#ugh i need to relearn sewing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Secrets ~ 6

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series; light touching.

This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Notes:

Tomorrow will be a 12 hour day for me. Working on Xmas but oh well. I got this done on my one day off and I hope I survive the next week coming up!

I love you all, I thank you for your patience and feedback as always! Please don’t shy away in the comments, reblogs, etc.

Your time at Regia passed quickly and slowly all at once. You were woken most days abruptly by Barnes pounding on your door or standing over you with his smug half-grin. Then you dressed in clothes you reviled and ate a breakfast you couldn’t enjoy for all the expectation of your intake. You were allowed some recreation though that was often reading bland historical texts or walks in the garden with your keeper.

Your least favourite part of each day were your dance lessons. You had to relearn how to walk, talk, look, and eat, but you had never had much rhythm. Besides, being so close to Barnes with him commenting on your every misstep was hardly fun. He delighted in every mistake you made, eager to reproach you for each, and was easily amused by Priscilla’s stick smacking across your legs, back, and ass.

You counted eleven days as you began to truly fledge. You were tired, annoyed, and to be honest, hungry. That day, you beat Barnes’ early disturbance. You sat, in a coral blouse and a pleated grey skirted, with the lowest pair of heels in the closet. He greeted you almost with approval and that made your want to tear the blouse and shred it.

You didn’t. You followed him downstairs to your usual miserable meal. When you finished, he escorted you back up the wide staircase to the hall of mirrors. You hated the room. It gave you an all to inclusive view of your ridiculous attire. You didn’t look like you. Sure, you were one for a scholarly look but this wasn’t really that. This was a pompous, over-stylised look which would go well only with a silver spoon on your tongue.

A man waited in the hall of mirrors, a woman too. The man was slender and tall and his long fingers were twined together as he waited emotionlessly. He bowed as you entered and recited a dull ‘your highness’. The woman was squat and stuffed into a patterned wrap dress spotted with bright reds, pinks, and oranges. She was more jovial as her voice chimed with the same recitation.

“Lester, Deanna,” Barnes announced, “My apologies for the delay. I trust you are ready.”

“Darling, your highness,” The stout woman swayed over to you, “Come with me.”

“Huh,” you looked at Barnes and he smiled as he gestured you forward.

“Just go,” he ordered, “She doesn’t look like much but she’s not one for defiance.”

You sighed and let the woman usher you over to the attached room. The racks of dresses were gone but long garment bangs had been hung from a hook along the opposite wall. The door snapped shut behind you and Deanna flitted around you, like an elephant in heels, and turned you to face her.

“Oh, love, you are gorg,” she chimed in a peculiar accent, “I think however Lord Barnes was a bit off on your measurements,” she grasped your waist, “Lovely, lovely.”

“I hate to be a bitch but what the hell is going on?” You asked.

She blinked and laughed. She drew away and pushed her dark curls back as they burst forth from the jeweled pin behind her head. “Oh dear, you are fiery. The king will… like that. I think.”

She didn’t sound convincing as she spun away and marched over to the hook and took down the first bag. She unzipped it as she neared and turned it to reveal the contents. A white lacy dress with thin straps and a scalloped hem around the neckline. The bodice was fitted and the skirt flared out into a princess silhouette. You knitted your brow as you stared at it.

“Your wedding dress,” she sang. “Oh, it will surely look splendid on you, darling. Your highness.”

She stripped the bag away and was careful not to let the skirts touch the floor as she held it aloft and folded the swaths of fabric over her arm. She held it out to her as she beamed at you.

“So… I don’t get to choose?” You wondered. You didn’t care very much but you hated that all your decisions were made for you.

“Oh, but this was refashioned from the former queen’s dress. It is a tradition in Astrania. In fact some of this would date back centuries!” She explained, “Of course we do update the style.”

You chewed on your lip and shrugged. “Let’s just get this over with,” you muttered.

You felt defeated as you couldn’t help but fixate on the white gown. It was like you were wrapping yourself in a flag of surrender. You’d wave your skirts and let yourself be taken. You undressed and stepped into the dress as she opened it for you. She pulled the straps over your arms and zipped it up.

“Rather, it fits you well,” she came around as she pinched at the fabric and smoothed out the seams. She wasn’t wrong, though it felt rather constricting. “Well, come on. Lester needs to do his figures. He’s always the better eye for this. I just sew.”

