#hi i have a problem of not posting art until i have like 3 different images done

[archivebottles]

some splat doodles in between doing a bigger project for an irl thing

[IMG ID: Three images of various Splatoon characters. Image 1 features Shiver and Frye in alternative detailed outfits reminiscent of their in-game outfits. Shiver is holding her fan and Frye is grabbing her own arm.

Image 2 is a few various drawings of Frye. Top left is her as the 'sitting cutely' reaction image. Top right is tiny Frye dressed as a 'portly little sailor boy' with a lollipop. Bottom left is a tiny Frye doing a peace sign and bottom right is Frye when she sits down in her splatfest performance doing the finger gun pose.

Image 3 is a page full of Marinas plus one Pearl. Left is a fullbody of Marina in coveralls and a tanktop with gloves and a wrench in her pocket. Upper right is a drawing of Marina welding on the ground and kicking her legs. Below that is Pearl and Marina doing the tongue out hands on head anime pose with the label on Marina saying 'built a pipe bomb.' Pearl's label says 'funded it.' /END ID]

#hi i have a problem of not posting art until i have like 3 different images done #splatoon #shiver #frye #marina iida #pearl houzuki #the frye sitting cutely was PRE her win but now its more relevant #also my irl drawing is DONE BITCH so i am fully free to start drawing whatever i want now #gonna finish this kris drawing next ithink then im..also drawing that pokemon woman ok..i cant resist. #myart #edit: i edited marinas skintone bc the gradient map i put on it made it lighter and its been bugging me #sorry about that #edit 2: in case anyone was wondering those r just tit lines not top surgery lines on shiver transgender yes but wrong way fbhdskjbfk

[easy-there-leftovers]

I See You, Darling

[Astarion x reader] The idea never left my mind, and I so very badly need this right now. Heavily inspired by this cutscene where Tav chooses a dialogue option and Astarion's eyes just deviate-- (gif above, just wait for his eyes to look at you WKDKWKDK) |Word count: 2k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 2 here!!

Also, this is more heavy on the world building rather than dialogue. If I end up making this a series, I might write with more dialogue in mind but it was just necessary to do this first afhjaqfbnjkafbnebn--

A story in which an overworked art student longs for a fictional character that they've devoted so much of their time to.

Alternatively; Astarion realizes there's someone else watching him. And he can't wait to get acquainted with them.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

You’ll admit, perhaps you were simply tired. Attending a prestigious school for the arts doesn’t exactly leave you with much free time to indulge in more calming forms of recreation. Your course requires you to consume a wide array of media to expand your library of creativity, after all. All in the name of generating more interesting media to entrance and enthrall your audience with your original work. 

Maybe all the moving pictures and swimming texts have caused you to greatly misunderstand what you are seeing. Surely, your favorite character isn’t looking directly at you, right?

Right?

But before that, let’s review what might have happened earlier to explain just what exactly in gods name is happening.

Shall we?

——

You purchased the game a few months back. “Baldur’s Gate 3.” A game that took the players and immersed them in the world of Dungeons & Dragons, introducing them to the mechanics of tabletop RPG as they did. It seemed interesting enough. And if the concept of character creation and storytelling didn’t sell you on the idea of it, the pretty faces on the cover certainly did.

So, with the little money you could spare from your part time job at your own institution’s library, and with what little sanity you had left to argue with, you impulsively bought said game. And it was fun. Exhilarating. Electrifying. 

Until you ran into a problem.

Astarion. The rogue, elven vampire that you have chosen to romance after careful deliberation. You scoffed to yourself. He was one of the biggest reasons why you purchased the blasted game at all. You’ve carefully studied the character in all his glory, from his striking carmine eyes and delicate unstained curls, to his aptitude for bloodshed and all manners of gore. He was such an interesting character, giving you more and more reason to pursue him as the story progressed. Yet the same can’t be said about your relationship with him. Or at least your “Tav’s” relationship with him. 

You’ve had some difficulty in deepening your relationship with the ex-magistrate. It seemed as if no matter what options you chose, no matter what manner of advances you made, he’d be quick to dismiss you. Painting you as a desperate little pup as he did. Denying you the opportunity of further knowing him. You’ve created and overwritten more save slots than you'd like to admit, perusing each one to select different lines of dialogue only to be rejected time and time again.

You thought it strange. But perhaps this was simply the way his route was meant to unfold. He was such an incredibly complex character after all. Perhaps this was meant to prove the party’s loyalty. 

But that didn’t stop you from being frustrated with other aspects of the gameplay. You've spent countless nights hunched on your work chair, back curving like a dead bug as you analyzed each and every possible outcome in combat. Eyes, bloodshot from cutting your sleeping hours short, just to endure the story until you were at an appropriate place to log out. And hair, flicking and curling out in different directions due to you weaving your hands through them in exasperation. 

You saw your reflection on your screen as it darkened to load the next scene and you couldn't help but stare at your character in slight envy. You know full well that however you designed them, it wouldn’t affect how the others perceived you, and yet you couldn’t help but pretty them up for your own interest. You designed it with yourself in mind, but making them far more attractive than you would ever be. Effortlessly beautiful as they stirred to wake up in the forest you settled in for camp.

How could Astarion ever turn this beautiful being away? If not for their heroism, then surely their looks would be enough to draw him in, no?

And speak of the devil. Once you could control your character again, you readied them to interact with your sharply dressed companion. Wanting to try your luck once more as the bright sun shone upon your character like a promise of a new day. Unfortunately, you’re greeted with a look of boredom, oh so familiar, that you sigh. “I hope you’re not here to beg—” Mocking him, echoing the words you’ve come to expect with faux mirth in your voice. But you cut yourself short when you realize he has yet to say anything. 

Strange.

 What’s even stranger is that he's just staring at you. Well,--- he’s staring at Tav. Your character.

“What the fuck…?” You move your mouse around, clicking to try and toggle the dialogue options to no avail, screen stuck in a cinematic close up of his face. Much like how the camera always pans when awaiting your response. 

However, unlike the common script of his actions that you’re used to, the one that you’ve memorized like a well practiced dance, his eyes smoothly glide off of your character and onto you. 

You freeze, but your heart doesn’t. The beating of your chest growing stronger the longer he looks at you. Eyes, blood red like rubies, boring into your own. He regards you, blinks, and then smiles that deviously charming smile of his before your screen turns dark. Your computer turns off, and you stare in shock of what just happened.

‘No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way—‘ You’re not delusional, right? Sure, you’re tired, but no fucking way did you just imagine one of the hottest characters you’ve seen in a while break the fourth wall just to fuck with you.

You laugh to yourself.

Yes, you’re just tired. Nothing like a good four hours of sleep can’t remedy. Although, as you get up from your chair, foolish as it may seem, you grab a used shirt from your floor, and hang it on your computer in the case that those piercing eyes come to life once again while you sleep.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you get ready for the day, you notice your dirtied clothing still on your computer. Covering it as if it were a petrifying doll from a horror movie. You feel childish for doing so, reasoning that you were simply stressed from the events that taken place prior and removed the cloth.

As you did, your screen was brought back to life. Showing you the next night as if your little "tryst" with Astarion never happened. An entire thirty minutes or so of progress seemingly gone. Thankfully, you saved just before your game went haywire and you attempted to load up your last slot. 

Zzzt Zzzzt!

Alas, your game was not cooperating once again. You tried the save just before that and the same error screen presented itself to you. ‘Maybe this is a sign that I should just fucking work instead.’ Irritated at the thought, you moved to log out of the game but a familiar voice convinces you otherwise as the screen returns to normal. 

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” 

‘Is this— a romance scene?!’ Astarion had never initiated an interaction before! Perhaps the game gods were granting you mercy. Or maybe, something you did last night might have given way for this line of dialogue to open up. Regardless, you happily took the opportunity and began reading your choices.

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” ━─━────༺༻────━─━

Well. Thank you.

It’s none of your concern, fangs.

Better now that you’re here.

What happened last night?

━─━────༺༻────━─━

What…did happen last night? You don’t recall anything past the blackening of your screen, but it looks like you did something after that which caused this dialogue.

You don’t want to squander this opportunity, who knows when this will happen again, but your curiosity gets the best of you. So you save, and choose option 4. 

“Oh, you poor thing. Spooked you, did I?” He laughs, seemingly taking in the look of confusion that graces both yours and Tav’s face.

“What do you think happened last night?”

“My fucking game crashed.” You answer automatically.

Tav moves to open their mouth but is silenced with a tut. “Not you, spawn.” His eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement, but the way his mouth is pulled in a tightly-lipped smile offers you further insight otherwise. 

“I need your answer.” His eyes are on you yet again, and you feel the world begin to spin.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you plan to get ready for the day, you notice you’re not exactly in a state to do so. You expected to wake at dawn, the dark and cool air to greet you as it fills your room and envelops your walls. Instead, you wake to see an endless amount of evergreen and the smell of the dark and damp grass beneath you filling your senses.

And if spending hours, weeks, months, of playing this damned game has taught you anything, you know that you now reside in the heart of the forest that you usually set up camp in. But this time, you're far from your bedroll and the fire that your party created.

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far to no avail. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

And this chill so does love playing games.

You clamber away on your knees when you hear that deep chuckle of his emanate from right beside your ear. Creating as much distance to inspect this figure you’ve yet to face.

You see Astarion in all his vampiric glory. ‘Well, for a vampire spawn, I guess.’ You comment to yourself. Crimson eyes, darker than you imagined, with full, dark lashes contrasting his pallid skin and pure hair that glow under the moonlight. An unsettling, and cursedly attractive, smirk curls onto his lips. His ivory fangs on full display as he does.

“It seems as if those useless artifacts were worth something.” He marvels at his handiwork, his prize, and approaches it with confidence. 

“Well, your character certainly is more ‘prettied up.’” He circles you, carefully appraising his newest asset, and grins. “But you are far more intriguing.”

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster.

“Although, you are very cute. Cheeky little pup, aren’t you?” He jests.

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster which earns you a click of his tongue in response.

“You’re not broken, are you? Or am I to anticipate your little ‘what the fuck?’s as your only contribution?” Long, and incredibly masculine, fingers crawl and curl to grasp your chin like a spider. 

“I’ve waited months to have you. And now here you are, finally within my grasp.” The statement causes something to stir within you.

“What do you mean, ‘months?” 

He narrows his eyes, possibly trying to comprehend your stupidity.

“I’ve been watching you. Waiting, for the right moment. Interacting with this– caricature of yourself until you could deny yourself of me no more.” Blood rushes to your head. Your cheeks burning in embarrassment for seeming overly eager. And in panic as his intentions have yet to be cleared.

“And now that I’m here? Do you want to kill me?” You feel your heartbeat in your ears, awaiting his response. Your eyes wide in fear, yet trying to fake heroic bravado in the attempts to gain the upperhand.

And in this moment, he thinks you absolutely invigorating.

“Oh no, sweet pet. I’ve waited far too long for that. I’m going to make you mine.”

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Should I make this into a series? "The adventures of a misplaced artist in Baldur's Gate!!" Or something like that. Let me know, lol

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x you #astarion x mc #aware!astarion #to be continued #or maybe not lol #I haven't written anything in so long #and for good reason #baldur's gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader

[safination]

Partners in Death…And Life

Part 4: The Radio Stars’ Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes

|Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From the Radio Should be Trusted| Part 5: Glimpse of Me and You| |Masterlist| Ao3| Taglist| Parings: Alastor x wife! Reader. Tags: fem!reader established relationships, hopefully not but just in case ooc!Alastor (I'm trying my best, guys) Reader is in hell for a reason, Warnings: Very brief dissection of the human body. Kidneys It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me. I am sorry :D. These past *checks notes* three weeks (yikes) have been really busy for me. But I’m finally posting?

The light from the bus stop illuminates Alastor’s block handwriting. Smiles are drawn on the edges of note with different colored ballpoint pens. Dear God, it was like looking at kindergarten art, but you appreciate it nonetheless. Alastor’s instructions tell you that his house is a ten-minute walk from the bus stop.

You flip the note, studying the map Alastor drew.

A bird caws from the patches of trees across the road. There’s no living soul out here besides your own for miles.

You tighten your grip on the straps of your bag, and walk until you find yourself standing before a wooden gate. The hatch unlocks easily, and you hike up the path until you’re stepping on to the porch. Alastor’s house isn’t much—well, it’s much more than the tiny apartment in the city that you call home, but besides that, he has a very normal looking house. You don’t know why you expect anything different. The flowers on his windowsill brighten the place, and the rocking chairs by the edge makes it homier.

You smoothen your hair, fiddling with the note. A deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another—

Fuck it. You knock on the door.

