#sorry so many are by the same authors orz

[pompompurin1028]

Thanks for the tag Nyusa @nnakahara <33

Rules: in a text post, list ten books that have stayed with you in some way. don’t take but a few minutes, and don’t think too hard — they don’t have to be the “right” or “great” works, just the ones that have touched you

Disclaimer: Quite a few of them are not exactly books but like essays or short stories or poetry lol

1. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

2. De Profundis by Oscar Wilde (a letter and self-reflection, trying to find himself again after being sent to jail)

3. A Valediction Forbidden Mourning by John Donne (love poem)

4. The Setting Sun by Dazai Osamu

5. Truth and Lying in the Non-Moral Sense by Friedrich Nietzsche (essay)

6. Frames of War: When is Life Grievable / The Forces of Non-violence by Judith Bulter

7. Whatever Hegel is writing about lol (I hadn’t finished his books at all orz but I have learnt about it and I am very intrigued but I don't quite understand it... :') I want to though and he's always on my mind)

8. Blue Bamboo by Dazai Osamu (short story, rewrite of a Chinese tale)

9. The Portrait of Mr W. H by Oscar Wilde (underrated short story)

10. 思考的蘆葦 by Dazai Osamu

open tags <33

[theangrypomeranian]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

I'm sorry this is so late orz life has been pretty crazy this past week lol.

Baby Steps

Summary:

After going through a terrible break up, Tina is left trying to pick up the broken pieces of her heart and life. Luckily, Zeke is there to help her with his tried and true method: touch therapy (literally). Through many trials and tribulations, they slowly learn how to grow and move on...together. A story of healing, friendship, and falling in love.

i doubt anyone is surprised by this choice lol. this fic is my pride and joy, i worked on it for a year and kept up a consistent update schedule for it. it's a story that is very near and dear to my heart and helped me start to heal my inner teenager.

2. i hate accidents (except when we went from friends to this)

Summary:

Best friends Louise and Rudy get married for tax purposes. No, really, that's totally it, honest. No way are any actual feelings gonna form. No way... ...unless...?

the fic i wrote for Roudise week 2023. this story was SO MUCH FUN to write omg. the whole premise started as a joke between my beta reader Red and I about these two getting married for taxes and the prompts for the week were announced i knew i had to use the idea. it was a huge hit with the Roudise side of the fandom and i'm so glad that they all loved it so much.

3. Safe and Sound

Summary:

When Tina Belcher is reaped for the Hunger Games, she's sure that her life is over. But when Zeke Tisdale volunteers as the male tribute and promises to protect her in the arena, she realizes that she might have a chance of surviving this...if she can avoid falling for him.

the Hunger Games AU i wrote for Zekina week 2023. as most of my followers probably know by now, i freaking LOVE the Hunger Games series, both the movies and the books (though I lean a lil more towards the books lol). the prompts for the week immediately made me think of it, and since i'd already had the first 2k or so words typed out already i figured why not finish it for the week? it was also written as the week went on because it was a last minute decision lol.

4. Long Way Home

Summary:

After Zeke leaves for three months to work for a logging company in Alaska, Tina receives a call telling her that he passed away in an avalanche. Devastated but determined to stay strong for her loved ones, she must learn how to live without the one that got away. ...or does she? Because unknown to all, Zeke survived - and he is fighting with the Last Frontier to get back home.

my current WIP. this one started as a weird ass dream i had about my otp and i told Red about it, then she proceeded to pitch a reworking of it for a fic and i was instantly in love with the concept. it's very niche so i don't blame anyone for giving it a pass, but i love it and that's all that matters. and for the fifth rec i'm putting down two because i genuinely cannot choose between them (and since when do i ever follows the rules for these kinds of asks XD):

Meet Me in the Afterglow

Summary:

Three months after she's peer pressured into breaking up with Henry, Susmita gets a call that her grandmother has died. Henry offers to take her home for the funeral and she quickly realizes that she's made a huge mistake. Can she sort through her feelings and win back her man? Or is it too late for them?

i LOVE this fic. normally i hate break up fics but i worked very hard on this one and did SO MUCH RESEARCH for it. overall i think i did really good with it and i'm always thrilled when someone reads it.

you better leave (it's not safe in here)

Summary:

Tina lives an idealistic life in the small community of Victory. Every day is the same, structured, secure. All of her neighbors know and like her, and her husband Jordan is a quiet unassuming man who works hard so that she can stay home and be a good housewife. Life is good and peaceful. However, sometimes she can't help but feel as if she doesn't belong there, and her nightly dreams of a tall and handsome man with an accent make her question if her marriage is really as happy as she's been led to believe. But then strange things start to happen and Tina starts to wonder if something more sinister is going on in Victory...

the Don't Worry Darling AU that no one asked for lmao. i was so let down by the movie but still loved the concept, so i decided to use it for a fic and loved the end result. just like with LWH, this one is very niche so i understand why it's not more popular. but i really love this fic and hope that one day it gets the recognition it deserves.

[alikestory]

mostly rambling about writing my webcomic...

i was doing the typesetting for the next chapter and there's this one part where i was like, i need to explain what this person is referring to for this scene to have any weight. i'll just write a quick backstory thing~

anyway it's. as long as a normal chapter nowwwww :'^) INEVITABLY. i still have one little scene left to write dfghj

generally this arc keeps getting LONGER ;___; i know how it ends and i'm like "wait is this going to have any impact if i don't write something about that??" and in general there are lots of things i know about the characters that aren't in the comic and i'm like DOES IT MATTER???? i don't know.... :'3 (like, not stuff that's going to be revealed later just kinda mundane things that happened before the story starts. but then i hate it when a manga has an entire volume dedicated to one side character's backstory and i'd like my webcomic to END ONE DAY.........)

okay so i wasn't like "i'll just write a quick backstory thing~ tee hee~" I SAID IT BLEAKLY. RESIGNED TO MY FATE.

it is mostly the character in question narrating some stuff so i thought okay i'll do it nagata kabi style and i can totally finish this and another 21 page chapter in two months. i mean her manga is in a simple kinda sketchy style and there's a lot of narration but it's interesting....... anyway that's my current plan. basically how shitty can i get away with this looking..... and what if i made it pink like my lesbian experience with loneliness.......... but i don't want people to see it and think of nagata kabi necessarily i just like pink. MY WEBSITE IS ALREADY PINK. IT'S FINE. NO ONE WOULD EVEN NOTICE. also being like "hey remember this completely unrelated and also way better manga???" at the very beginning of a 30-40 page update. :'^) BAD IDEA.

anyway i own (i can't think of a way to abbreviate this title sdfg why is it so long) my lesbian experience with loneliness but i want to read her newer books too. i think i read exchange diary at a library and found it kinda boring tho? .-.;; ig it's not as sensational as long title. less sex appeal. (that is a joke.)

SEEING THE NEWER TITLES IS. bleak. this poor woman what the hell. like reading long title you'd expect things to get better for her and it's not like her manga hasn't been successful either..... it's kind of depressing, i put them on hold at the library but DO I REALLY WANT TO KNOW???

also somewhat self-conscious about my library holds u__u;;; having three volumes of manga in the first place. whenever i put manga on hold i worry they'll think i don't read real books..... (because i DON'T. i put left hand of darkness & house of leaves on hold too but i've had both of them out before and just never actually read them........ THIS TIME I'M GOING TO. I SWEAR.) i also took impossible people out a few months ago so what if they can see my reading history and are like "why do you read so many comic books about alcoholics??" BUT NEITHER OF THOSE THINGS WILL HAPPEN. i just have an anxiety disorder :v

aaaaa i also don't even know if this backstory flashback thingy is enough.... I MEAN. I GET IT NOW. I KNOW WHY THEY DRAW AN ENTIRE VOLUME OF VILLAGER E'S BACKSTORY. (actually when i think of this phenomenon i think specifically of fai from tsubasa orz;;;; I'M SORRY.) AND. OKAY. IT'S SO EMBARRASSING.

nothing i'm saying or will continue to say is helping my case for Dear Library Employees, I Swear To God I Don't Just Read Comic Books (about alcoholics. i also read comics about other stuff.)

there was some comedy/romance shojo manga i read back in high school and i think the offenders here were by the same author but i don't remember who for sure :v anyway there were a bunch where something serious was about to happen or the characters were finally going to be honest with each other and then they'd have some kinda joke and it would always annoy me bc as we have established i love some sensational drama :v

BUT I GET IT NOW ;_____; THAT IMPULSE...... it's hard to write a sincere and emotional moment and be like WHAT IF IT DOESN'T LAND????? it's so obvious what i'm trying to do that if people go "i don't buy it" then i'll just DIE I GUESS?????????

but you have to try u__u you HAVE TO.

[syksy-kirjoittaapi]

That also makes me feel better about kinda touching topics that aren't my stories to tell

I mean I know there's a problem with white authors getting to tell the stories of non-white characters while writers of colour can't get published

But if I don't get published, it'll be fine

That said there is this writing competition that my story would probably fit into that I'm kinda thinking about maybe participating in, although I feel really conflicted about it because what if I win, but then again maybe it's too arrogant of me to even assume I have a chance to win anyway

But then what's the point of participating? idk, I guess because I feel like I should, mostly to please my parents so they'll think there's actually some chance of this writing thing paying off in some way (even though it won't)

I guess that's the answer, I just need to participate to make my parents feel better about it, and then it's fine because I won't actually win so I won't need to worry about getting published

I mean the competition is about high fantasy for adults and even though this IS technically for adults (I'm writing it for myself (a person who technically counts as an adult) and the protagonist is supposed to be an adult) but it's also very YA-y, I think

So I doubt they'll be into it, it's probably not what they're looking for

And there are bound to be hundreds of other participants who will have much better things to offer, many of them have been working on those books for years and just looking to find a publisher, and the competition is fierce

So I think it's safe to participate

orz idk

It's kinda awful because of course a part of me does want to get published, it feels like that's the sign that you've made it, you're officially an author and you're officially valid, but at the same time... I'm so bad with pressure, also then it means losing some of my freedom to write what I want or to do with my work what I want. What if by some miracle I do end up winning (maybe there's a judge on the panel who just happens to be really into the concept idk, also they did say that the top five might get publishing deals too) and then the publisher will own the rights to the story and I won't be able to release it for free (I mean I guess there's always the option of just pirating my own work lol...)

At the same time, the competition does provide a deadline, and it's easier to push yourself when you have a deadline so idk, maybe it's worth it for that alone? (Might not even need to participate in the end)

I know all this sounds really dumb, I'm sorry

Well I guess I don't have to say sorry since I have no followers here, I can say what I want

I'm so hyper aware of how delicate my motivation is, I get so easily demoralised when I read stuff that I know I could never write myself, that's way better than whatever I'm doing

Which is a lot of stuff, there are so many better writers than me, including people I know

I know some really good writers (which is a blessing and a curse)

That's why I have to keep reminding myself that I'm JUST writing this for myself and for nobody else, this is just for my own amusement and it doesn't need to be good as long as it's good enough to entertain me

[ploffskinpluffskin]

Title: The Ruins Rating: PG-13ish Warnings: god Implicit and explicit character death(s), unhappy ending, Natori spends the entire fic grieving and/or trapped in a bleak situation orz, probably manipulation and gaslighting, some short-lived violence and blood at the end, being at the mercy of someone who thinks they love you......... 6^6;; Characters: Natori, mostly (sorry). An OC by the name of Caishen. Other characters like the Cat King, Natoru, Lune, and Yuki are mentioned or make brief appearances but it’s mostly comprised of interactions between Natori and various OCs rip. This has become pretty much an exercise in ‘I wonder how much suffering I can dump on my favorite character’ Summary: How many strings does one good deed pull? For the Cat Kingdom and its residents, the absence of one impulsive act of goodwill possesses farther reaching consequences than anyone could have expected.

Notes: So this idea originally came about from just kind of a small part of @catsafarithewriter‘s Disappearance of Haru Yoshioka which mentioned briefly that without Haru's rescue of Lune, the king died without an heir, and the Cat Kingdom descended into chaos. Me, being lightly obsessed with the Cat Kingdom and also being an absolute sucker for bleak situations, saw My Favorite Character Natori to the side, thought about how losing not only Lune and the Cat King, but also the entire kingdom's peace and prosperity, would just utterly destroy him and quietly wondered if in this kind of situation he would be one of the first casualties or if for some reason someone might want to keep him alive for ‘useful knowledge’ and voila. You have this pit of despair. I did ask catsafari if it was alright to take inspiration in the way I did, just for the record `~`;

I wasn’t certain for a while whether I would eventually publish this one or not, not only because the idea came from someone else’s fic, but also because it’s. well. very dark compared to what I normally write, and I feel I’ve long since sorta pigeonholed myself into being the Cute one who writes just lighthearted subjects, and even when I do venture into darker, sadder topics, it’s usually still with an overarching sense of idealism to it— that things will be alright Eventually. This… is not that

because of that, i have decided ultimately to just post it here on this private-ish side blog. also be aware this sucker is Long As Hell and unfinished, but i’ve added notes for the missing parts

+++

The kingdom feels Lune's loss keenly, but perhaps none so noticeably as the king himself— he becomes quiet, listless. He vanishes from the kingdom's affairs, and no prodding to the contrary is enough to galvanize him back into his old life; too much pressing, in fact, and Natori learns rather harshly that he will retaliate, and violently so if he feels it necessary. But his anger remains the mercurial spark it always was— it burns itself out in seconds and then disappears as if it had only been imagined.

By the time he begins to spend long hours shut resolutely in solitude, Natori simply lets him be outside of the occasional admonition to eat or drink, the aching tenderness of his arm an effective reminder. He takes only cautious and dutiful steps in private to keep his old companion looking at least a little presentable, if he cannot nudge him into eating.

Grief is an unpredictable animal, he reasons desperately to himself sometimes. If it's more time the king needs before he can return, then he can certainly have it. Natori can endure and hold fort in the meantime. Anything, he thinks, if it means he will recover eventually.

But not everyone feels that same gentle, forlorn patience. He catches rumors sometimes, whispers which were not intended to reach him— stirrings of resentful unrest, nonchalantly-spoken rambles about aspirations of luxury and authority, and improbable jests to test the waters (waters which are looking quite captivatingly viable by the day). They can not be stifled; at best, Natori can only hope the king returns to his position before they can root themselves too firmly.

It's one particularly warm day when Natori feels he hits the ledge of what had been perhaps naive hopefulness, when it's shown to him in stark, vivid relief just how bleak the situation has become, and that frail hope is laid to rest with all the quiet resignation of the waning moon.

It had begun so conventionally, so innocuously. 

He’d led the king to a chair in his bedroom, and Claudius had followed him dutifully, in much the same unthinking, silent way an obedient and browbeaten child might.

Once, Natori recalls wishing the king might mellow some in his old age, and now he can’t help but to look upon that wish as if it had itself brought them to this state of affairs. He would give anything, now, he thinks sometimes, for the king to toss some unfortunate entertainer out a window or make some no doubt inane proclamation about Casual Fridays because he’d heard some passing mention of the same thing in the human world.

His poorly-named conversations with the king during their time together always meander, necessarily superficial and perfunctory, as Natori mentions old favorite subjects and sidles past memories of the ash-colored kitten they all so dearly miss.

Today, however, he can not seem to stop himself.

“It’s almost his birthday.”

Even saying it aloud is like a lightning rod right to his heart, but he can not help but to continue. “Do… Do you remember, sire..? That one birthday? H-He must have been only four or so at the time. You had gotten him an aquarium, but he was too young— he didn’t understand. I still remember him, even now, looking back and forth between it and you, admiring it as he tapped his little paws together—” Here he cuts himself off with a painful gulping breath. He can not go any further. If he does, he’ll break down; he’ll scream. Instead, with a steadying breath, he rubs at his face and changes topics in desperation.

Yet his newest topic ends up being of little more comfort.

"There's been some rumblings, sire," Natori says as he shakily continues to comb through the occasional mat. The king is silent still, languid. When Natori continues, his voice trembles as well despite his best efforts, prey to the helpless frustration churning away in his chest, the fresh grief which was just upturned, "They're saying there are changes coming, and I— I think they may be right to believe so. Some of our residents are growing restless, and wish to take matters into their own hands, sire. They see opportunity, understand."

Natori hesitates there, breaths shallow, thinking distantly of the too close, trailing looks he's glimpsed when their owners think he's not paying attention. Something rises in his chest then, whether it is that apprehension, or perhaps his agitated strain finally getting the better of him, and for the second time that day, he cannot help the words which next erupt from him.

"I'm— I'm frightened, sire. Please— I-I’m so afraid. This has stretched on for so long, I suppose it's little wonder they might begin to feel so bold. I-I know you don't wish to— it's... I understand perhaps it's still so soon, but... there remains still the question of succession. I cannot make that decision myself, sire, not if we can expect it to be upheld. I— we need you to come back. Please..."

The metal comb in his paws seems suddenly quite foreign and heavy, and so he sets it down on the side table and rubs hastily at his eyes with shaking paws. From there, he wanders around to the king's front, kneels before him in a beseeching way he's certain he hasn't before. Muted shame at his own weakness is evident on the proverbial horizon, but for now the trepidation he's spent too long repressing is in firm control.

"...please, Claudius," he echoes, a mournful plea which is near whispered.

Yet the king seems unmoved, taciturn, staring down at him in blank but resolute detachment.

He should have known better, Natori thinks to himself mournfully as hot tears gather in his eyes against his will— banking on his physical frailty when it comes to Claudius has never worked. The king forgets far too easily, even when emotion isn’t clouding his judgment. Never before now has Natori had the despondent thought that perhaps the king simply doesn’t care to remember.

“...answer me.” Natori is surprised by the harsh stillness of his voice. “Say something, sire.”

Claudius remains silent. That earlier frustrated emotion which had risen in his chest and churned returns, but this time it utterly boils over, just as he’d feared. From far away, Natori watches himself reach for the king with trembling, clumsy paws, gripping at his lethargic companion’s fur and all but frantically shaking him as he cries aloud, his voice broken, gasping.

“Do you understand that we will collapse without you, sire?! The castle, the kingdom, all of us who— wh-who care for you—! Th-They’re going to seize the throne and drag it all out from under you, and I daresay it’s a matter of mere days before they do..! Do something— say something..!”

It’s at the king’s continuing, obstinate silence that Natori utters an exasperated sob, gradually becoming aware of his lapse in self-restraint and the callous words he’d spoken. 

Overwhelmed by both guilt and dying, worried anger, he pushes away and hides his face in the fabric of his oversized sleeves, working futilely to get himself back under control. He’s only distracted from his stubborn tears by a very soft touch to his shoulder, feather-light and hesitant, and when he looks up to find the source (vaguely expecting to see Lune’s winsome, sympathetic smile, because he supposes his mind hasn’t been cruel enough to him already), it’s to find himself face-to-face with the king.

