resistance are not always all out wars and permanent riots, and silence does not mean total submission. Resistance is to be found in everyday life, through puns and rumors, sabotages and hidden acts of refusal. (James C. Scott, The Arts of Resistance)

There also exist other ways, more subtle, to use art as resistance.

I’m gonna start with my sources here: Pierre Bourdieu. And I’m going to have to put another disclaimer right there: I did not read his work. I was taught it by my university teachers though, and that’s what I’m going to be using as my actual source material.

Well I did read some but I did not pick up the book we’ll be referring to today: La Distinction (The Distinction). Bourdieu said a lot of things but the only one we’re going to focus on in this post is the idea of the distinction (strap in, I have no idea if I can summarize that correctly).

Basically and very summed up, social groups and classes are ranked in hierarchies and all try to not be associated with the lower groups. To avoid this, groups adopt habits that mark them socially, like people who can afford to wear expensive brands will do so because it’s a social marker. It’s also seen in hobbies: not everyone is used to going to museums, not everyone enjoys going to the opera. I learned to go to a museum and enjoy it because my parents are teachers and artists and thus they wanted me to know. It’s a marker of my family’s place in society and social ladder, basically we are automatically branded as cultured people — not saying we are more than anyone else but our culture was in adequation with the ‘good culture’. Because, yes, of course ways to act, consume and be are ranked too, based on who does what. That’s cultural domination. Each group’s cultural practices are ranked in society and are more or less valued, and it very much follows the social ladder placement. Basically, the more a group is valued, the more its practices are seen as good and legitimate in society.

(I’m so sorry this took forever but there is no summarizing Bourdieu in 4 lines)

With that knowledge! It will hopefully make sense when I say that maintaining your autonomy against the pressure of cultural domination is resistance. Basically, if you refuse to see opera as a superior form of entertainment and instead think guy rapping some verses he came up with on the street is better and socially more valuable, that’s resistance. Doesn't mean it's gonna change the world but hey, resistance still.

So pieces of art in the Undercity are refusal of that cultural domination. These refuse to let Piltover be the place of glory, of beauty, refuse to abide by Piltover’s standards of beauty too, because Piltovian art looks like this!

It’s all golden and smooth and uniform, elegant and beautiful. This one statue:

is of Margot, one of the chem barons (same hair, same piercings) and it’s part of the vent system. For one, It means that something Piltover set in place was reclaimed by Zaunites — although not any Zaunite but a chem-baron, multi layered power dynamics at play out there! — but also, look at it. It’s rough around the edges, made of multiple fragments pieced together (you can see it on the chin and across her forehead), it’s sharp and angular and it certainly doesn’t abide by Piltover’s norms for artworks. Statues are associated with powerful people. Margot’s is different from Piltover’s, because she’s not a Piltie and she doesn’t crush Zaun like Piltover does, but this statue still means that art is in Zaun. Not quite the same, but no less pretty and valuable and a statue is still a signifier of power, just like in Piltover.

Same goes for Vander’s statue, all surrounded by pipes and jagged and in the dark too, both of them, contrasting with Piltover’s light and gold!

(this is also domination though. Margot has this statue because she is a chem baron, and she is weaponizing art to increase her own power if only thanks to popularity. She associates herself with clean air for a reason!) (yeah because Cait’s reaction to seeing it makes me think Margot didn’t get permission from the Kiramman before getting that statue done.)

(Also, Bourdieu argued that groups try to reach for the culture of the higher groups in society, to distance themselves from the lower groups. Power in Zaun is also shown through statues, because Piltovian standards of what is great art meant to symbolize great people still seeps through society and trickles down to Zaun.)

(admittedly a severe part of this post is over expanding over what the show actually tells us but the worldbuilding is so coherent that it’s very easy to just push the boundaries of the world we see.)

Also, these are art!

They’re graffiti, street arts made on walls and with spray paint. If you compare it to, let’s say, Mel Medarda’s own painting, not quite the same ambience!

Mel’s art is clean and refined, with paint and a palette and a knife and paintbrushes that are all very expensive, and careful and on a canvas and representing a concrete display of power from Noxus. This is a display of wealth, and it sets the tone for what is “great” art in Piltover (one’s position often determines the value of what they do in life, and Mel is the most powerful person of Piltover, therefore her art is the most valued art there can be) and standards of greatness trickling down through society, this is going to impact Zaun’s standards of beauty too, you get the drill.

