#part of it will be a love story but it's more about. adapting to the changes of life and longing for connection idk

[lazyjellyfish300]

𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒅, 𝒊'𝒎 𝒂 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒅 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 1 🦢𓍼ོ 𑜞᭄ೃ

𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊 𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒌 𝒅𝒂𝒚 3 ~ 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒚, 𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐. ♥︎

🦢nanami kento x fem!reader

🦢 synopsis: in the present day, elderly kento nanami reads you the story of your love, in the hopes that you'll remember him.

🦢 part 1 of 3. part 2 is 7.8k words and will be posted on 7/7. 💕

🦢 part 1 | part 2 | part 3

🦢word count: 7.9k

🦢cw: minors dni, smut (p in v, awkward virginity loss, fingering, cum, creampie, infidelity, condom use, makeout), entirely based and inspired on the film adaptation of The Notebook by author Nicholas Sparks, all credit to the original owners, fluff, angst, grief, war, character deaths, aging, memory loss, scarred!nanami kento, jjk spoilers possibly, non curse au, pining, breakup

🦢a/n: my nanami week day 3 entry for the big day.🥳🎂🎁🎈

happy birthday, kento darling. love you in every lifetime. 💕 sparkle dividers by @/anitalenia. swan dividers by @/fairytopea.

By all accounts, I am an ordinary man. 

I've lived an honest life, worked in a respectable profession. I saved enough money to retire. I've passed by with minimal regrets. My legacy has been about as exceptional as anyone else's. 

In another respect, I have had the privilege of knowing what it means to love another with all my heart and soul. 

Because of this I can say:  I have done more than enough. 

----

His navy button down hangs on the right side of the closet where it always did, beige dress pants folded neatly on the dresser where a pair of glasses and a watch lay on top to be applied in chronological order. It was tidy in a way that would suggest routine in its owner that was rarely deviated from. 

It's how he's always been, and how he always will be until the last breath leaves his lungs. 

A spotted necktie used to adorn his neck, though he hadn't worn it in some time due to the arthritis in his fingers. 

Someone else used to tie it for him, although an instance like that had occurred long since before the last time he wore it. 

Kento looks back at himself in the mirror as he runs both hands through the sides of his hair, using his water stained fingers to tuck away any unruly strands, save for the faint cowlick on the back left of his head due to the faded scarring from years past that never truly goes away no matter how much he tames it. 

He had never been self conscious per se, aside from the scars, although he always took pride in his appearance and became keenly aware of his symptoms brought upon him by aging. 

He did his best to ignore them. He knew his time was better spent than worrying about anything superficial. But, it was always instinctual for him to notice and upkeep how he looked, as it was something engraved in him by his parents. 

His skin is wrinkled, crows feet around his kind, singular amber eye and the socket where the left one used to reside, now covered by an eyepatch. The worry lines of his forehead are more pronounced that convey the years of memories and experiences behind them.

His figure is soft with a more pronounced belly, a sign of a well enjoyed life with evidence of comfort from indulging in a loved one's regular home-cooked meals. 

Still, his trusty dress shirt fits snugly across his shoulders all the same, slightly hunched now, an ember in his eye that never dulled that portrayed that hidden charm of his he possessed to anyone lucky enough to observe eventually past his initial reservedness. 

Despite the changes, his beauty never budged. It merely shifted gracefully with the passage of time, even more so when he selectively spoke.

He spent more of his time nowadays thinking than speaking. Wisdom and perceptiveness had always been characteristic of the thoughts that came out of his mouth, but even more so now with more years behind him than the remaining ones that awaited him.

 

Kento walks intentionally down a well lit hallway, his brown polished dress shoes faintly echo with each step, a worn book in his right hand.

His destination is uncertain to anyone walking past, but it becomes more apparent as he stops to wait in line at a desk with a line of other older men like himself to receive his medication, before he crosses into a new corridor, the sunlight showcasing the illumination of the fine metal wrapped around the ring finger of his left fist. 

"Morning." A few fellow residents nod to him, and he nods back in polite acknowledgement. 

"Good morning." 

"I keep trying to die but they won't let me." A more jovial passerby jokes. 

Kento's lips press together with amusement, though not stopping his pace. "You can't have everything, I suppose." 

He pauses outside of a door, smoothing over the non-existent wrinkles on his stomach before he knocks carefully, a kind nurse in white answers with a smile. 

"Good morning, Mr. Nanami." 

-----

The light on the pond becomes less dull as the sun starts to breach the horizon, the sound of cicadas persist even beyond the pale blue walls of your room. 

These days you don't get much sleep, but sitting by the window lately brings you more solace than laying in bed. The swans and geese in particular are enjoyable to watch, little trickles of water spraying off their feathers as they groom themselves and crane their necks with distant honks, little fluff balls of their babies in a row, paddling close behind. 

You try and count each one, before a voice rudely interrupts your train of thought. 

"Ma'am? You have someone here to see you." 

Your frustration is quickly forgotten as two people enter the room. The one on the left you can't place, although it seems to be different people in the same colored robes. Usually they come with a message of sorts or have some sort of task for you to do. They're all quite a nuisance but that consistency about them at least makes it easier to identify. 

"This is Mr. Nanami. He's come to read to you." 

"What? Reading?" 

"Mhmm." The nurse nods with a smile.

Kento waits patiently next to her, his head lowered slightly out of respect to not meet your gaze so directly. He acknowledges you with a polite nod after her introduction.  

There's something unsettling about this mystery man. You don't know why, but the thought of being forced to sit next to him while he drones on endlessly sounds insufferable. He's suspiciously neat and well groomed. Why should you allow yourself to be around him, alone? 

"Um, I don't know." You answer curtly, smoothing your skirt, pausing to pick at a frayed thread. 

"Come now, you'll like him, he's a very good storyteller." The nurse coaxes with a saccharine tone. 

He still doesn't move, just waits patiently in the silence for as long as you need to make your decision. The suspicion isn't lifted from you entirely just yet, but his quiet nature makes him a bit more approachable. 

Finally, you nod and walk towards him, reluctantly taking his arm that he offers you and not letting the nurse out of your sight until you're well down the hallway. 

----

The sunroom is well lit. Humidity and sunshine leak in from the window screens, bestowing a calming view of the retirement home gardens with shrubbery surrounding all sides. A few other residents are sitting in chairs outside, some read, some stroll, partaking in various activities underneath the pleasant weather. 

The beach sat further down the horizon, cycling in seaside salt with the subtle gust of wind that would blow occasionally. 

He pulls out a chair at the white iron table, allowing you to sit down comfortably before he concerns himself with his own seating arrangement, grunting as he sits down. 

"Where were we?" He uses the tip of his middle finger to adjust his lenses, opening up the pages of the worn book he was carrying. 

"Ah. I remember." He utters, tracing his finger along the print until he lands at the spot he was looking for. 

"We had just begun the first chapter. It was the night they met, at the fair. Kento was there that night with his friend, Yu."

You quirk a brow.

Kento.

His name sounded foreign to you, but something about this setting rings a bell to a tune you might have heard before.  

Kento summarizes over the spine of the open book. "They met in Kuantan in the middle of June before they were going to start university in the fall. Both young adults with no inkling of just how life changing that first night would be." 

----

More than 60 years earlier.

Kuantan.

If you could live there year round, you would. The atmosphere of the seaside and all the scents and sights that gripped you with nostalgia for summers gone by immersed you all at once as your car rolled onto the gravel of your family's summer home. 

The humidity carried promise and freedom, something in the air that was as intoxicating and romantic as it was fleeting. You were at an age where you were practically jumping at the opportunity for independence, a future at a pristine university with a promising road to success neatly and carefully laid out for you by your watchful parents who were still trying their hardest to keep you under their thumbs. 

The marble floors resounded under your heels as you crossed the threshold, breathing in and reuniting with its fond scent while your parents' household staff quickly sorted and tended to your belongings. 

You hummed contentedly as you built up the anticipation in your mind for the evening to come as you changed your outfit and got cleaned up.

You had planned an evening outing to the local fair with your very best friend who had also come to stay for the summer, along with her new boyfriend. 