The ghost of his earlier forlorn hope flutters weakly… but is ultimately stamped out.

Claudius stares at him blankly for a fleeting moment, and then wordlessly moves to lay his head against the space between Natori’s neck and his shoulder, and although he does rest his paw on his advisor’s as if in reassurance, it's limply, without interest. His apathy is clear.

Natori feels quite cold; some deeply betrayed part of him wishes to pull away, but the looming separation he can now so clearly see on the near horizon keeps him where he is. He will soon stand alone. He already does. His explosive emotion from just moments ago seems now like some hazy, hard-to-comprehend dream. Perhaps because of that, he bows his head so his face may also be hidden against Claudius' shoulder, and draws him close to him for the first time.

It proves also to be the last. When the king is gone, Natori waits, and he doesn't wait for long.

They storm the castle’s rooms, and weary from grief and loss and too much time spent cultivating what has ultimately proven to be fruitless, he offers no resistance when they do.

+++

It is nearing winter, he thinks, in the human world. The sun shines warmly still in the Cat Kingdom, however, and by some equally-aching miracle, Natori remains as well. He counts down his days in silence until he loses track, and then he waits in stillness for the day when his apparent usefulness is extinguished.

It is nearing winter when he snaps out of a thick fugue to find himself alive. The air feels cold. Stale. Empty. His paws, where they've settled limply in his lap and across the chair's arms, are shaking ever so slightly in his sleeves. He is crumpled in a chair, and from the stiffness in his back, he has been there quite some time.

There are voices outside.

No— there is someone across from him, murmuring contentedly in the gloom.

Natori gradually recognizes him as Caishen, the Siamese cat's identity coming back to him in scattered pieces and indistinct interactions. An ambitious noble, unfittingly mild-mannered and retiring for his lofty, covetous goals. They'd spoken on many occasions before this, with a telling increase in frequency the longer the king's absence had persisted. He was well-spoken, persuasive, Natori had often thought to himself… and always a little too close for comfort, in a way Natori had felt reluctant to put a word to. He had often breathed a private sigh of relief once he was out of the other cat’s presence, and that he appears now to be saddled with his company without any obvious escape inspires quite little optimism in him. 

Today, Caishen seems to have brought a spotted hairbrush with him, which he is now using to gently brush through the thin fur on what Natori slowly registers as his own leg.

He's speaking.

"...ould have you reinstated—— no, raised above even your old position. Not one courtier would dare speak against you nor my decision for fear of incurring my ire, not were I in charge. A familiar, comfortable little nook for you, don't you think..?"

Here he notices Natori’s gaze on him and his movements, more clear-eyed attention than the grey cat has ever given him before today. When he continues, it's with a noticeably more roused tone. He looks up to Natori with the stifled, knowing excitement of a child on the morning of his birthday.

"Yes. I remember you back then. You worked hard, didn't you? And yet it was so, so often thrown away. Left by the wayside. I remember you then— there was a haggardness to you then that I don't see anymore. You're free. You’re free because I released you."

Natori's eyes feel warm. His throat aches.

"But to retain that freedom, that's the impasse we've arrived at. All you need do… is speak to me. Tell me what you know, and give me something compelling. I'll continue to guarantee your safety, as I've been doing, you know, no small feat considering your close ties to the last king, you must understand— and your reputation, of course. You will live comfortably, and finely, and be properly appreciated for all you've done bes—"

"...curled demurely in the palm of your hand," Natori wearily interrupts him, and he's surprised by the sound of his own voice— soft, hoarse from disuse. Unfamiliar, now.

Caishen shares his gaze just long enough for his expectant expression to darken into a scowl, after which he looks away with a disappointed tsk. He stands and starts for the door in an insulted huff, and before he leaves, turns to face his captive companion again with what seems to be a final word of warning.

"You've been more trouble than you're worth, Natori. And that's not going to change. But I want you to remember that I offered you an out."

You offered me a worthless shroud to hide the dehisced wound.

Yet, as the trackless days wear on and his implied execution never comes to pass, it becomes quite clear to him that Caishen has something more particular in mind for him, and it must extend beyond whatever inane secrets he believes he might glean from the ex-advisor. Natori isn't certain how much more time he spends lost in that dazed dream, nor how many more times the noble visits him in that time span. One particularly lucid day sees him recalling his time caring for dear ailing Claudius with a faraway stab of grief, musing on his continued survival, and coming quite abruptly to a conclusion which should already have been obvious— he is valuable.

And once that realization takes root, it’s not long at all before he understands his dilemma; he thinks back to the other cat’s gentleness, his insistent tenderness, in his mind’s eye, the sharpest it's been in quite some time. What questionable acts have taken place while he’s been metaphorically away? No more.

Somewhere, also, the bare, surface fact that he might indeed be manipulated into betraying that which remains still precious to him should he not gather his wits reignites a powerful resentment he'd not been entirely aware of harboring before now.

From there, Natori waves a proverbial farewell to the comforting fugue. He takes a deep breath, wades into the muck which has accumulated about him in his stupor, and begins walking resignedly forward.

+++

When next Caishen sees fit to visit him, he finds Natori seated bonelessly in the ragged, once-elegant chair he's been provided, staring up at the ceiling with an odd amount of intensity, rumination— attention which very quickly moves to center on him when he enters the room. Were it not for the cold hostility lining that focus, he might find the grey cat's unusual lucidity favorable.

Ever the optimist, he approaches Natori and kneels before him, pats his leg as if nothing is out of the ordinary (noting the apparent irritated twitch in Natori's expression as he does), and airily remarks, "Someone looks quite hale and hearty today." 

Then, conversationally, peering up at Natori as if they are only two old friends meeting up after a long separation,"Has your stay been comfortable? Have they treated you nicely?"

Natori narrows his eyes at him. Caishen certainly knows the answers to those questions already (as well as the fact that Natori himself doesn't), so he doesn't bother providing his own, instead moving his gaze pointedly away. 

"Is there anything I can get you?"

An offer which the both of them know cannot be genuine; again Natori remains silent and pays him little mind. It's there that Caishen sighs with affected exasperation in response, as if he is the long-suffering parent doing their best to cajole an uncooperative child into sharing a toy or finishing off a detested vegetable. He pushes himself up to a standing position, now staring down at his companion with a bemused smile.

"You're finally lucid enough for proper conversation, and you still choose the path of petulant reticence. You can't ignore me forever, now."

Natori scowls lightly despite himself.

A tsk. "I'm not so bad, you know. And I only have your best interests at heart. Which is more than I could say for yourself, if this pathological stubbornness you've been so committed to is anything to judge by."

"...I'm not going to give you what you want." It's quiet, but spoken with the weary resolution of the steadfast bastion Natori feels he's been reduced to. Just as obstinately, he also doesn't raise his eyes to meet his companion's, still gazing into the shrouded corner to his right.

"You don't even know what I want, dear," Caishen responds gently, unfazed, and right then and there Natori is abruptly aware of how much he detests the softness with which this cat is intent on treating him. Having pulled the same tricks and tactics countless times in his lifetime as advisor to a temperamental king, he's not at all fooled nor made docile by them, and the very idea this condescending noble might assume otherwise irks him.

Perhaps because of this, his tone is quite biting and icy when he replies in kind, and he makes no effort to temper or retract his words. He finally locks eyes with the other cat, too, just to sharpen his point, to leave no room for doubts. "You could desire your own undoing, Caishen, and I still wouldn't give it to you."

There's little change in Caishen's outward demeanor— only a tightening in his jaw, the barest glimpse of teeth, and a coldness to rival Natori's own.

"Well," he finally says, brisk and chagrined. "We'll see what you end up giving to me."

Natori flashes him a brittle, wan smile, but in the end he chooses not to offer his own dispute. He is not an aggressive creature, but he most certainly can be a mercilessly stubborn one, and the other cat will learn that even more emphatically in due time.

Caishen does not call him ‘dear’ again.

+++

He has no evident place in the kingdom, not anymore. He supposes it's little surprise. Outside of a select few who know otherwise, most he imagines are likely to assume he'd met a grim fate at the hands of zealous nobles. Yet to have subtly vanished in such a way leaves him uncertain how to feel overall.

Strange, too, to have gone from near sole executive to secluded ghost story in only a matter of hours. He wakes occasionally with a start, certain with the persistent haze of the dream world that he has abandoned an important task, that he has left the king, or Lune, or sometimes even his sisters too long without guidance, and always he will come to in this unadorned room alone. He aches terribly sometimes. He presses his paws firmly against his eyes sometimes, so that he doesn’t stare too deeply into that yawning despair.

The bedroom he's been confined to is small, similar to the one he'd called his own throughout his residence here. He thinks it must have once belonged to a handful of servants before all this. It would have been decorated and enveloped in various personal effects then, awash in countless minuscule signs of life and history and love. Now it is bare, dark, and crumbling, home only to an old chair and a thin bed.

Natori spends most of his time pacing wearily from one end of the room to the other, lingering occasionally before the boarded window to peek out at the kingdom he will most likely never see unobscured by those shutters again. But that also aches relentlessly, so he begins avoiding the window. The gaps are too small to see much of anything anyway; even the sunlight seems to find it difficult to penetrate them.

Staunchly avoided also are thoughts of family; he hopes they are safe, that they will forgive him for his most likely fatal obstinance, and then quite mechanically moves on.

And Caishen continues to visit him. He talks to Natori, tells him stories of questionable veracity about the state of the kingdom, its victories and its beauties, how dreadfully hard he is working against those other nefarious, power-hungry nobles to get his own way (a goal which is exceedingly benevolent, of course). He seems to find particular amusement in combing through Natori’s fur as he speaks, and the once advisor puts together quite swiftly that his own feelings on the matter are of meager significance. If Natori is standing when he arrives, he will insistently entreat him to sit, to rest, and if still he stonily refuses, Caishen will none-too-gently wrest him there himself with that ever-present grim tolerance of a put-upon parent tending to his unruly toddler.

Natori will stare up at the darkened ceiling, numb but for the roiling sense of resentment and revulsion, and silently pick apart Caishen’s words in the same manner as a seasoned critic. He will unwillingly remember his own stint as faithful attendant for Claudius as he’d declined, and feel as if the hot contempt it sparks within him might burn him down from the inside out. He had looked after the previous king out of earnest devotion, out of love, much as it aches to admit it. He’d wanted nothing more than for the king’s recovery, and he had wept quite sincerely in his own time when the fact that that recovery never would come about finally became unequivocally evident. That Caishen might believe his own intentions are in any way comparable leaves a sharply bitter taste in his mouth.

It's one such trying day when the Siamese cat brings to him an ostensible gift— a richly-colored maroon changshan, not entirely unlike the one Natori is presently clad in. When it catches the meager sunlight, he glimpses the looping pattern which sprawls idly across the glossy silk. There are floral designs stitched onto the sleeves' black trims. He has hazy memories of once wearing something similar for another of Lune's birthday celebrations (albeit markedly more worn), and the memory, muddled as it is, still scalds him like a hot iron, and he flinches away on instinct.

Without lifting his gaze from the fabric, mildly he asks, "Does my appearance perturb you..? Too starkly haggard for your taste, perhaps?" When he does finally look to Caishen, it's with a hooded, austere gaze. Something about that word picks futilely at an indistinct memory from their early days together; somewhere Natori knows using it in such a way will irk his companion. "You seem to be laboring still under the delusion that I'm only a wayward guest."

The smile Caishen gives him is urbane enough, but frustrated, irritated, and Natori realizes he finds some passive-aggressive pleasure in prompting that reaction from one he despises so immensely.

"It has nothing to do with me," the other cat eventually responds, laying the material across Natori's seated form as if to assure himself it will be the right size. Natori raises no efforts to help him, gaze wandering instead to the window again, where his eyes eventually droop shut. "It's for your own sake. Think of it as... mm, a very small piece of dignity given back to you."

Then, as he lifts one of Natori's limp arms to gauge how long the sleeves of the changshan will be on him, he adds, "I can't imagine you would be all that enthused by the prospect of attending the upcoming coronation in this old thing." A disdainful pluck at the high collar of his current threadbare attire.

Natori feels as though he's been dropped into a vat of ice water, and the jolt this news has given him quite clearly doesn't pass Caishen by, if his crooked, knowing smile is anything to go by. He glances from his work to Natori’s face with a cursory interest, before he straightens to inspect the changshan’s overall length.

"Yes. A sovereign has been decided upon. You will never guess who it is."

Exactly how long has he been confined to this room? Natori wonders dizzily to himself in a feverish frenzy. It frustrates and alarms him even more than he could have imagined to be unable to differentiate what time has passed, his memory still stubbornly, permanently, shrouded in a fog he can not hope to ever penetrate.

Yet despite his fractured, hazy recollections of his past… while, he's very close to certain it's not been nearly long enough for Caishen to have secured his position so firmly.

Somewhere distant, there begins a panicking dread, frantically picking through the conversations he does recall, fearing he may have cracked after all, yet he thankfully comes up empty-handed.

What underhanded, unscrupulous manipulations must Caishen have undertaken in his pursuit, to have risen so rapidly to triumph over the others?

How long has he been confined..?

“...already..?”

“Already, you ask? It’s not been a mere eyeblink, now. Let’s not go minimizing my hard work.”

The fatigue he's been staving off now for some trackless eternity finally overwhelms him; Natori is certain he must look much like a tired, wilting plant— the lame beast which has finally found itself facing down the barrel that will end its torment— and can not find the drive to work to obscure it.

"...then what do you still need me for..?" It's fainter than he'd expected, mournful and weary.

Caishen, by contrast, only gives a pensive hum, having moved on to measuring the body of the new robe across Natori's thin frame (thinner now than Caishen remembers it being; silently he makes a note to inquire about his little jewel’s meal allowances when next he speaks with the chef). "No one has ever said anything about need, Natori. You’re here because I want you here, and my mind has yet to change on that front— despite your best efforts, of course."

As much as he wants to plead for that finishing gunshot he'd been so certain was right on the horizon, or argue that Caishen has indeed implied his necessity to his goals many times, Natori falls silent and turns his head away in defeat.

+++

Despite Natori's vain attempts to otherwise remain cognizant of his surroundings, the coronation passes in rather disjointed chunks of hazy time; he is moved from place to place seemingly without logic, in erratic ways he can not altogether grasp. He recalls being led to a cushioned seat decorated with a veil and an opaque strip of red fabric spilling over its edges, and that the proceedings had seemed unbearably long, and then suddenly comes to some time later sitting slouched languidly in a different chair some short distance from Caishen. The Siamese is chatting amiably with another handful of nobles like himself, but Natori glimpses flashes of bitterness and umbrage among them all, a second-long lapse in a smile here, a surreptitious flex of the claws there. It’s telling, particularly when those gestures of suspicion and disdain dwell on him.

To himself he thinks that Caishen’s succession is not nearly as ironclad as he would prefer Natori to believe, and again his own suspicions regarding the speed at which it was obtained resurface. As well, and of perhaps more pressing significance, his own continuing survival appears to be a matter of contention.

He remembers Caishen's original 'offer', that proclamation that he would so gallantly protect Natori from the wrath of the other nobles if he would only cooperate, and wonders if the Siamese is primed to follow through on that promise.

Someone sneezes beside him.

There's a guard there, he notices belatedly. When Natori twists in startled alarm to survey him, he recognizes the cat's face with another twitch. Vino, if he recalls correctly. He'd been a young cat the last time Natori had seen him, new to the kingdom and his position among the guards, eager but markedly careless. On more than one occasion, Natori had thoughtlessly reached for his arm (or his tail, in one notable instance) in the hopes of stopping him in his tracks as he’d set off for a confrontation for which he had little hope of emerging victorious. 

At the time, Natori had found the parallel in their respective impulsive behaviors rather amusing, if a little revealing.

Now, however, those memories of kinder, brighter days which come to him unbidden, unwelcome, with the distinct lingering contentment of tranquil dreams, bring also a potent sorrow to the surface, and for a fleeting few instants, he is certain he’s drowning above water.

“Um— h… hey, are you doing okay..?” Uneasy words accompanied by a tentative, feather-light touch to the side of his face, and Natori feels as though he crashes headfirst back into the present. Vino had settled in the chair beside him at some point, and now sits staring at him as if terrified he’d broken him. When he sees the awareness filter back into Natori’s expression, he removes his paw and sets it in his lap.

Here Natori is suddenly uncomfortably aware of both his swimming vision and the wet fur about his eyes, and he hastily rubs at his face once it registers just what had transpired in his split-second collapse.

“Sorry,” Vino says awkwardly in the meantime with a shrug and a long sniff, rubbing at his grey nose casually. “Didn’t mean to scare you like that. If I’d known you were dozing, I would have taken more care to smother it. I mean, you know, for all the good it’d done.”

“...no,” Natori finally manages, muted and hoarse. “No, you’re fine.”

Then, after a good stretch of silence between them, Natori slowly becomes aware of the fact Vino seems to wish to tell him something, uncertain gaze moving back and forth between the mingling courtiers out in front of them and Natori at his right. Eventually, once Natori turns his own half-lidded gaze to him and stares impassively without blinking, Vino clears his throat and comes clean, so to speak.

“I— um, I didn’t know you were still— er, around, you know? Not until tonight, when that guy asked me to look after you.”

Sitting straightly is proving to be quite tiring; Natori’s posture slackens, and he moves his despondent gaze from Vino to the ceiling.

“I won’t hold it against you,” he murmurs. “Doubtless you’re far from the only one.”

There Natori frowns, however, even as his attention remains fixed on some indeterminate spot above him. “...Did you say he asked you to look after me..?”

“Huh? Oh— yeah, he did. His words, exactly, not mine.”

To that, Natori doesn’t respond, but it’s no great feat of brainpower for him to glean that Vino’s presence is not for mere companionship, nor is it intended as a safeguard to foil any escape attempts— no. His current companion has been tasked with shadowing his unsteady steps as protection against the other nobles, and something about that knowledge leaves Natori quite agitated, in a way he can’t quite comprehend.

“...You know, also,” Vino begins unexpectedly, startling his ‘charge’ yet again, “I’m, uh, guessing since most of us didn’t know you were still around, you’re probably not all that up-to-date on everyone else’s situations, huh..?”

It takes Natori a minute to catch on, but once he does, all of his attention is on Vino.

“Who..?” He all but croaks.

Vino seems surprised by Natori’s keen interest, blinking once with his ears pinned back, but he recovers soon enough, looking to the side with a cough.

“Uh— well, Natoru, for one, I guess? Not that I know her exact condition and whereabouts, but… I can make an educated guess, you know?”