So the murals in Zaun are resistance! And these are classic takes on street art: get the art away from the spaces monopolized by the upper classes; bring it to the public, to the street, to the lower classes; challenge the beauty standards; art as expression of a self no matter if it’s with a canvas; accessible art to everybody. This art is not a hyper realistic display of power, but it’s beautiful and it’s art nonetheless.

This also follows the same logic.

I’ll add extra kudos for that image because the song Rebel Heart has a very cathartic “destruction is art!” line and i very much think it’s real. Sometimes, doing great, beautiful and meaningful things means destruction!

And finally, to go back to Mel and art being the most obvious weapon of resistance ever, about maintaining your autonomy against authority and what it tells you is ‘greatness’, I’ll give you these two pictures and rest my case.

[aviad1b]

the Zionist movement was started by predominantly secular people.

i must strongly disagree. if you define "starting Zionism" as Hertzel then sure, but i think we can both agree that this is a terrible definition, as Zionism as an idea existed well before. you did however refer to the movement, not the concept, and to that I say - the first 'Aliya had both religeous and secular people participating, as far as i know. the Zionist movement was one of cooporation, not distinction (although there sure were tensions between religion and secularism).

i admit that i didnt know about the subtle message in Yemei HaChanuka - i have a very hard time accepting that. ive always thought of this song as a song that binds together both aspects of the story, referring to both the temple and the Maccabim (as in, the miracle had a part but so did the effort of the Maccabim, and it is not to be ignored). i understand that this is my own interpretation, especially if the intentions when writing the song were different.

you're right that Anu Nos'im Lapidim isnt about Israeli miletary victories, obviously it was written before that. i must ask you something. you know the pasuk

לא תענה על ריב לנטות אחרי רבים להטות

?

it is thought that this pasuk originaly, without punctuation, meant to NOT solve conflicts by the decision of the majority. after the destruction of the second temple, Jewish scolars had to think of a way to maintain decisions, without signs from god. so they made a different interpretation:

לא תענה על ריב לנטות, (אלא) אחרי רבים להטות

meaning, that decisions ARE to be made by the majority. why make this change? our of understanting of the current situation, to sustain life in a changing reality.

when we say נס לא קרה לנו or אשר חוללו המכבים, i kinda look at it like that. i dont care if god exists, in a sense that question is irrelevant. the reality is that if we dont stand and act by ourselves we will be wiped out. whether that is the intention of god or it happens because there is not god, thats irrelevant. we need to act ourselves. thats how i see these songs, and i do believe that early-modern Zionists had this idea in mind: sustaining life in this reality. a reality where we have to act ourselves, instead of being prone to חסדי הגולה. i have a similar view for the song by Levin Kipnis about Bar Kochva. in a sense it's a mashal. it's to take inspiration from.

lastly, youve referred to the Apikorsim, and i must ask a genuine question: is that not a derogatory term? so far ive only ever seen it paired with minim. idk, whenever i heard that term used for me it was for the same people referring to me as a Hebrew-speaking goy (which i could make an entire separate post about)

[in case there are any goys reading: the term got itself isnt deogratory at all, it just means not Jewish, but when directed towards a Jewish person it gives a very strong conotation of exclusion, a way of saying "we are the real Jews and you arent"]

does diaspora jumblr know about the Nes Lo 'Kara Lanu (נס לא קרה לנו, a miracle didn't happen to us) controversy?

[rafyki]

I think something that for me really sets aside Jack & Joker from other Thai dramas is its narrative structure. Thai dramas usually have a very simple narrative structure where things just keeps happening without a proper flow - I mean, something happens, it gets resolved, and then something new happen that keeps the story move; you know, all those little problems that aren't really all connected together (like, the main characters get together and then someone new appears that comes in between them; or it turns out that, idk, the family was homophobic all along, or that one of the characters actually had a complicated relationship with their family - things like these that are disconnected).

Maybe it's because Jack and Joker has a pretty solid and complicated plot, but something that I really love about it is the way everything that happens is connected, everything is a direct consequence of the characters' actions. It's like this since the first episode until the last one - the plot is brought forward by the characters' actions, everything they do has consequences on everything and everyone else. Like, Joke seeks Jack's forgiveness, so he wants to steal the ring for him, and he works with Tattoo and Hoy -> Tattoo steals the necklace which causes problems for everyone -> they need to steal the necklace back -> Jack meets Rose again, which causes everything else to happen, etc etc

Everything is connected. And I think it all comes back to one of the series' themes, which is that everything we do has consequence, that even if out intentions are good we can't predict what our actions will cause; that we live in a community and that we cannot think about ourselves only bc every time we do something that can end up influencing someone else's life. that we can't be selfish in a community.