She took your hand as you lifted your skirts with your other. You let her guide you back out to the hall of mirrors and you avoided looking around you. You couldn’t look at Barnes either as you sensed him watching you. You blurred your vision as you lifted your head and the tall man, Lester, walked around you. He began to pin little pieces in place and Deanna pulled out a small notepad as she began to jot with a stubbed pencil.

“Hmm,” Barnes appeared before you and your vision cleared, “Not bad…” He brushed the lace with his fingers and traced the curve of your waist with his hands, “However…” He lingered just below your chest, “You can’t show the entire kingdom your bra. You would do better to leave that behind on the day.”

“We can add some structure,” Lester offered evenly. “But our adjustments will be minor.”

Barnes reached over and tugged the skirts from your hand and fluffed them out around you. He rounded you and gripped your shoulders. You saw yourself in the mirrored wall and tried not to show your surprise. It wasn’t awful but you still didn’t like it.

“We have three days left. You have the other dress?” He asked.

“We have options,” Deanna said, “We were uncertain if the king would prefer red or blue.”

“Let me see,” Barnes sidestepped her and went to the attached room.

Deanna glanced at you and waved you after him as she approached and gathered your skirts. She followed after you and your vigilant chaperone. She released the vast skirts and went to Barnes as he neared the hanging garment bags. She unzipped both and he tilted his head and tutted.

“Red,” he said, “I believe the king will be in blue.”

“Very well,” Deanna pulled the dress from the bag. “Now dear, let’s get you changed.”

Barnes turned back and neared you. He faced you and reached around you. He pushed the zipper down slowly and leaned in until his breath tickled your nose. “Three days.” He reminded you. He drew away and left you as the bodice fell slack. He closed the door behind him as Deanna replaced him.

“Darling, I think red will look marvelous on you. And the king in blue! He has the most amazing eyes. Oh, if I was younger… maybe, skinnier,” she giggled, “Well, should I even tell you? You’ve seen him. Ugh, handsome bugger, he is.”

“Mhmm,” you grumbled as you wiggled out of the gown, “What a tragedy it’d be if his outside was ugly too.”

👑

That night was as restless as any. You laid in bed for a time, tossing and turning. You tried to forget about the blinding white dress and the abhorrent red number that came after. And how time seemed to pass regardless of your fears or your desires. You felt helpless. You used to be in control of everything and now, you couldn’t control even yourself.

You sat up in a slat of moonlight. You weren’t going to sleep. Your frustration mounted the longer you squeezed your eyes shut and clawed and clutched for rest. You grunted and stood as the duvet fell away from your legs. The short silk nightie sent a chill up your spin as it fluttered around your thighs.

You crossed your arms and went to the window. The lawns were peaceful despite the anxiety within the palace. You turned away as the lush green rippling in the silver shadows only heightened your uneasiness. You took the blush coloured robe from the chair sat before the vanity and swathed yourself in it as you neared the door.

It was, to your surprise, unlocked. As strict a warden as Barnes was, you just assumed he would have locked you in. You let out a breath and stepped out into the hallway. The portraits of your predecessors, dead and dusty, watched you pass as you tiptoed along. The windows cast shapes around you as you went along and at times, you were certain you heard whispers.

You descended to the lower first floor and ventured down a wing never explored before. Your eyes were attune to the darkness but still played tricks as you crept along. You heard the distant, muffled, and quite possibly, imagined ripple of water. You smelled a pool, the sharp scent of chlorine. Your senses brought you to a door at the end of the corridor.

Frosted glass framed in heavy metal. You pressed against the slotted handle and the clasp slowly lifted. You inched inside as you peeked around the door. Broad shoulders, bare and thick with muscle, beneath a head of dark hair. You were shocked by the scars along Barnes’ left shoulder and the arm no longer in place below. You’d never even noticed the prosthetic now laid out with his clothes on a bench near the wall.

He shoved himself into the pool and the water swelled around him. You placed your feet carefully as you eased the door shut and neared the bench where his suit was folded neatly with his shoes, socks, belt, and tie. You bent closer as you admired the hand at the end of the prosthetic; you touched it curiously. It felt lifelike even as it sat limp.