"We're expecting you home before midnight." Your mother said as more of a scold than a statement. 

You rolled your eyes as you walked out the door and into the summer air, where their crushing expectations couldn't control you at least for a few hours. 

----

The smell of smoke was rich with barbecued meats, and deep fried goodies fresh and piping hot from the hands of street vendors. A bell resounded and distant screams of delight could be heard from attendees indulging in the thrills and sights the festivities offered them. 

Kento scanned the scene around him, recognizing well that it was one that wasn't meant for him, but he came anyway with lots of assurance, encouragement, or perhaps pressure with a side of guilt from his conversely outgoing best friend, Yu Haibara. 

"Dammit!" Yu grunted in frustration as the metal ball rolled up the staff of the carnival game, just missing the bell, but accepting his mild defeat as he walked away with a small stuffed bunny as a consolation prize. 

"Well, there's something!" He tosses it and catches it in midair as he and Kento make their way back towards the bumper cars where they left Yu's girlfriend to meet up with some unknown group of friends. 

He and Haibara come to a stop, leaning on the railings as they watch the ongoing round of bumper cars, searching the sea of bobbing and clashing metal in the arena for your best friend. 

"Hi, honey!" Yu beams as he holds up his winning prize to his sweetheart. "I won ya a little something!"

 

"Ahhh thank youuuu baby!" Your best friend giggles shrilly back to him, snorting as she gets abruptly t-boned in the side. 

That's when Kento notices you, in the offending purple buggy. Your head is thrown back upon the impact, hibiscus in your hair, and lovely lips falling open in an eye catching smile. 

The sound that pours out of your throat is hearty and melodious that makes you double over slightly under the weight of its merriment. It's contagious. It has a very notable effect on him that he can't place in this exact moment as it happens.

"What's her name?" The question mumbles past his lips uncontrollably. 

Yu gives him a smile and nods in your direction, giving him your name.

Now, Kento simply didn't ask about strangers, much less girls that Yu brought around. Based on what he knows of his trusted friend, the person would have to be pretty damn special for him to raise such a rare inquiry. 

"She's here on summer vacation. Father's retired military and works in finance. He's got more money than God."

He watches you drive away as you're still enthralled in the experience, throwing your head back.

You radiate absolution to him. Your eyes look like possibility and freedom wrapped into one. Your daring concentration as you maneuvered your buggy was playful. The desire to know the mechanisms behind it were slowly pulling at his heartstrings, leaving his hands clammy. It's unlike any reaction he's experienced when clapping eyes on a stranger in a sea of nameless faces. 

But to him, yours was begging to be uttered. 

He knows far better than to imagine that you'd ever give someone like him the time of day. 

-----

You're in a fit of laughter when you exit the ride, arm in arm with your best friend with an entourage behind you. 

Your best friend is quickly swept up into her boyfriend's arms, Yu. You throw Yu a smile, pausing to let the lovebirds reunite and so he can present her with her consolation prize.

That's when you notice him.

He's tall, and a little gangly. His long blond bangs fall a little bit in his eyes from where they were messily tucked behind his ear as he moves his head. You're startled to discover a pair of very warm, very tender brown eyes, not the color you'd expect in someone with hair as golden as his, underneath dark expressive brows that furrow with a stoicism at first that you would not expect in someone his age. 

He has a long slender nose and thin, pretty pink lips.  But the most notable thing about him is his predisposition. He's quiet, humble. He doesn't speak up, and he appears to be out of place. You can tell he's uncomfortable in this kind of setting.

You want to know his name, you want to hear his voice. 

"Have we met?" You ask him. 

That voice of yours he traced in the melody of your laugh moments ago startles him when he hears it plainly for the first time. Especially now that he knows your name, and you don't know his. 

You're stunning up close, eyes framed by long lashes in a doe-ish expression that seemed all but natural to you. The glow catches his cheeks off guard in a healthy shade of pink. 

"Uhm, n-no, we haven't." He clears his throat. 

You give him your name and he gives you his hand. He pulls away rather hastily, cheeks now graduated to a deep red when he realizes the sweaty handshake he just subjected you to. 

You notice, but you pretend not to. If anything the interaction just made him appear more human, more real.

"Kento Nanami."

 

"Kento." You repeat. "Do you live around here?" 

"Not until recently." He clears his throat. "I'm working this summer until I can attend school in the city. 

"Really, what do you do?" 

"Um." He blushes and looks down. 

It wasn't that he was ashamed of his job, but it certainly wasn't one that was helpful when it came to impressing a woman of your caliber who belonged with someone who was older, more established perhaps, and with certainly more wealth than he could provide, which was only enough for himself. 

"I'm a wood worker's apprentice." He admitted sheepishly. 

"Really? I find that fascinating." You lean on your hip. "I've always been impressed with craftsmanship." 

He smiles and blushes. "Well, my grandfather was good at it. I had a knack for making things when I was younger. It gives me a good start." 

"There you are." 

A new voice interrupts and the owner slips his arm around your shoulder, pulling you a little closer into his chest with a slightly possessive air that doesn't go unnoticed. Kento snaps his head looking at the guy next to you. 

"Was looking all over for ya. He's not bothering you is he?" Naoya jests in your direction. 

Kento turns red, lowering his face, both in shame and simmering in anger he doesn't wish to show.

He knew Naoya looked down on him. He was educated, smart, rich. A certainly more engaging prospect for a girl like you in just about every way. 

"No, not at all." You answer confidently, giving Naoya a stern look. 

Naoya is a little thrown off by this. Surely you wouldn't want to be stuck talking to someone like Kento when he was right there?

Naoya clears his throat and tries to shift the conversation. 

"Well I promised you a funnel cake, didn't I, doll?" 

You flinch a little at the nickname, dissuaded by Naoya's persistence, but decide you don't want to cause a scene. 

"Sure, why not?" 

"Fantastic." He flashes a flawless smile at you and then at Kento a little more condescending. "If you'll excuse us." 

"Not at all." Kento mumbles, shuffling out of the way, face shooting bright red again when Naoya subtly bumps his shoulder on the way past, looking longingly in your direction as he let yet another opportunity sail him by. 

---

You can feel Kento watching you two the entire time. He definitely doesn't make things subtle from where he's sitting with Haibara and his girlfriend. 

You and Naoya are sharing a funnel cake, and you're doing your best to pretend like you're listening to everything he's saying, your face burning underneath Kento's longing gaze from the other side, tucking some hair behind your ear as you try to be normal, distracting yourself with the piping hot taste of the pastry with powdered sugar and strawberry syrup. 

Kento decides to get up to see you himself, walking towards your table blindly before his actions can catch up to his brain, running purely on this courage that seemed to come out of nowhere, along with many other things changing inside him in a way that didn't make any sense ever since he heard your name. 

He walks and as he passes, almost trips on Naoya's foot. 

"Do you mind?" Naoya hisses in contempt. He stands up. Kento is tomato red but he doesn't back down to Naoya. 

"Naoya!" You chastise him as you stand up, walking in front and shielding Kento from Naoya getting in his face. 

"C'mon, let's get out of here." You turn, murmuring to Kento, taking him by the hand. 

Kento does his best to resist the urge to smile and breaks out in red once more as you lead him away. 

Yu and your best friend watch you both with knowing grins, leaving Naoya fuming in the dust. 

---

The sunset has now subsided. 

You're in a corner of the outskirts of the fair that's more quiet and removed from the rest. You walk further down until coarse sand begins to squish underneath the soles of your feet. You both laugh as you try and trudge through, but give up and take off your shoes, holding them in your hands as you walk side by side on the beach. 

"I'm sorry for what happened back there." You apologize to him. 

"Not at all." Kento shakes his head. "It was my fault for tripping next to him." He laughs and then lets the silence mull over for a moment. "...What do you see in him, if I may ask?" 

"He's just a friend." You answer. "More of an acquaintance. Our dads went to military school together." 

"Oh, I see." Kento nods, trying to act like relief wasn't absolutely flooding his entire body in this moment. "So, what are your parents like, and your family?" 