[mugentakeda]

the tapping of his fathers pacing on the tile is almost enough to drive him mad.

“don’t let your brother’s incessant whining cause you to falter. this is merely a short visit to discuss the matter at hand, and then you’re on your way right back to ba sing se. he will try and whisper doubt in your ear.” the firelord stops to shake a finger at him. “do not listen to him for anything! i will help you in the best of my ability to have this taken care of.”

“i’m not,” iroh snaps impatiently, digging his palms into his eyes. “i’m not listening to him, father. he doesn’t care for lu ten and he doesn’t have to. he has his house and i have mine. empty words have little meaning to me at the moment.”

his father purses his lips. the sting of his stare digs down to the core.

“you say that,” azulon snaps, “but i believe this to be a family affair. its possible lu ten was taken advantage of because he was too busy protecting ozai’s wife and ozai’s children to protect himself. if that’s true, then ozai owes him. i don’t give a damn if he cares about him as his nephew or not. lu ten honored his house, so he shall honor lu ten in return by shutting his trap for once.”

iroh doesn’t have the strength to respond. he’d left ba sing se in a rush after receiving the news, and ordered the shipmen to get him back home on the double. he’s sick, he’s tired, he’s terrified and angry, and he misses his son something awful. the last thing iroh cares about right now is what ozai does or has to say.

there’s a heavy, sad sigh from above him. azulon slowly makes himself comfortable on the sitting cushion next to him, grunting as his bones creak. he sets the knocked over teacup straight again and refills it. the familiar heat and fragrance does nothing to soothe iroh, however.

“there is nothing i can say to make you feel better as of right now,” his old man mutters, sitting the teapot back down with uncharacteristic gentleness, “nor can i say anything sure about ursa or the children. but lu ten, he…. he is a remarkable young man. thick skinned and ornery. lightning generation at only 21, can you believe that? he beat you by a whole year. you must have faith in him.”

“it’s not about having faith in my son, father, of course i have faith in my son. but i have no faith in whoever has- has stolen him from me!” iroh suddenly exclaims, gesturing wildly. azulon flinches as his hands come dangerously close to knocking over the tea again.

your boy flagrantly disrespected you and stayed home to laze around, ozai had hissed, his narrow eyes locked straight up at the throne. both were kneeling before their father’s throne, side by side. i don’t know why you even bother. if he thinks he’s so grown up then he can save his own skin.

iroh didn’t bother to respond. he has nothing to say to his brother even on the best of days. all his life, he’s been nothing but a background character to iroh. always insisting on holing up in his room or office, never joining family dinners or celebration banquets. never one to offer his congratulations, but expects his older brother to offer his. yet, he always liked to think his word was of any significance to iroh. that he was always to be heeded. respect to his elders only means something to his little brother if there’s something to be gained.

flagrant disrespect. lu ten did not disrespect him if iroh never directly asked or ordered anything of him in the first place. he implied it, and lu ten pushed back. it hurt, but it would’ve also been the boys first true venture outside the fire nation. so iroh understood the hesitancy.

iroh would’ve just had lu ten by his side in his war council anyway. he would’ve never seen the battlefield or the city until iroh leveled it. not a spot of green would be spared by his men.

he had envisioned himself shooting a hole right through the flimsy palace wall with his lightning, and his son by his side. winning.

nothing has gone the way you made it out to be, great spirit. i don’t feel very lucky, as of late. the evening sun peaking through the tall windows of the corridor offer his thoughts no response. the general sighs heavily, and continues on his way.

the royal procession had gone through the beach house, along with the rest of the island. not a trace left behind. no sign of a struggle, either.

the procession claims it’s like they vanished out of thin air, sir, jee had whispered.

delicate situations such as this one call for holding the ones you trust most closer than ever. thus, iroh took only his personal guards from ba sing se back with him. jee is a rugged and introverted man, one that iroh knows can keep a secret, so he has been acting as his messenger man and valet for the time being.

another member of his most trusted circle is one of his longest working servants, one that belongs to iroh’s house personally. her name is su, and she is a stout woman around his father’s age. stern and silent, but trustworthy. she was the one that kept a close eye on lu ten from a distance during the periods of time iroh wasn’t around in his youth. she had been the midwife at his birth, she had been the one to pick the wet nurse.

and she had slipped iroh a journal outside of lu ten’s room. leather bound and stained in a deep red, with delicate embroidery of lotus flowers decorating its cover. it looked like something the lady ursa would gift him.