A beat passes, and then another beat passes, and then another. Oh God, did he not hear your knock? Should you knock again? Your father always said that it was rude to knock twice, but you’re sure the knock should have been heard. Alastor was probably at the back of the house. You’re just going to knock again.

Alastor swings the door open, smiling at you. “You are right on time!”

Soft music plays behind him. The lights inside make his living-room look warm. “You said to be here by eight … so … Here I am!” you say with a light laugh. It doesn’t come out as you hope. “I’m very fond of being punctual.” Okay…hmmm…why did you say that?

You smoothen your hair, and fiddle with the straps of your bag.

 “I admire punctuality.” Alastor smiles at you.

You smile back.

He opens the door wider. “Would you like to come in?”

‘Yes.’

‘Right.’

‘Of course I would!’

All proper responses to his question. It’s a shame you don’t say them. You reach into your bag instead, and shove a paper bag into his arms. “It’s raw.”

Alastor lifts the paper bag, studying it with careful eyes until they flicker to the wet patches at the bottom. “…I’m almost afraid to ask who it came from.”

You step through the door, and take off your coat. “My father, actually.”

Alastor tilts his head. “This is your father—am I supposed to cook him or something?”

“It’s venison!” you say, and run your hand through your hair. “Dad went hunting last week, and he gave me a bunch of meat and well…well, I thought you'd appreciate it more than I do. There’s too much for me to eat alone. And it’s always polite to give a gift when you’re visiting a home.”

Alastor secures your gift around his arms, and takes your coat. He’s smiling. You think he’s being genuine—you can’t really tell. “Thank you.”

He hangs your coat on the rack, and ushers you deeper inside his home. Alastor disappears into what you think is his kitchen, but you stay planted in his living-room floor. His house is nice for someone who lives alone. Things all have a place, they’re not necessarily organized, but it’s neat. It makes you smile.

It’s easy to see Alastor between the walls.

This is a home that’s been lived in. You count at least three portable radios in the living-room alone. There are books on the coffee table by the window, and the spines are creased as if it’s been read over and over and over again. There’s a chair next to the window as well. It has stains, and the cushions sink as if they’ve been loved for decades. You can practically see Alastor in that chair, a warm drink in his hand. He’ll reach across, and twist the knob of the radio that already has his favorite station tuned.

Alastor strides out of the kitchen, your gift probably inside his freezer. “Follow me,” he says with a wave of his arm. “I have something to show you.”

“Oh…okay.”

There are photo frames lining the wall of his stairs. You observe it as you follow deeper into this house. Some are photographs of what you’re going to assume is Alastor, and some are certificates. You don’t have time to poke around and read each and every one of them.

Alastor opens his arms, shaking them as he presents you with a door.

A single door…One door at the back of the house. A door you don’t know where it will lead.

You stare at him, and take one single step back. “You’re not going to kill me in your basement, right?”

Alastor laughs at you, wiping a tear for the sake of showing you. “Good heavens no! Why would you ever think that?”

“Because I’m inside a man’s house, and he’s currently leading me to the basement. A man, might I add, dumps bodies in the forest,” you tell him with a wonky smile. “I hope you don’t go around asking every lady to your murder basement.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“My goodness, you really know how to make a lady feel extra special.” You fiddle with the straps of your bag, tightening your grip to stifle the urge to smoothen your hair. “So, how do you want to do this?”

Alastor tilts his head. (It’s kind of cute.) “Do what?”

“You know…uh…. You’ll  tell me to run,” you say, then motion to the china vase behind. “Then I’ll grab this really nice and expensive looking vase and smash it over your head.”

“Please don’t.”

“And then I’ll make a run for the door.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You weren’t interested in running last time.”

“And I’m still not,” you say. “So there’s no point in killing me.”

He chuckles a bit and his glasses slide down his nose. He pushes it up. “Think of this as a gift! Or more like an offer of partnership.”

“A gift of death?”

“I've already told you I wasn’t planning on killing you anymore,” he says, sighing. “Just…just follow me, and you’ll see!”

You huff and cross your arms. “I detest being lied to.”

Alastor opens the basement door. The hinges creak. It appears as if darkness itself lives inside, swirling and eating up whatever light that passes through. “Yes, that’s good to know.”

You take another step back. “That’s a really creepy basement.”

“You haven’t even been inside yet,” Alastor says. He places a light hand on your back, practically pushing you down. “Now, now, don’t be so stubborn.”

You grab the door frames, and push against him to resist. “I’m not going without knowing what’s down there.”

Alastor presses on your back. “If you go down there and see what I’ve prepared, you will feel very silly for causing such a ruckus.”

You push back harder, using the door frames as support. “As first dates go, this is giving really mixed signals,” you say, trying to smile. “I hope you don’t treat all ladies like this.”

Alastor rolls his eyes. “Just the stubborn ones.”

You and Alastor are at a stalemate. He pushes. You push back. The classic dilemma of an unmovable force versus an immovable object. “If you kill me, I will haunt you,” you say, digging your feet into the wooden floors. “I will haunt you, and hide all your tacky bow ties.”

Alastor stops pushing, and you fumble backwards from the lack of his opposing force. He points his nose to the air, straightening his bow ties. “It is not.”

You frown at him. “Oh…I’m really sorry.”

“You should be.”

Taking this opportunity, you press against the wall like a hissing cat. “I’m sorry you actually believe that!”

Alastor pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes one deep breath. He strides to you, and the world goes upside-down when he flips you over his shoulder. Alastor carries you like a common sack of worthless potatoes.

“I really don’t like this!” you shriek, angling your head to glare at him. Alastor has a surprisingly really nice back. Like…a really, really nice back.

Alastor meets your eyes and smirks. “You’ll like it in a second.”

He tightens his grip around your hips, and his boney shoulders dig into your stomach. You keep your eyes ahead. “You have a really flat butt.”

He pauses for a second. “Stop looking at it.”

“I will do as I please,” you say with a huff, and go limp in his hold as you accept your fate. “It’s just all pointy. Maybe some squats will be helpful?”

“If it’s such a horror to you, stop ogling my buttocks like a pervert.”

“Now you’re just putting words into my mouth,” you say with a weird giggle. “These pants suit you well.”

He shakes you like a wet noodle. “I will drop you.”

“Please don’t.”

Alastor flips you, and your feet land safely on the ground. His basement is totally not creepy, totally not creepy at all. The fluorescent light bulb swaying around totally does not add to general horror. The blacked-out windows, and the spiderwebs on the wood make you not want to sprint to the top.

The cadaver bag on the table makes you stay.

It’s filled. You walk to the table, and observe the lump. Grasping the zipper, you pull it until the face of a dead man greets you. He’s fresh. Killed less than a day ago.

Alastor opens his arms, wide, as if to present to you. “Your studying can all be done right here!”

You stare at him, accepting the smile that creeps on your face. “Really?” you say, and trace this man’s nose with your fingers—his skin is cold. He is cold and dead, and full of organs you can poke around and observe. “You’re going to just allow me to dissect this body?”

Alastor smiles at you. “See?” he says. “You were making all the fuss, and now your smile could light up this very room.”

The laughter starts as a soft giggle that builds into excited glee. “I could kiss you right now.”

Alastor takes a step back. “Please don’t”

You roll your eyes then observe the person lying on this table. He wasn’t as big as the one before. This man still has the colors on his face, a bit pale, but he looks like he could just be in a sickly sleep. “Did you like this person?”

“Not at all,” he says. “He’d be alive if he was.”

“Then do you like me?” you say with a grin, placing a hand on your hips. “All this to get my attention, I see. I prefer being dined first, but not the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

Alastor glares at you as he makes a face. “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

“So quick to answer that it’s almost insulting,” you say. “Well, it was your decision to keep me alive.”

There’s a glint in his eyes that pierces your very core. The lightbulb makes a shadow pass over his eyes, and you swear his eyes glow. Every single cell in your body screams as Alastor looks down at you from his glasses with a smile and darkened brown eyes that match his well-kept brown hair. “And I’m currently debating my choice,” he says. “I do not like being mocked. I can still change my mind if I find you a weak link.”

“Oh…I…oh….,” you say dumbly, coughing a little bit.  The words aren’t doing their job.

“Do you understand me?”

Basements are supposed to be cold—you definitely don’t feel cold right now. “I’m sure you can—I don’t doubt that at all.” To break your gaze on him, you turn to the dead man between you and Alastor. “This man didn’t suffer.”

Alastor’s eyebrows raise. “And?”

“I’m not a total idiot when it comes to… uh… hunting,” you say, tilting the dead guy’s chin to see his neck. It was a bit stiff. “There’s a single deep slice on his neck. He was probably still high on adrenaline when you killed him, but with the other body, you took your time. That guy suffered—this one didn’t”

He crosses his arms. “I don’t see your point.”

“Nevermind…just…,” you start and smile a bit. “Thank you for preserving this body so well, but unfortunately, I think I’ll have to refuse.”

Alastor’s eye twitches as he takes a step closer to you. His shadow towers over you. “You’re refusing?”

You zip the man back into his bag. “You don’t need a partner,” you say. “If anything, bringing him back into your house is risky. If it’s my silence you want, you already have it. There’s no need for all this.”

“I never asked for your silence.”

“Yet it’s yours nonetheless,” you say. “Thank you for the gift or offer for partnership, but I’m not interested in going into business with you.”

“Is this not beneficial for you?”

“It is…it really is, and every fiber wants to give in but it’s not wise for me to get mixed up with you,” you tell him. “I think you’re mistaking my sin for gluttony. I know trouble when I see it, and I’m not afraid to flee from it.”

Alastor’s face twists as his smile turns into a snarl. “All you could ever want right here.”

“You obviously want something from me,” you say. “I know you’re not above using tricks to get what you want. Although, I don’t understand why you take such time out of your day to do such consuming things.”

He glares at you. “There’s always the chance that you’d say no,” he says. “And I can’t have that happen.”

“I decide if something is worth my time or not,” you say. “I will only ask once: what do you want from me?”

Alastor exhales, and pushes his glasses. “I’d like to watch you work. There’s something I want to confirm.”

You study him for a second. “That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Then hand me a pack of gloves please,” you say. “I can show you all the things I’ve learned.”

Alastor tosses gloves to your face. It whacks you and lands on the table. You curse at him, and roll your eyes.

There’s a large container of formaldehyde under the table. You don’t know where he got it or how, but still, you take a stray brush forgotten on one of the tables, and brush the skin with chemicals. The sharp smell stings your eyes, but you’ve learned to tolerate it. Alastor scrunches his nose, taking a step back.  

Opening the window would probably be wise, but you could do that later. Your father always did hope that you’d grow out of your bad habit. But with such an exhilarating opportunity, caution is at the back of your mind.

The scapple fits into your palm as if it was made for you. Throughout this Earth, no… not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

Alastor laughs, not the breathy and light kind, but in a loud and triumphant way. His eyes bulge out, looking like they could pop out any second “It seems I was not wrong,” he says. “You have the most precious smile I have ever seen.”

“Okay?”

Alastor leans closer to you, jerking your chin to face him. “All this time I’ve seen you; I have never seen your smile as true and honest as now.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The bristles of the brush tangle on your feathers. It’s a struggle to smoothen the feathers at the back of your head now that you live alone.

The clock strikes an hour past noon, and work will call for you soon. It would be nice to be one time if this motherfucking brush would do its fucking job! You tug on the handle, cursing when it jerks your scalp. The smack of your forehead on the vanity table echoes around the room. The feathers bundled on the floor make you screech. That’s it. It’s over. You are not taking another second of this.

Discarding the brush, you head to the kitchen.

You grab two mugs, and take two spoonful of coffee ground and feed it to the coffee machine. With only a press of a button, you make the most perfectly perfected perfect cup of coffee. You take both mugs and take a seat on that little side table inside the kitchen.

The second mug steams with coffee.

You plop your chin on the table, unable to draw your eyes aways as you stare at it. Making a second cup is a waste of your money. Deep down to your very core, you’re aware that it’s a waste. It strikes you with the gentleness of a plane crash every single morning you make it, and every single night you have to throw it away.

Silence is your companion in this empty house. Where are the days when soft music plays on the radio? Where are the days where light footsteps walk around the carpeted floors? Where are the days of stories over dinner?  These days watching television is the only way to fill that silence.

A knock breaks your pathetic moping.

The knocking starts out soft and hesitant, until it’s replaced with loud banging.

Swiping your mug from the table, you stride to the front door and swing it open. Charlie and Alastor stand in front of you, big smiles on their faces.

Your husband pushes a small ugly statue right up your face, presenting it to you with a self-satisfied smile. “I was told it was polite to bring a gift to a person’s home,” Alastor says. “Do you like it?”