“Convincing?” Bucky’s voice frightened you as you heard the water move around his body. You turned to face him as he brought his right arm over the edge of the pool. “Don’t worry. You can toss it around. I won’t feel a thing.”

You were speechless; embarrassed. You hadn’t meant to intrude upon him but your fatigue mixed with your confusion had goaded you on.

“Sorry, I… I couldn’t sleep.” You hugged yourself and swept back to the door. “I wasn’t meaning-- I shouldn’t have--”

“Just an arm.” He said as he pushed himself up and turned to display what was left of his arm, a scarred stub just below his shoulder. “Good thing I was born with two.”

“Barnes…” You backed up until you were against the door. “I should go.”

“Alright,” he pushed himself back and floated with his single arm outstretched. “I always found swimming helped… with sleep.” He said lazily. “Calming.”

You didn’t move. You only watched as he floated along in only his briefs. He was entirely unbothered by your presence as he hummed and reached out to stop himself at the other end of the pool.

“Well, are you enjoying the show or you going to join?” He asked.

You watched him warily. “You’re not mad?”

“Maybe slightly irritated,” he shrugged, “You hovering is ruining the mood.”

You stared at him and slowly pushed yourself away from the door. You took small steps forward and lowered yourself along the rim of the pool. You held in a squeak as you hung your legs into the cool water.

“So, were you just not going to tell me there was a pool?” You chided.

“You didn’t ask,” he said as he waded casually through the water. “To be fair, you didn’t seem much interested in this place though as I’ve gathered, you are disinterested in most things.”

You frowned and rolled your eyes. You peered over at the wall and pondered leaving him as you found him. You were surprised by a wet hand on your knee.

“If I can get to you so easy, Steve’s gonna drive you mad,” Barnes said. “So if you’re going to be so easily perturbed, you better work on hiding it better.”

“Whatever,” you huffed.

“Whatever,” he mocked as his hand slid under the water and he gripped your ankle. “Loosen up.”

He kicked himself away from the wall and pulled you down into the pool. You plunged with a yelp and threw your arms up in panic. Your nose and mouth filled with water and he let you go. You bobbed back to the surface and spat as your silken night clothes clouded around you.

“What the fuck, Barnes?” You sputtered.

“I’ll admit,” he said through chuckles, “I had a drink or two.” He winked as he moved around you. “Well, Duchess, you do play the role much better than you think.”

“Ugh,” you turned away and reached for the wall of the pool, “You are the worst.”

“Wait,” he pressed against you and caught you around your waist, “Wait, wait.” He drew you back with him. “Come on. Relax.” He dragged you further into the water, “Look, you’ve only got a few days left and even if you hate to listen to me, you should. Once you’re at court, this won’t happen. Ever.”

“What do you care? You haven’t so far.” You struggled with him and dipped below the water again. You twisted and turned and came up facing him as he clung to you.

“Duchess,” he warned, “Don’t be a brat.”

“A brat?” You blinked. “Let go of me, Barnes.”

He grinned and held you to him as he moved backwards across the pool. You felt something between you. It moved against your pelvis and as he spun you and pinned you against the tile, you realised what it was.

“Are you serious right now?” You snarled. “What about your king, huh?”

He chuckled and his hand slid down your back. He squeezed your ass as he kept you against the side of the pool. He was so close you could feel his breath and smell the remnants of his sweat and cologne.

“I’m supposed to show you how to be a good wife,” his finger tickled under your thigh, “In all areas.”

“I doubt he had this in mind,” you pushed against him but he was too strong. He slid between your legs as his hand stretched along the crease of your thigh. “I mean it, Barnes--”

Your voice gurgled as he reached below your nightie and stroked the front of your thin panties. The water splashed as you slapped his chest and growled.

“James!” You cried out. “Stop!”

He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. He twirled his fingers and you gritted your teeth against the tingle it sent through you. You stared into his eyes, fighting against the urge to let him go on. You shook your head slowly and pressed your hands to his shoulders. He let you push him away as his hand trailed over your leg.

“Oh, you just wait, Duchess,” he purred as he combed back his damp hair, “The king isn’t so willing to take orders.”

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #fic #secrets #dark fic #dark!fic #series #mcu #marvel #au #captain america #king!steve #royal au

235 notes · View notes

pixelatedlenses · 8 years

Note

So let me introduce myself. Im living in mainland Japan currently, serving a three year contract in the Marine Corps. My major is east Asia studies with a focus in culture.The requirements just say you need s bachelors degree. I know business majors who are in the program. What do u get out of it--that you can take back to the states?