"Well, they've always been pretty strict." You sigh as you reflect. "Every morning I wake up at 7 am. I have tennis lessons, then piano lessons. French tutor, Spanish tutor, English. Math. Science. Then I have lunch, more studies. Dinner. Then I have quiet time with my family. And...before bed I try to catch up on some reading if I can." 

Kento looks surprised at the extensive list. "That's quite a regimen. Are you attending university?" 

"I have a few applications I've submitted. Just waiting for replies." You hum, fiddling with the straps of your sandals in your hands as you stumble. 

Kento can't help but notice a little bit of dullness in your words compared to the spark you had earlier. There's something deeper going on behind all your studies, all this pressure he suspects you must be under. 

"Is there anything... you like to do just for yourself?" Kento asks. 

You stop, looking out at the waves, the indigo sky hanging above as you pondered something nobody had ever asked you before. 

"Um..I write." 

"You write? Really?" Kento looks at you, a little surprised by your answer. 

"Yeah. Little stories, poems, and the like." 

"Can I ask what about?" He inquires as you two begin strolling slowly side by side again. 

"Mostly romance." You stifle a laugh, a bit embarrassed, but also a bit surprised at how quickly you felt yourself peeling back these layers, speaking out loud about things not even the closest people in your life knew about with someone who was a complete stranger just an hour ago. 

"Heh, you know, that doesn't surprise me too much." Kento tucks a strand of blond behind his ear, a little warmth he can't help but feel as you revealed this unknown part of you.  

"What's that supposed to mean?" You smile. 

"Nothing bad, just makes the most sense. My mother is a writer, too. She also writes romance." 

"No way? That's so neat." You marvel at him. 

"But what about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. Tell me about your parents, and what you like to do with your free time." 

"Um, well." Kento hesitates, but figures he'd better be honest.

It couldn't be all that bad if you had elected to spend your evening walking next to him on this deserted beach instead of with someone more suited to you like Naoya Zenin. 

"You know, I'm not sure what I like to do. I haven't had free time in a while...but my parents..I  haven't spoken to them in a few months. I graduated early and wanted independence, and so I moved out here." He nods and gestures to the town. 

You nod slowly, listening to every word. 

"My father was always kind of hard on me." He admits. "He's a good man, don't get me wrong. I suppose we've always just seen things differently despite how alike we are."

"What about your mother? Are you close with her?"

 

"Very close." He nods. "But she understands I wanted to do things on my own and needed my space from my father." 

"What does he do?"

"He works in finance." 

"So your mother's a writer and your father's a banker. What are you going into?" 

Kento blushes. "Finance." 

"Huh, the irony." 

"Yeah, that's if I can save enough to afford tuition though." Kento points out. 

"Well, I have faith in you." 

"Thank you." 

You both stare at one another, having run out of things to talk about. 

"Well..." 

"Well?" 

After a minute, Kento chuckles, turning away. 

"What's so funny?" 

"Nothing I just. Heh, just thinking." 

"About what?" You quirk a brow. 

"Just ironic how you ended up talking to someone like me. You've got your whole life ahead of you and I'm just a nobody." 

"You're not nobody, Kento. You're somebody to me. You're a hell of a lot more kind, more down to earth and wise than half of the guys I've met. And I mean that wholeheartedly." 

Kento blushes. "Thank you." 

The silence simmers between you even more, then you get an idea. 

"One sec."

You turn and walk a ways down the beach. You look around, and when you're reassured nobody else is there, you lay down, close to the water so that the waves barely kiss the area below your feet. 

"What are you doing?" He asks, walking closer.

You're sprawled out, a smile on your face, staring up at the stars. 

"Back when I was little, my parents and I would come out here to the beach. Just lay by the waves and look at the stars. Sometimes fall asleep." 

"The tide is coming in." Kento looks on nervously. "Will you get up?" 

"That's your problem." You hum, closing your eyes for a moment. "You don't do things for yourself, then you wonder why you can't figure out what makes you happy." 

Touché. 

Kento looks both ways as though he needs permission. Who was he kidding? 

"Fine." 

You feel the ground shift as Kento lays next to you in the sand, the warmth from his body achingly close. 

You couldn't help but wish for more of it from where you laid but you stayed perfectly still. 

Kento closes his eyes too, filling his senses with nothing but the pull and gentle recede of the waves, the mist of sea salt, the droning from the fair that were all but distant at this point, the rise and fall of your chest next to his more obvious, the simple sensation of laying on the beach is suddenly a very relaxing one. 

One he had not realized until he had the courage to do it with you. 

"Reading." He murmurs.

"Mm?" 

"You asked me what I like to do for me...and I love to read." He says softly, turning his face towards the sound of your voice. 

"Like what, Kento?" 

"Literature...the classics. Just, stories that make you think."

Suddenly, the waves get quiet and you sit up, noticing they've receded far from the shore. 

"Oh shit!!" 

Kento's eyes snap open, sitting up as you both scramble to stand in a frenzy and hold onto each other, screaming as a huge wave surges towards the beach at blinding speed.  

"AHHHH!" You scream as it completely obliterates both of you, soaking your clothes and making you both fall flat on your stomachs. 

The ocean falls back. 

Kento coughs and sputters, clearing the sting of salt from his eyes and nostrils. You chuckle, slowly then fall into a pit of hysterical, ugly laughter, holding your sides like they were about to split open.

"What...pfffbbbttt....what's so funny?" Kento asks, scowling as he tries to clear his ear of salt water. 

You continue howling like a hyena, the sound disharmonic but hearty and...oddly endearing. You squeezed your knees together to not piss yourself from all the laughter. 

"Why are you laughing?" Kento scoffs, unable to stay immune to the contagion of your merriment. 

"Oh...that was...that was fun, heh heh..." You breathe out, getting a grip. 

Both of you are soaked from head to toe, your flowing skirt clinging to your figure, hair kissed with salt from the sea reducing it to its natural texture with the hibiscus blossom still intact by your right ear, skin shining with the dusky aura of the quickly fading sunset.

You were such a vision that it inspires Kento to ask a question that was unlike him.

"Will you dance with me?" He offers you his hand. 

"Sure." You answer with a grin, taking his outstretched fingers. 

His grip is graceful, the kind of firmness that relaxes when he's handling something delicate. You warm at the thought of him exercising such care when it comes to you. 

He pulls you into his chest, simply swaying with you on the beach to a non-existent melody, wet clothes and all. 

"We don't have any music." You whisper, gazing up into those puppy brown eyes, soft and meek in expression but anything but mild in their depth. 

He begins to hum, softly, somewhat poorly, but the low pitch of his voice carries a melody that could be improved if he worked on it. 

"You're a horrible singer." You chuckle with a smile, before it slowly fades as he pulls you even closer, laying your head on his shoulder. 

"But I do love this song..." 

"I'll be seeing you

In all the old familiar places

That this heart of mine embraces

All day through

In that small cafe

The park across the way

The children's carousel

The chestnut trees

The wishing well

I'll be seeing you

In every lovely summer's day

In everything that's light and gay

I'll always think of you that way..."

-----

Present Day

"Summer romances start for one reason or another. But Kento found himself portraying a remarkable imagining of a young man falling head over heels for a girl who came from a world different than him. They were both speeding headfirst down a path that they had no business of traveling with no regard for the consequences." 

"They fell in love, didn't they?" You interrupt with a smile on your face as Kento reads to you, scooting your chair just a little closer.

Kento peers over the pages, reading spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, holding back a smile as you slowly began to pick up on the premise of the story. "Yes. They did." 

"Good. I love these kinds of stories. Go on." 

-----

The summer days were long and the months were short. Every afternoon and evening belonged to him. 

Every moment you could sneak away from your studies, you were riding your bicycle as fast as you could down the dirt beaten path to the lumber yard where he worked, following the smell of smoke and freshly chopped palms. 

Kento gave you that humble smile, his heart soaring in his chest as he saw you ditch your bike, practically sprinting at him full speed into his arms to attack him with kisses, a bit of pride swelling in his belly as all his fellow lumbermen wondered how in the hell the quiet lanky kid from Tokyo managed to win the heart of someone like you. 