“Oh no…,” Charlie says, frowning a bit. “I didn’t bring anything.”

Alastor places a hand on her shoulder. “No worries then! This gift shall be from the both of us.”

The mug slips from your hold. Charlie catches it, not a single drop spilling, and plops it back on your hand. You blink at Alastor and frown. “Why are you knocking?”

“We’re here on super serious business talk,” he says, wrapping an arm around Charlie’s shoulders to bring her closer. “Charlotte here has something to ask you.”

Charlie smiles. “Just Charlie, actually.”

You shake your head, tightening your grip on the mug. “No.”

Alastor tilts his head. “No?”

“No, this is your home,” you say, opening the door wider. “There’s no need to knock.”

Alastor and Charlie step inside, and you take a sip of your coffee—a long, drawn out sip. Alastor walks to the shelf nearest the door, placing your ugly little statue on the shelf that’s meant for all other ugly knickknacks. It blends in with all the other gifts Alastor’s given you.

Charlie’s eyes bounce around the walls, eyes wide as she looks around. “Wooooaaaaah,” she says. “This is a really nice house you guys have!”

Alastor glares at the television. “Why, thank you!” he says. “I put in a lot of care into how it looks. It seems you’ve redecorated—I don’t like it.”

“Oh, you never do,” you say. “Let’s move to the kitchen, shall we?”

Alastor’s ears straighten. “The kitchen?” he echoes. “Oh yes. Let’s go the kitchen.”

Alastor hooks his arms around yours, pulling you to the kitchen. There’s determination set in each step. You and Charlie take your seats by the kitchen table. Charlie continues to look around. You see it in her eyes as they flicker around to count each radio.

It seems you’ve made a mistake.

Alastor goes straight to the refrigerator, and swings it open.

With horror, you watch as his gaze observes each level meticulously, humming as he does. There’s not much to look at, considering the only thing inside are a couple of eggs, empty plastic containers that you’ve been too lazy to wash, last week’s takeout, and a couple of sauces and condiments.

When he finally closes it, your shoulders sink as you exhale…until, of course, Alastor wraps his fingers around the freezer’s handle.

“Would you like anything, Charlie?” Is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. “I think we have juice or lemonade—”

“We don’t have any of those,” Alastor says, and his gaze bears down on you. “It makes me wonder what will be inside our freezer, my love.”

Charlie smiles brightly. “I don’t need anything,” she says. “I had tea with Rosie this morning, and Alastor and I had lunch on the way here.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” you say, chuckling nervously. “You know what? It’s such a hellish day today, and it would be a waste to spend it here. Why don’t we move to the garden?”

“No.” Alastor crosses his arm. “We are staying right here.”

You sulk in your seat, drooping a little. “…okay.”

Finally, Alastor opens the freezer door. His twitching eyes and pursed lips tell you everything you need to know about how the next fifteen minutes will go. Carefully, with the tips of his fingers, Alastor pulls out one of those microwave meals you buy at the grocery. He glares at the frozen chicken nuggets and pork cutlets, and all the processed frozen food you store there for easy meals.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say, giving him your most innocent smile. “And I barely eat those anyway. Those microwaved meals are just there for the occasional meal, I swear!”

Without uttering a single word, Alastor opens the cabinet under the sink where the trash can stays, and pulls it out. Empty microwave meals fill the brim. He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Oh dear…” Charlie winces. “That’s a lot, even for me.

You sulk deeper into your chair.

Alastor inspects the cabinets above the sink. The only things that greet him are a bunch of pots and pans. Relief pours into you…until of course, Alastor grabs the largest pot at the back of the cabinet and opens it, smashing any sense of relief with a metal bat.

Alastor pulls out a large pack of instant noodles. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asks. “I remember telling you that I don’t like you eating these.”

“But they’re delicious,” you say, pouting a bit.

“These aren’t healthy,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’re full of chemicals!”

“Everything is full of chemicals!” you counter. “And I only had a few. The dosage makes the poison.”

Alastor opens the trash can and tosses what was supposed to be your dinner. “The plastic said it was a pack of twelve?”

You cross your arms. “And? I don’t see your point.”

“There’s only two left.”

You fiddle with the handle of your mug. “I…I was busy…?”

“We’re all busy,” he says and you could pick out the faintest sound of static. “Not a single fresh fruit or vegetable, or any proper meats. Have I taught you nothing?”

Your pout deepens. “Do we have to do this in front of Charlie, my deerest?”

Charlie raises her arms in surrender. “Don’t look at me,” she says. “Aren’t you a doctor?”

“Yes, one would think….,” Alastor trails off. His eyes land on the second mug of coffee on the table, and his neck tilts to angle until it snaps. Static scratches that air until it warps. His eyes darken to reveal radio dials. “Expecting a guest today?”

You blink at him a bit dumbly, and take a long and drawn-out sip of your coffee to try and compose yourself. It doesn’t work. “I don’t make coffee for guests.”

Charlie panics a bit. “There, there Alastor,” she says. “No need to get all crazy!”

Alastor’s antlers grow. “I’m aware you don’t. So, who is it for?”

“Oh….” Dumbly blinking at him continues, and the words don’t seem to be doing their job.

Alastor leans closer, his voice morphing a bit. “I’d appreciate an answer, my love.”

“It's yours,” you find yourself saying. “…If you want it, that is.”

He blinks at you. You blink at him. Charlie blinks at the both of you.

Gone are the growing antlers, and the static that buzzes your skin. Alastor stands before you with that never ending smile, perfectly normal—well, as normal as he can be. “You weren’t aware I’d be visiting.”

You frown at him. “It’s not a visit if it’s your own home.”

“I didn’t tell you I’d be coming home,” he says. “Why make one for me?”

The heat on your face makes you turn away. “Just take it, deerest.”

“Taste lovely as always!” he says, taking a swig. Your frown turns into a soft smile as your watch him drink. “But don’t think you’re getting away from this conversation.”

“It really isn’t my fault.”

“Oh, really now?” Alastor raises his eyebrows. “I’m positive I taught you how to cook nutritious dishes.”

You flick the mug, and a soft clink echoes a bit. “I still cook proper food for myself,” you tell him, showing him your saddest smile. “But…I find myself hating the dishes.”

Alastor twirls his microphone, and it strikes the ground with a soft thunk. “And you think saying this will get you off the hook?”

You stick your tongue out. “Is it working?”

Alastor sighs at you, and turns to the ticking clock. “We’re wasting time—go talk to Charlotte.”

Charlie smiles awkwardly. “Just Charlie, actually.”

With a triumphant smile, you turn to Charlie. “So,” you begin, “what business are we going to talk about today?”

It’s Charlies turn to sulk into the kitchen chair. “Extermination is a month away,” she says. “And Adam is heading straight to the hotel first! It’s just one bad event after another because Heaven refuses to listen, and I’m running out of options.”

Alastor steps behind you. Suddenly, a brush combs through the back of your feathers, smoothing those parts of your head that you’ve never been able to reach by yourself.  Sometimes, you think Hell gave you feathers so someone could brush it for you. A part of you warms at the fact that you didn’t even need to ask your husband to smoothen your feathers. It’s a job he’s been doing since you first spawned in hell, and it seems it’s work he’s keen on continuing.

“Extermination,” you echo. “I love the extermination. There are so many desperate and poor souls who want to keep their limbs. I get rather busy—prime deal making opportunities right there.”

Charlie winces a bit. “Oh dear…um…okay. That sounds fun? And a little violent.”

Alastor speaks up from behind you, still running a brush through your feathers. “We can from Cannibal Town! Charlie was able to convince Rosie’s people to take arms.”

“Then, what brings you to me?” you ask, stiffening your back as you try not to lean into the brush that combs through your feathers. Alastor always was better at preening you. “I’m not much of a fighter.”

“Alastor suggested that I ask for your help,” Charlie says. “He said you’re one of the few people who knows how to fix wounds that come from Angelic Weapons.”

You bat your eyes at Alastor. “Spilling all my secrets, I see.”

Alastor glides the brush over your hair, leaning close to your ear. “Oh, not everything.”

You laugh and glance at Charlie. “In front of a guest, my deer?”

Charlie cringes with the most hilarious frown.

“It’s just a matter of counteracting the holiness of their weapons,” you say, clearing your throat. “After that, it’s purely medical.”

“How is that even possible?”

Alastor trails through your feathers, and it tingles and flutters. You keep your expression emotionless. “I’m surprised you don’t know this,” you say. “Did Belphegor never tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Well, eons ago, Belphegor found out that angelic weapons are considered holy, and that’s very bad for a Sinner,” you explain. “So, she and a bunch of her team found out that if you cut off the holy site or embed a large amount of Sinner energy, one will be able to treat it.”

Alastor leans closer, butting into the conversation. “I prefer it when you cut it off.”

“Of course you do,” you say with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

“Embedding the wounds with your magic takes too much energy from you, and because of that you always come home to me with sunken eyes. That is, if you don’t pass out before you reach the front door,” Alastor tells you. “I don’t understand why you go out of your way when they’re not worthy.”

“Worthy?”

“Yes, worthy,” he says. “Had they been competent, they wouldn’t need to go to you in the first place. It only proves that they’re weak.”

You smile at his words. “I guess I never thought of it that way.

Charlie rolls her eyes at the both of you. “So, you could help us?”

You twist, turning to Alastor. “I think you’ve gotten all my feathers straightened out,” you say. “My love, can you do me a favor?”

Lightly, Alastor taps your head with the tip of his cane. “Of course, how can I help?”

“I think the plants need some watering.”

The brush on Alastor’s hand dissolves with a poof. He leans closer once again, trailing your cheek with his finger until they hook on your chin. He captures you with his stare, and you allow him to trap you. He presses his lips on your cheek, and disappears into his shadow.

You take an even longer sip of your coffee.

Charlie massages her forehead, eyes twitching. “Dear Satan, it’s like watching my parents all over again! I can leave, you know,” she says, snorting. “Give you two a little privacy?”

“Oh, don’t bother,” you tell her. “There wouldn’t be enough time.”

Her brows furrow. “Time?”

“After all, extermination is in a month,” you say, brightening your smile. “We’re going to need at least two.”

“What the fuuuuck,.” Charlie whispers underneath her breath, her voice a pitch higher.

“Every couple of years, there will be certain seasons where it takes six!” you say. “Sinner bodies are just so exhilarating.”

Charlie chokes on her spit, and her eyes bulge. “Are you serious?”

“Hmmm, I could be—who knows?” You raise your mug to toast, and take a drink.

“You’re joking,” Charlie says. “…Right? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“My dear, is that a question you would want an answer to?” you ask. “Would you be prepared if the answer happens to be no?”

Charlie sinks deeper into her chair. “Okay, then! Moving on, now.”

Leaning on your palm, you laugh. “My deerly beloved husband wouldn’t give all this information for free,” you say. “What did he ask for?”

“We made a deal.”

Your hands drop to the table. “Oh Charlotte,” you say. “That was a foolish mistake. You don’t know what Alastor does to the so—“

“I still have my soul!” Charlie exclaims, balling her fist. “From Vaggie! From you—his own wife! I did what I needed to do to keep my people safe…Sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be so reliant on Alastor,” you tell her with a small smile. “You can’t trust him.”

“He’s given me no reason no to trust him, and…,” Charlie trails off. “And Alastor is my friend.”

Your smile brightens a bit. “Friend?”

“Yes?” Charlie says. “Everyone at the hotel is my friend, and he’s been a tremendous help.”

You place your hands over Charlies and give it a squeeze. “Convince me to help you.”

“W-what?”

“Alastor isn’t asking me to go play medic in the middle of a warzone.” Your brush your feathers out of your face. “If he was asking, I would say yes without a second thought because that’s who we are, but he isn’t asking me, Charlie, you are.”

Charlie hums, placing a finger on her lips as she thinks. “I heard from Angel that you and Alastor got married whe—“

CRASH!

She grips the table, eyes wide as she looks around. “What was that?”

You take a long and drawn-out sip of coffee, contemplating your choice for marriage. “Nothing to be worried about,” you say. “That was just my television.”

“Your Tv?” Charlie frowns a bit. “Did…did Alastor just throw away your Tv?”

You laugh, swatting your hand in the air. “Not at all!” you say. “It probably tripped out my window—those picture boxes are always so clumsy.”

Charlie raises her eyebrows. “You’re saying that your Tv…just tripped out the window.”

You smile at her. “You were saying something?”

She sighs, massaging her forehead. “You got married when you were alive, but continue to stay together. It’s very rare for Sinners to do such a thing,” she says. “And with all of that…uh…Alastorness.”

“It’s alright, you can just say bat-shit crazy.”