I hope you don’t mind that I answered this publicly,but this is something that I want to share with everyone, largely because of myperson answer. If you would like it private, I’ll forward this entire messageto you via email or PM, and delete it. Just let me know: it’s your question andanswer, after all.

(Forgive me in advance because this is like a 9 pagereply. Feel free to ask for clarification or further details though!)

Let me introduce myself also: I’m Mercedez, a 24 yearold ALT living in Fukushima City, Fukushima, Japan. I like sewing, video games,sketching, and laughing. I listen to lots of podcasts, speak English and Japanand am learning Korean and want to relearn Mandarin and add in Russian, Hawaiianand definitely Esperanto.

And I love my job as an ALT.

I want to assure you about the degrees: I have twodegrees: my BA is in History with a focus in East Asia, and my MA is in Historyand Museum Studies. Both of these are far away from the majority of BusinessMajors I’ve met, though there’s a few of us –the Few, the Proud– Fine Arts andHumanities folks here too. I had them because I did both back to back, butyeah, all you need is a BA in any field.You could do something focused on Asia, or Japan, but you could also be aComputers major and get in. That’s not a make-it-or-break-it thing: you justneed a degree.

Coming in with that background –I typically focus inJapan from the 1980s to current, with a heavy emphasis on Women’s Culture interms of music, fashion, heritage, and feminism, though I want to expand a similarrange of 1970 to current to South Korea, but that beside the point– means thatI was coming here to emphasis the Ein JET: a cultural exchange where I learned and stopped being a teacher, andbecame student to an entire nation.

So the easy answer is that there’s a lot you can takeback. There’s a bicultural identity, there’s an openness to that comes frombeing explicitly Foreign too: you gain a lot of understanding and sympathy towhat you have, and what another culture functions as. I think that can be lifechanging and a solution to the social-cultural climate our world’s in right now:understanding.

(You also get lots of American men looking for a wifein a way that smacks of Yellow Fever fetishism. Sigh.)

The long answer is more personal, and will deal withwhat I think I’ll be taking home. Let’s go with that reply.

So I came here with a broad goal: learn about Japan.I’ve spent about 6 years –and probably almost all 52,560 hours of those years–focused on studying Japan. I cut my teeth on breaking the very prejudicedstereotypes I had of Japan in my early years of college, then went on to writeabout yukata and Japanese women’sculture and heritage in my MA. I wanted to carry on learning and breaking downwhat I had thought Japan should be orwas. I wanted to learn what the reality is currently. That seemed to bea positive way to

Now I can say that’s change, and I have three majorthings I want to take home

Number One: Community and Communal Effort

Community is a big part of Japan’s social-culturalidentity.

“The stake that stands out gets pounded down” –ugh, Iprobably messed that all up, but Ibelieve that’s close– is a phrase for a reason: standing out, being aberrant, makingtrouble or being different alter social dynamic, and can break harmony andcause issue .That can certainly be difficult to navigate, and at large,something I don’t always agree with as a way to handle social issues, but tuckbetween is a deep sense of community, a “we’re all in this together” vibe thatI –as an outside– really appreciate.

I don’t think I’m a part of a lot of communities. I’man American, sure, but I’ve never really fit in with the “Black community”, the“nerd community” can be grating, the “cosplay community” differs wildly inAmerica and Japan and can have the same issue as nerds –American, not Japan– andthough I have friends and that’s acommunity, I’m not so quick to call it that because it feels markedly differentto me. They’re my community but more, if you get what I mean.

However, the community of Fukushima City is certainlythe kind of community I’m focusing on: tight-knit, strong, and supportive.

Now, this may be because of a lot of reasons: location,proximity to others, culture, 3.11 certainly, but it goes farther back anddeeper than the disaster and really takes from both culture and manner. There’sa sense of support from folks in Tohoku, though I believe Tohoku is one of thebest, and kindest, regions in Japan. There’s a lot of smiles, lots of kindness,and helping hands: not always from obligation, but just from good folks beinggood.