Your favorites were riding on the handles of his bike, his cheek pressed against yours as you balanced near the basket, speeding down the road with your friends to the beach where you'd swim and lose track of time on the boardwalk for hours, sharing shaved ice and savory treats from food trucks with what cash Kento had in his pocket from a days work. 

Other days you spent galavanting through the city streets with a pair of earbuds listening to Sleeping with Sirens, wandering into ice cream shops and kissing the melted vanilla off his nose until he pulled you into the alley for more kisses. 

----

It was an overcast day that promised rain with all the building clouds around the desolate beach. The foamy waves beat against the rocks and a cluster of seagulls scatter as you bolt towards them, swimsuit coverup floating away in the breeze with your hibiscus in your hair as you splash in the water. 

"WOOOOOO! Ken, come on!" 

Kento walks bashfully behind you with pink cheeks with both your shoes in his hands, pants rolled up to his ankles. Normally he'd be self conscious of his surroundings but he learned quickly after dating you to get used to it. 

It was a beautiful sight, seeing you so open, so free from worry with blissful elation in the water that he couldn't help but succumb to your warmth that made him feel safe. Even more so since he felt honored that he could be the one to provide that space for you. 

"Do you think I could be a bird in another life, Kento?" You ask as you twirl around, grinning mischievously as you pranced through the water. 

Kento tries to ignore the way the fabric clung to your thighs, the way just a dash of wind in your hair made him feel even younger than he already was, like he could be a little boy back on the playground with a flower for you behind his back, giving up the cookie his mother packed in his lunch just to see you smile, and feeling his heart skip at the moment you arrived every morning at the bus stop. 

"What do you mean?" He manages to ask. 

"Reincarnation, Ken. We could be two birds." 

He quirks a brow at the comment. "Let me guess, you'd want me to build us a little nest made out of sticks in a tree?"

 

"Exactly! I'd be the momma bird, you'd be the daddy bird." 

Kento shakes his head despite the stubborn affection afflicting him, watching you spin around, making cawing noises. You were taking being a bird quite seriously. 

"Say I'm a bird, Ken." 

"No." 

"Say I'm a bird." You repeat, this time as a playful threat as you lower your head, getting ready to pounce on him. 

"No I'm not going to—" 

Kento's eyes almost bug out of his head as you wind up and run at him, shoes falling out of his hands as you jump into his arms. 

"GAHHHH say it, Ken!" 

Kento scoffs and stumbles a little backwards, holding you tightly in his grasp, his shirt and pants now more wet than he intended but if it was by your doing he'd always accept it, eyes melting like caramels when they meet the teasing fire of yours. 

"You're a bird." He murmurs. 

You lean in and kiss him. 

"Now say you're a bird, too, Kento." 

Your words affect him like rays of sun through a leaked window to his heart he realizes he's never going to close. 

"If you're a bird, then I'm a bird." He whispers before he closes the distance between your lips again. 

-----

There was nothing quite like summer nights, laughter, chatter, and good company on the porch at Yu's and Kento's shared duplex. You'd sit in Kento's lap, watching Yu and his friends tear up the dance floor, drinking beers and whispering secrets only between the two of you. 

And when the tension had been brewing like a pressure cooker, it all came bursting to a steamy head in the fogged windows of Kento's small delivery truck, grinding on top of him as you made out like it would be the last time you ever would. 

One night, he parks a ways down at the end of the street and turns off his lights before you both nearly sprang on top of each other. 

You moan and sigh as he shifts you in his lap, massaging your damp folds through your panties with his thigh in just that spot you like. 

It didn't help that he got better at it every time you indulged. His lips got more adventurous, his groans a little more desperate. He studied you, that much was quite clear as you helped yourself to more friction from his leg, before he couldn't stand to watch you anymore and his lips were back on yours.

 

"Mmm, Ken, fuck. I gotta go..." 

"No..." He murmurs as he nuzzles into your pulse. 

"Haah, Kento, mphhh, please." 

"Just a little longer." He groans into your neck, before he licks down to your collar, making your spine arch. 

"Ahhh..." 

Both of you were virgins at this point, but as things got closer and the makeouts got deeper, you couldn't help but daydream about having sex with him.

It was something you were quite nervous for, given all(or the lack of) useful education from your parents on the topic. And what little information they did teach you was laced in fear and complete avoidance. 

But God, right now...you can't really focus on that as his hands slide up and down the soft skin of your stomach, just grazing the underside of your breasts. 

God, you want more. You want to feel him, want to hear him lose himself in what you've both been slowly aching towards with every taste you got of one another. 

You feel like you're at a point that you can trust him, that he could be your very first to safely explore this with. 

"Ken?" 

"Mhmm?" He moans from his place against your throat. "Yeah?"

 

"Give me your fingers."

He feels himself grow achingly hard in his pants. Did he hear you say what he thinks you just said? 

"Wait, really?" 

"I trust you, Kento. I really do. Just please, please?"  You kiss his cheeks as you roll your hips impatiently against his bulge. "I want to try letting you finger me just a little, just to see if I like it." 

"Babe, I-" 

"I trust you." 

"Fuck, I...I don't wanna hurt you..." 

"You won't, baby..." You whisper as your lips nibble at his ear. "I'm too wet." 

"Fuck..." Kento groans, shifting you in his lap as his hand disappears up your skirt, looking into your eyes with lust blown pupils in the dark of the truck. 

Without thinking, he hooks around the lace gusset with his thumb, gently pulling it through the web of slick to the side, his thumb barely skimming your folds.

"Just aah, just tell me to stop if you want me to, okay?" He whispers. 

You arch responsively, keeping your eyes locked on him as one of his fingers finds and teases the liquid silk dripping out of your entrance, before slowly sinking in to the first knuckle, his mouth falling open in mirrored response.

He's never done anything like this before, never felt a girl so close like this. He knows only the things he's heard from his friends, and that it's a very sensitive part of your body. He doesn't go any further, waiting patiently for your reaction, trying to put off the ache in his pants so he can savor and learn from this moment. 

"Oh-" the corners of your eyes pinch at the small intrusion. 

Shit. Kento thinks quickly. He knows your breasts are really sensitive. He leans in slowly wraps his lips around your nipple and he softly wiggles it back and forth with his tongue. 

"I-is this okay?" 

"Mhm..slower, softer.." 

"Okay..." He groans as he feels the smooth muscles flutter and squeeze around his finger as he relaxes, slowly pulling out, and pushing back inside your pussy only to that first knuckle at an achingly slow pace.

God, you're tight. But so...pliant. He slides in and out of you like silk, the honey coating him like syrup, watching you breathe softly and exhale on top of him...  

"You're so beautiful." He murmurs. "You're so pretty like this..." 

"Kento..." You sink your nails into the fabric of his seats as he withdraws his finger, hand gliding through slick as he swirls it up, until he finds the soft nub, circling it until you jerk in his lap. 

"Sorry." He whispers. 

"No, no. Keep going baby... just haah...really sensitive." 

He moves his finger, just to the left to tease around your clit, only softly nudging it with each wet rotation of his fingertips. "Like this?" He breathes. 

"Yeah, like that..." You whisper. 

It feels so warm down there, so wet like the feeling is trickling up your spine in a delicious way, beginning to stoke a calming flame at the base until you begin to slowly undulate against him. 

"I'm doing it right?" 

"Yes...you are, Kento." 

"Should I...fuck, you sure you want me to keep going?" He breathes, his eyelashes almost brushing against your cheek as he holds you close. 

"Mhm...I'm sure Kento..." You reply softly, closing your eyes. 

"God, you..." He chuckles weakly. "You're really killing me here."  He gazes up at you in his lap. 

"You're so pretty like this, really." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah...fuck you're just...I like seeing how...aroused you get. If that's not weird to say." 

"Haha, no, no baby. Not weird at all." 

"You're mine..." He murmurs, kissing your collar as he curls his finger a little bit faster. 

"Kento, I'm..." Your jaw falls open. 

"Yeah?" 

"It's so much, baby..." 

"It's okay..it's okay...just let yourself feel good." 