“I’d prefer not to,” she says with an awkward laugh. “So, how were you able to stay together for so long

“Are you…,” you trail off, blinking. “Are you asking me for relationship advice?”

“A bit? If that’s okay,” she says. “Rosie already helped but, well, she did eat her first husband.”

“I don’t think I can be of much help.” Your lips purse. “Alastor and I don’t exactly have the most conventional marriage.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1927

“Do you like it?” Alastor offers you a spoonful of the simmering sauce.

You lean closer, shifting from your seat on his kitchen counter. Alastor dips the spoon in your opened mouth. “It’s spicy,” you say, lips twisting when you cough. “Is it supposed to be like that?”

Alastor tilts his head. A lock of his hair falls to the side. “No…it’s not.” He takes back the spoon and dips it into the pan. Alastor coughs as soon as it hits his tongue. “How many peppers did you add?”

Your legs sway, and the heels of your foot tap the cabinets below you. “I added what was written on the recipe! Exactly twelve peppers.”

Alastor twists the stove’s knob, killing the fire. “Take a look at the notebook again,” he says and reaches over your legs, grabbing his book full of recipes. “If you use these things called ‘eyes’ and ready, you’d be able to see that it says, ‘one to two’!”

“No, it does not!” you huff, grabbing the notebook from him. You read through the list of ingredients. There, near the bottom, pass the four cloves of chopped garlic, half a shallot, and a pinch of pepper, ‘one to two peppers’ is scribbled with blocky letters. “Oh…that’s my bad. Yeah, that’s on me.”

Alastor adjusts his sleeves, pulling it back up his forearm. (Hmm, not a bad look.) “There’s no point in teaching you how to cook this if you don’t know how to read!” he says, eyes twitching. “Go…Just go over there and let me fix this.”

“I already said I was sorry!”

“No, you did not!” Alastor says, throwing his hands into the air. “What you said was,‘Oh…that’s my bad. Yeah, that’s on me’, actually.”

“Yeah, that’s on me,” you repeat with a snort. “That’s my bad.”

“Get out of my kitchen before you ruin dinner.” He leans on the counter, crossing his arms. You hum to yourself. Alastor should pull his sleeves up more. “Go set the table or something. And wash your hair when you get home—it smells like chemicals.”

With a huff, you do as you're told.

You slide off his counter, opening the cabinet and grab two bowls with one arm and reach for the table placemats with the other.

Two sets of utensils, glass cups, and paper napkins. It’s one more set than what you prepare when you’re at your own home. Two…Two. It’s becoming quite the word in your vocabulary.

There’s a proper table waiting to be used in the other room, but this smaller one you’re setting, with its fraying edges and turmeric stains suit the both of you much better.

Three ice-cubes bobble at the top of Alastor’s water. It’s how he likes it. It’s funny. You don’t remember Alastor disclosing this particular information. It’s just something you noticed one day, and you’ve never stopped noticing. What else have you unconsciously learned about him, and what have you unconsciously taught him about you?

Alastor walks to the table, a large steaming bowl in his hands. He places it between the bowls, and you reach into the drawer for a ladle.

The taste tingles your tongue. It’s good. Better than anything you could possibly make for yourself.

You reach into your pocket and toss a handkerchief at Alastor’s face. It lands on between his hair. He tilts his head, shaking it, and the cloth slides on the table. “It’s yours,” you tell him, taking a spoonful of your food. “Thanks for dinner.”

Alastor studies how his name is embroidered in near letters, thumbing the music notes framing it. “Dinner was a way to thank you for this week’s meat.”

He tosses back the handkerchief. It smacks your face.

You peel it from your skin, and trace the letters you’ve threaded during your very scarce free time. “I can’t go around with a handkerchief that has your name on it.”

His smile widens. “Why not?”

“People would think I’m a fan.” You hand Alastor the handkerchief this time. “Just take it as a gift then.”

Alastor takes it from you, and places it into his pocket.

You hum into your spoon with a pleased smile. “Hey Al,” you say. “Tell me what you did today.”

Alastor takes his time chewing and swallowing his food. “As you can see,” he tells you, “I’m eating.”

“I’m bored,” you say. “Eat while you talk.”

He reaches across the table, and his fingers catch on the knob of the radio to turn it on.

Classical music plays out of the speaker. It was correct to assume that Alastor pre-sets radios to play his favorite stations. Although, you didn’t imagine that each of his many radios would have their own specific station. A different radio for different stations. You questioned Alastor about it, but he didn’t say much.

Once the bottom of the bowls has been scraped into your stomachs, you take the dishes and go to the sink.

Your nose scrunches at the sight of the piled dishes. Alastor watches you with a smile. You turn away when you notice.

Alastor takes a container from the cabinet above your head. He’s warm. Always warm.

He takes two containers, placing the leftovers inside. And there it is again, that word—Two. Not one, but two. One for him. One for you. You didn’t ask for leftovers. You’ve never asked at all. Alastor will just hand you the container like it’s the most automatic thing in this world for him to do.

You take the first of many bowls, and rinse the stubborn pieces with your hands. “There’s too many dishes,” you say. “It’s like you have one for every ingredient. Did you really need to use separate ones for each and every ingredient we used?”

He leans on the counter, slotting himself next to you.  “I don’t like mixing the flavors until it’s time to add them.”

Alastor adjusts his pulled sleeves and crosses his arms.

The bowl slips from your grip.

“Oh…I…uh…sorry,” you say, picking up the bowl. “I mean, you really didn’t need one for the salt and pepper. They already come in containers—why couldn’t you just, I don’t know, eyeball it?”

“Eyeball it?”

“Yeah, or feel it with your soul or something,” you say and pick up the measuring spoons to show him. “You had to measure three pinches of salt instead of actually just pinching it.”

Alastor laughs, and strands of his hair slide down to his eyes. “And how did it taste?”

Your shoulders slump when you sigh. “Good.”

He bumps his shoulders with yours. “That’s just the way I was taught.”

“Well,” you start, “your way creates more dishes for me to clean.”

Alastor pivots from the counter, and takes his place in front of the second sink. He grabs the dish you’ve already rinsed and sponges it with soap. It’s quite the system you’ve created. You grab a dirty dish, rinse it, and pass it on to Alastor who cleans it with a sponge.

The next minute goes something like this:

Alastor flicks water at your face. You ignore it.

Flick. Ignore.

Flick. Ignore.

Flick. Ignore.

The water damps your hair. You kick his leg. “Stop that.”

Alastor drenches his hand under the faucet, letting his fingers accumulate water. He flicks it at you.

The grip you have on the plate tightens. “I am going to smash this on your head.”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. He glares. You glare back. He cups his hand under the faucet like a bowl. The water pools between his hands. He throws the water at you. It hits your eyes, blinding you. That does little to stop you.

You grip the plate, swinging it in his direction.

The plate doesn’t connect with anything… Sadly. You rub the water out your eyes, and find Alastor kneeling on the floor with a triumphant smile.

Alastor stands up, brushing dirt from his pants. “You missed.”

“You ducked.”

“I can’t believe you actually did that,” he says. “What if you actually hit me?”

You pass the plate to Alastor before you scratch the urge to swing at that smug smile of his. “Hey Al,” you say. “Tell me what you did today.”

Alastor closes the faucet. “You always ask me that.”

“That’s because you say it in entertaining ways,” you say. “It’s boring to wash the dishes without something to distract me.”

Alastor soaps the dish. “Your lessening attention span worries me.”

You roll your eyes at him, and flick water at his face. “Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says. “I find myself having no reason to deny you.”

Alastor’s glasses slide down his nose. He leans close enough for you to smell his perfume. He’s warm—always warm. It takes a second for you to understand. You dry your hands on a stray towel, and fix it in place.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1928.

The metal bench cools the back of your neck.

The sun blinds your eyes, but you keep a steady gaze on the afternoon beams. When was the last time you felt the heat of the sun kiss your skin? As the seconds tick by. As the birds fly above you. As the leaves fall from their stem, melting on this bench seems like a heavenly idea.

But as the clock will eventually strike. But as the birds will eventually find their nest. But as the leaves will eventually land. So, too, must you eventually go back to work.

A shadow blocks the sun.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust. Alastor’s upside-down face smiles at you. “Good morning to you!”

With a yelp, you swing your forehead forward.

Alastor leans backwards, narrowly missing your head by centimeters. “Not the greeting I imagined, but hello to you as well,” he says. “The receptionist said I could find you here.”

You twist, turning to him with a frown. “Are you okay?”

Alastor slides over the bench, and takes the free seat next to you. His legs cross. “Why would I not be, okay?”

There’s some bag slung over his shoulder, but that’s not important right now. Your eyes trail his body. Hair? Fixed. Smile? Wide. Clothes? Perfect. “You’re at a clinic.”

Alastor swats his hand. “I was in the area.”

That classic city stench attacks your nose, but it’s just nice to feel the way your hair sways from the breeze. “You’re not going to kill me, right?”

Alastor nudges his leg with yours. “You say that every single time!”

Your smile turns smug. “I’ll stop saying it when it stops becoming funny.”

Alastor rolls his eyes, showing it off to you. “It never was.”

“It is to me,” you say and wave your hands in the air. “Just imagine this, the great Alastor had to stalk me!”

“I am great, but remind me again,” he begins, propping his arm on the bench to lean on it, “how long did you have to follow me?”

Sighing, you lean your head on the backrest to count the clouds. It’s nice to be able to see actual clouds for once instead of the drawing of children who wait. “…Three months.”

“Exactly,” he says, and you hear the smugness in his words. “And I didn’t need to do any stalking—you led me straight to your house.”

You blow a raspberry at him. “Why are you even here then?”

Alastor props his legs on your lap. You push him off. He brings it back. It’s not worth fighting him right now. “I actually was in the area,” he says, and hands you the bag slung over his shoulder. “The director thought it would be a grand idea to bring the staff out to lunch.”

You unzip the bag, and packed lunch greets you. And there it is again. Two. Two. Two. One for you. One for him. Maybe both for you? “Al, tell me why I’m currently looking at two packed lunches?”

Alastor beams at you, and slides his legs off your lap. “I accidentally cooked too much today,” he said. “I thought it would be a grand idea to share.”

Your frown. “But…you already ate.”

“Oh…I was already planning on dropping by,” he says. “It was quite the stroke of luck that you’re only taking your break now, and that we happened to have lunch nearby. I thought I’d bring you a treat.”

Questions bubble on your throat. “Thank you, Al,” you say instead. You open the container and take a bite, savoring the taste. “It’s delicious.”

Alastor leans closer, and picks a leaf off your head. “That’s because I actually followed the recipe.”

You point your spoon at him. “That was just that one time!”

He smiles at you, chuckling softly. “Three actually.”

Before the clock strikes, it will tick. Before the birds find their nest, they will fly. Before the leaves hit the ground, it will fall. And before you eventually go back to work, you will eat on this bench, Alastor to your side.

He stares ahead. As you eat, you watch his eyes flicker. It goes from the kid then to a plant then to an old lady. This, you don’t question. You’ve stopped wondering what he could possibly be thinking years ago.

Alastor leans closer to your ear. “Do you see that lady?” he asks, voice low. His breath tickles your skin. “That one over there with the feather on her hat?”

You scan the people around the area, spotting the lady old enough to be your grandmother. A scarf wraps around her neck, despite the sun beaming with the afternoon heat. She lazily walks around. “What about her?”

“Do you think her name could be Edith? She looks like an Edith,” Alastor says. “She probably had three children, and married young when her parents forced her to marry this ugly but rich man she could never love.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. It’s like a mantra that plays in your head. There’s no reason not to play along whatever nonsense he’s spouting. “Sure, why not?”

“But no!” he exclaims into your ear. You jerk away and shove him with an elbow. “Oof….Edith just had to defy all expectations, and she chose to elope with her childhood sweetheart. He’s not the richest man, but they survived.”

“That’s sweet.”

“And to this day,” he says, “everyone still calls her, ‘Edith the Penguin’.”

“Edith the penguin?” you echo. “Now I’m just confused.”

Alastor’s eyes shine. “Because she walks like a penguin with their ass on fire,” he snorts. “Your turn, now.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. And you would love to be brought lunch again.

“Fine.” You place your spoon down, and look around to the first person who grabs your attention. “That little kid over there—His name is Thomas, and he likes balloons.”

Alastor blinks at you. “And?”

You take your time chewing and swallowing your food. “That’s all.”

He gawks at you, and rolls your eyes. “It must be so boring to be you.”

“It is not!” You huff at him, and kick his leg. “I am a very interesting person, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh really, now? Thomas, and he likes balloons?” Alastor says,and points at the kid with twitching eyes. “He’s holding a balloon!”

You wave your arms, the spoon still in your grip. “So, he probably likes it!” you say. “Thomas wouldn’t get a balloon if he didn’t like it.”