i came across this left behind in lady ursa’s garden, your highness, she had murmured fiercely. i snatched it right up and held it for you upon your return, lest it fall into the wrong hands.

the dark, warm silence of iroh’s own chambers is a small comfort, but the cold leather of the journal in his hands chains him to the cruel reality.

one of the vows iroh made for himself when lu ten came into puberty was that he would never violate his son’s privacy. he’d like to think that his son’s life possibly being in danger is a good enough reason to break it, but it still feels… wrong. especially now that he’s an adult himself.

it’ll be like eating a dollop of wasabi, he tells himself. spicy and painful one moment, then fading tingling the next.

with a sigh, he cracks it open to the back page. a few lines of familiar scrawl.

and the reason i torture myself trying to ignore all these things about him that bother me is because….

he looks away, shame crawling up his back. the candle sitting at the corner of his desk flicker along with his irregular, fear ridden heart.

a dollop of wasabi, he reminds himself. he opens his eyes again with a long breath and looks back down at the journal once more.

…well, that’s the crux of it. i just don’t know how to finish that sentence anymore.

that tells him a whole lot of nothing.

iroh flips the page back again, and is immediately overwhelmed by completely filled pages. then startled, by the sheer amount of times his own name pops up to his searching eyes among walls of scrawled text.

unease curls in his gut, like a dragon slowly rising from a slumber.

the ink doesn’t look too old. and su had said she found it in the lady ursa’s garden. and then jee said the royal procession claimed the fours’ trip to ember island was only to last three days, tops.

and as far as iroh knew, lu ten had been keeping quietly busy after iroh’s departure to ba sing se. lu ten willingly buried himself in paper work, always hunting for things he had the power to make into his business. training with lightning generation was grueling, and took hours, on top of the meditation necessary. and it takes a clear mind to even work with lightning, so…

had he done something recently to upset lu ten, and didn’t realize it? what things about iroh did lu ten torture himself trying to ignore? dramatic wording like that is difficult to overlook.

the general thinks back to how well his son can hide his emotions. lu ten’s court face beats even ozai’s, so it made him a gnarly pai sho opponent, but… he never did the backhanded comments. he can lie, but he’s a man of action before a plotting one. so you’ll never see the storm coming until it hits you directly in the face.

the letters he got back from him in ba sing se were… neutral. unbothered. he hadn’t seemed very troubled at the palace gates during his departure, either. tired and a bit wary, maybe.

but now that he thinks about it, the way lu ten looked at him had been… strange. his eyes had an emotion swirling in them that the general couldn’t read.

he rapidly rolls over the most recent letters in his head, the days right before leaving, trying to think of what he might have done to set lu ten off-

…the tiff they had on the evening before iroh’s departure.

he had forgotten about it completely.

spirits, he’d forgotten about it by the time he stepped foot on the shore. the elation of finally arriving at ba sing se, the first big step toward fulfilling the biggest thing he’s wanted to accomplish his entire life, the ultimate win, decades of planning and dreaming, inspired by agni herself…

he’d been caught up in the heat of the moment.

it didn’t even turn into an actual argument, that’s how small the tiff had been- a few things thrown back and forth during their private dinner, and the rest of it had been spent in awkward silence. iroh had let his hurt get the better of him, and he got testy.

the only thing that spoiled his ongoing luck, his relief of finally being able to go and crush his country’s most stubborn opponent, to make the second biggest win since sozin- was his own son not joining in, or showing any interest.

and that wasn’t even it. the closer iroh and his advisors got to bringing their planning to a conclusion, the more withdrawn lu ten became. whenever iroh brought it up, his son would close like a firelily in the night.

i assumed you were above teenage rebellion, iroh had muttered. i understand you want accomplishments of your own, but-

teenage rebellion? you’re joking, right? why do you always insist on- on patronizing me whenever we don’t agree on something? if you think you’re gonna guilt trip me into changing my mind, you’ve got it all wrong.

the disbelieving, ever so slightly shriller tone lu ten’s voice took on reminded iroh of his mother. she always had the habit of raising her voice a few pitches when she got upset. it reminded iroh of a coyote-eagle, once upon a time. the older lu ten got, the taller and leaner his face and physique became, the more time they spent apart, it’s like a vivid repeat of his mother. he even became a hand talker when iroh hadn’t been looking, just like fuhua.