“How is she? She’s safe..?”

Vino nods at him, just once, with a blink. “I think so. I last saw her disappearing through the tower’s portal. As far as I know, she’s still out and about in the human world. I dunno what she’s doing there, though. Probably enjoying the street food or something.”

Natori feels his drained expression shakily quirk up into a smile at that familiar sentiment, an instinct he hasn’t felt in what suddenly seems like decades. Something about the idea of Natoru so characteristically chasing after the human’s street food heartens him, even as tears cloud his eyesight again.

“A-And my sisters..? Their families? Have you seen them? Are they well?” He hears himself asking, as well, though even as he says it, the amount of optimism he feels over receiving a conclusive answer dims.

As expected, here Vino shrinks, ears flattening only slightly. “Oh— sorry, sir, I don’t know that. I wasn’t even aware you had sisters before now.”

The potent mixture of yawning disappointment and regret which opens up at this admission almost winds him, but Natori manages a sigh instead, closing his eyes with a nod and a twitching smile which is threatening to shift to a tearful grimace.

“No, I understand. Not… not many I worked with then knew about them, I believe.” A helpless laugh, one he must cut off prematurely lest it dissolve into a sob.

“Vino.”

Natori jumps quite dramatically, but Vino only turns his attention out to the newcomer to their ongoing conversation with the same informal, unconcerned energy of a teenager. It’s Caishen, and he’s gazing upon the two of them with a not altogether kind look. Vino seems to realize belatedly that he is perhaps inappropriately sitting beside his charge as if the two are nothing more than a pair of old wives trading gossip, and he is quick to stand… though his posture remains rather slouched.

“Quite dutiful of you to keep Natori company, as I asked you to. Your service is no longer necessary, however. I will accompany him the rest of the night. So you are dismissed.”

Vino straightens with a brisk nod. “You got it, sir. Let me know if you need me again.”

“I will.”

It’s there he leaves the two of them, glancing back only once before wandering out the banquet hall’s door and into the hallway. Caishen waves to him, a motion that almost seems to double as a gesture shooing him away, and then, after contemplating Natori for a long moment, sits in the now vacated chair beside him with the decorum of the sovereign he’s been allowed to believe he is. From there, it’s a long stretch of silence, Caishen gazing out at the few remaining stragglers, and Natori doing much the same, but with a blankness which makes it clear he’s not entirely present.

“What charming conversation did the two of you have, to have elicited such a smile from you?” Caishen eventually asks, and although his words are pleasant enough, the cool stiffness of his tone is unmistakable.

Natori, sensing all too familiar warning signals and thinking distantly of young Vino becoming a far-too-artless target of the other cat’s ire, responds offhandedly… but carefully. “It was too short to be a conversation. He told me a joke.”

“Oh? It must have been quite a joke, then. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you smile, and I’ve known you quite some time, haven’t I?”

“It was a very good joke,” Natori says, clipped, gaze dropping so typically to the floor, as if the ongoing exchange is tiring him. “It was one I’ve never heard before.”

“Is that so.” Caishen is losing his patience. The mask of affability is showing some cracks. “Am I to be let in on this secret, or shall I simply have to languish forever with the unsolved mystery of some humble guard’s marvelously clever wit?”

“...The man who created the umbrella was originally going to name it simply the ‘brella.’ But he hesitated.”

It’s clear to Natori that Caishen is not impressed by his last-second substitution, though one corner of his dark muzzle remains curved in evident amusement (or exasperation, perhaps). He stands quite abruptly, pulling Natori up into a similar standing position by the paws, and then tugs him into a brisk walk beside him toward the same exit Vino had just disappeared through. Natori stumbles some, resorting to clinging to his companion’s arm with a sharp stab of fleeting hatred. Caishen most certainly would have known this pace would be difficult for him to maintain, particularly given the floor-length robe the cat has seen fit to dress him in. Distantly, Natori realizes he couldn’t have fled from the scene even if he wanted to, not with his legs so bound.

“I had no idea that your sense of humor was so vapid, Natori. Seems a shame to me.”

“If I didn’t know better, I might believe you were feeling some measure of jealousy,” Natori eventually remarks as they move into the hall. Nonchalantly, flatly, he also adds, “I imagine it must sting a great deal, after all, to have never brought a smile to one you proclaim to hold so dearly.”

Caishen’s grip on his arm tightens noticeably, to a painful degree (Natori can’t help but to gasp feebly, on old instinct he doesn’t wish to reveal the roots of); the corresponding smile the noble intends as genuine shows far too many teeth to successfully conceal his fury. His voice, as well, resonates taut and cold.

“Shall I tell you an amusing joke of my own, then..?”

“You may try.”

“My joke is about a child,” Caishen continues glibly. “This child accompanied by a man deep within the unforgiving woods. Certainly, not an ideal situation for this child, don’t you think? Well, he doesn’t think so, either. And the woods are so terribly dark. He complains to his escort, then, perhaps in the misguided belief to do so might inspire some mercy within him. Isn’t that charming? How silly of him. ‘This is a forbidding place,’ he says, ‘and it scares me, sir.’ Do you know what the man said back to him, then, Natori..?”

“No.”

“Why, as most likely expected, he admonished his young companion, as this eerie scenario wouldn’t have been necessary had the child simply done as he was told. And then he says ‘Besides, how do you think I feel? I shall have to walk back through here alone.’”

In the silence which settles after the conclusion of this ‘joke’, Natori eventually mumbles, “So much for your unconditional love.”

“Unconditional love is a fallacy, Natori,” Caishen responds smoothly. “And I have never promised it to you.”

To that, Natori has no response; his gaze moves again to the floor, to his concealed feet buried within the folds of this ridiculous outfit.

“No doubt you’ve deluded yourself into believing that slavish devotion you once heaped upon our last king was, in fact, a kind of unconditional love, but we both know now that simply isn’t true… don’t we?” Caishen goes on with too much relish for Natori’s liking.

It feels now as if it’s been quite some time since he had been removed from his position of tacit authority, that senseless stretch of time when he had spent his days numb and detached, oblivious to the chaos he’d eventually awoken to. Between Caishen’s needling words and his continuing touch, the way he squeezes Natori’s paw as if he is offering support through an interminable, onerous trial, Natori is beset suddenly by the powerful urge to succumb to that unfeeling languor again and this time never resurface. 

"...he wasn't the only one I was devoted to," Natori murmurs, subdued, regretting the words the very second they leave his tongue. He turns his head away.

At this, Caishen stops, looks him over with a searching, almost pitying, curiosity.

“Is that so..? Why, pray tell, what other no-doubt undeserving soul found themselves the recipient of your boundless obedience?”

“Do what you do best and jump to your own witless conclusions,” Natori says lowly, already curling in on himself in an effort to emotionally exit the conversation.

Caishen again grips his arm too tight, this time yanking him closer to him as they come upon the door to an outside balcony. 

“Another secret, I see. Well, I’ll be acquainted with them all someday. In fact, I have quite the secret for you now, Natori, dear.”

The pet name still rankles, even after all this time.

[ i can’t for the life of me remember where this was going to go rip i think i might have had some vague idea of caishen showing natori like vino’s execution or something but it seemed too dark and mean-spirited lmao and then i had nothing to replace it with and i was too burnt out to figure out how to rework it orz ]

[ there’s also some connecting stuff through here about natori being moved to a different room and Stuff Like That, but the main thing is that somehow he comes face to face with yuki, who he recognizes bc this fic was meant to go the ‘lune and yuki’ were childhood friends route :v ]

It’s another familiar face, although this one elicits perhaps a touch more pain than the last— too intimately connected to young Lune for Natori to remain comfortably detached from the loss as he has been for so long. 

As well, Yuki’s appearance tells him that whatever the life she’s been leading in the time since the kingdom’s collapse, it’s been an invariably arduous experience, and he finds himself distantly pained looking upon her. From the subdued pity he sees reflected back at him in her own expression, however, he can only assume he must look rather careworn, as well. (And what an odd thought that is. How long has it been since he had access to a mirror..? Suddenly, he’s aware that he scarcely remembers his own face.)

It’s only the distant crash of something and some clamorous voices which shakes them out of their shared stupor— Natori peers down the hallway to the source of the noise briefly, gesturing for Yuki to enter the room behind him. She wastes no time in doing so, and he hastily closes the door behind her. 

When he turns, he notices first that she is gazing hungrily upon the plate of fish he’d been too heartsick to eat, the one which is still sitting forlornly abandoned on the lavish bed. Gesturing with old, stilted manners to it, Natori stammers, “Please— take as much as you want—”

Yuki doesn’t hesitate.

It’s as Natori anxiously watches her wolf down his untouched breakfast, settling in his usual seat as he does, that he eventually and hesitantly speaks up. “...Is it… quite harsh outside..? I, ah, assume it’s where you’ve come from.”

Yuki nods, though her attention doesn’t waver from the food. She speaks still with the same soft, sweet voice, even when it’s around a mouthful of cold fish, breathless and brisk.

“It’s hard. There’s not much food, and everyone is always hungry. And sometimes… sometimes people do wicked things to get it.”

“Ah. I was afraid of that.”

“..and you..?” Here Natori sees the faintest glimmer of suspicion in her eyes as she looks up from the plate, and he can not find even a bare speck of insult within himself for it. He looks to his folded paws.

“...I’ve been, ah, made into something of a special interest, it seems. Someone has argued against my inclusion into the ranks of the deceased in the hopes of—” He hesitates only briefly. “—the hopes of uncovering whatever absurd secrets about our last king he’s certain I’m holding on to.”

“Are there any..?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Natori replies, in a firm tone which is perhaps the closest he’s come to his old formality in quite some time. “The answer remains the same regardless.”

Yuki doesn’t respond, and the conversation fades.

[ something more was meant to happen through here-- i really wanted to write the two of them reminiscing or cheering each other a Tiny Amount or something but i’ve just run out of steam lies down they make plans to sort of meet again whenever yuki can manage it and discuss secret signs, etc, as natori is happy to provide her with some food, at least, and she can give him info on what’s going on Outside. but she never does return 

instead here we have the beginning of the end ]

He thinks his heart is starting to beat harder every day. Sorrow and worry weigh heavily on him; old grief sits undigested deep within him somewhere, and he’s certain with each day that passes it sinks further, reaches with sharp, inky little tendrils and plants itself deeper. The nebulous comfort of his once fugue calls to him now with more determination than ever.

Caishen still comes to tell him stories, but Natori finds himself unable to focus on them as he once did. He thinks, if nothing else, that if he doesn’t speak or speaks only very little, then he can not betray what he loves, not even when he drifts against his will. 

He thinks often of kinder days, sweeter days— sneaking away at odd intervals to steal naps in the sun, when the eternal noontime of the kingdom felt less like an unending eternity and more like a brimming, warm drink. He will reminisce on birthday celebrations, and impulsive outings to Little Sister Lake, and quiet work in the study, even as each one distantly wounds him. He claws at them in the way a drowning man might desperately cling to some floating, flimsy wreckage.

“I have something for you, dear,” Caishen says today, in an almost lilting tone. Natori can not say how long they’ve shared the room, and he makes no move to flinch away when the other cat kneels before him with what seems to be a bundle of objects clutched closely to himself. 

“I’ve been saving these for some time now,“ the other cat continues, and it’s there Natori notices something inexplicably strange in his voice and manner, the near lilting aside. He is… excited. Had he the energy to be wary, Natori might have braced himself.

It’s another gift, but this one expresses quite a different message than the silky qipao Caishen had originally bestowed upon him. Natori’s indolent gaze moves over the cluster of items the Siamese holds out before him (a gathering of peonies and a poppy-like bloom Natori doesn’t recognize lying upon a crystalline platter, surrounded by a handful of scattered pomegranate arils, an ornately-decorated red veil with a pearly sheen, a wine bottle wrapped too loosely in twine and ribbon), and a sickened dread in the pit of his stomach grows infinitely more pressing with each one that’s identified, until he is shaking. 

Yet it’s only the look he spies upon Caishen’s face, the unmistakable glow of anticipation and unhinged eagerness in his expression, and the burgeoning realization then that there’s any optimism that he might accept this proposition, which proves to be the hardest to swallow.

Natori straightens in his seat without realizing it, reaching first for the platter with a mechanical manner that his companion misses— not only does Caishen’s expression perk noticeably, but he sets the wine to the side and gently tosses the veil over Natori’s head, smoothing it into place with shaky, fumbling paws so that it frames the once advisor’s face. The look in his eyes seems glazed, far away, as he works, and when he speaks, that same dazed excitement permeates his tone as well.

“I knew it would happen this way, dear— I knew I was charming you, slowly but surely. I knew— oh, I knew if I only kept at it, then I could win you over. You would admit your feelings. You would yield to me.”

Natori looks from the plate of seeds and the bouquet in his lap to Caishen, studying his face with a numbness he knows must make him look quite cold, forbidding. 

“I would yield to you.”

Natori’s eyes narrow, and he pulls himself up to sit even straighter yet, but those are the only warnings Caishen gets. With a sudden invigorating sense of insult Natori won’t, can’t, ignore, he raises the platter in his paws, nearly to Caishen’s own eye level, and then simply lets go of it. The shattering crash of it hitting the ground and splintering into pieces strikes Natori as a deafening boom. 

It seems to take Caishen an aggravatingly long time to register just what has happened, what message Natori intends to send, but it’s unmistakable once it does— his hopeful, manic expression crumbles, darkens, and he twitches away as if he’s been struck in the face with an exposed wire. The ugly scowl he’s left with is quite a far cry from his giddy excitement from just seconds earlier.

“You— you’re such a— you’re so infuriatingly, needlessly stubborn, Natori..!” His name hissed like a dirty word, practically mangled with enough contempt to show just what he thinks of the old cat. “I was charming you—! I’ve gotten through to you! I’m certain I have!!”

“Who could be charmed by a snake?” Natori isn’t altogether sure where his sudden sharp tongue is coming from, but he does little to rein it in.

“This is why you’re here,” Caishen continues then in a low snarl, towering over Natori’s seated form after kicking the remains of the platter away; he rests his paws against the arms of Natori’s chair, settling his weight into the menacing position in a manner noticeably reminiscent of the predator they both are, forcing Natori to lean against the back again lest they be nose to nose. “You were always so devoted, so concerned with him that you ignored and belittled every other opportunity to find love for yourself. And look where it’s gotten you. Old, bitter, and all alone. And he didn’t even feel the same, did he? The prince entertains one little fatal dance with a human’s truck, and he fades away and leaves you here because you weren’t enough.”

Natori can scarcely breathe. This is too much, the one transgression he can not bring himself to abide nor forgive.

It isn’t enough to present him with an offering of items so cloaked in covetous symbolism yet twisted beyond their original sentiments, sentiments he had once quite admired, and behind which lies binding obligation. And it isn’t enough for the other to assume he might feel some ridiculous resentment over Claudius valuing him less than his own son. No, Caishen must also dig his intrusive little fingers into past wounds, pull out staples and unravel stitches until he can study the raw gore within, and then chide his victim for screaming. Between this jab and his vicious reminder of Lune's fate, Natori finally feels his fortitude dissolve. Finally, the tears come.

"...Yes, I loved him," he says, and he's surprised by the great tremble in his words, though in hindsight he supposes he shouldn’t be. "I loved him uncontrollably! I spent the greater part of my life by his side, and he will never know just how dearly I cared for him. Neither of them will." He doesn't remember when he'd covered his face, but although it does well to obscure his tears, it isn't so efficient at masking shuddering breaths. He can't recall the last time he was this distraught, the last time he'd lost his composure to such a profound degree; his voice sounds like that of a stranger's in his ears. 

"There is nothing you can offer me that will ever overcome that monstrous wound— no wealth, no privilege, not another, and most certainly not you—" Practically spat out like poison, and he hopes beyond hope that it burns Caishen like the vindictive acid it is. "And the sooner you come to terms with it, the sooner we can end this ludicrous charade—!"

In the silence which settles after his second outburst in the span of a few minutes, as he tries in vain to regain his composure, Natori feels acutely that his value lies shattered across the metaphorical floor like the splinters of the crystal platter beneath their feet. This is it, he can feel it. This is when he finally meets his end.

There is something quite gaunt, wounded, perhaps, in Caishen's face. A bubbling rage behind his usual cool anger; something finally breaking loose. He's still and cold for only a fraught moment. When he crosses the distance between them in seconds, Natori is unsurprised, yet still had made no attempt to evade him. He's never been a fighter, always more content to talk or flee, and he stands little chance of victory against a younger, fitter cat, no matter how few years truly separate them. Caishen easily shoves him to the ground with a hissing snarl, all bared teeth and injured, furious pride, and when he speaks, it's with the unhinged ferocity of an animal denied its true nature for too long.

"Then I would make you..! I would make you! I would bind you to my side with shackles if I had to, and you would come to love me..!"

Natori had been listlessly resigned to his final fate, looking upon Caishen with a tearful but wearied gaze, until he'd uttered that foolishness. Until he’d become quite explicitly aware of their arrangement, the way he is pinned to the ground like a lifeless specimen soon to be dissected. Rage, the likes of which he hasn't felt in recent or distant memory, which overshadows even both his outbursts from just moments earlier, and an overwhelming sense of revulsion flood his senses in an instant. From seemingly far away he watches himself rear his paw back, claws unsheathed, and strike Caishen's face with a viscerally satisfying impact. He digs his claws in until they catch in whatever flesh he can find, until it takes all his withered strength to drag them through.

Caishen yowls in startled pain, jerking backwards and falling clumsily to the side. Natori clambers out from under him, scrambling for the door with the desperate blindness of an injured hare. 

He doesn't make it far.

Caishen catches him by the ankle and sends him crashing to the floor again, and when Natori rolls over in a panicked effort to kick him off, he only scarcely glimpses the glinting of something in the other cat’s paw before pain erupts along his side— twice, then three, four, times— exploding across his ribs and sternum in a fiery wave. It’s enough to sap his breath away, leave him shaken enough that Caishen effortlessly subdues him again; holds him down, blade raised in the air for another plunge. 

He should have known better, Natori despairs to himself distantly through the haze of pain— nobles, even in the idyllic Cat Kingdom, were by and large quite dangerous folk. His lashing out had been based in impulse and unthinking fury, but he should still have known the reprisal would come swiftly and without mercy.

It’s instinct, more than anything, which has his paws weakly scrabbling across the floor at his sides and above his head, and it’s instinct again, after he slices one of his paw pads open on an errant fragment of broken glass, which has him gripping its jagged edges in his bloodied paw.

Caishen notices it too late.

Impulse and instinct are what got him into this mess to begin with, yet they seem fair-enough guardians, as they’re also what get him out— with strength he can’t quite fathom, Natori drives his makeshift blade into the vulnerable flesh and muscle of the other cat’s neck.