“I pity your sense of imagination.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. And you would love to be brought lunch again.

You swallow what remains inside the container, and pack it up. “Is this what you do when you zone out as I’m tal—and you’re doing it again, aren’t you?” you say. “You are an incredibly judgmental person.”

“It’s called using my imagination. Something you apparently don’t have,” he says with a snort. “So…tell me what you did today.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “That’s my question.”

Alastor shrugs, taking the closed container and zipping it inside his bag. He hands you a tissue. “Well, I’m asking it now.”

You prop your arm on the bench, leaning on it. Alastor’s hair spikes out in odd places today. It must have quite the trek to the clinic. “I’m not as good a storyteller as you are.”

He props his arms on the bench, mimicking your pose. His eyes stare straight into yours. “ I don’t need a story,” he says. “I just want to know what you did today.”

You press your palm on his face, pushing him away from your face. The sun’s heat is really getting to you. Alastor’s nose crinkles as he rubs it. “Why would you even want to know what I do?”

Alastor props his elbows on his knees, observing the people around him. “You always ask me what I did,” he says. “I want to know if there’s something special about it.:

“There’s nothing special about it,” you tell him. Was there actually? You’re not sure. “I just like knowing, and it always entertains me.”

Alastor meets your eyes with a wide smile. “Then tell me what you did today,” he says. “Entertain me.”

The clock ticks closer. The birds are already close to their nests. The leaves are already floating to the ground. You are already close to going back to work, closer to this moment becoming nothing but a distant memory. “That was my first meal of the day.”

Alastor’s eyebrows furrow and his lips twist into a hard scowl. “That’s not healthy.”

You shut your eyes and sigh. “I never said it was.”

“How would you live without me?”

Remember, Alastor brought you lunch, and it would be nice if he could bring you lunch again. “I’m going to hit you.”

Alastor bumps your knees with his. “Lovely,” he says, and you can hear the smile he’s wearing. “I’m sure it will be very painful because you’re so full of energy right now.”

Eyes still shut, you bump his knees back. “I’ve been busy,” you say. “And don’t roll your eyes at me.”

Alastor hesitates for a second. “First of all, we’re all busy,” he says. “Second, I didn’t roll my eyes.”

“You did—it was audible,” you tell him with a soft chuckle. “Anyway, there’s nothing new with my day. It’s just the usual, people to see, files to file, blood to draw, pee to get on me.”

Alastor digs his finger into your cheek, twisting it as he presses down. “Wow, you really are a horrible storyteller.”

You know what, maybe you don’t need Alastor bringing you lunch. You peek open an eye to stare at him. “I’m going to smash a plate on your head once we start doing the dishes.”

Alastor mashes your cheek like some button. Over and over and over and over again. You swat his hand, and he rubs it with a grimace. “Were you planning on dropping by today?”

You place an arm over your eyes, blocking out the sun. “Will I have to do the dishes?”

“You don’t have to specifically do the dishes.”

You comb through your hair with your fingers. “That wouldn’t exactly be fair to you.”

“If you're so insistent, we can find something else for you to do,” he says. “I mean, if you hate it so much you don’t have to do it.”

“I don’t hate it,” you say with a sigh. A church bell sounds. It echoes through the buildings and through the trees. “Al…I’m tired.”

“I know,” he says, and you hear how softly he chuckles. “Your eyes are drooping so low I could fill the entire ocean in them.”

“I want to sleep, Al.”

“I know.”

“I hate this job.”

Alastor pauses for a second, and he bumps his shoulders with yours. “You don’t.”

The clock hasn’t struck yet. The birds haven’t flown to their nests. The leaves haven’t reached the ground. And so too will you stay in this moment of time.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1929

Footsteps creak on the wooden stairs. The sound is ignored, just like every other thing that isn’t relevant to you.

The dead cadaver under you has weird kidneys. The one on your palm is too small for a kidney that belongs to someone of his size. You take your scalpel, slicing it to observe the cross section.

“It’s time to stop,” Alastor tells you. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. Him and his smile is not important right now. “You’ve been here all night.”

“Leave me alone,” you mumble. The human body continues to be amazing. The medulla is clearly outlined. The colors of its cells were so different from the cortex. “…Kidneys, Alastor. He has weird kidneys. Hehehehe weird kidneys…”

Alastor says your name in a way that forces you to listen.

“…Oh…yes?” you say a bit dumbly.

“It’s nightfall,” he says, and the tone of his voice buzzes your skin. “Come on now, do as you're told. Be upstairs in fifteen minutes.”

It’s not an easy task to do as Alastor says, especially when this man’s left kidney is a whole different size from the right. However, with a frown, you slot the kidney from the opened chest cavity, and pack up the body.

You step out of the basement, and walk to the kitchen.

There’s a plate waiting for you on the table. It’s still hot. Muffled music plays from the porch, and you see Alastor’s outline through the windows. Taking your plate, you step out the front door and into the outdoors. (Something you really need to start seeing more.)

And oh…he’s not listening to the radio. Alastor plays the recording of his show. It was a present you got him a few months back.

You take your seat on the matching rocking chair.

Alastor watches you settle into your seat. He turns the volume down. “Tables were invented for a reason.”

The chair rocks when you swing your legs. “It’s nice out here,” you say, and take a bite of vegetables. “The sky is much clearer. It helps that there’s no stench of piss.”

He turns to you with a small smile. “That’s because you live in the city.”

The wind blows your hair into your face. You push it out of the way. “Hey, Al,” you say slowly. “Tell me what you did today.”

“Why should I?”

You lean back into the chair, letting the rocking sway you. “Well, you got home late,” you say. “I had to use my keys.”

Alastor leans back on the chair, using the tips of his shoe to rock himself. “Yes, that was the point of the keys,” he says, humming. “It would be a shame to come home to another broken window.”

The taste of the vegetables mixed with the meat makes you smile in delight. “Are you still holding on to that?”

“Always.”

“I paid you back, eventually,” you tell him, pointing your fork at him. “Why are you still holding a grudge for an honest accident?”

On his cheek , where it’s always been and where it’ll always be, his smile strains. “You expect me to believe that a rock smashing my window was an honest accident.”

You offer him your most innocent smile. “Yes.”

“Well, I hope your windows are much sturdier then,” he says, mimicking your smile. “One of these days, I might cause an accident.”

The stars twinkle in the sky. There’s a vast amount of knowledge those gassy balls hold. Maybe your life would be less horrific if you were interested in the stars instead. “In my defense, you were late.”

Alastor pinches the bridge of his nose. “You couldn’t wait fifteen minutes?”

You take another bite of your meal, and sway happily to do a little dance. “Just… okay? Just tell me what you did before I finish my meal.”

Alastor reaches into his pocket and tosses a keychain at you. It lands between your legs.

You set the plate on the coffee table between you, and hold the keychain to the light. It was a cute, little cartoon alligator. “What’s this?”

“It’s yours.”

“I can tell that much,” you say, twirling the gift between your fingers. “You never give me nice knickknacks. It’s always the ugly ones

Alastor huffs at you. “That doesn’t sound like my problem anymore,” he says. “I thought you would appreciate something that looks halfway decent one and for all.”

“I find the ugly ones really charming, actually. They’re very funny to look at,” you say. “So, where did you get this?”

Alastor clasps his hands, resting it on his stomach as he rocks himself. “Saw an advertisement. Went to the zoo.”

You scrunch your face. “That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

“Go finish your meal.”

You pocket his gift, and grab the plate on the table. “Master of storytelling right here, ladies and gentlemen,” you say, barking a laugh. “I figured you would love the excuse of hearing yourself talk.”

Alastor ignores you, reaching for his notepad instead.

You watch Alastor as he writes on his notepad. The breeze sways a strand of his hair. His lips twist when he thinks, just like he’s doing right now

Your eyes fall on your plate, to where vegetables and meat were carefully tossed together. Alastor cooked today— he always cooks. When you finish, you’ll grab the plates, and begin the mountain of dishes. Even when dish soap stings your fingers, even when the feeling of wet food grosses you, and even when thousands of dirty dishes wait for you…it’s something you don’t mind..

Once this meal is finished, you and him will step inside. He’ll properly tell you about his day, and you’ll take the pan and scrub it.

Ah…there it is again. That word—Two.

But it’s not two of anything. It’s simply just two. You and Alastor.

“You’re frowning,” Alastor says. He stares at you from the corner of  his eyes. “Why?”

It’s weird.

Very weird.

You don’t…You don’t understand. How do you say the words you do not know how to explain?

It’s almost as if… “We should get married.”

Alastor’s laughter rings across the open land. “No.”

The inside of your cheek stings from how you bite it. You turn away to hide your flushed cheeks. “I…It just came out, okay?” you mumble. “I’m really trying not to be offended that you turned me down without a second thought, and with a laugh as well.”

Alastor turns back to his notepad. “Don’t be,” he says. “I’m nothing you want.”

The moonlight reflects off his brown eyes. “Sometimes…,” you begin, and a small smile appears on your lips. “Sometimes I wish you see yourself the way I see you.”

Alastor laughs at you again. “You’ve been having such thoughts about me?” he says. “What an absolute honor! I’m deeply flattered.”

“And then you say words like that, and I immediately know it’s not worth it

Alastor lifts his eyes from his notepad to peek at you. He fixes his eyeglasses. “You don’t actually think we should get married.”

To be infuriating, you take a bite from your plate, savoring each flavor with drawn out chews.

“I have no idea,” you say. “But…I mean, why not? There are many good reasons for me to marry you—it’s advantages for me, and everyone already thinks we’re dating.”

Alastor turns back to his notepad, shaking his head. “That’s the most absurd idea I’ve ever heard.”

“What, being in a relationship with me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s twice you’ve managed to offend me.” You laugh to hide your frown. “But that friend of yours. The feathery one from the lounge you like taking me to.”

Alastor tilts his head. “Mimzy?”

“Ah yes, her,” you say with a hum. “She asked me if you um…uh… well, if you liked vanilla or hot and spicy.”

“If I had to answer, Id say hot and spicy?” Alastor says, and you laugh at the confusion on his face. “I got a bottle of this pepper flakes infused with old. It was quite the treat.”

“That’s exactly what I figured you would say,” you tell him.“Unfortunately for you, Mimzy was talking about sex.”

Alastor scrunches his face.

Oh don’t make such a face, there is absolutely no need to be afraid of the prospect of such activities.” The final bite of your meal bursts with so much flavor that you revel it for a second. “Al, let’s get married.”

Alastor glares at you. “No.”

You place the plate on the coffee table. It can be  washed after this conversation. “Why not?”

He points his pen between you and him..“We aren't even dating,” he says. “And…I can’t express such passionate displays of affection.”

You rock the chair with your shoe. An owl hoots from somewhere beyond the trees. Huh, you weren’t aware owls lived in this area. “Don’t be a child—just say sex.”

Again, his face scrunches. “I will not.”

“It’s a really good thing,” you say, sighing, “that no one’s asking.”

Alastor searches for your eyes. He holds it. It was only ever his to hold anyway. “I’m not even sure I’m interested in romance.”

You look around, whipping your head. “I think I’m missing the part where someone asked.”

“Be serious.”

“Okay fine. This is me being serious because I am when I say that all I don’t need your romance—Al, you accepted me for who I am, and to me? That is enough,” you say with a soft smile. “You are all I could ever ask for.”

Alastor stares at the stars, his eyes capturing each one. “I can’t love you like a husband should.”

The stares are really beautiful.

Each shines in their own way. Alastor sees the beauty in them, but you aren’t going to be beaten by a gas ball. Tomight, you will be the only star Alastor should keep his gaze on. “Alastor, look at me.”

He keeps his eyes on the stars.

Huffing, you stride to his chair, and block his view of the night sky.

You plant your arms on the armrest for support, and inch your face so close that you are the only thing he will see. “Alastor,” you say his name, voice oh so soft, “look at me.”

Oh…his eyes are browner than you thought. It’s a deep and dark brown that pulls you in.

“You can love me in ways that matter.” You press your forehead against his, and close your eyes.

There are more words to be said, but right now you and him stay in this moment of time. Just…for…a second.

“I will never force you to love me in ways you cannot,” you whisper. The ends of his hair brush against your skin. “Alastor, I could never reject the type of love you can offer me. I can never deny you.”

Alastor caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Friends don’t get married.”

Impulsivity was such a bad habit of yours. It’s a fact that makes you bear the consequences, but consequences be damned. You take his hand, holding it in yours. The pads of his fingers have different textures. Some are smooth. Some are rough. But the whole thing warms you to the touch. It’s unfair. He’s unfair. How could something as simple as taking his hand intoxicate?