"Ohh...Ken, I...think I'm gonna cum..." 

"Fuck, r-really?"

 

"Y-yeah just don't stop..." 

He continues coaxing and rubbing you with his finger, working you towards your orgasm, wincing as he felt the throb coming from the raging tent in his pants as his boxers began to drip with precum. 

The sensation is almost too much, especially hearing you moan like this, knowing he's responsible, an overwhelming sensation of possessiveness washing over him as you cry his name until...

"Shit!" A torrent of cum surges from his tip, dribbling and coating his boxers. 

"Fu-aaah! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...." Kento groans as his climax seized him by force, paralyzing him in his movements as he completely empties himself just from witnessing your arousal. 

You moan too, half disappointed at the loss but quickly entranced by the beautiful expression on Kento's face as you watch him cum for the first time in front of you. 

His blonde bangs are messy, slightly sticky with the lovely sheen of sweat and heat of pink he wears on his cheeks, thin lips parted in a completely numbed out expression as it surges through him like a wave, the intimate gravity of aftershocks somehow pulling you even closer together in this tender moment, his soft pants and your hushed breaths barely overpowering the evening sonnet of cicadas. 

"I'm so sorry..." He apologizes, shifting so you're not laying so directly over the pooling cum in his pants as the dampness seeped through. 

"God I'm so..." His cheeks flush from pink to red. "I wanted to make you cum...I'm so sorry." 

"Hey, Hey, Ken..."

He slowly relaxes as you numb him with a long kiss, holding it as you let the quiet rush back over the closed space, slowly opening your mouth against his, glossing your tongue back and forth across his lips before you release it with a delicate suck. 

"It's okay. It's okay, baby." 

"I can still make you...if you want..." 

You sigh delicately and the soft noise makes him throb in his pants. 

"I want to..." You turn nervously, looking at the porch light in the distance between the trees. "Oh shit, I think my dad's still awake." 

"Oh." Kento's face goes from red to white. You both move around frantically, trying to straighten up. 

"Fuck." Kento curses, turning red again when he realizes the huge cum stain leaking through his pants. "I'm supposed to walk you up there."

"No, no. Hey. Don't worry about it." You lean in and kiss him hard as you slip out of his truck. "I'm just gonna sneak in and hopefully he's not still awake." 

"But-" 

"See ya tomorrow!" 

You run and slam the truck door closed before he can protest, sprinting down the dirt path, turning to look back and catch him before he drives away. 

"Young lady." 

"AHHH!" You scream and nearly run into the door as your dad sits on the porch, dead panned expression that you honestly can't make out to be upset, annoyance, worry, or all three. He holds a smoke in his hand that indicates he had been out there for a while. 

While you were a grown adult, you still tiptoed around your parents for as long as they could wield the "under our roof" card over your head. 

"Getting awfully close with that boy, aren't you?" He asks, bringing the smoke to his lips. 

You pause, unsure if he was implying that he witnessed the whole steamy fiasco unfold inside Kento's truck down the road. 

No, there was no way. 

"Y-yeah." 

"Hm." A thin plume of smoke pours from his nostrils. "Bring him to the house tomorrow for lunch. I want to meet this young man." 

You nod. "O-okay." You walk up to him, giving him a goodnight kiss and hug, hoping that your neck didn't have obvious marks on it or you reeked too much of Kento's scent. 

"Night, dad." You mumble sheepishly as you close the front door. 

Your father wasn't born yesterday. He didn't need to see a damn thing to know what sort of shenanigans you and Kento were getting up to. You could have your summer fun, fine. But a young man who couldn't be bothered to come to the door? Who takes up all your spare time from your studies knowing what important opportunities you needed to prepare for? 

He doesn't like how this is going, not one bit.

As you enter the house, he shakes his head with a displeased chuckle, knowing this isn't going to end well. "Oh boy." 

------

Hearty laughs echo around the table from rich men as you and Kento look at one another, not grasping the punchline. 

It was lunchtime, and your parents threw an afternoon gathering with a bunch of names you never heard of in attendance of your father's associates from both the military and finance sectors alike. 

The guest list reeked of old money. 

Kento clears his throat and takes a long sip of water. He felt impolite and out of place imbibing in any of the alcohol, even though he sure could use it right now. 

While he was no stranger to the posh side of society with having a father who worked in finance, he realizes he's a fish out of water more than ever with the more questions that your father's friends ask him, making him keenly aware of his position of just starting out.

"What is it you do for work again?" 

"I work at the lumber yard as a wood worker's apprentice and hope to go back to university this fall, sir." 

"Mhm and if you don't mind my asking, how much do you make?" 

"About 30 ringgits per hour." 

The table goes quiet, and the air thickens into something extremely uncomfortable. 

"It's... it's not a lot,  but it gives me what I need to get by until I can start." Kento says modestly, though the confidence fades from his voice and he lowers his head as the expression of disappointment on your parents' faces doesn't budge. 

"Well I think that's lovely, dear." A random woman pipes in from the table. 

"Thank you." Kento says, trying not to exhale with too much relief.

The table awkwardly resumes conversations with one another again, and then your mom pipes up, turning to Kento.

"So, you two have been spending a lot of time together. Must be real fond of each other." 

"Yes ma'am." Kento admits timidly, breaking into a smile when you make eye contact with him, gently nudging his shoulder with your own. 

"Well, with summer ending in a couple weeks, what will you two do?" Your mother asks in that honeyed tone, the one you recognize has a little bit of malice baked into it. 

You pause as the anger simmers little by little. 

"The university I'm planning to attend should only be a couple of hours away." Kento answers in what he hopes is a polite tone, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. 

"But we're going back to Tokyo." Your mother retorts. "Didn't she tell you?" 

You set down your fork, leaning back in your seat as you stare at your mother who pulls her face into that insincere smile where she acts like she's done nothing wrong. 

Kento pauses. The words sit like a heavy weight in his stomach. "No, she hasn't." 

"I was going to tell you, Kento." You murmur to him, squeezing his hand under the table. 

"We can talk about it later." He murmurs back, squeezing your hand with reassurance. 

"University of Tokyo, by the way." Your mom piles on again, driving the wedge even deeper. 

You stare straight ahead. Kento looks at you, defeated as the news sprung cracks into his heart little by little until he was sinking. 

Your mother seems more than pleased with this reaction and starts up a conversation with someone else, while you and Kento sit there and wish you could rewind time back to five minutes earlier when it didn't seem like the stars had placed you two even further apart than you already were. 

Part 2 will be posted on 7/7 🦢💕 thank you for reading. 💕

[writing-for-life]

First Impressions of Netflix Sandman Season 2

Okay, I need to get this off my chest. Some people might know I’m the resident comics geek in here, but I’m not a comics purist. I liked the changes they made to S1 because they all made narrative and emotional sense to me, and despite some softening around the edges, it all felt true to the story to me.

And that was one of the reasons why I went into Season 2 with such high hopes and so much excitement. And I did like S2 as a sort of standalone thing.

But I also have a lot of thoughts about it as an adaptation, and I don’t know what happened there. Well, I guess I do because I expected compressing it so much would lead to some fallout. And I would’ve been okay with that. But it’s the emotional core of the story that has changed, and in my mind not always in a good way (people are obviously free to disagree). But one thing after another. Slight spoilers under the cut…

The Disjointed Feeling

The pacing feels completely off. We’re jumping a lot between storylines without giving any of them space to breathe, especially in Season of Mists. And it felt a bit like checking boxes? As an example, Lucifer’s abdication was rushed through like it was just another plot point. The new Nada arc (I call it new because it has so little resemblance to the original one that I can’t call it anything else) also felt rushed. For me, it was really hard to feel invested in their story, but that’s not just because of the overall disjointed feel, and I’ll get to it later.

Brief Lives fared marginally better in terms of letting the story breathe, but I think that’s also down to its overall narrative structure in the comics, which obviously supports that. And while I loved that we got Wanda, it felt like fan-service but otherwise just… stale? Because we completely scrapped AGoY, and it honestly felt a bit like, “But we need to make sure we still shoehorn in the fan-favourite trans-character somehow.” Honestly, Wanda deserved so much better than being this type of checkbox, and at this rate, it felt like doing her a disservice. But again, people are free to disagree.