(are habits hereditary, or had fuhua died after running away, and came back to haunt him?)

it’s probably best to start a bit further back in the journal. it might provide the context this father needs. he flips the pages for a few moments, and stops at random.

i spoke with a gentleman from the earth kingdom today during my observational trip through the colonies closest to the homeland. if you didn’t look close enough, you would’ve thought him to be any old fire nation fisherman, but i know green eyes when i see them.

his wife was a sailor that hails from caldera city. they met across the seas, in a neutral port town. they have two young twins, just barely older than zuko and azula. isn’t that something?

now, that is something iroh never bothered doing when he was a young man- it’s only now that his joints won’t let him run around chasing skirts anymore that he’s become a people person. but he’s proud of his boy for taking that initiative and having such a sense of responsibility, to go and mingle with the common man. an empathetic ruler that’s popular with his people will have the surest and furthest reaching authority, after all. iroh couldn’t name a single councilman off the top of his head that would be willing to even breathe the same air as a commoner, much less a colonial mutt.

however… this isn’t a colonial. he’s too keen on the idea of his family members’ abductors being petty, revenge seeking crooks from the earth kingdom to be okay with the idea of his son even conversing with one. for all they claim to be true and steadfast, them sneaking in and attacking an unarmed woman and her young children in their beach house just to get back at iroh is all too realistic of an idea.

but lu ten wasn’t unarmed. lu ten is one of the strongest men in the fire nation, and iroh isn’t even being biased about that. it takes prodigy to conjure lightning, and mastery to control it. and lu ten was very protective of ursa and the children- almost too protective. back in the day, during celebration parties at the palace, lu ten would damn near prowl around a pregnant ursa to fend off the careless crowd, lest they bump into her and jostle her. and he’d only been just a young teenager himself, so it was like watching a polar bear puppy that thought itself a snarly guard dog.

then a few years ago, there had been an incident where lu ten claimed zuko’s instructors were smacking him around. he’d grabbed both of the men by the collar and dragged them both viciously through the palace and right out the door- only after the sharpest scolding iroh’s ever heard since his mother was still alive. he’d never seen his son so angry. he’d chuckled at the way those old instructors had babbled apologies and fell to lu ten’s feet, while patting ursa’s back gently as she floundered.

no, it’s doubtful that an old fisherman had anything to do with it. earth kingdom or not. this is just something he needs to talk to his son about once he’s found. it would take a group of very strong benders to take lu ten down, at the very least.

he was wisecracking and friendly. we talked about his business, the officials that take care of the town and the surrounding environment, how he met his wife. he even shared his lunch during our time together- grilled fish, fragrant with sumac and citrus, and a chilled earth kingdom style mint tea. it was refreshing and unique, and i want to do it again. you’d think the fire nation would pick up these little things as it expands, but it just drowns it all out. i’m not sure if that’s a good thing. what made the food good was its earth kingdom style and seasoning, after all. what made the man interesting was his earth kingdom raised manner.

…what made lu ten think it was a good idea to write such things in a journal, and then be so careless to just forget it in ursa’s garden? he’ll have to thank su for her keen eye. if someone lacking critical thinking happened to pick this up and turn it in to his father, he’d have to deal with his son having allegations of sedition on top of everything else.

iroh, personally, is more than happy to let all traces of chilled tea get drowned out. it’s a frequent and light hearted debate between a father and son, the do’s and don’ts of tea. iroh is a stickler for tradition and enjoying the natural flavors. the fire nation boasted only the most fragrant flowers to enhance only the most delicate flavors of only the finest tea blends, after all.

his son claimed it all tasted like dinky dirt water, and stubbornly stuck with his cold hibiscus teas with herbs, and his heavily spiced and creamed saffron teas. it had been a big joke back then, but now… not so much.

a whole lifetime of a father making his son tea, sharing one of his passions. conversations over tea, tea for soothing a sore throat after screaming matches with councilmen, tea to wash down sea water accidentally swallowed at the beach. traditional methods, ceremonies, porcelain pots precious enough to buy a whole town- but it’s dirt water. yet an old fisherman from their greatest enemy shares ice water with a few mint leaves in a tin cup, and its unique.

and he wants to do it again.

the personal betrayal somehow hurts more than the blatant treachery written out plainly on the paper.

to be honest, i think that it’s a great shame that a good man like that has to be careful on his own property-property he paid for with his own money and built with his own hands- due to being from the earth kingdom, even if he has a strong marriage to a fire nation citizen. i thought about it for a long time, and realized that even if he wasn’t loyal to the crown, i didn’t mind. i don’t get angry at the idea, and i don’t think i ever have. i didn’t even think about it until i left. he made good company, offered to share his food with me, and introduced me to his beautiful children as if i was his new neighbor. i think community like that is something the fire nation needs. especially the nobility, who you’d think all have iron sticks shoved up their asses.

interactions like that are the most important ones to me, because they challenge me the most. i hate to cheapen that by thinking i just enjoy being challenged to spite my traditions and elders, or to be contrarian. that’s what coming of age means to me- looking inward, and asking the big questions.