The noise Caishen gives this time is… odd, strangled. He cuts himself off as he stumbles back, one paw reaching dazedly for his neck, grazing against the jutting glass there. Eventually, he hits the wall, and collapses there, still tapping hesitantly, gingerly, at the protrusion which will with any luck spell his end. Natori pushes himself away, huddled panting by the door he’d initially run for, weak now that the immediate threat seems to be extinguished.

Caishen looks confused, pitiful, from his crumpled spot against the wall; he stares out at Natori with the doleful incomprehension of a dying animal, and traitorously the grey cat thinks to himself that were their circumstances different, he might indeed feel some measure of absurd sympathy for the other in this moment.

“I only wanted you…” The words are gurgled and hard to understand, halting, and the sentiment sounds patently unfinished, but Caishen ultimately trails off and leaves it that way.

“ …If you come for me, I will kill you,” Natori rasps. It’s an empty threat, and both of them know it. Still, heaving himself up onto unsteady paws, he wrenches open the door and flees without a look back.

He has no destination in mind; the castle hallways he initially staggers through are starkly empty and devoid of life and activity, and in the part of his mind not overrun by pain and overwrought instinct, he realizes something about that is quite troubling, eerie. When he does finally hear voices, panicked and unable to focus, he climbs through a nearby window and leaps (falls?) to the ground. It’s certainly no elegant landing— he lands heavily on all fours, and they give out beneath him, resulting in him pitching forward into an ungainly sprawl. It’s only his continuing, nebulous fear which ultimately spurs him on, hauling himself back up and tottering on his way.

From there, he runs only until he stumbles one too many times, until he is too weak and dizzy even to crawl, and he at last collapses into a dense patch of cattails and wildflowers, where he lies for an insensible stretch of time. Natori has never been a terribly sturdy creature, less so now while steadily dwindling from the combined strain of his long confinement and his wounds.

How long has he been confined to the castle? He still can not say. As he struggles to roll over, panting from the effort he’s so inadvisably expended in his flight from his prison, he wonders if the kingdom has at all changed— if he will turn his face to the sky to find it bleak, ashen. Unnaturally overcast, just to make it quite clear everything is wrong.

Yet when he lies finally on his back, he's greeted with the pale baby blue it's always been, cradled on all sides by gentle, evergreen hills and grasses, the snow globe effect he'd once found to be quite charming, bucolic. Sunlight streams through densely-crowned branches above him, dotting his surroundings and his own blood-stained frame in speckled patches. He cannot decide whether the familiar scenery is comforting, reassuring even, or simply an extra twist of the knife.

Out a little ways beyond him, he hears the telltale crash of gentle waves on the shore of Little Sister Lake, and the wind rustling the long grass which obscures his leaden form. To himself, hazily, he remembers his forlorn assumption from long ago that he would never again see the kingdom unencumbered by shutters, and is abruptly afflicted with an exquisite despair, one which is tempered rather oddly with some edge of heartbroken gratefulness. A cruel kindness to allow him a glimpse of that which he's long cherished only as he lies dying within it… but a kindness nonetheless. 

Somewhere, he wonders if he may ask for one more of those backhanded kindnesses— that his grief and hardship fade into obscurity, never to be uncovered by family nor friend, that they may be allowed to believe he had met his ultimate end quickly, painlessly, and be at peace. No one need grieve wretchedly for him the way he had for little Lune. No one need know how gracelessly protracted it all was.

He'd remained dutiful and devoted to the end. Watching the blurred, wavering sky gradually fade from his sight, Natori supposes he can't have hoped for any more than that.

[koushirouizumi]

Digimon Adventure(s) Taishiro(u) songfic/parody: REPEAT?_ + Koushiro’s Theory of HAPPINESS

Title: KOUSHIRO’S T h e o r y of HAPPINESS Fandom: Digimon Adventure(s) Character(s): Koushiro Izumi, Yoshie Izumi, Izumi Family (mentioned); hints of the Chosen Children (end & in endnotes) Pairing(s): Taichi Yagami x Koushirou Izumi [Taishiro(u)] (implied throughout) [especially Taishiro(u) in the fic, throughout] Parodied from: K@gerou//Project (w/slashes removed) lyrics mostly (C) Jin Notes: It’s something of an extended parody for my Taishiro ficverse REPEAT?_ Warnings: PLEASE read ANY AND ALL WARNINGS/NOTES for the ficverse first before reading this! This songfic of sorts minimally spoils at least up to the 3rd chapter of the story. However, this song parody/songfic of sorts could also be seen as something like an alternative “introduction”... ... ... (I’M. SORRY) [ you can also click the ‘read more’ and jump first to the end of the page + then scroll up a bit to see additional warning for this particular installment! ]

“    What I THOUGHT BACK on was, AGAIN, MY FAMILY ;    ” [ " This is YOUR HOME, so make yourself comfortable, KOUSHIRO ! " ]

THIS is the vocal version of the cover that inspired me! THIS is the piano arrangement cover version I was listening when editing this. If you pagebottom to the end of the post, a different piano cover with the Kage//pro video is linked as well (this second piano cover mentioned keeps the main lyric’s melody line in tact, though it is also a bit faster too.) here is a version actually sung by THE COMPOSER OF THE SERIES ( he may not be the best singer but it’s the creator of the series pls respect him ok HE TRIES ) (PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS ABOVE IT IF YOU WATCH HOWEVER)

[ AND, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO ... ]

ORIGINAL VIDEO/SONG LINK: HERE + at bottom of post

                    KOUSHIRO’S T h e o r y of HAPPINESS

What I THOUGHT BACK on was, AGAIN, MY FAMILY ; [ " This is YOUR HOME, so make yourself comfortable, Koushiro ! " ] In [a LITTLE PLACE] with [red?] [brick?] walls, He mutters to himself, as if making SECRET PLANS In the [ PURE BLACK EYES ] BROUGHT HERE Lies a past he has HIDDEN FROM       A D U L T S With [ embarrassment ? ] F E A R in HIS EYES, he [ mutters ] SAYS CRIES " I'M SCARED " [" I'm JUST A MONSTER ! "] So I TELL HIM, " DON’T BE ! " [" THAT’S NOT TRUE AT ALL !!! "] " RED is THE COLOR OF A H E R O, so there's no need to be afraid ! " [ " YELLOW is THE COLOR OF THE SUN'S RAYS, so YOU'LL DEFINITELY BE OKAY !..... " ] ..Wondering what he would find fun, I am ACTING the " M O T H E R " a g a i n " Hey, LOOK ! " [ HE ? ] [ I ?? ? ] wrapped [himself?] [ m y s e l f ] in [RED?] [antics]; [RED?] [YELLOW??] [scarf?] [C A P E?] " We're like SECRET AGENTS ! " DYED in [ MADDER RED? ] , we'll B E G I N , even if we're merely P L A Y I N G  H E R O E S " As long as we can manage just a little smile... " We will  BE    FAMILY    STILL      TODAY I PRAY for HAPPINESS in THE FUTURE AHEAD , so HOWEVER SAD it may be... " Now keep this A SECRET ! " The sun sets with us LAUGHING . ... The SPRING breeze blows, and the now-ADULT world Is i r r a t i o n a l l y bent, as if conspired to be The thick and faded tears of [loved ones?]   [ H I M ] Go UNNOTICED BY ALL, turning B L A C K Things had GONE CRAZY, but by the time I NOTICED, I could NOT TELL A N Y O N E " No, NO, I DON’T WANT TO BE DESTROYED ! " ... There CAME A WORLD where HAPPINESS ENDS . " [ RED c o l o r ], PLEASE. N O M O R E; DON’T BRING RUIN TO ANYONE ELSE’S F U T U R E . " I thought as I CRIED again, keeping it HIDDEN WITH A SMILE " ... IF    I    HAD [   T H A T  ... RED ?   ]    M Y S E L F  , could I S A V E S O M E O N E ‘ S F U T U R E ? " AWKWARD and SHAMEFUL , this is my L O N E L Y  P L A N ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ... Now that I ‘ M G O N E , I WONDER IF                                         [    M Y  F A M I L Y    ] Are S T I L L G E T T I N G A L O N G , and SMILING TOGETHER ? I ‘ M S U R E they must be UPSET WITH ME --- But I W O N D E R  I F  I  H A V E  B E C O M E                                       ///      "   THEIR SON   "      ///

                                                    [ F A M I L Y ] ... N O W .

[ T A I C H I - S A N & MIMI-SAN ] Please try to    REMEMBER       THAT WORD      I   L O V E D;

                                    [ C H O S E N C H I L D R E N ] "   H A P P I N E S S   "   is    a       C U R I O U S          T H I N G  ,

                                               [ K O U S H I R O ] SO I HOPE Y O U    CAN    L O V E T    O    M    O    R    R    O    W       ... ... ... ... ... ... 

  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ...

REPEAT?_

_

_

_

NOTES:

- I’M SORRY - I HATE KAGE//PROS FOR DOING THIS TOO I’M SORRY - NO IT’S STILL NOT A DIRECT PARODY BUT EXTREMELY INSPIRED W/THIS ONE - if you can’t quite tell, the first verse began as Mrs./Yoshie Izumi before eventually switching to Koushiro’s POV in the second verse! - in the original video, by the second verse, Kagepro’s plot kicks in MUCH MORE IN GEAR aaand yeah STILL NOT A DIRECT PARODY - SO PLS DON’T THINK IT IS - STILL HEAVILY INSPIRED but yeah you can discount most of the second verse visual plot-wise - unless you really want to torture yourself with imagery of tiny sad!Koushiro crying alone LITERALLY WHY - DON’T WORRY THOUGH MR. IZUMI IS V. NOT INVOLVED LIKE THAT HERE - WHY IS KAGE//PROS LIKE THAT I STG

- the reason why the lyrics alternate between: [RED?] [YELLOW??] [scarf?] [C A P E?] -- is because this is more Kage//pros specific imageries and yeahh I don’t want the exact same thing for Koushiro visually in most of main REPEAT?_ BUT - MENTAL IMAGERY wise IT CAN STILL BE A THING - IN THE VARIOUS FORMS MENTIONED - BUT I WAS THINKING “CAPE” MORE BECAUSE OF A CERTAIN

^ WOW HI WHO ARE YOU H U H WOW THAT’S SOME. CAPE. CAPE - MAYBE KOUSHIRO COULD ALSO HOWEVER WRAP IT AROUND HIMSELF LIKE A SCARF - BUT V-TAMER TAICHI’S CAPE WAS YELLOW YEAH - AND I STILL DON’T KNOW MUCH ABOUT V-TAMER ITSELF - EXCEPT IT GETS VERY DRAMATIC TOO - BUT MAYBE KOUSHIRO IN SOME ‘VERSES COULD ALSO WRAP “IT” AS A SCARF FOR HIMSELF YEAH - ..... MAYBE EVEN A. BLACK(ISH-GREY). SCARF. - FOR REASONS - ... MAYBE IT CHANGES COLORS (IDEK)

- I’M SORRY AGAIN - FEELINGS HATE ME - however this one is kinda really hard to parody without arts skills myself besides amv making so ;; ;; probably won’t be able to make anything amv-wise for this kind of thing for a super long while.....

- STILL THOUGH I HAD TO GET THE FEELINGS OUT WHY THIS - MRS IZUMI MY LOVE YOSHIE-MAMA I LOVE YOU - KOUSHIRO VOICE YELLING ‘ I LOVE YOU ’ - I DEFINITELY DO NOT WANT YOSHIE TO BECOME AYANO THOUGH N O

- ...... she probably already kinda involved herself though in some parts - ....... i’m sorry - WARNINGS (+ FOR REPEATVERSE): - IMPLIED/ATTEMPTED (KEY WORD: ATTEMPTED) SELF-SACRIFICE/’DEATH’ (ESPECIALLY IN KAGE//PROS) - HOWEVER. This is. Well. See REPEAT?_ infos too and YEAH. - IT DOESN’T WORK OUT EXACTLY AS THEY PLANNED..... - I PROMISE IT GETS BETTER ;; ;; ;; ;; ;; ;; ;; ;; (I ..... PROMISE)

WARNINGS FOR THE KAGE//PROS VIDEO: - IMPLICATIONS OF past child abuse (I’M SO SORRY FOR KAGE//PROS) [ this happens for a line spanning about 10 seconds ] - blonde haired boy Kano suffered from child abuse from a past family member. - black haired boy Seto suffers from being bullied as a child by various neighborhood kids - green haired/short haired girl Kido came from a very strict family / mainly her biological father. This ‘father’ was ... neglectful/emotionally abusive in ways (I’m so sorry for Kage//pros) he eventually ends up trying to kill her + her older sister + himself in a fire. She well. (Yeah. She survives. 7TH NOVEL SPOILERS) - the one visible though is actually not the father but more like a butler/maid from the same ‘house’ according to the author in old tweets. - there is nothing more said about that and hope to god it stays that way because. yeah. yeah - basically Kage//pros has MANY warnings re ‘deaths’ PLEASE TREAD VERY CAREFULLY AND ONLY IF YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE PLOT-RELATED DETAILS LIKE THAT - they are not actually ‘adopted’ by the way, technically it’s ‘fostered’ (confirmed via Japanese kanji in the original version). I don’t want to debate Kage//pros here though yeah, just mentioning that quickly since it’s important to not get confused with Kage//pros plot orz (many people will debate this though and I understand why but. yeah. technically it’s not official for many maaany plot reasons and yes the official English version definitely mistranslated it orz why this) (just saying: in Japan, when adopted, your surname has to legally change to your adopted family’s surname. The kids’ surnames do not change in Kage//pros canon and the implication is that thegirls’parents’bothdied beforeitcouldhappenyeah. This was pointed out by a Japanese translator so yeah...) [plus her doing what she does at the end kinda screws a lot up y e a h] - NO THIS PART DETAILED ABOVE RE: KAGE//PROS PLOT VERY MUCH DOES NOT RELATE TO THIS STORY GOD NO -  IZUMIS ARE THE GOOD ADOPTIVE PARENTS AND I’M KEEPING IT THAT WAY THANK YOU VERY MUCH - KOUSHIRO’S BIOLOGICAL PARENTS TOO - BUT YEAH THOSE WARNINGS ARE SPECIFIC TO KAGE//PROS THOUGH IF YOU WATCH THE VIDEO I’M SORRY - this is mainly in the first verse during the “brough here...” line - you can kinda cover your eyes at that part and just listen if you’d like though?? - in the second verse it’s heavily implied the girl’s own father is going mentally downhill (this is due to heavy plot spoiler reasons) - (this is a pretty initial spoiler but. his wife also dies - this is related via the second verse of the song, her photo is seen) - he basically ends up discovering plot things and - experiments ... on the girl singings’ classmates/friends ... uhhhh yeah (I’M SORRY FOR KAGE//PROS) - (IT’S NOT REALLY ‘HIM’ THOUGH.....) - this is why SHE’S TRYING TO STOP IT later on in the song - THIS ALSO VERY MUCH DOES NOT RELATE TO MY FICVERSE [BEING SERIOUS HERE]

^ an alternative piano version, albeit a bit faster!

^ this is the original video / song! (PLEASE TREAD WITH CAUTION) (BUT if you’re comfortable with such plot things) (THIS WORKS WELL FOR MAXIMUM FEELINGS) [ AND IT’S HONESTLY A GORGEOUS SONG/VIDEO ] [ AYANO’S A GORGEOUS CHARACTER TOO OK ]

[kanasmusings]

[Translation] SolidS Drama CD Vol. 4 - Kumo no Mukou ni - Track 3

After quite a while, here’s track 3 of SolidS’s vol. 4 drama~ Again, thank you to the wonderful person who shared with me! Sorry for taking so long to post the third track orz

Track 3

Under the cut, enjoy~

SolidS Drama Vol. 4 Track 3 Translations

  STAFF A: Over here will be your waiting room, Okui-san.

TSUBASA: Yes, thank you very much!

STAFF A: The meeting room is two doors down from here.

STAFF A: It doesn’t look like it’s ready yet but I’ll call you when it is.

TSUBASA: Ah, I arrived a little earlier than the meeting time, didn’t I? I’m fine with waiting. I’ll just lounge about here during that time.

STAFF A: It’s a big relief to hear you say that. Well then, I’ll be going now.

TSUBASA: Yes~ I’ll be in your care today!

STAFF A: We look forward to working with you.

(Staff leaves and closes the door behind him)

TSUBASA: Sorry for the intrusion~

TSUBASA: Heh~ It’s quite a huge room.

(Tsubasa sits down)

TSUBASA: I’ve arrived~ Alright, maybe I should report to them, too. (Tsubasa turns his phone on and starts typing)

TSUBASA: I’ve arrived at the meeting place~

(phone buzzes)

TSUBASA: Oh, that was fast! As expected from Rikka~

RIKKA: (imitating Rikka’s voice) We’ve arrived here, too. We’ll be boarding a taxi soon.

TSUBASA: The ‘seen’ sign says ‘read by 2 people’ so Dai-chan should’ve seen it, too. Is he not going to react? So cold~!

(phone buzzes)

TSUBASA: Hm? (laughs) So Dai-chan was just gonna send a picture of Rikka? He should take pictures of himself, too~

TSUBASA: Well, that’s what makes him Dai-chan anyway~

TSUBASA: (Tsubasa starts typing) Good luck with your work, too~ (he puts his phone down)

TSUBASA: Now then… I still have time so maybe I should go over it again. Kuriki Yohei-sensei’s new work, “The Spring’s Storm”

TSUBASA: It might come up in the meeting. (Tsubasa starts reading)

TSUBASA: Still, it really is such a unique world, huh. (he starts flipping the pages)

TSUBASA: Not only the narrative but also the themes. It makes you wonder if all the characters that’ll appear will be like unique like that, too.

TSUBASA: The characters are pretty frank or… should I say a little bit modernistic?

TSUBASA: Their conversations feel a little too real. I wonder if he used someone as a model.

(Tsubasa continues to flip pages)

TSUBASA: At the very least, I don’t think it’s his own words. Kuriki-san’s pretty young, isn’t he…?

TSUBASA: If I’m right he’s 32…?

KURIKI: It’s 33.

TSUBASA: Eh?!

KURIKI: It’s true that they [the characters in the book] aren’t as frank as I’d hoped.

TSUBASA: Ah, u-um… Staff-san…?

KURIKI: No. I’m that book’s author.

TSUBASA: Eh?

KURIKI: I’m Kuriki Yohei.

TSUBASA: (suddenly stands up) EEEHHH!?!

TSUBASA: For real…? How long have ya been there?