Your lips hover over his skin, brushing it a little. Alastor doesn’t pull away. With a smile that Alastor always seems to put on your lips, you plant a soft kiss on his ring finger.

“We aren’t normal people. There’s no reason to force ourselves into a conventional relationship.” You meet his eyes with a smirk. Every word you utter brushes your lips yo his skin. “This marriage will be defined however we want. You offer me a partnership in death…This is me offering you a partnership in life.”

You press your lip on the back of his hand, one final time, and return to your chair.

Alastor doesn’t speak.

You rock yourself with your foot, enjoying the sway of the chair.“There is that added benefit that the police won’t be suspicious of a doting husband.”

Alastor scrunches his face. “Doting husband?” he echoes. “I thought we wouldn’t be having a normal marriage.”

“That doesn’t mean a lady doesn’t want to feel special,” you say, snorting. “I’ve always dreamed of a doting husband.”

Alastor rips a page out of his notepad. He folds it with his hands.

His vets match his shoes today. The hair on the back of his head sticks out and curls. Did he take a nap today? “I could be like this every single night,” you say softly. “You and me. The two of us under the stars until our hairs turn gray.”

Alastor’s gaze stays locked on the piece of paper he’s folding. “Why me?”

You stare at him with a smile, and lean your face on your palm. “Does it need to be said?”

Alastor glances at you with those brown eyes of his. “I’m asking.”

“It’s because…It’s…I…,” your trail off. How do you summon the words to describe something you don’t understand?

There’s a smug smile on Alastor’s lips. “What, is it because you love me?”

“Would it be so bad if I did?” you say, chuckling into your arm. “But…well, I don’t exactly know how to properly say this.”

“Just open your mouth,” he says, rolling his eyes, “and let the words do it’s job.”

“I wouldn’t mind doing the dishes with you for the rest of my life,” you tell him, and your cheeks tingle. “Maybe even past life. Can you imagine that? You and me in hell, doing our dishes together.”

There’s an odd look on his face. “Sure.”

“We can listen to the radio,” you say. “And I’ll ask you about your day, and you will tell me the wildest and most grandiose story while we clean a pot.”

Alastor smiles at you. “You hate doing the dishes.”

“I do not.”

“You do. I see it—I always do,” he says with a soft chuckle. Alastor taps his nose. “Your nose scrunches every time, yet you never ask for help.”

What expression are you making right now?

You bring your legs to your chest. “I’m willing to give up everything for dirty dishes if it means I have you as a companion for the rest of my life.”

Alastor turns back to whatever he was folding.

You hide your face in your legs, face flushed and warm. “Say something…please,” you say, whispering. “I just poured out my heart for you

You hear Alastor rise from his seat. He places a hand on your head. “Today’s dinner…,” he says, and his voice is the softest it’s ever been. “Did you like it?”

You smile even if he couldn’t see it, and lean into his hand. “It was one of the most delicious thing I have ever tasted.”

“I wouldn’t mind making it for you for the rest of my life…if you’re willing to wash the dishes with me for the rest of yours,” Alastor says, and you think this is the most honest thing he’s ever told you. “It’s yours. Even if you don’t want it, this is yours now.”

You peek out of your knees. Alastor’s smile is soft. He opens his palms and your eyes flicker to them. He shows you what he’s been folding. It’s the paper of his notepad folded into a ring—a paper ring.

“Do it again,” you say with a beam that could rival the stars. “Ask me again.”

Alastor caresses your cheek, the back of his finger brushing down your skin. “Doting husband?”

“Exactly,” you say with a laugh and lean into his touch. “You catch on very quickly.”

Alastor takes your hand in his, and his thumb brushes over your ring finger. Does he feel your skin the way you feel his? He kneels on one knee and the paper ring is presented to you. “Would you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”

You insert your ring finger into the paper ring. “The honor would be mine, my dearest.”

Alastor stares at you.

You stare back.

 The moment your eyes settle on one another, laughter echoes across the land. It’s loud and breathy, and it echoes so far that the local wildlife gets disturbed. Alastor settles back on his chair, rocking himself.

Alastor calms down first. “Oh…uh…Should we share a passionate kiss?”

The stars shine above you. Not a single gas ball can beat the brightness of your smile. “Do you want to?” you ask. “Be honest, my dear.”

Alastor hesitates for a second. “Not particularly—Do you?”

“Maybe? Sometimes?” you say with a shrug. “I could live a happy life without such passionate kisses.”

“Really?” he says, and the surprise in his voice makes you laugh. “You would be fine without one?”

“Well, since you’re so insistent, I’ll allow a kiss.”

Alastor snorts into the air. “And where and when would you want such a kiss?”

You hold him in your gaze. There’s so much to learn, so much to figure out. It’s alright. There will be time. “Anywhere and anytime, you want, my love.”

“You’re going to give me control?” he asks. “Is this not something you would want as well?”

“I’ll make this easy enough for you to understand,” you tell him, tracing the paper ring around your finger. “I demand a kiss whenever you are completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.”

Alastor hums, looking away to study the woodcarving on his chair. He picks on them. “I supposed if you need anyone to fulfill your needs I only as—”

“Just say sex, my dearest,” you say, and Alastor sinks into his chair with a huff. “That will never happen. This isn’t a friendship, my love. I am entering a relationship with you. No matter how unconventional, it is still ours.”

Alastor locks your eyes with a pleased smile. “Good.”

The rocking chair rocks you into a small lull. “My dear.”

“Yes?”

“My love.”

Alastor sighs. “Yes?”

“My dearest,” you say. “Would you want to share a bed?”

Alastor stays silent. There’s hesitation on his face. You see it in the way his lips twist. You see it in the way his eyebrows furrow. You see it in the way he leans back on his chair to stare at the stars.

“Okay then, we can circle back to that later,” you say with a soft chuckle. “How about a room—Do you want to share one?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows, staring at you with silent judgment. He is a book that you are allowed to learn. There’s so much to read, and so much still left to be read. That’s okay. There’s time. No matter how long. You have time.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, we can share a room without sharing a bed,” you exclaim, throwing your hands into the air. “We can even have bunk beds. That would be cool. I’ve always wanted a bunk bed.”

Alastor rests his face on his palm to look at you. There it is again, the breathy and light laughter. “We are not sleeping on a bunk bed.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Charlie’s smile slowly morphs into a frow that you cannot decipher. It makes sense that you can’t. Afterall, she is not the book you’ve spent your life learning to read. “You…You don’t actually love each other?”

There’s a frame hanging on your kitchen wall that says otherwise.

It holds an art piece you embroidered for the sole purpose of giving it to your husband. The color of the wooden frame compliments the colors of the thread, as if it was carefully chosen to match. The one here in the kitchen is but one of many frames around the house. Alastor keeps every single item safe beneath the glass to to be admired.

There’s a shelf standing on the living-room carpet that says otherwise.

It holds ugly knick knacks that Alastor bought for the sole purpose of giving it to his wife. It’s a pain to dust the shelves, but not a speck of dirt touches its surface, as if it was carefully taken care of. The one in there in the living-room is but one of many shelves around the house. You keep every item spotless to be admired.

“We’re not heartless,” you say. “Alastor and I don’t have the same relationship you and your girlfriend have.”

Charlie sways in her seat, a hand rests on her chin when she hums. “ I am so sorry,” he says. “I think it’s great and all that, I’m just having trouble understanding.”

“It’s not exactly for you to understand.” You take a sip from your mug.

“So it’s not a relationship,” Charlie says. “Sooooo, is it like a really really deep friendship?”

“The lines between us are so blurry that it’s become deeper than friendship,” you admit with a small smile. “I just know that my soul is connected to him in ways I do not know how to tell him.”

“Is that really possible?” Charlie asks. “To just…love each other so differently?”

“Can our relationship not just…exist?” You lean on your palms. “Do you really think it’s so impossible for two people to just…to just look forward to cooking and washing the dishes together?”

Charlie’s eyes brighten. “I think I’m starting to understand,” she says. “So like—”

“Charlie…if I sit here and answer all of your questions, we’re going to waste time.” You play with the fiddle of your mug. “You didn’t come here for relationship advice.”

“Oh…yes.” Charlie sits there. Her smile slowly falls into a frown. “I’ve been thinking of how to convince you to help me, but…I can’t think of a single thing to say, and I don’t want to force you either.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You haven’t exactly asked for my help either.”

Charlie blinks at you. “…Huh?”

You raise your mug to toast to her. “If you want my help, just ask for it.”

Charlie grabs your hand with a tight grip. “Please, help me,” she says, voice shaking. “I don’t want to drag Cannibal Town into an all-out war without knowing there was a way to keep them safe.”

“Sure, why not?” You pull your hand away.

A loud squeal bounces off the walls.

Charlie pulls you into the tightest hug you’ve ever experienced. She hauls you with all the strength of a hellborn princess.  Your feet drag against the floor as she pulls you out of the kitchen and into the living-room.

Charlie drops you with a wince on her face. She stares at the broken window, and the obviously missing television.

You trip out of her hold.

Alastor wraps his hand on your shoulders, steading you against him until you find your balance. His touch lingers on you.

The television shaped hole on your glass window makes your eyes twitch.

Alastor steps away from you, twirling his microphone. It strikes the floor with a harsh thunk. “Oh, yes that,” he says. “It seems there was an unfortunate accident.”

“Oh, really now?” you say, placing a hand on your hips. “I would love to know exactly how that happened.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and his arms wave the air. “The clumsy boxed tripped right out the window.”

Your smile strains. “…That is rather unfortunate,” you say. “What a shame, I rather liked that television. It’s been a constant companion, and never has it once disappeared on me for several years.”

Alastor glares at you.

You glare back.

“I would love to help you clean this mess,” Alastor says with that triumphant smile of his.

Would a second broken window be worth trouble if it means there would be an Alastor-shaped hole?

“Perfect!” you say. “I’m sure you still remember where we keep the broom.”

Alastor boops your nose. “Unfortunately, the cannibals will be meeting us at the hotel,” he says. “I think it’s time we take our leave. Say goodbye to my wife, Charlotte.”

Charlie opens her mouth to correct him. She changes her mind at the last minute, choosing to sulk with a wave instead.

Alastor opens the door, allowing Charlie to step out first. She strides to the flowerbeds, kneeling to observe the plants.

Alastor stills by the door frame.

He inches close enough for you to reach him. The fabric of his lapels smoothen as you adjust its fit on him.

A breeze tussles Alastor’s hair. You swipe the stray locks, brushing his hair away from his forehead, until…until the x that marks the gunshot catches your eyes. Frowning, you thumb the mark, caressing it with oh so soft touches. There was a time where you believed that you and him had all the time in the world. Death laughed at you that night.

Alastor watches you, taking your wrist to pull it away.

He leans closer, and picks a feather on your head. “Will you indulge me?” he asks. “There’s just something I want to ask of you before I leave.”

“Say it, and it will be yours.”

Alastor pokes his cheeks, mimicking a smile. “Just one of these from you will do—Something to power me through the day.”

With a soft chuckle, you widen your lips to show him the brightest smile you can muster. “Is that much better, my love?”

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek. “Indeed,” he says. “You’ve been frowning for a while now.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Have I?”

Alastor boops your nose. “You have,” says. “What’s troubling you, my dear?”

“It’s nothing serious to you,” you tell him with a shake of your head. “It’s nothing worth listening to.”

Alastor taps his fingers across his microphone. “It’s not nothing. Especially when you frown like that,” he says. “If it’s serious to you, it is worth listening to.”

“Sometimes…I still find myself wondering how you feel,” you say, smoothening the feathers on your head “Even after being married for so long, there are times where I still do not know

“You’re not a mind reader,” he says. “If you want to know, you should just ask.”

“Alright then,” you say with a smile. “How are you feeling today, my love?”

Alastor caresses your cheek. The back of his fingers brush down your skin until it hooks around your chin. You tilt it to the side, offering your cheek, ready for him.

Alastor tugs your chin, adjusting your face until your eyes are drawn into his own. And oh…Has he always looked at you like this?

Alastor inches closer, his nose nudging against your own. Your heart thumps in your ear.

A minute has never felt so long as you stay frozen. It’s a whole minute  if his lips brushing inches above yours. It’s a whole minute of his finger stroking the skin of your chin. It’s a whole minute of feeling his breath on your skin. It’s a whole minute where inches of space separate your

Alastor tortures you with the simplest of sensation that intoxicated you to your very core. You don’t move away, not from him—never from him.

Your eyes close when Alastor presses his lips across yours.

The taste of this morning’s coffee is dizzying. The soft tickles of his breath make your fingers curl around the fabric of his coat. You were never a poet. It’s Alastor who was better with his words. You cannot describe the way he kisses you with sweet metaphors or soft analogies.