…this can’t be why lu ten has been so distant lately.

the general slowly shuts the journal in dull horror. how long has this sickness had time to fester his son’s soul?

he swallows hard, and gingerly slides the journal in the folds of his robes. under no circumstance can anyone get their hands on it.

and later, when his gut quits churning and the candles around him quit threatening to set his room on fire, he’ll read this whole journal, front to back. brand every sentence, every symbol into his eyes. then he’s gonna burn it, bring his son home, and ask him what the hell he’s thinking.

the next morning, after letting the foul scent of burnt leather fade from his chambers, iroh finds jee.

“what can i do you for, your highness?”

“i need you to bring me the finest bounty hunter money can buy,” iroh murmurs. there’s a madness in his eyes and in his grip now that he’s had time to ponder the contents of his son’s journal, and what they entail. “and no matter what, it stays between us. i do not care what measures you must take to keep it that way.”

jee swallows hard and salutes with purpose. the poor man must be able to his see stress all over his face, but he’s barely containing himself the way it is.

this was no kidnapping. the blasted earth kingdom has everything to do with it, naturally, but it was no kidnapping.

jee returns to him that evening, followed by a lovely young woman, head to toe in black leather. her gait oozes confidence, and her narrow eyes scream danger.

this is definitely not the kind of finest iroh meant by finest bounty hunter money can buy, but he’ll take it.

“…i’ve, uh. fulfilled your request, your highness,” jee says. he looks flustered, and is clearly refusing to even glance at the woman.

“with a few breaks in between, i’m guessing. your collar is uneven, soldier,” iroh deadpans. he’d call it a shame if he wasn’t curbing an episode at the moment.

jee makes a faint noise of distress and fumbles with his uniform, blushing a deep red. iroh realizes that was the wrong thing to say at how the fair lady scowls at the crude jab.

she shoves past jee with an aggressive shoulder clip and crosses her arms before the general.

“i was promised a shitload of coin in exchange for some missing royals,” she says, voice clipped. “i don’t like to work with your kind, but good money is good money. and i can promise better and quicker results than any phony bounty hunter in the world- my companion is a shirshu. she can sniff out a rat from a whole continent away.”

a shirshu, eh? it would seem my luck has made its return after long last.

“impressive,” iroh praises truthfully. he’s a weak man for crass and foul-mouthed women. “i’d like to take a look at this beast, and then we can discuss the details and prices. i also hope you’re alright with keeping this transaction under wraps, my dear.”

she sneers. “you can call me june. and i’d highly suggest keeping a few steps away from my nyla, for your own good.”

jee clears his throat. “i’d listen to that one, sir. her creature is something else.”

iroh hums pleasantly, and keeps a few paces behind june as they go. a strange calm has washed over him now that the universe finally makes sense to him again; he has a few more people he’d like to question, and he’ll be all set. then sooner, if he’s lucky, rather than later, his sister-in-law, his nephew, and his niece will all be found and returned home, safe and sound. his son will be in his arms, whole and unharmed. ba sing se will simply have to wait.

and if they’re lucky, the dragon of the west won’t have thought up a better solution to finally grinding their sorry ashes into their own dirt by the time he gets back. but regardless, he will win.

[nadiajustbe]

After months of running away, objecting and arguing with his brother, Prince Justin finally marriess Beatrice of Strangia. And it's... not bad, definitely: the weeding was big, rich and loud, made for four people, marrying at the same day. Beatrice herself is a great, a strong-willed person who knows how to dab socks and manage the country.

He can't tell anything here is objectively wrong: on the contrary, every single detail, from the number of candlesticks arranged in an even circle on the chandeliers, to the color scheme of the napkins and the distribution of seats at the huge tables, semeed horrendously perfect. People approach him, glowing with the wide smiles on their faces, sharing their remorse that the Royal Wizard — as If they thought it would be great to remind him about this miserable fact, or somehow guessed he wasn't keeping it in mind himself — can't come to see his dear friend on such a important day of his life.

For fully unknown reason, Justin almost finds the fact that he isn't there a good coincidence, at least a little bit, walking around a huge decorated hall, so full of music and voices he can't quite hear his own steps. Royals and commoners of all wise and statutes are eager to shake his hand, tipping a glass or two of wine with him.