KURIKI: It should be ‘how long have you been there,’ correct?1 I am older no matter how you look at it.

TSUBASA: Ah, yes… How long have you been there, Kuriki-san?

KURIKI: Shouldn’t you be introducing yourself first before asking me such questions?

TSUBASA: Ah… I’m Okui Tsubasa from Tsukino Talent Production. I’ve been given the opportunity to be working with you today.

TSUBASA: I look forward to working with you.

TSUBASA: (to himself) Uwah… He looks like the difficult type…

KURIKI: Two hours.

TSUBASA: Eh?

KURIKI: You asked me, didn’t you? About how long I’ve been here.

KURIKI: And I answered. I’ve been here for two hours now.

TSUBASA: That’s too early! Why were you here that early?! Did ya have an interview or something?2

KURIKI: ‘Did you have an interview?’

TSUBASA: …! I—I’m so sorry…

TSUBASA: Did you have an interview, Kuriki-san?

KURIKI: Not in particular. My meeting time is probably the same as yours, 12 o��clock.

TSUBASA: Oh, that so? Then, you’re here pretty early, aren’t you, Kuriki-san?

KURIKI: It’s not because I wanted to. I was dragged here by my editor.

KURIKI: I’ve been pulling all-nighters because of a coming deadline and I’ve been sleeping whenever I get the chance to.

KURIKI: ‘If you’re gonna sleep then it’s better do it at the meeting place,’ is what he told me.

KURIKI: (yawns) Please excuse me.

TSUBASA: Ah… Y-your editor’s the persuasive type, huh…

KURIKI: He’s more of a man who I’ve known since high school. We’re sort of inseparable.

KURIKI: He knows how to make me do things here and there. Good grief.

TSUBASA: Ah…

KURIKI: (sighs) … (awkward silence)

TSUBASA: U-um…

KURIKI: (suddenly stands up)

TSUBASA: U-uwah…! That surprised me…

TSUBASA: … (more awkward silence)

KURIKI: Hm?

TSUBASA: Kuriki-san’s pretty tall, huh? What’s your height?

KURIKI: Height? 182 cm. What about it?

TSUBASA: Geh…!

KURIKI: What’s with that reaction? You’re the one who asked in the first place.

TSUBASA: Ah, no. I just thought that you were taller than me. By the way, my height is 178 cm~

KURIKI: Even more important than that, you—

TSUBASA: I just got pushed aside…

KURIKI: Can I ask you one thing?

TSUBASA: Yes~ One, two, or how many more, I don’t mind~

TSUBASA: It’s better to get along before work. Ah, the agency’s rule is ‘no love allowed’so I’ll be fine with any question as long as it’s not about what sort of girls I can introduce you to.

TSUBASA: Ah, you wanna hear my latest song~?

KURIKI: You’re a man who talks a lot, aren’t you? Song?

TSUBASA: (giggles) I host a radio show so talking is a part of my work.

TSUBASA: But, our main work involves songs and singing.

KURIKI: Is that so? I didn’t know that.

TSUBASA: Ah… Yes. I figured you’d say that judging from the flow of the conversation.

TSUBASA: I sometimes appear on TV, too.

KURIKI: TV is for whether to watch the morning news or not.

TSUBASA: I figured…

KURIKI: What I wanted to ask was—

TSUBASA: Ah, yes, go ahead.

KURIKI: ‘Is it alright to drink the water that’s on the table?’ is what I wanted to ask.

TSUBASA: Eh… Water…?

KURIKI: Yeah, the bottled water. I was wondering if it’s alright to drink that.

TSUBASA: Ah… (laughs nervously) Water, huh? You were more interested in the water than my story…

TSUBASA: I think it’s okay for you to drink. Leaving them on a table like that is sort of an invitation from the staff for you to drink it.

TSUBASA: Ah, before you ask, you’re free to eat the meals and snacks next to the water, too.

TSUBASA: If you’re feeling a bit peckish then please don’t hesitate.

KURIKI: Is that so? It’s been a while since I last ate a solid meal.

TSUBASA: I feel like I just heard something unbelievable…

TSUBASA: What sort of lifestyle have you been living?

KURIKI: (drinks water and then puts it down)

TSUBASA: Uh…

KURIKI: I think I can still sleep.

TSUBASA: Eh?

KURIKI: Pardon me.

TSUBASA: Eh? Wa-wait…! Are you really going to sleep? Even though you just woke up?

KURIKI: Be quiet.

KURIKI: I haven’t… slept in three days… (snoring quietly)

TSUBASA: Kuriki-san? Kuriki-san~?

TSUBASA: Eh…? He really slept…

TSUBASA: Don’t you normally want to get to know your co-worker more during times like these…?

TSUBASA: Is it normal for someone to just fall asleep at a time like this?

TSUBASA: Uwah… I can sense a lot of trouble from this…

  ***

  RIKKA: Uwah~ Dai, you look really good in a kimono!

RIKKA: You give off such a manly feeling.

RIKKA: Mm-hm~ Big Brother’s so proud~

DAI: What’s with that? I feel like your standard for praises have gotten smaller.

RIKKA: Really? They’re my true feelings though.

DAI: I know that.

DAI: It [the kimono] looks good on you, too. The hairstyle looks great as well.

RIKKA: (chuckles) Thank you for the compliment. This hairstyle was coordinated together with the hair and make-up artists.

RIKKA: Since it’s a rare opportunity I asked them to put an ornate hairpin on me, too.

DAI: I guess even hairstyles can help set the atmosphere for something.

RIKKA: Right~? A good hairstyle can make for a good atmosphere when matched with the right clothes.

RIKKA: In the world of fashion, it’s something that helps a lot.

DAI: The world of fashion, huh. That’s so like you.

RIKKA: Dai, did you know~ I was a model before, too.

DAI: Oh yeah, you were. I just remembered.

RIKKA: Anyway, looks like there’re a lot of types of kimono for younger people now, huh? Like new designs and vibrant colours.

RIKKA: Look. That pastel-coloured kimono is patterned with fruits, I heard.

RIKKA: That one’s a collaboration work with a brand that caters to the younger generation.

DAI: Seeing them all lined up is a great view.

DAI: Speaking of collabs, the ones we’re wearing are part of a new launch collab, aren’t they?

DAI: The literary works series, is that right?

RIKKA: Yeah. They’re kimonos designed with the image of various famous literary works from around the world.

RIKKA: It’s quite a unique concept, huh?

RIKKA: Mine is Romeo and Juliet. Ah… Maybe that’s one of the reasons why we were called here.

RIKKA: Since Shiki wrote a song titled ‘Romeo’.

DAI: I wonder about that. Mine looks like it’s got nothing to do with SolidS at all.

RIKKA: (chuckles) That’s right. Well, like I said a while ago, clothes that are lightly coloured suit you very much.

RIKKA: I feel like it won’t look good if you don’t have that kind of physique.

RIKKA: Ah, speaking of famous works… I wonder if Tsubasa’s doing his best now, too.

DAI: Tsubasa?

RIKKA: It seems like Tsubasa’s in a meeting to discuss the beginning of the CM filming.

RIKKA: I heard that he’ll be meeting his co-star, the famous author Kuriki Yohei-san there.

DAI: Kuriki Yohei…? For real?

RIKKA: Oh, do you know him, Dai?

RIKKA: I only know him by name after seeing it on the news a few times but I haven’t really started reading his works yet. I’m not really familiar with what he looks like.

DAI: I’ve read two of his works.

RIKKA: As expected~

DAI: It’s very impartial and is a little bit difficult to read but it has its own uniqueness and once you start reading it you won’t be able to put it down.

RIKKA: Tsubasa said the same thing, too. He’s really very skilled, isn’t he?

DAI: He is but…

RIKKA: Hm?

DAI: Will Tsubasa be okay? He seems like the type of person that’s difficult to get along with.

RIKKA: Oh?

DAI: Though I haven’t met him personally and only know so from internet sources.

DAI: Even for the sake of sales and publicity, he’s the type of person who hates appearing in public.

DAI: One very famous event with him was how he only said, ‘Thank you very much. I’ll continue to do my best from here on.’ during an awarding and then he left promptly. He’s that type of guy.

RIKKA: That’s…

DAI: Quite something, isn’t it?

RIKKA: W-well… Tsubasa has great communication skills so I think he’ll be able to befriend him. Surely…

DAI: I hope that’s the case. But, after hearing about those news here and there, Kuriki Yohei really resembles him.

RIKKA: Resembles him…? Who exactly?

DAI: He’s got talent but he’s bad at mingling with people so he’s easily misunderstood.

DAI: He’s shut himself up due to being wary about other people and continues to do what he should do.

DAI: Someone who’s one, no, three times more dedicated to his work compared to other people.

RIKKA: I see. Now I understand. Kuriki-san’s a person who resembles Shiki, isn’t he?

DAI: Exactly. You remember it, too, don’t you? Tsubasa and Shiki’s absolute worst meeting.

RIKKA: It was the worst and yet at the same time it was the best.

RIKKA: Though, it did help somewhat with their relationship.

DAI: Tsubasa was quick to start the fight, right? Normally, he wouldn’t do something like that.

DAI: Even if someone pissed him off, he’s the type to let it slide and avoid fights.

DAI: But, that wasn’t the case with Shiki. Shiki’s the type to be able to figure out what would make Tsubasa snap.

DAI: What if Kuriki Yohei was able to do that, too?

RIKKA: That… Um… I want… to believe that it’d be okay.

DAI: I hope so, too. Meanwhile, it looks like we’re in for some troublesome things, too.

RIKKA: I guess so. Let’s enjoy the kimonos and Kyoto and then return to Tokyo.

(footsteps approach Rikka and Dai)

STAFF: I’m so sorry to disturb you while you’re talking, Rikka-san, Dai-san. The tea ceremony’s preparation is finished and if you’re ready, I could show you to the venue.

DAI/RIKKA: Tea ceremony?

STAFF: Yes. Today’s special feature is showcasing to the younger generation the appeal of our traditions.

STAFF: Anyone’s free to join and I think the both of you will surely enjoy it,

RIKKA: Ah… I understand… It sounds like a wonderful event, doesn’t it?

RIKKA: Um… We actually need to prepare a little bit more so… Can you give us a little more time? Right, Dai?

DAI: Y-yeah, that’s right… We have to prepare for a lot of things.

RIKKA: That’s right. We’re truly very sorry.

STAFF: A-ah, yes… Well then, I’ll be coming back in five minutes. After the tea ceremony, there’s the flower arrangements and different staff members will be coming to see you about it.

STAFF: Two handsome men like you in a tea party and being surrounded by flowers would make for a great picture.

STAFF: Please do your best for the sake of the younger generation, too.

DAI/RIKKA: Ah, yes…

(staff member walks away)

RIKKA: Dai… I figured I should ask this but… Do you have any experience with teas and flowers…?

DAI: I’ve drunk tea from cafes and took care of flowers in school.

RIKKA: Yeah, thank you. The same goes for me.

RIKKA: (turns his phone on) Let’s look up the proper manners for formal traditions.

DAI: Got it.

  ***

 (staff member flips pages)

STAFF A: That’s about it for this CM’s concept.

STAFF A: Afterwards, I’d like to explain the sequence of the filming but if you have any questions so far, please go ahead and ask.

KURIKI: Can I ask one thing?

STAFF A: Ah, yes, go ahead.

KURIKI: I’m very sorry but, even after hearing the concept, I don’t know why I was called out here.

STAFF A: Eh…? What do you mean…?

KURIKI: I am a writer. An author. I don’t see it as a part of my work to be filming for a nutritional drink.

KURIKI: Moreover, it doesn’t really have anything to do with my deadlines. For an author, that is a one-man battle. With that in mind, I don’t think there’s any merit for me to be in this CM.

STAFF A: Eh…?

TSUBASA: (to himself) Wo~w…!

KURIKI: Now that I’ve made my point, I’ll be taking my leave.

STAFF A: Wh-what…?!

TSUBASA: W-wait a second, Kuriki-san!

KURIKI: What is it?

TSUBASA: Everyone here knows that you’re a writer and your work focuses on making words come to life but, didn’t you come here because you accepted the job?

TSUBASA: It’ll be a bother for everyone if you stepped back now.

KURIKI: That’s… That is truly unfortunate but I only came here to hear the details of the work. Now that I’ve heard I thought I could refuse.

TSUBASA: Eh…? Is that the case, Mr. Staff?

STAFF A: Eh…? Ah, no… We thought that he had accepted the filming already…

KURIKI: That bastard… Ah, pardon my language.

KURIKI: It seems like I was duped.

TSUBASA: Ah… My condolences…

TSUBASA: Um… If that’s the case, won’t it be better if you listened to the details first and talked to it with your editor afterwards?

KURIKI: … (grunts and then walks back)

TSUBASA: U-uwah… Please don’t make such a face. You look like you want to kill someone.

KURIKI: Unfortunately, the person I want to kill is in a different place.

TSUBASA: Okay~ Shall we continue with the meeting before Kuriki-san becomes a criminal~?

STAFF A: (obviously a little shaken) A-ah, yes… Then, please turn to page six on the hand-outs in front of you.

  ***

  (typing sounds)

SHIKI: (sighs) Now, that’s finally over with. Next one is… (Shiki flips pages)

SHIKI: I thought I’d be happy being able to do work that I like but they’re really not very easy tasks.

SHIKI: (drinks and then puts his cup down) Those guys are doing their best, too.

SHIKI: Let’s do this.

SHIKI: Now, then… (Shiki continues typing)

  ==END==

  Translator’s Notes:

1 2 This is really just a case of Tsubasa speaking casually instead of the proper polite speech supposed to be used for people older than oneself. Tsubasa ends his sentences with ‘--da’ and Kuriki corrects him by saying that they should end with ‘—desu.’ It’s a little bit difficult to translate to English since ‘-da’ and ‘-desu’ don’t have explicit English language equivalents XD

※ Please don’t re-post these translations without permission.

[jecook]

I apologize orz

Some off the top of my head:

Classic short fic from my bookmarks bc cherryvanilla is a god: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2296934

The Stag Prince for an amazing SoT fantasy AU

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4979806

This fic lives rent free in my brain all the time. This author is so fun, I remember chatting with her about her fics several years ago, she’s a sweetheart and any of her fics are worth a read https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12084384/1/Cold-Up-There

Another one from the same author. A lot of kyman was on ffnet so browsing around there has some classics from the fandom https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12446239/1/Beneath-the-Claws-and-Cobwebs

I forgot how many of these are from shortstackedcheesecake hdhsns but this one moved me. Changed me as a person. https://archiveofourown.org/works/3279254 (yes this is her ao3, no I can’t be consistent, I am sorry tho)

Last one—I don’t recall reading this one but it’s in my favorites on ffnet so I’m trusting 2017!me to have had good taste https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12398567/1/

Edit: not entirely sure what you are looking for in terms of not nsfw or if you meant not just pwp. I assumed the latter but after checking out your page realize it might be the former. I don’t have as good a memory for T rated versus M or E unfortunately but I’d suggest checking out the ship on ffnet for the K-T fics since there’s a longer backlog of fic there 💜 Also kyman zine sfw is coming out fairly soon I think so that’ll be a nice influx of sfw fics I got he fandom

I don't care what anyone says. I don't care what anyone says about Kyle's feelings for Cartman. But Cartman 100% has a crush on Kyle. I do NOT take criticism on this. You can say it's one sided. It probably is. But Cartman has a crush on Kyle. Kyman FUCKS and it's so annoying that the entire ao3 category for it is nsfw 🌚

[cm-scans]

[RELEASE] HANAKOI TSURANE CH11

Title: Hanakoi Tsurane | Dance of Love | 初恋つらね Author/Artist: Natsume Isaku Rating: PG

Summary: The self-destructive type, Sougorou is the heir of one of the well-known families in Kabuki world. He has no interests in other actors his age with the exception of Gensuke who he recognizes as his rival and never wants to lose to no matter what. However, fate plays a cruel trick on him and the two of them end up as classmates… How will their relationship develop…?!

[RELEASE] ANTI-ROMANCE CH2

Title: Anti-Romance | アンチロマンス Author/Artist: Hidaka Shoko Rating: PG

Summary: Suou, a stylist, and Ryou, a writer, have been friends since high school. They’ve also been living together for 6 years so it’s no wonder that people around them question the nature of their relationship. At first glance, they’re just like any close friends out there but they can’t seem to leave each other’s side. Will their relationship be on a stand still, with them staying as normal friends, or will it go further…?

Download/Read Online: Here

Note: Heeey guys!! Wow, I wanna apologize for the lack of releases lately. Especially now. It's even our anniversary month... but it's the last day of August already and I haven't released a single thing!!! I'm very sorry... I've been having problems and one of them is laptop dead plus important files gone. It's been super stressing me (plus irl problems) and I lost all my motivation to work on scanlation, to the point I actually wanna quit but I know I shouldn't decide too quickly in quitting cause already made a lot of commitments plus  I really love scanlating. So I guess I just really need a break. I'm in... I guess, in a slump. I know that we're already slow in the past but I think things will get slower in the future cause I have so many problems... and seriously having no laptop is on the top of the list. But despite that, I will still try to release, even if it's just 1 chapter every month. I apologize as well for not replying to ALL EMAILS. Seriously, I'M VERY SORRY. I haven't checked CM mail for quite some time (was kind of avoiding cause... /escaping reality orz/) but I'll get into it soon...

I hope that you guys will be still there supporting us ;__; I really thank you guys for all these past 4 years! I can't  believe CM is already 4 years old! Wow, time fly so fast. But I'm so sad that I wasn't able to prepare for this year though...but anyway... again! THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING!!! I hope these 2 chapters will make it up to you...

Also, about the announcement, actually we are dropping KACHOU FUUGETSU. But!! Please don't panic. We are just dropping here in CM but gonna move it on Nexus. Well, I'm not gonna be part on it anymore but the same guys will still be doing it and releases will be much faster so I guess that's good news lol. I would love to continue working on it, but with CM's situation now, it's impossible so it's for the best! Hmm, did I forget anything... I guess that's it for now. Again, I'm sorry for not being so active the past few months! I hope things will get better... I hope I get better.... haha...haha...ha.... _(」∠ ､ﾝ､)_

[cerberosthehellguard]

Panic! at the hook-up (part 3)

Rating: M (this is a lie, It should strictly be T)

Pairings: AkaFuri. Slight Nebumibu, Murahimu and Midotaka.

Characters: Akashi Seijuro. Furihata Kouki. Mibuchi Reo.

Word Count: 4700+ words (this is NOT the final chapter, unfortunately)

Tags: Aged-Up Characters. One Night Stand AU. Fluff. So much Fluff. Awkward conversations are awkward. Dorks who don't know how to get their shit together. Reo the Angel Incarnate. Author is very sorry for splitting the chapter. Okay not so sorry. Just feeling Evil.