I guess what I’m trying to say is: I get they had to condense it and that their hands were tied in a way. But it felt like condensing while still trying to cram in too much? I think volume 1 would have benefitted from cutting certain stuff to give other, more important beats more breathing space so it doesn’t feel like getting whiplash half of the time.

They’re Making Dream… Sorta Nice?

This is the big one for me. They’re softening Morpheus into oblivion (no pun intended), and it’s killing what makes him such a compelling character. In the comics, Dream is actually terrifying and horrible very often and not one bit in touch with his feelings (and for a good reason). I know that everyone loves the sad wet cat meme of Morpheus in the rain, but that’s his theatrics and drama, which are only part of his emotional core. Morpheus hides/supresses his true emotions 95% of the time until he can’t anymore and they burst to the surface in the most maladjusted ways. He also doesn’t talk about them like he’s in friggin’ therapy. That’s all good and well for fanfic, I do it as well because it’s fun, but that’s not his emotional core. That’s us trying to fix him.

And Netflix!Dream in S2 felt like a massive fix-it fanfic to me. Maybe that’s why so many people don’t seem to care because Tumblr obviously laps up these tropes, don’t know. It’s also understandable that people who haven’t read the comics won’t even notice, and that’s also okay. Netflix!Morpheus is a very different character from comics!Morpheus, and that wouldn’t be a problem, but the narrative tension stops working if you still try to cram him into largely intact comics plot. In the show, he gets a million beats where he’s clearly meant to be sympathetic, where the camera lingers on his face so we can see how much he’s hurting™️, where he has conversations with Lucienne that feel like the clumsiest exposition ever to mAkE us UNderStaNd because we’re apparently stupid and can’t figure out stuff or emotional subtext for ourselves (that already annoyed me in S1 btw). But the whole point of Morpheus is that he doesn’t SHOW that hurt. He buries it under duty and pride and quiet rage until it all comes exploding out in the worst possible ways. Netflix!Dream has been cracked open right from the start, and I honestly hated a little how far they took that in S2, despite already getting hints at it in S1. None of this should have been truly visible before the end of act 2 (the end of Brief Lives—that’s where he cracks open), bar a few subtle hints (there are obviously a few bits in SoM that are largely inner monologue).

And even then: Can we talk about the wash bowl scene? Just no, sorry. I had expected that scene to rip me to shreds and turn me into a blubbering wreck because it still does in the comics. But I didn’t shed a single tear, and it left me strangely underwhelmed because I honestly felt… that’s not Morpheus? Apologies to everyone who loved Tom’s performance there, but I just really didn’t. And I wanted to 🥺 That’s no reflection on anyone’s acting, because the acting as such was great. It’s just a character that’s barely Morpheus anymore. He’s this:

I totally get how it could be argued that the emotional outburst is in tune with releasing grief, so if people prefer that, I can see and understand why. To me, the quiet grief away from everyone was always more powerful though. Because it’s enough. It’s someone who hasn’t allowed himself to connect to that truthful, deep part of himself while theatrics and drama are much more of a an openly acknowledged part of him. That’s why I find the chair scene so powerful (and I’m PISSED we didn’t get it)—because it’s quiet and truthful. The wild scrubbing and howling is much more Morpheus the drama queen for me, but I get that I’ll be alone with that, and I’m okay with it 🤣

Which brings me to: The way they handled his relationship with Orpheus was particularly off for me. Comics!Dream’s guilt over his son is like an infected wound that he never lets anyone see. Netflix!Dream practically wears it on his sleeve after a bit of to-ing and fro-ing. Netflix!Dream is also painted as far more noble than comics!Dream. It feels like they’re setting him up for the heroic sacrifice only, and to me, that honestly stinks a little because I’ll call it what it is: mischaracterisation. But since I also know that screenwriters aren’t that dense, I’ll call it what it really is: making him more palatable for the mainstream audience.

The Emotional Core

The thing that makes Sandman special is that it is about stories and grief and the volatility and instability of dreams and the terrible weight of existing for too long. It is about change and the fear of change and how sometimes the only way is to break everything you used to be. But Netflix!Dream in S2 already is all of what he’s supposed to become, at least in a roundabout way. That’s why the conflict feels forced, because everyone around him still treats him like comics!Dream. It lacks deeper emotional resonance. It’s all surface emotional manipulation and layers it on so thick that for me, it was bordering on corny in parts (I wasn’t too keen on the additions to the dialogue with Orpheus at the end).

Or Nada. Don’t get me started. The whole sending her to Hell for 10,000 years barely makes sense anymore, because it was presented as a genuine choice. He was just “a bit pissy” she didn’t choose him and then didn’t rescue her, but she made the choice herself and basically suggested it first. Of course Hell in the Sandman is a place we send ourselves, and it was also implied in the comics that she could have walked away at any point had she just forgiven herself for the fate of her people. But it was Morpheus who planted the seed for that in the first place. In the show, they basically made it Nada’s choice from the outset.

Also: That he basically proposed and said he won’t bother her any further if she said no? Yeah, about that one. He’s so nice, isn’t he? Not at all the guy who could never take no for an answer, and hunted her down like a crazed stalker when she was both alive and dead.

It was just really weird revisionism of a story that originally had misogynistic and coercive undertones. I get why they removed them, but the problem is that they now fail to connect coherently with the story beats they kept intact.

In SoM, Lucifer’s character work was stunning (Gwen was great with what she was given), but it existed in isolation—it didn’t really connect to the broader themes about power and responsibility and the cost of ruling. It was all a hand wave.

I know that all sounds like I absolutely hated it, which I really didn’t. On its own, it’s okay. But I feel it’s just okay so far, while I thought S1 was great. S2 had many moments that absolutely did connect (I’ll just say Calliope and Johanna—they both made me sniffle), but moments don’t make a season. I’m a tad worried that the show has lost sight of what made the source material so special, in favour of making it more accessible to mainstream audiences (well, it’s Netflix, of course they would, but S1 was so much better). Sandman isn’t supposed to be “accessible”. It’s supposed to be challenging and weird and uncomfortable, and that’s what ultimately makes it beautiful.

I’ll keep watching, of course. I’m too invested not to, and maybe things will grow on me when I rewatch. But right now it feels like they’re adapting the plot of Sandman without understanding why that plot matters.

Maybe I’m being too harsh. Maybe I need to let the season breathe and see how it all comes together. But right now, it feels like they’re giving us a beautiful, well-acted shadow of something that is so much more.

Did anyone else feel like something was missing?

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Omg I loved your herald viktor epic line idea I’ve been thinking about it nonstop. If u have time and energy id love to read it sooo much ❤️❤️

Since the Ithica Saga dropped last night my brain has not known a single moment of peace. "Would You Fall in Love with Me Again" is just so insanely perfect for a Machine Herald Viktor x Reader AU it makes me physically ill. Like, seriously:

I am not the man you fell in love with

I am not the man you once adored

//

Would you fall in love with me again

If you knew all I've done?

The things I cannot change

Would you love me all the same?

//

Would you fall in love with me again

If you knew all I've done?

The things I can't undo

I'm not the man you knew

Viktor is so Odysseus coded it is PAINFUL. The pain of sacrificing so much of himself to survive. The regret of everyone he's had to leave behind, to betray. The ghosts of his legacy haunting his mind. All for his goal, the one thing he knows he's meant to do with every fiber of his being. Nothing, neither magic nor gods, will stop him from fulfilling that dream. He will not be the same once all has passed, and he will never regain all that he's lost. Can the person who loved him the most as he was before still love this version of him?

And the reader's answer...

I will fall in love with you

Over and over again

I don't care how, where, or when

No matter how long it's been

You're mine

Because what you loved about him is deeper than any of the ways he's changed. It's something at his core, in his soul, in the light of his eyes, no matter how tired they may seem now. It's your first kiss, it's the sound of his voice in your ear, it's the curve of his lips when he smirks, it's the way he looks at you like he falls in love all over again every day you're with him. Time may pass, and the world may change, but not this. Never this.