But aside of that, things go pretty smooth. His own brother is smiling at him, almost as If they never argued about anything in their lifes, proud and clear. Prince Justin finally found a place of patience, stopped running around his problems, throw yourself into the flames of a chaos, burn himself with their tongues, without considering the consequences. He became what they all called, "a model prince", in the end of the day.

And, watching at all they do, and hearing all they say, Price Justin thought that they may be right. That the feeling of tingling uneasiness will ease with time, earning itself, that he'll find the way of ruling, the way of earning trust and respect hundreds of times larger than the one he has. There's nothing that tragic in leaving your own country forever, when you're an adult general with important issues on your mind? Justin thought he could handle it.

It lasted for about a week. Even less, if Justin had to be honest, counting days, unsure whether the whole week has passed yet. Less than a week of time, stretching and testing him, ticking with the hands of the clock. Less than a week of missing his small garden outside of the castle, where cats would climb on trees and water would rush through small, calming stream. Less than a week of missing Valeria's scribbles, silly painting on wich Justin was almost always shown somewhere at the top of the paper and childish, mischievous laughter.

Less than a week of one particular name jumping on the tip of his tongue, showing up in his own thoughts, appearing before his eyes everytime mighty mountains cleared the path into the Ingarian fields, somewhere in the distance.

There's nothing wrong in the feeling of loosing something so dear to you tearing you up, he reasoned. Most accordingly, his own reasoning had much more swearing, army slang and vague wording within it, but it sounded close to that.

And there's definitely, absolutely nothing wrong in being so eager to see your friend, whom you are not sure you will ever meet again. No matter how often your last meeting — brief, sore and painfully quick, accompanied with with the impatient clatter of horse hooves and the order to move forward — flashes in his own memory, keeping him awake at night.

There were simply so many things to tell, and so little time in which saying them had at least some sense.

And the irony is, Justin didn't even know, what exactly those words were supposed to be.

He looked up at the celling of his hew home, trimmed with gold, while Princess Beatrice was moving a little uneasily by his side, having long since fallen asleep.

The other disadvantage of marriage turned out to be sharing a room with another person. Justin didn't want to wake her up, nor bother her the nonexistent problems, seeping through his fingers like sand.

Still, he was at the right place. He had to be at the right place. He was a Prince with a powerful Princess by his side, wounded in worthy amount of battles, getting his long-earned rest. That's what every fairy tale says: happily ever after comes after Prince finds his courage to find a Princess, and they face not a single problem after that, filled with joy. There's a reason they never show married life in this books, If you squint.

Except, it didn't feel right. Nothing, written in ink, engraved on the paper, felt right. The walls gave off a ghostly coldness, the curtains swayed in the wind in rather strange way, the halls drowned those present with its grandeur, completely different from the one he knew. Even the selling — higher power knew how much he wanted to close his eyes just not to look at it — looked even more distant than the one they had in the library, mirroring his reflection.

Here it goes again.

He liked Ben. He liked him a bit too much for his own well-being, or at least that's what his brother had been telling him. And his brother was a big fan of reminding Justin of all the wrongs in his life.

According to him, there were a lot. According to him, more than a half of them led to the Royal Wizard.

Not like he cared. Of course, screw the rules, let your own worries consume you, let your legs take you whenever they want to go, let the darkness eat you alive, let it decide what are you made up from.

His brother could scream at him all he wanted. That's wouldn't have changed anything. Justin knew there were things and people worth fighting for.

It didn't matter, now that he was away. That's not something a model prince should be thinking about, but it was certainly something Justin couldn't help but think about despite this new status.

Everything returned to Ben, in the end. As If it was a cycle.

To than strangely big amount of moments they didn't get to share, to occasional smiles and words in a language he could never quite make out. To the days when his friend couldn't even understand what he himself was saying, looking fascinated by every thing that met his eye, asking unusually basic questions. To quiet melodies, created by the strumming of the guitar strings, which he always deeply, unreasonably cherished. To that too peaceful ideas — he told him the only thing that could stop the Witch of the Waste was well-armed army, and certainly not a planting of fields, but Ben always clang to more idealistic ideas than Justin did.

Every thingle moment, unwillingly running across the celling — as If Justin's own image wasn't really his — collected a cluster of such a strange, pulling sensation somewhere under the side, that he wanted to punch something. Or hit it with a sword.

Shit.

His vast, colourful vocabulary had no substitute for this particular word.