Alastor pulls away.

You inch closer to chase him, until self-control takes over. It splashes you with the warmth of a bucket filled with ice.

Oh…oh.

There are words to be said, questions to be asked. The heat tingling of your cheeks and the electricity buzzing your lips make it hard to find the words.

You bury your face into the fabric of Alastor’s chest, curling into him to hide how red your face flushes. The back of his coat crumples when you grip it.

Alastor wraps his arms around you, tightening the hug. His finger stroke your shoulder blade. “Does that answer your question?”

You inhale into his clothes. It’s warm. He’s warm. So warm that int transfers to you. “No, not at all,” you mumble. “Where did you learn to do that?”

Alastor leans back, pushing you away to search your face.He stares at you.

You stare at everything but him.

Alastor squishes your cheek, giving it a light shake. “Stop demanding things from me when you’re not going to remember.”

“I did no such thing.” You swat his hand away. “Will I be seeing you soon?”

Charlie catches your eyes. She quickly glances away before eventually looking back. You bring out your hand, folding your fingers to indicate the number two. Charlie cringes so deep she creates a double chin.

Alastor brushes feathers out of your face. “You wouldn’t need to ask if you accepted Charlie’s offer to stay at the hotel,” he says. “ I was given a room there. I think you would like it…but, there’s still thousands of unused rooms if you wish to stay somewhere else.”

“My deerest, are you asking me to stay at the hotel?”

Alastor’s silence makes you chuckle.

With the tips of your toes, you reach to press a kiss on his cheek. “I will see you soon.”

“You always will.”

Charlie and Alastor leave with a wave. You close the door before they reach the gate, leaning on the door. The wood does little to settle the way your skin buzzes. Demand a kiss? You would never do such a thing.

The clock strikes. It’s time to leave for work. You take your coffee mug, scrubbing it with soap. (If you drop it twice, then that’s your business.) You open the cupboard, placing your matching mug next to Alastor’s clean one.

Today…Today will be a good day.

For today, there’s no need to throw away cold coffee mugs.

First of all, you will never catch my Alastor cooking jambalaya. It’s a great dish, I know. But I refuse to fall into the curse. Part of the reason why this chapter took so long to publish, besides work getting in the way, was because I didn’t know how I would want Alastor and Reader to love each other. Like do I make it purely romantic?  But I like keeping this as canon as possible. And I know that Alastor is only canonically ace. This problem struck me until I realized that to be accepted is to be loved. So I decided to write a story that will make me happy to show you. There are so many other fics with pure romance, and I wanted to respect Alastor’s asexuality and everyone who relates to him. This is my love letter to him and to you. Also, I’m just going to put it out there, just in case someone might ask why there’s a kiss on the lips? This is a reminder that you can define a relationship any way you could want. I debated whether that kiss should be on the cheek or on the lips. A cheek kiss isn’t inherently romantic, so I could have just done this. The lip kiss just felt…correct. I wanted to showcase that the relationship between Alastor and Reader isn’t a conventional one, and that it’s fine to have one that differs from what is considered normal. So the best way would be to take something that everything thinks is very romantic and twist it in a way that it could mean something different. And thus, any kiss before and after this chapter really just means that Alastor is completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.

Taglist: @mybrainautocorrect @ray-rook @teavibesaf @valentique @qardasngan @tobyisher3 @amoraneuro @okay-babe @holymusicialmothman @lyralibra @alastorssimp @aestheticglas-blog @slaggylemon

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x wife!reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x wife reader #Alastor #radio demon

[redfurrycat]

🤠🐕‍🦺☃️🐾🏍️🐱🐓Animal Companions Fic Recs🐓🏍️🐱🐾☃️🐕‍🦺🤠

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

Ao3 Authors: Aphroditedany, Bbr1, BeautifulCreature, Buckybraciole, Callsignyours, Demiclar, Emmedoesntdomath, Indybob, Kazanskysmitchell, Kerbyfullyloaded, LemonsAndSugarMakeLemonade, Lesbiseresin, LoveChildofInsertShowHere, SunMonTue, Teacupivy, ThisisYour_Captain_Speaking, ToukoJalorda003, Whimsicule.

Art Bonus - (coming soon)

> Mythological Creatures & Shapeshifters {🤠🐓} > Daily Heroes/Animal Care {🤠🐓}

his dark materials / dæmon AU by buckybraciole {T} {🤠🐓}

A series of one-shots about fighter pilots and their dæmons.

Golden Retriever Puppy by bbr1 {G} {🤠🐓}

“Have you ever had a dog?” Jake asks. “Nah, who am I kidding. Of course you haven’t. I’m going to get you a dog.”

Bad Idea! by LemonsAndSugarMakeLemonade {T} {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

Bradley: Hey, are you and Ice around? Well, this is slightly odd Mav thought but he replied anyway. Yeah, why? Bradley: We have our baby! We’ll be there in 10. Mav almost dropped his phone at the reply. What the fuck. Bradley Bradshaw, you better call me this instant.

A cat named Crow by LoveChildofInsertShowHere {T}

The Meowfect Evening {☃️🏍️}

Sometimes a kitten can make an evening even better

Some Birds Can't Fly {☃️🏍️}

Crow becomes more of a part of the Mitchell-Kazansky family

How Crow Won Slider's Heart {☃️🏍️}

Sometimes a cat will settle an insane debate better than Ice can

The Bumps in Quiet Nights {☃️🏍️}

Ice worries when Maverick takes too long to come back home from picking up dinner

And A Partridge in a Pear Tree {☃️🏍️}

Mav and Ice obtain 3 new family members in the form of kittens

Is it a Racoon? {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

Rooster meets the new additions to the Mitchell-Kazansky family and gets talked into getting a pet

Goosebumps {🤠🐓}

Jake and Bradley find the perfect cat for them, which brings up some emotions for Bradley

How to make a Flock {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

Mav discovers a box full of kittens on the side of the road on his way to suprise Ice at work

Nick's worst weekend ever by Aphroditedany {T} {🤠🐓}

Nick Bradshaw, Bradley Bradshaw's cat, might unexpectedly bring him closer to a charming co-pilot. It doesn't mean Nick likes it, though.

Skies of Dust by kerbyfullyloaded {T} {☃️🏍️}

Walking into the sky

Pete Mitchell was fourteen when his daemon settled. It took him a few years to join her in the sky, wings on his chest and steel all around him.

Every atom of me and every atom of you

The turn of a dial, snapshots of a life, dust all around. Maverick, Iceman, and their daemons in the years between 1987 and 2019. "'On,' said the alethiometer. Farther, higher. So on they climbed." The Subtle Knife (or: a series of stories based on the different symbols of the alethiometer, a sequel to Walking into the Sky)

at my side by demiclar {M} {☃️🏍️}

"If there's one thing Maverick is good at, it's taking care of his own." Slider said, throwing his arm around his shoulders and tugging him close. "I'm just glad we can return the favor from time to time." Pete Mitchell came back from the Dagger mission with PTSD worse than he'd ever experienced before. His family is eager to help, but piecing themselves back together after a decade of separation is a challenge not easily overcome. Pete isn’t the best at accepting help, and the family’s problems go deeper than expected, but they won’t stop trying until they bring everyone home.

Goose the Dog and Mav the Human, the Fun Never Ends by ThisisYour_Captain_Speaking {G}

Man's Best Friend

Maverick is one of the most kind hearted people ever and the things he loves, he does so with everything he has. Why not let him have a dog? AKA What if Theo was originally Mav's dog?

Well Well Well, What Have We Here?

It's Fourth of July Weekend and Ice has invited friends and their families over to celebrate. However, before the day of the actual celebration, Mav takes his dog Goose out for a run. Will they be able to beat the storm brewing or will Mav land himself in trouble yet again?

Wrench the Golden Retriever by emmedoesntdomath {T} {☃️🏍️}

“Mav, please tell me you didn’t get us a dog.” Silence. He sighed. The contractually obligated hey-I-bought-a-dog-without-asking-and-then-gave-it-a-name-you’ll-hate-but-you-should-still-love-me fic

call it what you want by lesbiseresin {M} {🤠🐓}

“Shit, Mav,” Bradley says through a laugh as he squats down, leaving his beer on the railing so he has both hands free to stick out. “You finally get me that dog I was always asking for?” It’s another joke. He knows that Theo belongs to Penny and Amelia, but there has to be a reason Maverick is bringing this up. “You caught me,” Maverick deadpans. Bradley can see Penny elbow him out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t bother looking up, too engrossed in the happy pants Theo is letting out as Bradley switches to scratching under his chin. “You could say I did. Sort of.” “Sort of, huh?” (alternatively: jake & bradley getting their shit together ft. theo the dog)

Dust is Everlasting (And Love Even Moreso) by ToukoJalorda003 {M} {🤠🐓/☃️🏍️}

If Time Rewound to Dust (Love Would Endure Anyway)

All Rooster had ever wanted was to work for Jurassic World - his godfather did, and for his whole life, it had been his dream. Now he finally had it, and he…wasn’t so sure how he felt about Hangman. The man was just too dangerous, too unpredictable, and Rooster feared it would end in disaster. …But disaster had found them anyway, and now it was starting to look like it was too late to accept Hangman’s offer for a date. Damn.

When Dust is all That Remains (Love is Eternally Present)

After the events of the park’s catastrophic closing, Bradley just wanted to rest. Maybe take a nap and remind himself what he’d nearly had. But he couldn’t do that, because an active volcano was going to wipe out the remaining dinosaurs - including Jake’s raptors. …And if it was possible, he wasn’t going to let that happen. Maybe, while he was at it, he’d finally get that date, too.

be the ocean where I unravel by whimsicule {T} {🤠🐓}

He’s not even thirty years old. A lieutenant in the United States Navy. A highly-decorated aviator with two air-to-air kills. And he’s suddenly gone ahead and become scared of the goddamn sea. What a fucking joke.

make a lil' room for me by callsignyours {G} {🤠🐓}

Jake somehow ends up with Bradley's dog.

The Tiniest Problem by BeautifulCreature {G} {🤠🐓}

Bradley has an allergic reaction to his and Jake's new puppy.

Mine, Immaculate Dream by kazanskysmitchell {M} {☃️🏍️}

After the ever-so-stressful Dagger mission, Pete Mitchell is tired and craves some normalcy. It's seemingly difficult for him to return to normal this time, and his protective (and very worried) husband can't help but notice the changes in Pete's mental health. After an official PTSD diagnosis, being permanently grounded, and the adoption of a service dog, Pete Mitchell attempts to adjust, but can't do it without the help of his wingman and their adopted and dysfunctional family. (+ art from Cannibal_Hellhound)

better than your best dreams by teacupivy {M} {🤠🐓}

“Hey,” he says, nudging Bradly with his toes. “You brought Aubergine in, right?” Jake watches Bradley look up from his screen, stare into the mid distance, and decide to lie to him. “…Yes.” Tense and robotic, he slides his laptop onto the coffee table and slips out from beneath Jake’s legs. “Unrelated, I’ll be right back.”

With our pets, a house becomes our home by SunMonTue {E} {🤠🐓}

Jake adopts a puppy and then proceeds to fly across the country to take up a flight instructor position at Corpus Christi where Bradley is the vet (DVM) that Jake takes Brisket to once he arrives. Bradley asks him out. MeetCute.

Domestic Bliss by indybob {T} {🤠🐓}

Jake has had the longest week of his life. Between hops, training, and instructing, he’s worn out. Noticing how exhausted his husband is, Bradley takes it upon himself to go above and beyond to give Jake the most relaxing evening and weekend possible. Or: Much like Jake in this story, I’ve been very busy for the last couple of weeks, so I’m using this as my own form of catharsis. Feat. Brisket the Dog

Come on baby light my fire… by SunMonTue {E} {🤠🐓}

An apartment fire alarm at 1am featuring Jake in his underwear and Bradley with kittens.

#Animal Companions Recs List #hangster #sereshaw #hangaroo #icemav #iceman x maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw x jake hangman seresin #tom iceman kazansky x pete maverick mitchell #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #🐈red🐈furry🐈cat🐈tag🐈

[hypervoxel]

Jumble of headcanons in no particular order about Vark because I need to write them down somewhere to pretend to be organized

He started off sooo cute and tiny, like the size of a guinea pig. And he made laser noises like a baby Cuban crocodile.

He was so so tiny. He did not stay tiny.

Sharks sense electricity! He's naturally drawn to Vox when Vox is taking in or letting off too much power. He naturally interrupts Vox's overstimulation and warns about seizures, so Vox trained him some actual medical alert tasks.