Parts: Part 1/Part 2/Part 3(here)/Part 4(coming soon!)

Summary: Akashi woke up after a drunk one night stand feeling at peace with the world. Unfortunately the brunet in his arms doesn’t seem to think the same way. (or an AU where Furi and Akashi have been scarred by terrible relationships in the past that one never wants to get into them and one waits in vain for someone to love him back)

Author’s notes : |||orz terribly sorry for cutting the chapter short! Its just got wayyyy out of hand and I didn’t want to dump too much in one go. So.....splitting into two! As always, thank you so much for reading and following this story!! It all ends with the next update! (which will be posted soooooooon!!)

AO3 Link right here!

Seijuro rapped his knuckles impatiently against the metal door of the nondescript building. The area the address had indicated looked like something anyone would miss in the passing, not offering a second glance. It had no discernible boards or colourful nameplates that made it stand out to the passerby. Nothing, to show that it was an art studio of one of the most sought-after names in the Art World. And yet, Seijuro stood in front of it, rather irritably, for more than twenty minutes in the frosty weather.

"Maybe he couldn't hear you. Isn't there a bell around here somewhere?" Reo was next to him, puffing clouds of air into his gloved hands before rubbing them. His hair was pulled back into a stylish yet unkempt ponytail, few strands tugged loose to drape his cheekbones artfully, giving him the Gallery Owner Look (whatever that meant, Akashi had waved it off when Reo started to explain enthusiastically), and the side clips had been abandoned - courtesy the aforementioned Look. 

Seijuro huffed slightly, straightening his coat - his trench coat that still smelled faintly of alcohol and sex, in spite of the cologne he had sprayed on it. He hadn't been able to let go of it long enough to give to Reo for dry cleaning. Yet. "I don't know. Why don't you give it a try?" 

Reo shrugged and looked around, careful not to touch anything lest it dirty his feather-soft leather gloves. Not even Eikichi was allowed to touch them. He teased Akashi more than once on his intolerance of tardiness during meetings. Besides, he needed Akashi in a nice enough mood to handle the client today. “Oooh, you are prickly today, Sei-chan. i wonder what has gotten into you today. Or,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively and leered at Akashi, "should I say, I wonder what you missed getting into today."

Ugh. This wasn't going anywhere.

"Reo." One mild glare and a single word command. It was ample to shut up Reo. He knew what Reo was doing. And he knew, Reo had a point. He cannot go to this meeting without being calm. No matter how much he burned with the urge to go home now. 

Seijuro took a few deep breaths. The awkward morning, the acute absence of a proper shower, the slight - slight, tiny - stock dip in one of the Northern branches that had sent his phones and emails flying with notifications before he could set it right and mediate long enough to placate everyone involved and now, the actual act of getting a commission from one of the most finicky - and possibly too introverted, if he was being honest - artists he had had the misfortune to encounter, was getting on his frayed nerves. He just cannot let his mood get any worse. Not if he wanted this meeting to go well. Especially with this one. Especially for Father. (Which added to the irritability factor, but that’s a story for another time).

This artist had been fickle to a point where even Akashi, the Master of Negotiations and Diplomacy and the Embodiment of Patience and Politeness, was compelled to chuck the phone at the wall imagining it to be the artist’s face. 

Furihata Kouki had refused, even after countless wheedling on Reo's part - who was gifted with a silver tongue, so honed, strong enough to make the Devil dance to his wishes - to visit their premises, refused to take them up on the offer they proposed and kept mumbling about "too many people crowding him" and "money-minded midgets" and "suits made him wary" and “lawyers are untrustworthy leeches”. Akashi was ready to fling him bodily across the ocean and he hadn’t even met the man yet. 

It had been troublesome, tiresome and whole other -somes, but not impossible if it meant, for them to come to him with their offer and seek him out on his home ground, on his own questionable terms. They had had to pry him with a dozen phone calls to get this appointment and the bastard wasn't even opening his door. Seijuro swore.  

Akashi, normally, wouldn't have bothered with this Diva-type attitude, would have cast him and his newfound fame away like yesterday's newspaper. When he could have had thousands of artists who would willingly queue up around the block and answer to his beck and call, just to have a minuscule - one in a million - chance at displaying one of their pieces at the Akashi Gallery, this seemed like trying too hard for something that might not even be worth all that effort.

It was the newest, spiciest, freshest talk of the business world - The Akashi Group opening a huge gallery that displayed artworks from all over the world, portraying just one theme.

Love. 

Be it any genre, any medium, any form of Love, Akashi Gallery would have it shown, after personally approved by none other than Akashi Masaomi himself. It was the brainchild of both Seijuro and Father, to give the Gallery as a gift to Shiori as a celebration of 30 years of marriage. A small token of appreciation as an anniversary gift to the woman who flawlessly managed to keep them both in line for all these years. 

And Father had apparently seen a work of this artist abroad and was immediately impressed (which had never happened before, and Akashi could second that statement veritably) and insisted Akashi to bring him in. 

"Use any means necessary. I need the best work of his to be the Centerpiece at the Atrium." He had looked straight into Seijuro's eyes and calmly said, "Don't fail me, Seijuro."

Akashi internally bristled, recalling the meeting.

It was for Mother.

All this was for Mother.

He chanted that a few times in his head, to calm himself and not show any indignation towards this Furihata Kouki guy, who had already pissed him off and he hadn't even seen his unfortunate face. And that wasn't the only hurdle he had to tackle. No. 

For anyone to be this private about their private life was good and respectable and all that jazz but in a business context it aroused nothing but suspicion. Reo had conducted thorough background checks but apart from a few cursory details from previous galleries where his works had been displayed, he hadn't been able to snatch a photograph of him anywhere. His contacts - extensive and exhaustive in their right - hadn’t been able to make out anything other than “an ordinary skittish guy who looked like any other struggling artist and worked only through commissions and was too choosy”. Believe him, he knew how ‘choosy’ Furihata Kouki was. 

Akashi did not like dealing with the Unknown. As a principle. He couldn't gauge his further actions that way, apart from a few calculated guesses and made-up possibilities. He liked to speculate sure moves beforehand and he, terribly, did not care for going blindfolded to this fight. And, if Furihata’s Diva-ness was any indication, there definitely would be a fight. 

So, in a word, frustrated. Added to the incidents leading up to this day, he was more on edge than anything.

 “I can’t take this anymore. Let’s go.” Seijuro nodded decisively to Reo before he pushed open the metal door and walked inside. Reo followed, a little stunned at the informality of his actions. 

The sunlight from the open door rushed to stream in to fill the darkness, as there was only one light switched on inside the huge studio. The sole overhead light was enough to illuminate the table underneath and cast shadows over everything outside of its circumference. There were strange whirring and thumping sounds coming in from the back but otherwise the spacious room was annoyingly unoccupied.

“Those noises must have droned out the knocking.” Reo mused, stepping in carefully. 

Seijuro curled his lip slightly, “If it didn’t, and he is playing with us, I am walking out of here. Father’s request be damned.”

“Now, now, Sei-chan,” Reo pushed one wayward lock of hair behind his ear and reached to pat his free hand on Akashi’s shoulder reassuringly, “Let’s not be hasty. He might just turn out to be alright.”

“Hasty?” Seijuro shot a glare at him out of the corner of his eye. He was still near the periphery of the studio, with his back to the outside world as he tried gathering his strength to face the man, “He has been testing my patience for months, Reo. And, not to brag, but I have dealt with far worse and had come out unscathed. Yet, something about him is getting me more hacked off, by the minute. And we haven’t even seen each other!”

Reo sighed, “I know. How could I not, Sei-chan? I was there for all those phone calls too, wasn't I?" He rubbed a tired palm over his face and took a deep breath, “Just try to give the guy the benefit of doubt, would you? We need him and he might just turn out to be a normal, scared-of-the-Big-Corporate-Guy, starved, validation-hungry creator for all we know. Now come on in, we can’t mope there all day.”  

They didn't bother closing the door as they shuffled in, observing the silent chaos of the studio. The windows were grilled shut, layers of newspapers stuck to them to avoid any form of light or dust to enter. The floor space and the numerous tables had art works on them, littering every inch. There were canvases - covered and uncovered and blank - and paints and brushes and tarpaulin and wood chipping and saw dust and knifes and paper mache - Akashi feared they had hardened to the bucket more times than they had been used - and marble and granite and rocks of various sizes and varieties and hammers and tools of every kind in a chaotic mess (Arrangement? This mess was by design? Akashi wondered, disbelieving) across the room. 

Reo gave an impressed whistle. Even Akashi was amazed.

“Usually artists dabbled with one medium, but this one seems to be versatile. Isn’t it good luck to find him here, Sei-chan? Now we know he is definitely worth his salt.”

Seijuro nodded grudgingly, “Either he was trying to be creative in everything he wanted to play with or he had an unreliably short attention span.” He moved around the room, judging the work propped directly under the light, “Based on the unfinished drawings and half finished sculptures, I am inclined to believe the latter.”

Reo caught on, hiding his smile, “But you can see how Akashi-san was impressed so quickly, can’t you, Sei-chan.” It wasn't a question. Reo knew. Akashi knew too. 

Seijuro said nothing as he turned his face away. The sounds continued, coming in from the back. They both strode gingerly towards it, the sole ceiling light in the studio not helping them much in maneuvering around the works. There seemed to be another room, off the far wall and nearly hidden behind the large shelves, the noises increasing in their volume as they neared it. 

Reo nodded to Seijuro before he opened the door and stumbled back slightly as a strong wave of heat engulfed them from the other room. They stood at the doorway as they watched the artist - definitely the artist, because he was also known for not engaging any assistant or student, as he had so snootily, Akashi might add, stated in one of their numerous, altogether unhelpful, phone calls - bang metal against metal, the heat from the continuous thwacks sending sparks flying every time the hammer attacked it precisely where he wanted.

Akashi cleared his throat rather pointedly and loudly over the din, announcing their presence. Furihata Kouki just raised a gloved hand like a stop sign and continued with his work. He was fully protected, the metal mask and the vest and gloves showing wear and tear and he didn't take his concentration off his task. 

Reo put a hand on Akashi's shoulder and made him take a step back, a small hesitant smile on his face. Akashi acquiesced. They could wait a little longer, he supposed. Furihata Kouki wasn’t going anywhere. No where to run anymore, he thought with glee. 

This sobered him enough to breathe easier. He felt relaxed now. In control. 

Akashi watched with concealed interest, as the guy expertly molded the metal to what he deemed to be content with - to Akashi, it still looked mangled but he wasn't the expert here and he admitted, with grace, that an artist would probably see things that he couldn't as a layman - and set the burner in a safe place slightly farther away and dip the hammer and other tools including the work piece in a tub of water. The water bubbled rapidly at the heat, fizzing angrily and sizzling at the surface.

The artist didn't acknowledge them as he walked past the doorway to the main studio, closing the door behind him and moving to remove his thick, sturdy, workman gloves, one by one off each finger with his back facing them. Akashi and Reo exchanged a look as they watched him, deciding whether he was purposefully ignoring them or waiting to talk to them without his gear on. 

He swiftly pried himself off his protective vest when Reo spoke up, unable to be quiet any longer. "Furihata-san, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person! I am a huge fan of your works! Good job with that wrought iron! What is it going to be, might I ask? A unicorn like the one shown in the Okinawa gallery?!"

Furihata turned with helmet still on, and chuckled warmly. “Ah, a fan? Thank you so much, it makes me happy you like that one - wait, let me get this off, I am being rude.” He shifted, taking off his helmet and letting the messy brown locks free. Some stuck to the back of his neck and the light sweatshirt he was wearing - which Akashi noticed, seemed a little too big for him - stuck to his lithe frame, due to the heat he had been in. That was a rational explanation. No need to salivate over a sweaty lithe body at all. No reason at all, Seijuro. Why was this affecting him, anyway? 

He stretched his back, highlighting his lean muscles, popping the kinks in his shoulders loudly with a satisfied groan - Akashi shifted subtly, thanking the shadows for hiding his blush - and faced Reo who had walked over to stand at his side. “I have been working on that one for a while now but, I don’t think it’s listening to me properly.” Furihata added with a rueful laugh, “Or, maybe, I don’t think I am hearing it right.”

Reo smiled understandingly, “Oh, but I am sure, you will get it right soon, Furihata-san.” He added, with a pointed look in Seijuro’s direction, “We all need to have a little bit of faith, don’t we? And besides,” Reo demurred, his smile turning coy as his eyes slid to Furihata again, “I never thought the artist of so many great works would be this cute!” 

“Look at you! So young and so talented, Furihata-san!” Reo prattled on, it coming to him like a charm, “You had us believe you were an old man, scared of the young generation, with all those calls. I was half convinced I would be shouting the entire proposal to you to get you to hear. See! I even brought my tiny magnifying glass for you to check things with.” 

Furihata rubbed his nape, blushing at the praise and vainly trying not to laugh at the tall, beautiful man with a ponytail - a ponytail, fuck - and dazzling turquoise eyes, “Ahh. Um. Thank you, I, uh, enjoy making things with my hands ha ha. Been always creative, my mum used to say. And ahhh, you shouldn’t say I am cute when, um,” - he scratched his cheek, eyes looking away from the tall, beautiful, skinny - fuck, he could give Tatsuya a run for his money - man who stood next to him - “you, yourself look like that. I mean, um, wow."  

Reo was practically vibrating in place, barely restraining the urge to hug the poor, hapless artist, at that point when Akashi gave him the Look, reminding him of their business. Reo can flirt in his own time. Akashi needed to get back to the office, as soon as he can wrap this up, lunch be damned. It was already noon and who knew how much longer the negotiation will take.  

“And ahhh, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to be rude or anything! It may have sounded that way, but I, uh, I am very wary, you know?” Furihata rambled on, genuinely apologetic by his tone, and Reo nodded companionably by his side at proper intervals, “Wary of who is handling my stuff and I don’t want to deal with a lot of people because I get nervous easily and yeah....pretty much that’s why I make people come here. To the studio. So I can be relaxed when I deal with them. Well. Tiny bit relaxed, I guess?” He looked at Reo and smiled shyly when Reo sent him a winning smile in return. 

Hook, Line and Sinker. Furihata Kouki had fallen. As if there had been any doubt.  

This was Reo’s biggest selling point. Put the client at ease, charm them enough lower their guards, before Akashi went in for the Kill. Akashi stood further away, unseen by the dim overhead light of the room, observing the brunet. 

It looked like he had seen him somewhere, but he wasn’t completely sure. His voice, his body, and that bloody infuriatingly apologetic tone most of all, seemed too familiar, but he just couldn’t place it. The thought nagged him, too much, adding to his increasing frustration and worsening mood.

Calm. He needed calm now. He had the upper hand. Always. 

The Akashis had the upper hand and they were always Calm and Collected. 

Deep breaths, Seijuro.

And, definitely, don’t think about the brunet from last night, now. 

Fuck, that’s not helping. 

Or how Furihata’s messy hair reminded him of the brunet.

Seijuro, No.

Inhale.

Did the brunet also have a large sweatshirt that made Seijuro want to fuck him in it?

Exha-Fuckkkk. 

"Ah~ before things get out of hand," Reo gestured to where Akashi stood; and with an artsy head tilt, his hair dancing like they had been scripted to, he went on, "I would like to introduce myself, Mibuchi Reo - you can call me Reo-nee, please, won’t you, Furihata-san?" he pouted at the blushing guy, "And would like you to meet your prospective client, the one and only, Akashi Seijuro.” 

Reo stood to his full height and beamed at Furihata - he was starting to like Furihata, a lot, already - and with a sly wink, “And we, at Akashi Corporations, would certainly be immensely pleased if we had the utmost honour to display one of your illustrious works at our new Gallery.” He dipped his head in a slight bow, ending with a dramatic flourish.

Perfect Reo, Seijuro smiled fondly before schooling his features to a polite indifference. The upper hand, he reminded himself.  

Seijuro straightened at his name, stepping into the range of light, mentally going over the countless things he could say to placate the artist into commissioning a piece. It didn’t matter if he was dealing with the Unknown, he still had his contingency plans in place for each carefully evaluated scenario. He would just have to be flexible with the dealing now and craft a concrete plan that Father would approve. He would excel today. 

Furihata flushed and gaped at Mibuchi-san? - Reo-nee, now, his mind unhelpfully supplied - and slowly spun to where Reo was gesturing, a polite smile stretching on his face, braving himself for hours of bargaining and rightful pricing. God, he hated bargaining, but he would get paid shit if he didn’t. Necessary evil and all that. 

Red met brown. 

And time froze.

*

Reo’s eyebrows were in the danger of being swept into his hairline. 

One look at Sei-chan, and Reo came to startling realisation that Furihata Kouki meant something more than just an investment, badgered into by Akashi-san. The totally, too cute to be true, badly in need of good food and sleep, artist was frozen at his side, quite possibly just a scant few seconds away from hyperventilating, but Sei-chan - King of Poker Face, his normally unfazed Sei-chan - looked like the wind had been, frankly, punched out of him. Now, that was quite a revelation.

Shock was written all over his face but also...a tinge of hurt (??!!) before it was carefully masked by his perfect Professional Façade. Reo did a back-take.

Hurt??

Sei-chan?

By....Furihata-san?!

His instincts rang off little alarm bells as he whipped his head around so fast, to analyse the person who had dared to bring about such a look on Sei-chan. He once-d over the artist with a different view now - a very critical, judging one - to pinpoint in what way he could have hurt Sei-chan. 

Furihata was looking like a fish out of water now, opening and closing his mouth wordlessly and staring at Akashi in horror. Or sheer terror, maybe. Reo pursed his lips and scrunched his brows to figure out what the hell had happened between them, delectable artist or not.  

There was no chance they had met previously - Reo was the only one close to Sei-chan since their school days, and nothing went past him without notice - and he knew Sei-chan's previous flings too, worthy, distinguished, well-known men all including that nearly invisible and awfully sarcastic man, but none had caused this much of an impact on Sei-chan. Not even when they left Sei-chan, and all of them had; Sei-chan had never slagged once in his competence and conduct, never truly showing what he felt. Despite all the fruitless prying on Reo’s part.  

Reo would have missed them if he wasn’t scrutinising with scary attention, when he noticed the nearly invisible reddish marks along the line of Furihata’s bony neck. Teeth marks, they had to be, for sure. 

Then.....this person could only be...Oh.

Oh.

Ohhh.

Oh my.

Sei-chan, you lucky bastard. 

Furihata Kouki at the precise moment, seemed to have gathered his power of speech and spoke in that cute, adorably squeaky voice of his, “Ehhh...ummmm, He-hell-lo...?” 