He is yours just as you are his, and that is the one thing that will never change.

[antoniabishop]

I'm going to address some of the comments I've received on these 2 silly pictures.

These drawings of a flying car were inspired by a scene from a book intended for 12-year-olds. Nowhere in the post do I say what book it is—you have to know it to recognize it. Recently, I've seen that Beyonce has been riding in a flying car on her tour—the image has been on my mind. I don't expect to reach everybody. But I think it's important we talk.

Of course I'm aware of Rowling's political beliefs about the policy in her country. I read her twitter feed daily and have been doing so for months. Within reason, when her rhetoric reaches its most extreme, I try to engage with her and the journalists she associates with. It can be frustrating. It's made me cry. But in engaging with and responding to this rhetoric, I know I have done more to moderate the conversation than any fanart boycott/lynch mob ever will.

Please keep in mind that these books, above all others, were translated into over 80 languages and distributed widely to children in places where women have no rights whatsoever, where you can be killed for being gay, where children are sold into slavery, and where there is no running water—let alone state sponsored access to estrogen. JK Rowling's career began in global humanitarian aid with Amnesty International. She has personal experience fleeing from domestic violence and relying upon social resources and welfare to survive.

The money she has spent to create a penis-free shelter where one did not exist does not harm trans people. A trans inclusive women's shelter in the area already exists. To argue that cis women fleeing abuse choosing to stay in this shelter is transphobic only betrays the fascist ideology strawmen TERFs accuse our community of.

To take something as innocent and simple as a flying car and assume it means I hate trans people is bizarre. This is fanart of a book I read when I was 12. Doing so inspired me to write my own fantasy stories, which I've been doing ever since (it's been 20 years!). The books taught me more about friendship, dreams, division, and death than even my parents. I studied these books in school, alongside their film adaptations, and learned even more about its depictions of slavery, extremism, blood purity, and Britain's place as an imperial figure in the cultural milieu of fantasy fiction...

The body and its presentation—Ron's dress robes, Snivelly's pants, the boggart, polyjuice potion, Tonks—are depicted in Harry Potter without malice. In fact, it is liberal and playful with the subject even by modern standards. Twitter aside, Harry Potter itself is not outdated because there's no Colin Creevey gender journey, and frankly, I think getting caught up in cancel culture has caused a large part of this community to completely lose the plot.

I like R. Kelly's Trapped in the Closet. I do, I think it's a crazy, funny, actually brilliant thing (the man is illiterate! this is Shakespeare!). I still watch the myriad of Weinstein Company films I enjoyed. Alec Baldwin killed someone. And I see people post Drake all the time. There is something suspicious and scary and strange about the way the tumblr community is so quick to exile people for increasingly petty political points: no engagement, no debate, toe the party line or get block button'd. I don't think it's a coincidence that JK Rowling became a target, since her stories were a point of common ground for fucking all of us and do address issues like "media cancel culture" and "extremist personality purity cult" in extremely tangible, detailed ways. And then some.

My coworker at the record store refers to me, and other nonbinary or transmasc people, as "man period." He's in his late 40s and he does not get transness, it pisses him off! And I love this fuckin guy anyway! The more you're out in the world engaging with its diversity and intolerance and strangeness, the easier it is to accept that good and bad exist beyond having a graduate level understanding of gender and sexuality as well as a flawless execution of "they" as a singular pronoun.

"But her money—!" I hear you say. And to that I have to answer, you are just not informed about what this money is actually doing. A trans woman was making a cis woman (who had a history child sexual abuse) uncomfortable in the changing room of the hospital where they worked. The cis woman requested privacy. She was fired.

I wouldn't know that if I hadn't chosen to tolerate the abrasive rhetoric and see what was going on for myself. To be brave enough to open my mouth and argue, to get a response, to form a counterargument. It's been good for me, as I believe it's good for any community to have dialogues on their differences. I've changed minds, and I've had my mind changed on a few things. It's uncomfortable, necessary work.

Thanks for listening.

You were seen.

[thorinlandscaping]

waaaaa they took away my male lead in the Only Straights Show from 2-3 seasons from now and made him a girl for some sort of WOKE AGENDA they're changing my badly written misogynist book series woe is me we need more straight rep!!! this is because i like their story not for any other reason!!! i'm bi as well!!! more straight romance!!!! no nonconformity!!!! the books!!!!!!!

[himblebo]

What’s wrong babe? You’re thinking about Glinda’s face before she is handed the torch to light the funeral effigy of her friend? Her best friend who was fundamental to the woman she has become? The woman that she abandoned at the most pivotal moment of their lives in an act of cowardice that she has spent the rest of her life running from? Her best friend that, through her own lack of action when it counted most, is widely believed to have deserved her murder?

[dalishthunder]

I think it's interesting that people are interpreting what akutami said about gojo losing the fight as "Gojo is the strongest and would have won if xyz hadn't happened" as if CE efficiency, cunning, and adaptability aren't part of the reason why Sukuna is the strongest.

Like yes, he has a good technique, honed and refined and powerful, but that's only part of what made him powerful. Everything else was because he was incredibly shrewd and cunning and quick to adapt in battle.

Gojo lost because his brain was hemorrhaging because he lost the domain battles and sustained so much damage. Sukuna sustained just as much and was still out-thinking him without the six-eyes' perception.

He was still one step ahead, and gojo might have won if he had been more alert, but in the end, he just wasn't. He underestimated Sukuna's extreme adaptability and it was his downfall

[fishylife]

i haven't watched this movie so i'm just commenting on the discussion of standalone media vs larger universes. hope that's okay >.<

i would be fine if my favourite movies were standalone. for some movies, the environment is simply to support the story. if the story is about overcoming fears and slaying dragons, and the character successfully slays the dragon at the end of the movie, what is the point of another movie? this is a very plot-centric take on watching stuff, because in this case, the characters and setting are all just vehicles to advance the story.

the 'somehow palpatine returned' thing is an example. palpatine was defeated, why was he resurrected for a new story? that just invalidates the previous story and all of the work that was done to get rid of him the first time.

for some movies, the environment is the draw. i assume kpdh is like that. presumably there's demon fighting and all that fun and exciting stuff. these environments usually make for good tv shows or video games because there's a lot to explore. so in these cases i understand wanting a sequel. still, my opinion will probably depend on what happened in the first movie. if the first movie ended on a satisfying note, there's no need to reopen old wounds unless there's a good reason. so i think the sequel has to be removed enough that it doesn't uproot the satisfying conclusion of the first movie. i think that's why adventure or mystery movies are more suited for sequels. you can have multiple adventures or mysteries that have no relation to each other and also don't necessarily affect the characters' own personal development if that makes sense. (if a character already learned a lesson in the first movie there's no point in them relearning it in the second one). unless a movie was originally planned to be a duology/trilogy/quadrology in which the writer has carefully planned the story so that each movie is an important part of the complete story.

studios don't want standalone movies because they need to monetize everything. if there's an interesting enough universe, they want to monetize it. gone are the days of directors making a single movie and moving on. if inception was made today by a different studio i could see people wanting a million sequels afterwards.

for some writers/directors, they've created the world and they've written the story, and now they want to explore something else. i see this approach a lot with short story writers. they explore a gimmick in an environment, they write about it, and then they're ready to move on and explore another.

studios are worried no one will watch their new movie/show so they put it in a preexisting universe so that as a fallback they'll have fans of that universe, even if the story has no reason to be put in that universe. (we had some odd superhero mashup tv shows in recent years) similarly with many adaptations of popular books, studios think they'll at least get the book fans to watch the movie.

but it feels so unnecessary when they add other references/fanservice to it that have nothing to do with the story. again if the story is about a knight overcoming fears and slaying the dragon, why should i care about the king? the king who has their own story where they're the hero, but are irrelevant in the knight's story. they're just there for fanservice but add nothing to the knight's story. it makes me feel like the studio is being lazy. a cameo of the king doesn't make your knight story good, if the original knight story is still bad.