America still has communities, of course, but I thinknot quite so much: the proverbial village to raise the child now criticizes themother, and the support systems that used to be in place to help in times ofneed are being decreased due to budget cuts and a desire for privatization.Because money and community have become exchangeable, a lot of groups suffer.Grassroots takes funds to start, community centers need funds for repairs, andit costs to join groups. It’s hard, especially in a time where it seems you can’ttrust your neighbour. Communities are very, very necessary, and having good,strong communities, more so.

Certainly you can find this in Japan, but you canalso find the free support of others.

I think that this is so important to me to rebuild ina similar manner because I like the friendliness of communities. I will admitthat I think millennials –my people, in fact– are onto the kind of communitiesI see here: support networks of people who see you, acknowledge you, and arethere for you. There’s a lot of love, a lot of “no problem” concern abouthelping others when you can, and that shows promise that my work and the workof thousands of others to help bring back community in a supportive, freelygiven sense is being realized.

Community is what we need in hard times, and theseare some pretty hard times. Seeing friendly faces, having people help me moveand make my way through Fukushima City, bolsters my and reminds me to pass onthat bit of kindness. Every bit I get is a sweet morsel: it makes me soft,gives me space to be kind and express kindness. It’s a really great thing thatI feel America just needs to be remindedof again: after all, there’s communities there, they just need to be given asimilar space.

Number Two: Festivals

I love festivals.

Give me a reason to eat some grilled meat andcelebrate something and I’m there, 500 yen coins in hand.

Fukushima City has no shortage either: we’re justaround the corner from the season of festivals, which in the prefecture, seemsto extend from Spring to Early Winter, starting back up in February all again.

Certainly, America has festivals, but they’re almosta folksy thing: they’re rustic, rural and barely suburban events, and if they’renot something national like a parade or a state affair, are usually overlookedoutside of communities in the immediate area.

I want festivals to be mainstream, to be enjoyable,powerful celebrations of cultural heritage and a united place. I want to seefestivals that introduce culture in a way that gives a platform, but also helpsto continue positive change. Rather, I want to see those festivals that alreadyoccur in the vein given a bigger, more national platform.

I feel like I’ve learned a lot from Fukushima Cityjust from festivals: local specialties like shamon chicken from the Chicken Festivalin Kawamata, Fukushima; a strong Argentinean presence and cultural exchangefrom Cosquin en Japon; fighting spirit from Hachiman; respect for those whocame before me and protect me from Obon matsuri. These were really valuemoments that let me have the chance to engage respectfully with a culture, andunderstand a region.

I want there to be more of a festival and culturalcelebration in America, more than there already is. I want to see peoplevividly showcasing “This is me!” to everyone, because I think that willcontinue to bring understanding. I think that without understanding, America isonly going to continue to decline as it is right now.

But all Americans understand festivals, drinks, andfood: I think having a festival culture will allow education under the guise ofgrilled meats, good alcohol, and music.

Fun is a very powerful cure for ignorance: Icertainly found myself learning with every event. I had never considered thatJapanese persons might speak Spanish and perform in Cosquin en Japon’s musicalshowcase. I’d never considered Obon being a celebration and not a solemn event.Those changes of my mind changed me and helped me to understand different partsof Japan. Certainly the country is mostly Japanese people, but they’re notquite as homogenous as we encourage in America. There’s a lot of diversity ofthought and cultural sharing.

That’s super what counts.

Number Three: Food Culture and Sharing

Oh man, I love food. Like, I love food. I’m thinkingabout my lunch bento –I ordered it so I can eat with the librarian and mysupervisor today because they’re my girls and I love them both– and it’s onlylike… 9.

Food is good: it’s necessary, but cleansing, comesfrom hard work or deep friers, feels good, heals good, and makes you want tostrive for good. It’s just good.

So I feel this is best explained through a long, windinganecdote. Here goes.

When I first came, my American manners really stoodout: I wouldn’t eat until everyone got their food, I declined

But I wanted to, desperately: I wanted to sampleevery time someone offered, but it just felt bad. I was paying for only my meal, and these people –not friends,but simple co-workers and more mildly, acquaintances– weren’t. It would havebeen wrong to take a fair portion and still pay my 1000 yen for my meal only.It’s hard to describe why: I think it’s just how I grew up. Strange, because weshare food in mass, but there’s something about the “Mine” culture of Americathat makes it incredibly hard to do otherwise.