Thankfully, Reo had more control over himself, otherwise he would have started giggling at the way the brunet blushed to the tips of ears and down his neck and gripped onto the table until his knuckles turned white. He was staring at Akashi similar to something straight out of a horror film, and he was trying really hard not to run away. Reo wanted to hug him or snicker at his face. Or both. He couldn’t decide.

Oh. The sheer drama.

Deciding that these two wonderfully oblivious idiots needed a moment - a lot more than a moment, he corrected, hastily - alone, and they probably, most definitely, had already forgotten Reo was there - if the way their eyes never left the others' was anything to go by - he excused himself and walked away from the scintillating scene in the studio. It was hard, dreadfully hard walking away, but he did. He deserved a medal. 

Closing the heavy door noiselessly behind him, he leaned against it and cast his eyes heavenwards. And burst out laughing. He clutched his sides, leaning forward and felt tears prick his eyes.

Of all the places in all of Japan, he shook his head. 

Only Sei-chan.

Fate’s favourite child, Shiori-san would say.

Yeah. Favourite.

Reo tried in vain to control as the next set of helpless peals of laughter threatened to spill out of him. His stomach hurt and his eyes were moist. And the peeling paint of the building was dangerously close to touching him and tainting his expensive coat. He heaved heartily and gulped lungfuls of air and brushed himself off any imaginary lint that might have dared to land on him. He peered up at the building from the pavement, sighing to himself.

What he wouldn't give to witness and document the drama that was about to unfold inside.

But.....some things were better heard as a retelling than seen first hand.

Besides, he still had to extract the full story, piece by excruciating piece from Sei-chan before he got to the current part. He did not particularly care for spoilers, even though he could foresee the ending of this particular situation. He prayed for Sei-chan to not fuck up now. Or Reo would have to kill him. Slowly. Painfully.

And as an added bonus, he would get the story from Furihata-san as well, after Sei-chan eventually gets closer to the him. If, Sei-chan doesn’t fuck up and actually talked stuff now. Dear god, he better talk. Or else. 

Perhaps he should go back and make them talk.....no. 

They would figure it out. They were adults. Nearly 30. Oh, his Sei-chan was almost 30. How time flie-Anyway!

They would talk. Sei-chan won’t let go of the contract. Akashi-san had been almost adamant about it.  

And Furihata-san was interested enough to commission for them. 

So, they would work things out. 

Hopefully. 

Maybe. 

He should take a peek, just in case. Check if things are going smoothly. 

No, Reo. No. 

He sighed again and sent a fervent prayer to any of the Gods who could hear him. Although....

If this turned out well, he would have a happy Sei-chan, a pleased Akashi-san, an impressed Shiori-san and most importantly, an adorably messy haired and ridiculously easily flustered Furihata-san. His Sei-chan would have a date now. A date who very well had Reo’s Stamp of Approval stuck on him. A boyfriend, hopefully. He could easily imagine him and Eikichi having dinner and movie night with Sei-chan and Furihata-san. Who would probably then be.....Kouki? Kou-chan? Kou-chan. Nice. Would it be too soon to call him that now? He would ask Sei-chan tomorrow.  

Humming a happy tune, he started walking leisurely, adding a little skip to his step from time to time. A couple of women passed by, glancing at him shyly, judging his artsy hair and expensive clothes and movie-star looks. He winked playfully at them as they tittered secretively. The meeting would go well, he was sure of it. Well. 79% sure. But, hey, that was better than a 50%. 

Concluding that he didn't want to wait outside in the chilly weather, he fished out his phone and tapped off a quick message. Besides, he was absolutely sure that Sei-chan wouldn't be back for at least a few hours. Maybe he would go out for lunch. That would speed things up quite nicely, he smiled to himself. 

Pick me up?

The reply came almost instantly. 

I thought you were with Akashi?

I was, but he will be busy for a while and.....my work here is done. So...

Reo bit his lip, Eikichi had a relatively free day today but what if he was on call soon? And, it was Reo’s turn to cook tonight so maybe he could get some shopping done before he got home. He was just about to send a “No need, I will come home on my own. You have a nice da-” when his phone pinged again.  

Shoot me the address. Ll be there in five.

Smiling to himself, he texted back and pocketed his phone. He could go grocery shopping with Eikichi now and be home with plenty of time to prepare pork cutlets for dinner. Maybe he should make some more and keep it aside for Sei-chan. 

Just in case. 

[asidian]

for promptis: have you heard of the Hanahaki disease? It's a fictional disease that has the potential for some GREAT angst...

Author’s Notes: I had actually only heard of it in passing, so I had to research a little for this one. I hope I didn’t do it wrong??? orz

===

Love Blooms

===

It happens the first time on the night of the summer solstice festival, their junior year in high school.

They’re sitting up on top of the parking structure five blocks down from the festival grounds, waiting for the fireworks to start. It won’t be the best view in the city, but it gets them out of the crowds packing the street down below. They’ve done the festival games and the greasy food on sticks already; Prompto’s feet are throbbing with a dull ache from wandering around all day.

It’s nice, being up here above the press of people. There are a couple of other stragglers sharing the concrete overhang with them, but not many. When Prompto turns his head the right way, it’s almost like it’s just him and Noct.

The night’s warm and balmy; the wind is ruffling Noct’s hair. Noct’s face is tipped upward, and his eyes are the same dark blue as the sky, that last gasp before evening fades out into night.

Prompto wishes he could afford that camera he’s been eying. If he had it, he’d snap a shot right now. His whole chest aches, with some indescribable need to preserve this moment.

Noct turns toward him, just a slight angling of his head, and Prompto feels his face flush, like he’s been caught doing something wrong.

“What up with you?” Noct says, with that slanted smile he does so well, and Prompto’s tongue feels heavy, twisted up in knots.

Something’s tickling at the back of his throat.

“Nothing,” says Prompto. “Just want the fireworks to hurry up and start, you know?”

They do hurry up and start. They explode across the sky like someone’s lit the world on fire with magic. The thunder of them blooming covers up the sound of Prompto coughing, and he glances down into his palm, perplexed – wonders how the hell he swallowed a sylleblossom petal without knowing it.

===

Noct finally notices midway through senior year.

It’s the week before midterms, and if Prompto’s going to pass chem, he needs to cram like crazy. So Noct, eighteen now and still enamored of his brand new apartment, says, “Pack a bag and stay a couple days. We’ll buckle down and do some test prep.”

So Prompto packs a bag. His parents aren’t due back for another two weeks yet, so he doesn’t bother leaving a note.

He just slings his duffel over his shoulder and hops a train to Noct’s place. His thoughts are all over on the short ride in the posh elevator, but mostly they keep coming back around to what he’s going to do if Noct wants to share a bed.

Prompto’s figured it out by now; he’s got it bad for his best friend. Even if his waking mind was dumb as bricks, his sleeping mind would have clued him in. His dreams lately have been all Noct, all the time. He’s washed his sheets already three times this week.

That tickle is there in the back of his throat, all the way up the hall to Noct’s apartment. It’s so ever-present he hardly notices it anymore, but he can feel a thick kind of burning in his lungs, now, too. It feels like he’s just run six miles and can’t quite catch his breath.

Prompto reaches out and knocks on the door.

When Noct opens it, the warm light from the living room frames him. He’s smiling, crooked and kind of wry. Behind him, Prompto can see that there’s already snacks set out on the table, waiting for them.

It feels a little like coming home.

Prompto opens his mouth to say something, but suddenly that burning in his lungs is pressure, insistent and smothering. He tries to take a breath, but it wheezes in his throat. He coughs, and once he’s started he can’t stop.

He doubles over, there in the hallway; this time, there’s not just one or two petals. This time it’s dozens, a whole cascade of blue.

Prompto keeps going until he’s dizzy, keeps going until his lungs feel clear and he can gasp for air.

Noct loops an arm around him, holding him steady. He’s asking, voice low with concern, whether Prompto’s all right. His tone is comforting; his body heat feels like a miniature sun, pressed up against Prompto’s side.

Suddenly, Prompto can’t breathe again.

===

“No,” says Noct. “Flowers.”

His voice drifts in from the hallway, through the cracked-open door: one half of a phone call. Whatever this conversation is about, Prompto woke up in the middle of it – so now here he is, lying back in his bed, trying not eavesdrop.

“Yes, I realize how ridiculous that sounds!” Noct snaps. “I’d think it was something out of a kid’s book, if I hadn’t been watching him do it for literal months.”

There’s a pause. Then Noct’s voice comes again – softer, more strained. “I know. I’m sorry.” A pause. “He kept saying he was fine.”

It’s true. Prompto’s been trying to tell himself that for years now. It was second nature to tell Noct, too – grin and suppress the coughing, and try to ignore that his breathing’s been getting worse by the day.

“Because he passed out on the subway this afternoon,” Noct says. “Look, I just – can you come? He doesn’t have insurance, and I can’t get ahold of his parents.”

There’s silence in the hall. Then Noct says, “Thanks, Specs.”

There’s nothing else for a long time. Then, finally, the door creaks open. Noct looks tired. His eyes are red around the edges.

“Hey,” he says. “Welcome back. How are you feeling?”

“Not bad,” says Prompto, but his voice is that breathy whisper that seems to be all he has the air for, these days.

“Yeah,” says Noct. “Well. I talked to Ignis. He’s gonna try and pull some strings to get you in to see the Citadel doctor.”

Before Prompto can even open his mouth to protest, Noct’s holding up a hand. “Just – let me do this, okay? I’m worried about you.”

Noct crosses over to the bed and gives him a weary smile – sets a hand on his. Prompto’s heart kicks into overdrive, and he does his best to offer a smile in return.

“Thanks, dude,” he rasps, and Noct’s fingers squeeze, and gods. Gods, now is the worst time ever for another coughing fit – but he doubles over, hacking and choking, and Noct rubs his back until he’s done.

===

The Citadel doctor doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. Neither does the specialist they bring in from Altissia.

All they know is that there’s honest-to-gods plant matter in his lungs, and it’s screwing with their ability to actually be lungs, and that’s all stuff Prompto could have told them without the hundred and twenty-seven different tests they’ve put him through.

He got to see the x-rays, though, and those were sort of cool. Kinda pretty, like some abstract art piece.

He told his mom that, when they finally got her on the phone. He still feels bad for making her cry.

Prompto’s been sleeping a lot, lately. The cough medicine they’ve got him on is the good stuff, but even with it, he can barely hold it together. When it gets bad, he curls up on his side and presses a pillow against himself, tight as he can. Doctor’s orders, ever since he coughed so hard he cracked a rib.

The only good part of the whole thing is Noct.

They’ve moved Prompto into the Citadel for treatment, so they see each other every day, now. Noct sits by the bedside and holds his hand – rubs his thumb up and down over the knuckles. They watch dumb movies on TV, and sometimes they play video games, and when Noct gets tired of sitting in the chair, he comes and curls up on the bed, right by Prompto.

The doctor won’t give him a number, but there’s probably not much time left.

Prompto can’t think of a better way to spend it.

===

“Hey,” Prompto says, one afternoon, voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah?” says Noct.

Outside the window, the sun’s doing that thing it does just before sunset, when the light’s not quite orangey-gold. Something in Prompto twists at the thought of it. He always kind of wanted to take photos of the view from Noct’s balcony, at this time of day, after he saved up for that camera he wanted.

He guesses he’s never going to get the chance, now.

“I’ve been thinking,” says Prompto, and then he trails off. He doesn’t say anything for a long time.

“Prom?” says Noct.

“I know you’re the prince,” Prompto says at last. “And you can get pretty much whatever you want.”

“What the hell?” Noct starts to say, but Prompto lifts a hand to cut him off, and he falls silent.

“It’s true, dude,” says Prompto. “Just go with it for now, okay?” He stops again. Swallows. “But if you want anything of mine, like – for anything. Just to hold onto. You can have whatever you want.”

Noct’s staring at him, eyes wide and stricken. The look on his face is all naked hurt.

“You’ve still got the spare key, right?” says Prompto. “Just let yourself in. Mom booked passage back from Accordo, but I don’t think – she might not make it in time. So when you’re ready, just, like – just go and take whatever.”

Noct’s hand is clenched around his, so hard it hurts.

Prompto means to add more, but that burning sensation is back in his lungs again. He has to give in – coughs until he’s light-headed and reeling with lack of air.

He’s aware, vaguely, that Noct’s there right beside him. He’s aware of Noct’s fingers, reaching out to thread through his hair – softly, gently, the way you’d soothe a skittish puppy.

It feels nice.

Even after the ache in his lungs eases up, Noct stays there, just petting his hair.

Noct cries, but Prompto doesn’t call him out on it.

===

Noct stays the night.

He’s red-eyed and miserable, face puffy, and when Ignis comes to collect him at the end of the evening, he refuses to be moved.

The bed’s big enough for the both of them – the benefits of being holed up in the Citadel, instead of a hospital – and when the coughing wakes him, Noct’s there to rub his back while he works through it and press a cup of water into his hands when he’s done.

The coughing’s not so bad, though. He feels better than he has in a long time, that night.

In the morning, when he wakes, Noct’s arms are twined around him.

===

The new x-rays come back, and Prompto stares down at them.

He stares up at the doctor.

“What?” he says, dumbly.

“The growth receded sixty-five percent,” says the doctor. “In the past two days. We think it may be a reaction to the new medication you’re on.”

He’s aware of Noct at his side, a warm weight against him. He’s aware of Noct’s fingers twined through his own.

Prompto cries, but Noct doesn’t call him out on it.

===

Within a week, the x-rays show that his lungs are clear. Within two weeks, for the first time in years, he can take a full breath again without any pain.

He can get out of bed again and walk across a room. He goes a full 24 hours without coughing once.

When his mother makes it back from Accordo, he’s well enough to launch himself at her and cling, as hard as he can. She presses kisses into his hair, and promises that his father will be home next week, and rocks him the way she used to do when he was very small.

===

It’s afternoon, and the sun’s doing that thing it does just before sunset, when the light’s not quite orangey-gold.

Prompto’s off bed rest, finally; they’re hanging out at Noct’s place, eating popcorn and playing video games.

The scoreboard in 2 Fast 4 You is still up on the TV, showcasing how he just crashed a sleek red car into hundreds of cheering spectators, but suddenly Prompto’s attention is somewhere else. His gaze wanders from the screen to the window – to the way the light catches the dust motes in the air at just the right angle, turning them to liquid gold.

“Hey,” says Prompto. “C'mere a minute.”

He grabs Noct by the hand – drags him onto the balcony of his apartment. They take seventeen selfies, most with dumb faces, some very few actually decent. Insomnia stretches out behind them, buildings glinting glass and steel, cars no bigger than ants.

When Prompto leans over to show Noct the shots, their shoulders press together. He’s suddenly, painfully aware of how close they’re standing.

Noct’s face is bare inches from his own.

Noct’s lips are parted, just a little.

Noct leans down to kiss him, and in the instant before their lips touch, Prompto just has time to think how lucky he is.

[whereocsrunfree]

This is just pure curiosity rather than a prompt so you don’t have to answer if you don’t feel like it, but what are some of the ships/what are they like in LtS canon? I’ve seen Ceron/Lynnaea and now know it to be hecking adorable, but now I’m curious about the others I’ve heard a tiny bit about (like as those with Serena/Tobias, Rhett/Olivia (I think?), etc.)

(sorry it took me like 500 years to finish this orz)

OH BOY THIS IS A GOOD QUESTION and you are wise to restrict it to LtS canon because if we get into AUs it’s freakin… neverending. I have an entire damn fleet of ships at my behest (junrhett, junarhett, sorhett, rhettlee, junlyn, soralyn, cerynnaea, cerjun, cerrhett, ceroush, cerjunrhett, jasorena, rholivia, & serebias… every single one of these exists and has at least one small scene written for it if not more).

~~~

ANYWAY BACK TO CANONSerena/Tobias (a.k.a. Serebias, or Tobena):This relationship is something of a work in progress for me. At the point where the story begins, Tobias and Serena have already been good friends for several years. So what I do know is that, (in the current timeline), Tobias arrived in Alei Naide six or seven years after Serena settled there with Rhett, so about… 4-5 years before the main novel begins. I think he fairly quickly established friendly terms with Serena by not only accepting the energetic little monster that was 8- or 9-year-old Rhett but befriending him as well, eventually becoming the only person (before Ceron and Lyn arrived) that Rhett trusted as much as Serena. And Rhett of course imprinted like a baby bird on Tobias’ easygoing friendly jokester ways, paired it with his own innate unending energy and the sharp wit he’d learned from his mother, and thus became the lovable friendly firecracker we all know today.

The quickest way to Serena’s heart, especially back then, was through her boy. But she didn’t really give her heart away in the romantic sense anymore. Not after basically an entire lifetime of Incredibly Shitty Things Happening When She Did That. And Tobias himself wasn’t exactly in a place to pursue anything romantic or even intimate, having arrived in Alei Naide as many refugees did: running from the horrific event that cost him everything including his own family.And besides that, in a place like Alei Naide, where death lies in wait behind each setting of the sun, it’s not wise to fall in love anyway.

But people still do. Even when they try not to.

So they became friends, to start. And then good friends, and then very good friends… Tobias became the person Serena could trust with anything–even herself–more than she ever had before. He challenged her assumptions, her bitterness, the diamond-hard spikes she’d grown to protect her soft and vulnerable heart over the years. But he did it with care and a genuine desire to help her at her own pace rather than seeing her as something broken that he needed to fix and make into what he wanted her to be. He was gentle, and kind, and laughed easily past the agonies of life in their fucked up world without ever diminishing the severity of each loss or hardship (both of which he had more than enough experience with himself).

In turn, she challenged him to be strong again, to protect those who needed it, and to care. To care so much it hurt, it tore him apart to see the things and people he cared for in pain or dying or gone forever. But to embrace that pain and keep on moving. Keep going. Keep caring no matter what it cost because it was the only way to live a good life.

He admired her indomitable heart, and she loved him for his gentle one. So when he finally asked her one warm, quiet night, to admit they were both helplessly in love, and to marry him… she said yes.

…and then their story ended as so many have before.

I’d like to say Tobias died defending her, but if they were facing Aniello there’s little hope of a heroic end. Only an end.

And Serena’s heart, broken once more.

...

For even more emotional whiplash, we now move on to

Rhett/Olivia a.k.a. RHOLIVIAAAAA:This pairing is a little harder to describe because Olivia… isn’t really a very developed character. I’ve only written 2 things with her and they were both in the context of their relationship (one was “this is them meeting/falling in love & getting married” and “this is a slice-of-life for them as married people w/ a baby”), and while both are very cute and I like them, they didn’t develop Olivia outside of their relationship very much.

Their basic story is that they meet several years after the end of the novel. Rhett is about 22 or 23 when he meets her, and she’s about the same age. They have pretty instant chemistry because they’re both quick-witted and outgoing dorks. Olivia was born and grew up in Cabercaenn, which was relatively untouched by the horrific apocalypse that destroyed basically the whole rest of the world. So, essentially the exact opposite environment that Rhett grew up in. She was maybe aware that there was Something Wrong With The World Outside the City, but never really affected by it until the story ends and suddenly there are A Lot of People Who Need Help and Cabercaenn is the only fully functional city left that can help everyone. And Olivia gets involved in a lot of that humanitarian aid stuff.

Her totally different upbringing and thus completely different view of the world is actually really good for Rhett, in some ways. Helps him see other perspectives, and her understanding of how to navigate Bureaucratic Authorities and such is incredibly helpful to him.

They have lots of kids and probably lots of pets because Rhett has always wanted a big family and a lively house. One or two of the kids inherit Rhett’s eyes (if those are still a thing) so there’s some drama surrounding that which I haven’t fully fleshed out.

Basically they’re just very much alike, but also balance each other out in good, helpful ways. Olivia learns how to deal with Rhett’s various PTSD effects, and helps him through trying out various prosthetics before they finally find one that he likes and is useful. And Rhett brings his Rhett-ness into Olivia’s life.