there's also the risk of studios nowadays stretching things out so long that i lose any love i had for it. things don't need to go on forever. again, that's why i appreciate media that starts and ends. the writers had a story in mind, they executed on it, and it's done. it doesn't need to be beaten to death. if the story is good, if the setting is interesting, i'll be thinking and daydreaming about it. i don't need a studio to make a sequel to do my daydreaming for me, especially if it's just going to make a less good version of the first one. (i do feel we're living in the era of a lot of not-good sequels unfortunately...)

so I see people praising KPDH for being an original property and not a rehash of existing stuff

Does that mean you'd be fine if there were never any other movies or media in that universe? Can you genuinely allow something to be stand-alone?

because we all know the studios don't want that, and a lot of fans don't, either

(I'm not judging—I got to the point long ago where I admitted that I don't really care about watching stuff*, so how much is original and how much is rehash doesn't make any difference to me, but I am genuinely curious how people who do frequently engage with media want to trade the novelty of a new story/experience with the familiarity of beloved characters/universes) (*I'm GenX, so the idea of not watching stuff, but in a way that still accepts that it has merits, and does not look down on it in a snobbish way, is not part of how I grew up)

[nellasbookplanet]

Okay I have finally finished watching the c3 finale in its entirety (it's SO LONG you guys) and I know I critique and mayhaps even complain a lot but I love this show. Something magical about seeing the stories and parties of ten years and three campaigns coming together, but also the guests throughout c3 getting their moments at the table, the joy of the cast being palpable (their response to that nat 20 had me sharing their excitement even if I maybe wanted to see a god or two get eaten (looking at you Asmodeus and Lolth)). And like, yeah the plot and ending have their weak points but I was at the absolute edge of my seat for that first half of them working to convince the gods and save Ashton, a huge grin on my face for great chunks of the episode, and I really do like where Bells Hells as characters ended up, as well as the peaks into VM and the m9. And yes I have my reservations about the Vaxleth thing but also the feeling of it all in the cast softens it.

If I had to sum up my feelings on the campaign as a whole, it's a fun ride with a lot of really good bits and very cool & creative characters and super unique lore and wordbuilding and SO MUCH ambition (and I always appreciate ambition over playing it safe), but if you try to think too hard about it it kind of falls apart a little bit. Actual play popcorn entertainment. I've had a good time and hope the rest of you did too. Now: on to exu Divergence!

[throughpatchesofviolet]

I'm hoping taking an extended break from Limbus (aside from dailies and weeklies, of course), helps me return to it with passion, again ... make no mistake, I am thinking about the game and characters nonstop--even when engaged in other activities--I've just been having trouble posting about it due to a myriad of things.

[bibi-the-pooh]

I'm starting to think that we actually cracked the code. Like, they cannot do better than this.

I also think that Nevermore will be full of insiders from MS/WH, and that theory about Laurel being supposed to bring Tyler to MS (or maybe WH, but I’m kind of convinced they’re tied) but exploiting the mission and using Tyler for her own revenge plan just fits her character definition: slippery, because like you assume, there’s a good chance she didn’t question her resources as long as she got her way; selfish and egotistical. She might have actually thought, “They’re going to use him anyway, why not unlock his Hyde a little earlier?” God, I thought I couldn’t hate her more, but here we are.

Maybe that redheaded girl is actually part of MS and the stalker. She had Laurel’s bangs and hair color, and she is somehow obsessed with Wednesday. She is probably influenced by her family members or MS devotees. They would want to stalk Wednesday and send death threats because they were annoyed that she got in the way and eliminated one of their members. One of the inspirations for this season was Carrie. In that story, Carrie’s mother was a very strict Catholic and a control freak. I’m guessing Annie (I think the redhead’s name was that?) has parents who will be like that too.

I wonder what will happen in that Nevermore lockdown and who will die. Someone we know? Maybe the Prom Night inspiration comes from here. Will they lock down the school on the night of some sort of homecoming party? And the masked killers will take down people one by one, and one of them will turn out to be someone we know. In the original story, it was the main character’s brother. If we adapt this to the Nevermore setting, it might be someone from the werewolf packs. Maybe one of Enid’s brothers? I think she had many of them, lol. This would also explain why Principal Dort would want to cage all of the werewolves.

But I think I’m starting to lose track of the main motive here. Why would MS want to obliterate Nevermore if they already have the reins of WH outcasts—or should I say Hydes? Because of their hunger for power? Do they want to control the other outcasts too? I wouldn’t be surprised if Faulkner was one of them and actually found a way to subdue Hydes. I won’t buy that “Every Hyde has a master” nonsense. (Sorry, Hunter, I love you so much, but WE ARE BEING MISLED!)

OKAY, I swear I’m wrapping up here: the only loose end we have is Owen Painter’s character. I despise those leaks, and I won’t follow their “He’s a Frankenstein-type monster” theory either, because there are already so many outcast types around here. Currently, my best bet would be him being another Hyde who found a way to escape from WH. Maybe he’s not a Hyde, but when he escaped, he must have been in a bad situation. Pugsley might have found him near death, and he probably electrocuted him to save him. He woke up, got away, but maybe some part of Pugsley’s energy stayed inside him. Even if Wednesday doesn’t want to visit Tyler at Donovan’s request, I think an escapee who has a connection with Pugsley would leave her with no choice.

OR Pugsley’s not related to Owen Painter’s character at all; he’s related to Annie. We’re assuming she’s a villain, after all, but she could also be a misled kid like Tyler. Ugh, wouldn’t it be awesome if the two siblings found solace in each other through their deceiving exes? Lol jokes aside, I really want to watch Tyler and Pugsley together and see their banter. It would be even better if Pugsley tried to protect his older sister and judged Tyler by his past, projecting Annie’s betrayal onto him, but once he saw the real Tyler, he’d start to see him as this scary and unpredictable but cool as hell brother-in-law.

The concept of Wednesday visiting Tyler at Donovan’s request (or begging?) is weighing heavily on my mind right now, because what could Tyler possibly know about Wednesday’s new case if it wasn’t related to Laurel?

Yes, there is a strong possibility that Tyler knew about Laurel’s connections and that he might have seen the bigger picture but what exactly is the bigger picture here?

That Laurel was part of this outcast-hating society, and that this society owned Willowhill? Let’s not forget the resemblance between the names 'Willowhill' and 'Thornhill'. Did they fund her to carry out her plans while they tortured outcasts under the pretense of treating them in that psychiatric hospital?

And who funds them? Who would have endless resources? I’ll answer that: a cult of scammers. Was it really a coincidence that Laurel was incredibly skilled at faking her identity and getting accepted into Nevermore?

If she had a siren on her side, she could have forced people to do anything she wanted. That’s where the alliance begins between the Willowhill outcast-haters and the Morning Song cult. Hence, the alliance between Bianca and Wednesday, and them letting Tyler out of Willowhill.

Morning Song would be eager to exploit outcasts, especially Hydes. Plus, they are loyal only to their own cult, not to other kinds of outcasts. It’s plausible to think that they would act together.

It’s only inevitable that Donovan would desperately seek help from Wednesday for his son. Last semester, she was the only person Tyler had any real connection with. If there were two people in that town who saw Tyler as just a boy, they were Wednesday and Donovan.

But what does Donovan want Wednesday to do? To see for herself the state Tyler has been kept in? To prove that his son is still somewhere inside the lunatic serial killer they turned him into? It remains to be seen.

[britneyshakespeare]

you know i'm usually the last person to have strong opinions on movie casting announcements but the idea of jacob elordi playing heathcliff stirs a fiery sense of indignation in my heart

[clegfly]

Small thing I’m cooking for idksomethingclever99’s fic MITPP!! For some reason I’m having trouble tagging them but here’s the fic!!

This seemed fun to do… probably won’t get more done than this page though…

[akkivee]

KR!!!!!!!!!!!!! NELKE!!!!!!!!!!! WHOMST TF EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LET ME IN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LET ME IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[idiosyncraticrednebula]

I will never understand why some people feel the need to defend the indefensible.

[princewylder]

Istg I actually need to sit down and write a proper bio for Riku because even I get confused af as to what his personality is sometimes.