It took me months to break this habit of course: I’donly share at events where the food was meant to be shared family style, but Ithink around December, I finally gave inand said, “Yeah, I wanna taste that!” when someone offered me from their plate.I shared back and realized, yeah, this is okay. I won’t say that I’m a sharingfood now, but I will say that when I last went for Mexican, I share everything fromenchiladas to fajitas, a plate of nachos, some sides: save for my drink, we allshared everything, and just went at the bill in thirds.

I want more food sharing in America like this, notjust with family or at events or family style resturants. I want to be able toshare from each other’s plates and not feel a really strong sense of “Mine!”all the time. Certainly, there’s times where I want that one dish to be mine,but I like that there’s a comfort in sharing food with each other, in tryinglots of different things. It’s friendly and cozy, and definitely something Iwant to invite more Americans to do.

Plus, who doesn’t love eating lots of differentthings?

Number Four: The Art of Getting Lost

I chose to end this lengthy read on this because Ithink that in America, there’s a lack of getting lost for the sake of gettinglost.

We’re a busy culture: even as someone who loved logndrives, it became incredibly hard for me to indulge in grad school. Gas was acost, time was needed elsewhere, and so I cut back on journeying down littlelanes or dirt roads and went directly where I needed to and back to myapartment.

As I sit here, thinking of a train ride to somewhere,I think about the fact that Japanese culture allows for a lot of aimlessexploration via trains and buses. Being a small country, trains and buses arevery efficient, running often enough that unless it’s super late, you canalways get back to a main station or area.

I think there’s a kind of quiet beauty in that: yougo on an adventure to get away, and find your center again and feel mentallyclean. I find that here, I’m encouraged and given space to do that again:explore, get lost in a small town or big city, and come back to what needsdoing refreshed.

I think that there’s a lot of trips in America, butthere’s always stress with them. Mind, I know and recognize that Japanesepeople also stress: not all their trips are Studio Ghibli stereotypes. Sometimestrips are just stressful, even amidst having fun.

But I do think that Japanese culture’s harmony, whena positive attribute and not a way to keep peace over dealing with conflict,can be a really powerful blessing.

I won’t lie and say that I haven’t had a stressfultrip here: my Tokyo trip included the stress of over half a million people atComiket’s venue, which would honestly stress anyone. I will say that I do feellike I can remove myself pretty well and just enjoy, and that’s superimportant. Certainly it’s not perfect here, but I do feel that my more remotetrips force my mind only to the trip, and that’s a great reward.

Perhaps in America, in the rush of things, we steppedaway from that. I think a step back into separating and compartmentalizing ourlives for Fun and Work would be nice. Enjoyment is just as good as Hard Work,after all. I do see a lot of phones checking emails on trips, common in bothAmerican and Japan, but I think trips are just culturally different here, and Iwant them to return back to that same division in the states.

(I want to interject that a lot of this is alsocoming from the privilege of not being Japanese or perceived as ethnicallyAsian. I’m given a lot of leeway because I’m distinctly Foreign Coded, so myexperiences of being able to do unique things and adventure are because I’m notbound to Japanese culture or socio-cultural standards. I can leave work earlyand go to a bathhouse. I can take days off to go on trips to nowhere. My co-workersmay want to do that, but are a lot more bound. I think that’s always important toremember that my privilege as a Cool Foreign comes with the knowledge not tomisuse that and instead, help bridge a friendship between two nations.)

Everything I’m taking back is very cultural: it’sreminding America of how to be kind, of how to enjoy the diversity we have inour nation, of how to respect and celebrate Us. Certainly, I hope to take backways to change the mindset of Japanese persons, ways to celebrate women’sculture and advance the clock on how we perceive Japanese feminism in comparisonto Western displays of feminism. That work’s super important.

But I think remembering who we are –a nation of kindhearts, hard workers, folks who like good food and music, and a nation of opportunityfor all to find their happiness in a powerful, gentle way– is just as importanttoo.

tl;dr: This turned into an essay completely by accident, but I thinkit’s important to answer your question. These are my reasons, my things, that Iwant to take and share in America. I hope this all made sense, and hey, feelfree to stuff that inbox with even more questions.

#yamaguchi-hibiscus #asks #replies #jet program #cultural exchange #jet #alt #japan

2 notes · View notes