~~~

Those are the only two actual canon ships in LtS besides Ceron/Lynnaea (and I guess Serena/Jason but that’s even *less* developed besides Jason being a sweet normal dude and Serena being… Serena, just older). All the other ships live in AUs.

[longletterpenpals]

Let me hug you. Yo! Too shy tbh.

Name: Sarah Age: 23 Location: Germany Contact: http://funkenriss.tumblr.com/ About me:

Who am I?

Where am I?

Who are you?

Where are you?

  Maybe we don’t even exist in the same universe and this encounter is a miracle. Wouldn’t this be… quite beautiful? How is the moon you live under? The sky?

Sometimes my head is a mess… sometimes it is full of different lives, universes and stories. Other days there is nothing. Do you know this feeling?

  I, for myself, consider to say that I’m a writer… maybe an author. Author? Yes, I think so and someday I hope that people will be able to read my published thoughts.

I had lovely penpals before but I think I messed up because my life changed the last year. Everything changed. No not everything… My stuffed animals are still with me. Beautiful, isn’t it? 

English isn’t my first language and so I’m sorry for my many mistakes, but I’m still learning. Will learn forever. I’m German and if you want to learn something about this awesome language I’m always willing to help you. 

You can call me Sarah (or choose an awkward name you like, I’m fine with it), I’m 23 years old and just finished university. Now I’m working with underage refugees and live day by day. I’m a very introverted person who likes deep conversation’s about everything. It would be nice if we had some interests in common because I like to fangirl (hyper hyper) and to share all my love for fandoms and things I’ve fallen for. 

I’m kind of a Instagram, twitter, tumblr and stuff addicted girl. I love writing rpg’s, own stories, fanfictions and I really, really love boys love und girls love things. Go for it.

Interest/hobbies: I think I’m a little nerd… awesome (clap your hands, yo). I love reading, gaming, writing and listening to music all day long. Cooking is one of my interests, too. I spend so much time in the kitchen… it’s unbelievable. Another habit of mine is drinking coffee until I can’t walk properly anymore and my heart is pumping like a hummingbird. Not healthy, friends. My head is always over the clouds… yeah… I’m dancing with the stars from different universes.

I love stuff like Kpop, tv shows, Anime/Manga, books, languages, drawings/art, poetry, good music, history, philosophy and all that kind of stuff.

Favourite books/films/tv shows:

MUSIC: Kpop (for example BTS, WINNER, Big Bang, NCT 127, Agust D, EXO – CBX, Unit Black, SF9, Monsta X, Got 7, B.A.P … [Yeah… I’m an Army but I love so many other groups too! ûu No hate!]), Samsas Traum, Imminence, SMNM, Obsidia, BMTH, Starset, Halsey, PVRIS, NF, Being as an Ocean, The Amity Affliction, In This Moment, …

  TV / MOVIES: Digimon, Beyblade, Dragonball Z, Code Geass, Wolfs Rain, You’re all surrounded, Goblin, Hwarang, Heroin webseries, Sense8, Bates Motel, Anne With an E, Shadowhunters, Teen Wolf, HTGAWM, Hannibal, Sherlock, Skam, Princess Mononoke, Spritied Away, Howl’s Moving Castle, Underworld, Horror-Movies, Sports-Anime, …

  BOOKS / MANGA: Aristotle and Dante, Heroes Academia, Shaman King, Demian, Dragonball, Tien 19, HoHo, Remembering Gale … there is too much! I’m always open for new ones. <3

What would you like to send/receive?:

It would be awesome if we could talk about everything we love, we dream, we’re afraid of, we’re struggling with. No judging. If we could write us little stories (I’m not that good at writing at English, but learning by doing <3) or sending packages if the shipping costs aren’t this high.

If you just started learning Korean, we can do it together because I must start over again… Didn’t practice for month… orz.

Who would you like to send and receive mail from?: I don’t care about gender and stuff… just be nice and genuine. I’m always ab bit freaky and moody… so if you aren’t an easy person, too… don’t be afraid because everyone is just perfect how he/she is <3 It would be great if you’re 18+ but it’s not that important to me as long as we get along very well <3 (I’m searching for 2 or 3 people I can write with :) ) 

What countries would you like to receive mail from and send to?: From all over the world and yes, German speaking people are welcome, too <3 <3 <3 

[princesandromeda]

Ah, sorry I’m taking too long to answer properly, orz, it’s That Time of The Year again when we’re all hectic. Anyways.

The first one I was reading was this one, and the author recommended this one too (the second one deals with a series of what if’s, and a warning for character death, and for me it wasn’t as satisfactory, surprisingly enough, considering the premise was pretty interesting)

Lol tbh I started out as, and will forever be, part of the HyoShun team, but after my spiritual retirement in the Free! fandom, I’ve become very fond of rareships. Because, tbh, Okada has already pretty much given HyoShun a daughter and there is not much you can develop once you get to that point. So yeah, developing headcannons is a fun excercise for me bc I explore different faces of the same character, and also grow fond of new characters

I always ove that! Like, ofc, we know Shun is beautiful, it has been said many. times. through. all. the. series, and us, the fans, get to see he is also beautiful on the inside! So it is nice to see someone appreciate him not for his look or his brawn (because he has), but because of his innate kindness that he gives everyone withouth distinction.

omgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomg, I need that date. It would be awesome! I bet that a lot of things go ridiculously wrong but Shun still thinks the effort was like the sweetest and is utterly charmed with how much of himself Nachi had put into it.

And yes!!!! Shun would love having a quiet life, but try as he might, that is just not his fate as a saint :( So hanging out with Nachi always brings him that much needed tranquility in the short bouts of peace between battles

So, uh, for the last 12 hours I’ve sorta binged on SS content, thanks to Panini, and uh yeah, I’m half-back

Anywhoo, I was reading a fanfic where Shun was the Phoenix Saint and Ikki was the Andromeda saint, and ofc thanks to @nita-ss (sorry! I haven’t caught up on a lot of the new Nachi/Shun content in your blog) and @andperseo I WENT FOR THE NACHI/SHUN ALTERNATIVE.

In this essay bulletlist I will, give a few reasons why this particular AU makes sense: i.e. how I would ship Nachi/Shun in this AU

Let’s start off with the fact that, offering to take his brother’s place to go to a hellish place is such an Andromeda thing to do, so I think that in that aspect, the Andromeda cloth would have no trouble recognizing Ikki as the rightful bearer

Nachi’s first fight was with the Phoenix Saint, so this means that instead of fighting Ikki, Nachi has to fight Shun, who, up until this point was a no-show. Cue dramatic entrance and vendetta speech

The whole battle against Shun, and the Black Saints, and getting back the Sagittarius Cloth, and la-dee-da would be a good moment for lots of the Bronze Saints to think through about how they had been to Shun when they were little, and so on, and also about how Revenge Is Not A Healthy Coping Mechanism.

After that, though, they make ammends and through battles form a bond of comradeship, which later becomes friendship, etc.

Fast-forward to post-Hades (Shun is still Hades, bc despite all the hardships he was put through, his soul still managed to stay pure, similar to what Shaka said about Ikki having no darkness in his heart even after having earned the Phoenix Cloth the way he had), an AU where Next-Dimention doesn’t really exist because I haven’t read past chapter 12, and most of them are ok, Shun, now devoid of hate though polite and detached, still has a hope of helping make a world where kids don’t have to become orphans like he and his brothers were.

Nachi grows to admire that, and after having reflected on his childhood (with a huuuuuge load of guilt and desire for repentance), tries to approach and make things nice.

So basically that swinset scene from Nita’s blog but with different dialogues.

“I’m sorry that we bullied you when we were kids, we kinda made your life hell. I’m sure you hate us all.” Shun cringed, and Nachi wondered if the word hate was a trigger or if he was still jumpy from the whole being-Hades’-vessel ordeal. He decides to flee from the awkwardness. “Well, then, I’ll get-” “I don’t- I don’t hate you.” Shun’s words, and his slightly vulnerable look, make Nachi look twice. One would think that after becoming Phoenix Saint you’d be nothing short of unvincible. “I’ve… recently come to terms with the fact that we were all orchestrated, played like puppets. It was wrong of me to take out my anger on you, when I was only angry at Mitsumasa. At that age, there was nothing we could do but obligue. And while I don’t have any psrticular desire to become chummy with all of you, I’m not particularly against it, either,” he offers a rare smirk, and Nachi wonders when the next comet is going to arrive; was Shun offering to become friends with him? “Besides,” Shun interjected while swinging a little, “the beating my master put me through on a daily basis on Death Queen island almost made me wish it was you guys calling me sissy.” Despire Shun’s weird attempts at reassurance, Nachi still felt regret filling his throat.

Shuh, ‘begrudginly’, helps with Saori’s charity events, but somehow he still has kind words for the kids at the orphanages, and Nachi could swear he sees something akin to longing in his eyes at times. He can’t help but wonder how someone who was abused so much can still house the desire to have children.

“You could adopt one of them, you know? I bet they’d be lucky to have you as their parent” he mentions on one occassion. Shun’s eyes widen and he looks abashed at being so obvious. “Are you kidding? Those tramits take too long, and add that to the fact that I’m neither married nor with a stable job, I would never be able to foster a child.” Nachi just shrugs. “Well, considering you have claiming rights to the Graad Found-” “Yeah, not like the bastard cared for that,” Nachi cringes and backs away a little, which in turn makes Shun sigh. “Look, I’m just… not ready for that yet. I’ve only been back in Japan for a month and I feel suffocated already,” he gives Nachi an appraising look, and an actual smile in opposition to his usual smirks. “I still have some stuff to deal with, some wounds to lick, I wouldn’t be able to take care of a child if I can’t take care of myself! And I certainly wouldn’t want to be rich-detached-dad like he was.” Nachi sees the logic in that, so he doesn’t try to push further.

The next day, Shun announces to Saori that he, too, needs fresh air.

more to come tomorrow bc i’m sleepy rn

[southparkhighrpg]

Vladimir - Accepted

Congratulations, Xo! Welcome to South Park High! Remember to send us your account within 48 hours of acceptance! If you ever need time extension to make the account, message the mods.

1. Mun information Preferred Name: Xochitl Age: 21 Pronouns: They/Them Timezone: CST Activity Level(Scale 1-10): 8 Discord:  Password: Eric Cartman is a fatass 2. Muse Information Muse’s name: Vladimir [Switching Katie for him] Age: 16 Birthday: 26 May Height: 5’ 10" Sexuality: Pansexual Gender/Pronouns: Trans boy; He/him [ TW for Drug Use and Self-Harm] 3. Personality (two paragraph)

Vladimir is the type of person who prefers to maintain a low profile. He’s quiet and private, never really letting people to close into his personal life. He’s even gone out his way to keep his name a secret, meeting with teachers and authority figures beforehand to make sure his name is simply just “Vladimir” on every roster. He’s a man of mystery. There aren’t many details know about him and that’s just how he likes it. His secrets are only for him to know. His emotions are also hard to read. Vladimir has mastered the art of being stoic and aloof enough to rival Michael’s own detachment. He’s very hard to read and there is no real way to discern exactly what’s going through his head. Still, he’s a polite boy when it comes down to it. He is very loving with the closest of his friends and sometimes quite affectionate with them. He’s more open about certain aspects of himself with the Vamps, but, even they don’t know who Vladimir truly is. 4. Appearance (two paragraph)

Despite being fairly tall, Vlad is by no means a big person. He’s very thin, gangly, and even if he was put center stage, his presence would be very small. Being the private and quiet person he is, Vlad doesn’t try to attract attention to himself. His clothing is very mundane, consisting of subdued and neutral colors and no flashy garments, textiles, or statement pieces. He appears to often be swallowed by his clothing, most of it being over-sized on his thin frame as well as covering his entire body. It’s almost like he has an extreme distaste for showing any skin, because he does. His arms and legs are covered in self-harm scars and track marks from his drug use. They’re always hidden from sight, no matter what. All of his clothing is full-coverage, even his swimwear, leading to most people thinking that he’s just a prudish person. His skin, while tanner than most of his friends, is fairly pale and lacking in its natural coloration. It appears washed out, like if he’s constantly faint and sickly. His eyes are heavily lined with black and he always has a bit of a grey-black smoky eye. He has prominent dark circles that he likes to exaggerate with his makeup as opposed to hiding them. His hair is still the black-to-purple ombre color he had as a child and has grown to reach his mid-back. It is soft and silky, obviously well taken care of, and rarely tangles or knots. Run your fingers through and they will easily glide through the strands. He has various beauty marks on his face and body, most appearing from sun damage.

7. Name at least 5 headcanons

Vladimir is very much inspired by androgynous stars of the 70s and 80s. David Bowie, Robert Smith, Pete Burns, Boy George, Annie Lennox, Patti Smith…they are people that Vladimir idolizes. Their gender non-conformity resonates with the vamp and have been an important part in shaping who he is today. He emulates them in his fashion and overall presentation of himself. They paid no mind to gender roles and norms, so why should he?

While Vladimir’s parents are very loving, they’re also very absent. The two have corporate jobs that require them to work long hours and travel often, leaving Vladimir home alone more often than not. Because their constant absence was an integral part of Vladimir’s upbringing, he has grown to be a very independent and successfully self-sufficient individual. He’s currently working on becoming emancipated in order to truly feel like he’s on his own, just as he always has been.

Because Vladimir is horrible at expressing his emotions and being a private person with his entire being in general, he’s adopted some not-so-healthy coping mechanisms. He’s a self-harmer with a penchant for IV drug use, heroin being his drug of choice. He’s been using hard drugs for years after being introduced to it at 13 by an older girl he fancied and self-harming for longer. His arms and legs are littered in self-harm scars, track marks, bruises, and burns. They’d be obvious if he didn’t use his clothing to cover them up.

Vladimir has an obsession with Visual Kei bands from Japan. Especially Malice Mizer and Moi dix Mois. Their dark, aristocratic,and vampiric aesthetic really speaks to him. He finds them to be a way to indulge in his interests while also not straying far from his roots as a vamp kid. Mana is his above all idol and really embodies who he wishes he could be. While he isn’t a very emotionally available person, Vladimir does show more softness and vulnerability around the younger vamps. He is loving with all of the vamp kids in general, but it’s the younger lot that seem to get the most out of him. Vladimir has always had a soft spot for children, often opting to take the youngest of the vamps under his wing and teach them Vampir’s philosophy on his own. He’s closest to Allison, viewing her as a younger sibling more than any of the other vamps.

8. Write two decent sized paragraphs that shows how you would portray your muse

He’d been using for years now. The regular dose just didn’t the trick anymore and he was so, so desperate for that sweet euphoria, or the numbness, or anything that would release him from his despair. Even being thrown into a coma would be better than what he currently felt. Vlad’s world was imploding around him and he needed out. Shaking hands reached into his coat pockets, rummaging around until he felt the little baggie hidden within. This was nothing new, nothing he couldn’t handle. A little more won’t hurt him…

The room around his started to warp. Disorientation took over his body. He could feel his heartbeat slowing down. With every second, it became harder and harder to breathe. Some thing was wrong…something was very wrong. Whatever he got from his dealer wasn’t the usual batch. No, this was something much more potent. Purer heroin than he ever had before. All he wanted was a release from his pain. And now, he could feel his body slowly start to shut down. That release was coming like a freight train and he needed to stop it.

Shaky hands desperately searched for his cell phone, this was his only lifeline now. No one else here was going to help him. He needed to call someone, anyone. So long as they got his out of here, he didn’t care who it was. He pressed his most recent contact’s name and waited as the phone rang, speaking as soon as the other end picked up. “Mike…” The other’s name was shuddered into the phone, ragged breathing following after. He grasped at his throat, nails clawing down the skin as if trying to open up the trachea. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he struggled to speak. He was gasping, wheezing, doing anything to try and get the strength to continue speaking. “Mike…I…” His voice cracked. “…I think I’m dying…”

9. Any additional information  you would like to add

The sample’s an excerpt from an RP so sorry it isn’t the same caliber as my usual samples!! orz

[fallforjungkook]

/Author Update/

Hi guys,

*sigh* I've come in to let you know why I haven't posted the epilogue chapters as I said I would.

It's almost been a month since I updated and since then there has been a lack of motivation and inspiration to write. Even though, I already have the draft written and ready from months ago, when I edit, the storyline might stay the same but the words are changed and switched many times before I end up with something that you read as the final result. Lately, editing has been taking me hours because I have to get myself into the mood and I get distracted easily. I've been a bit busy/stressed too and my mind has been on other things. I've kinda been a little down.... and that reflects on my will to work...

This is why it might take me awhile to post the epilogue parts. It feels like I've written so much, I've squeezed so many words out of my brain that it seems like I don't have any material left, I can't english lately :(

Even when I have ideas, I'm lazy to type -.-' I wish I had a device that would put my thoughts into articulate and well build sentences because the only time when it's quiet enough for me to focus and write is at night, right before I sleep... and usually I end up falling asleep lol

Anyway, thanks for understanding (I hope), as I write this waiting for bighit to drop the next highlight reel, I might suddenly get the motivation to edit and do it hehe JUST DO IT!

Just wanted to give you a know, so you're not waiting.. cause I know some of you are and this time I'm not sure how long it will take me to come back... I'll also answer all of your asks later tonight, sorry that it always takes me so long to reply but that's just me and social media orz

I'll try to get it done soon, sorry again :(