If he's gonna stay here for a second longer, no damn princess will save him from what he's about to do.

Justin doesn't really remember how exactly he got out of bed, leaving a disheveled blanket on the mattress, the floorboards creaked somewhat under his weight.

Gathering his things into a small cloth knot, moving as quietly as possible so as not to wake Beatrice or anyone else important enough in the castle, Justin quickly glanced at the clock on the wall.

There was a brief conclusion, made on a rush of his mind, the same way every of his questionable, unbearably harsh ideas, that never led to anything remotely sane or logical: he held the status of a model Prince for about a dozens decades less than he was supposed to do so.

Yes, definitely less than a week.

Justin didn't give himself benefit of the doubt. Whatever the hell will be going on there after he does what he does is not his problem.

He was never supposed to be a King of this country. He's more of a solider. A general. A dog, a servant, an inpatient mysterious costumer gone to buy spells. That felt right.

The curtains had stopped waving, freezing in a slippery, eerie moment. Justin could swear the sound of water droplets hitting the metal supports of the balcony began to reach his ears. A thread of chill stretched through the crack in the window, making its way into the room, right under the sleepwear.

The dim glow of the candles cast shadows across the corridors, echoed by the heavy boots of guards and servants.

He couldn't get straight through the main exit. As if his situation wasn't a total crap without this fact.

The cold was getting on Justin's nerves as he opened the window wider, hastily pulling on a green coat and rough shoes. Tons of fighting about saving his "unacceptable" clothes definitely paid themselves off.

Justin looked down, gripping the handle of a huge, door-like window tighter with his fingers. Only a couple of meters, no more that two floor — no thing that a proper army man couldn't handle.

He jumped onto the balcony, grabbing the handrail with one swift movement. He took one last, quick glance around the room before turning his back to it.

Beatrice continued to dream, almost motionless now, like had never known any strong worry. Raindrops, from that moment large and unpleasant, flew into the room, blowing out the lights of the candlesticks with the howl of the wind, that was treacherous enough to start picking up again now.

The flame went out. Justin closed the window.

He jumped over the partition, holding on to the small connecting bars.

It was very stupid. Very unclear. But there was no difficulty in crossing the mountains of Strangia, even on foot. Justin did much harder things. No matter how majestic the borders were, they could hardly compare to the fearless dryness of the Waste.

He knew where he was going. Of all the houses that had ever been in his native country, he knew exactly which door to knock on. And Ben might laugh at him for it — he would have every bloody right to burst into pure mockery — and at the same time he would not mind in any way. He liked Ben, no matter what it meant.

Justin jumped off the balcony, landing nimbly on the ground.

He was going home.

[bunnyboy-juice]

spent the first hour and change at work deleting some old files and am having a grand ol time laughing at myself for not realizing i was a lesbian sooner

[ficyorick]

i still cant believe im on chapter 7 . thats such a fake number. so close to chapter 10. then what?? ur telling me theres gonna be chapter 11 and 12??? insane. but thats what the plot outline doc says.

[spinetacks]

beautiful meticulously created and kept spreadsheet of darby matches vs handwritten list of bucks dvds that I started tearing my hair out over when I realised how long it was going to be and I should have also made it as a spreadsheet (I am less than halfway through cataloging them, I think in the end only 2-3 years will fit per page 🫥)

[nullians]

It’s actually insane how fandom in general has become so scared of making weird and dark and ugly works. Like I look at myself and see how I have also subconsciously adapted this instinct to self censor and make things “marketable” and it’s making me want to crawl out of my skin. I need to get weirder and worse and more off-putting hello

[roguephenon]

Hi! How did you come up with the Numbuh 60 x Numbuh 10 couple? I confess that I liked it a lot, your stories LEMON and CAPER were enough for me to totally buy the couple ♥️ . Very good stories and writing.👏🏻

Ahhh, thank you!!!

It honestly just sort of happened one day. I looked at my flow chart of character interactions, saw at how I was writing their dynamic and it’s something that kind of happened naturally.

At one point I moved away from overtly writing shipping, because I enjoyed writing about kids having silly and funny adventures and wanted to focus on that. But I also love writing character interactions, so I leave a lot of subtext in there and let the reader draw their own conclusions.

But since Cold Reception is sort of like a finale to things, I decided to make it clear that, yes, they end up together romantically. They were always an endgame thing for me even if I never directly stated it until now.

But I’m glad you enjoyed LEMON and CAPER and the subtext to their relationship! I intended to write more stories focused on their development but just never got around to it.