Service shark Vark 🐕‍🦺

On the topic of electricity, I also headcanon him as having some aspects of an electric eel as well. A fantasy eel. He can take in some of Vox's excess energy, and isn't bothered by the sparks Vox throws off.

I'm chewing on the idea that Val bought Vark for Vox as an apology gift.

Now I'm just quoting myself directly from discord: I keep thinking of how I can include this (Vark being a gift from Val) in my one fanfic where it obviously does not fit bc Val hates Vark in it. Maybe he's jealous that Vox cares way more about Vark himself than the fact that Val gave him a gift. So unappreciative, didn't even have make-up sex over it bc Vox was too busy practically having a breakdown over how adorable Vark is. Val realizes that this was a mistake and he should have picked a very different gift instead

Vark is such a well behaved good boy when he's working, as a service shark. When Vox is in distress, Vark is so focused on trying to help with all the power of his tiny shark brain <3 Outside of that tho? He's a terror. He's so excitable. He canonically (in the old Voxtagram art) jumps on and knocks people over. This ties into him previously being a tiny adorable little thing. It was sooo cute when he jumped on your leg, back when he was the size of a large potato. It stayed cute up until they realized he was going to be so much bigger than they ever expected.

(It's like a bottle raised bull. The cute things they did when they were a little baby calf are no longer cute now that they're so large they are going to hurt you on accident just trying to be friendly and playful. RIP.)

Other service dog tasks for Vark: deep pressure therapy (of course. Interrupting behaviors such as when Vox is getting overwhelmed. Blocking to stop other people from getting too close to/touching Vox when he would shock them. I am forgetting so many things and will continue writing this list later

Vox doesn't do public access with Vark. This ties into my headcanons for Vox that he is deeply ashamed of himself and he cannot let anyone know he has problems ever.

Unfortunately, I am evil. So I also like the idea of Vark as an owner-trained service animal who is hmm not the perfect candidate for the job. In the same way shepherds aren't recommended for anxiety work, he can feed too much off of Vox's own emotions and has issues with guarding aggression that at times cause him to become reactive. (*points at my fanfic where he bites Val*)

I love bad representation.

Alsooo I don't like hammerhead sharks or animals that are too cartoon-y for me to understand as a real creature, so I'm making up a new design for Vark

Based on a Bonnethead Shark! Fun fact about Bonnethead Sharks: they are omnivorous! They eat seagrass :)

So Vark is omnivorous but unfortunately he's also like a tiger shark in that he'll eat anything even if it's not food. Tiger sharks have been found with license plates, tires, and other trash in their stomachs (sad)

Don't ask Vox how many times Vark has needed emergency exploratory surgery after eating something he shouldn't have. He doesn't want to talk about it.

Vark chews on wires like real sharks biting at undersea fiber optic cables. Chomp chomp

When Vark was a tiny baby, Velvette dressed him up in silly little outfits to post online. She doesn't do that anymore because he has mostly outgrown his cuteness stage for her: she only thought he was cute when he was little.

#oh that was NOT supposed to post yet #i am bad at editing my drafts apparently :/ #vark #hazbin hotel vark #hazbin vox #Vox #i do not know if he has a standard tag that we're all using‚ i just wing everything i put on here

[nordickies]

Welcome back! I missed your art a lot. I was scrolling through your posts and saw one post where you said that you have an unpopular dynamic for SuFin. If your dynamic for SuFin is based on their history together, I might have the same unpopular dynamic as you too.

I'm not a fan of the fanon SuFin that is perfectly wholesome and "the ideal relationship" because it ignores how history would have affected their relationship, and also has the uncomfortable implication that Finland enjoyed being under Swedish rule. I think that in the modern day, Finland would still struggle with feeling insecure and too competitive with Sweden. Sweden would be quite oblivious to Finland's feelings and offend him without realizing it. But that's my Swedish perspective on their relationship. What are your thoughts about their dynamic?

Thank you! Happy to see you as well! And yes, you're pretty close to how I view them! This is going to be a long one, so my answer will be under the cut <3

As a disclaimer; I will not judge or shame anyone for enjoying SuFin as the perfect domestic husbands with a dog and kids. Heal that inner child desperately clinging to happy fictional families, hehe. Besides, unless you ship a totally random crackship in this show, every single relationship is going to be flawed based on historical context. And at the end of the day, SuFin isn't even the worst case of this issue, so you can ship them without worrying about being "problematic" (whatever that word means nowadays). I'm just saying this because some people like to claim that SuFin is so inherently toxic, and I strongly disagree with that! There is no right or wrong way to enjoy these characters, and you can apply as much or as little historical context to the characters as you like. Have fun with them!

To me, ignoring all the historical context behind Finland's and Sweden's relationship would be impossible, though. We're talking about 600-700 years of living together and the additional 200+ years as separate countries. And I love overthinking things. Whether or not you like SuFin as a ship, you can't exactly ignore their shared past. I see the Nordics as a found family above all else. I really don't ship them with each other (but I don't judge those who do). Sweden and Finland are just kind of tricky because of the way the canon portrays their relationship. It's impossible to see it as purely brotherly. But I don't vibe with them being lovey-dovey husbands either. Best friends, sure, but then again, Finland and Sweden would have a different dynamic than Sweden has with Norway and Denmark. Or the dynamic Finland has with Estonia.

The way I see it is that they used to grow up as one, meaning that they both acted as the personification of the same land. Sweden was just in charge of the West, and Finland was in charge of the East. They both had similar responsibilities, jobs they were expected to do, and the people they were expected to obey. They really did everything together. And they were everything to each other because sometimes it felt like it was them against the rest of the world. And honestly, I don't see Finland as a subordinate to Sweden during those times. He was just extremely passive and ignored most of the time. But Finland's interests usually aligned with Sweden's, and he had complete trust in his ability to run things for both of them. But as time went on, his ability to trust was put to the test many times, which ultimately would cause problems in their relationship.

Eventually, they were separated by forces outside their control, and they had to figure out who they were without one another. And it must have been a traumatic situation for both of them. Until then, they didn't have to think about such things; they had always been together. But while Sweden lost his best friend/partner, Finland lost his entire identity. Obviously, as time went on, they both went in very different directions, which made them grow apart quite drastically. It definitely wasn't easy, and the pain caused by that situation made them even butt heads a few times. Ultimately, they made peace with it and could be friends again. Actually, they really needed that separation because otherwise, they would have never evolved as individuals. And their break made their relationship healthier and more equal. It just came with growing pains.

And yes, I agree with what you said. Because Finland has always had the shorter end of the stick, he feels a bit jealous. In his eyes, Sweden always got it so much easier. Also, figuring out his own identity was way harder for him once they got separated. He depended on Sweden a lot more. Fin did truly feel let down by him in the end, which made his relationship with Sweden for the following decades even saltier. For most of his life, he was seen as Sweden's eastern sidekick, so he sometimes tries to desperately create some distance between Swe and himself. He wants to be seen as his own person, and show his capabilities, which manifests in him being extremely stubborn. Ironically, he constantly compares himself to Sweden because that's how he measures his success. If Sweden can do this thing, he should too. And that's why Finland will get very passionate about any chance to be better than Sweden at something. In his eyes, it's the only way to measure his worth.

Sweden, on the other hand, can be oblivious to Finland's need to have his own thing. He doesn't get what's the issue since they used to be inseparable for so long. It's not malicious, but just a bit ignorant. He doesn't have similar experiences, so he doesn't really know how to relate to what Fin is going through. In some cases, Sweden can act annoying in Finland's eyes, being a bit patronizing or not understanding Finland's feelings. One moment, they might be fine, joking around - but then the next, Finland requires some time alone. It's confusing, but Sweden tries to understand it. He has learned that it's just better to give him his space and definitely don't try to solve Fin's problems. Swe has to kind of know his place with that one, even if it can be frustrating. Occasionally, he finds Finland's competitiveness and excitement over small wins a bit ridiculous, but he plays along. At the end of the day, Sweden understands why Finland has such mixed feelings about him. And he knows that in the past, he could have done way better, and he has lots of regrets about it.

It's definitely Finland who has the problems and insecurities in their relationship. Like, even if you think about the canon (which is rich coming from me), Finland is always clarifying that he's not affiliated with Sweden in a romantic sense while simultaneously defending everything Sweden does, telling everyone that they have misunderstood his sensitive persona. And Sweden silently suffers on the side, not wanting to push his boundaries or make Finland uncomfortable. 

But I don't want to make it seem like they don't get along - they absolutely do! Maybe being ridiculously close at times, communicating almost telepathically at this point. Not to mention their vast cooperation in work-related settings. So, whether or not Finland wants to create some distance - he can't. He always finds himself glued to Sweden's side, looking for warmth. And no matter how much Finland's competitiveness tires Sweden, he can't help but admire the persistence. Maybe they're one of the things they both actually deep down like about each other; who knows. There are no hard feelings between these two, though sometimes, the old pain and confusion might pop up in unexpected situations. But in the end, they always work through it.

I think that Finland does legitimately love Sweden, but due to their shared history, he gets uncomfortable with how others might view their relationship. It would be fine if it were literally anyone else than Sweden he had these feelings for. I can see them having some kind of romantic relationship, but it would be very private and a topic they don't like publically discussing. That doesn't mean they're the best at hiding it, though.

Anyway, that's how I view it. I have to say, I do like SuFin as a ship nowadays. It's cute! And a source of endless possibilities. I just don't like reducing Finland and Sweden to "the married couple," especially when my blog is about all of the Nordics. There is so much more to discuss about these two, so many sides people rarely explore. That's why I like to focus on their lives and personalities outside of their romantic relationship. It could also be because I'm not a passionate shipper overall. Or because it's hard to find non-SuFin content out there. But, even with that said, exploring SuFin from time to time is fine. Discussing headcanons for them is fine! They're allowed to exist as a ship in this blog. But I don't want it to be the only thing they're defined by. Let them have a life outside of each other! <3

#hws sweden #hws finland #sufin #headcanons #culture/history stuff #nordickies nationverse au

[bluheaven-adw]

WATCH THE WHOLE THING! Trust me 😏

It's here!!!!!!! I hope this was worth the wait :)

Images and information on a DTIYS below the jump!

This first bit of this might be familiar as it's been posted before. New stuff added at end!

Dark Excalibur Au

Everything happens exactly the same up to then very end of Wizards. The only difference being Jim is able to pull Excalibur then, on his own, making him Nimue's champion. Nimue grants him his crown and restores the trollhunter amulet to him. (Sorry Douxie and Krel, you'll get your time to shine later).. this is when Excalibur's aesthetic changes.

While Jim is 100% human now, he's not without after effects from being a troll. Not much physically (a bit stronger and faster), but personality wise... he's a bit more feral, confident, not really any trace of his former anxieties (except when it comes to Claire). He's not without fear (we don't need gritshaka Jim here...) but has mastery over it. Sometimes he can get a bit more... chaotic and temperamental... than before, but despite that, he's still Jim to his core. Despite all that he's been through, he's still ultimately kind, pure of heart, always tries to do the right thing, fiercely protective of those he loves.... as Blinky put it, a man of honor, courage and valor.

He's stopped fighting his destiny and stepped into it fully instead.

To quote Sakon...

Jim's problem has always been that he cares too much, and the anger inside him burns against the injustice of the world. It's Jim against the world, and the world /will move.

He still has way to much in the self sacrificial department…... but usually remembers that he has a team... literally the roundtable... a wizard, a sorceress... and a literal goddess….. backing him up.

START OF NEW:

You'll notice the blade is whole, not just repaired. Nimue, who for obvious reasons, is not a fan of merlin or arthur... originally only repaired Excalibur's blade instead of healing it. The fractures remained as a check on its power.. kind of like a short circuit. Jim gets no such hobbling. He's entrusted with Excalibur's full power. And if Sakon will allow me to borrow again, his check is in the gem in his crown, but it's only temporary as he learns to control Excalibur's power, and his newfound station and abilities... just a bit of a reminder, but one he rarely, if ever, needs.

There is no incantation on the amulet. It's not needed anymore. All Jim needs to do is think it, and it's there. Excalibur is not tied to the amulet like Daylight was. He can use it without the armor, or dematerialize it if wanted. The armor has two forms, much like Daylight and Eclipse, the 2nd is only a thought away. Normally a steely blue grey, it can shift to black, and if Jim really leans into the power of Excalibur then the whole thing, from crown to blade, turns pitch and lights up. There's so much magic running through him from the sword that his eyes glow with it.

Someone on IG asked if the Dark/Feral bits denoted corruption or Jim gone rogue. The Dark just denotes the color change for Excalibur. No corruption! It's just rockin the black instead of gold. As for feral.... in the sense that he's a tad more aggressive, more willing to finish the fight so to speak. He's got a little wildness, a little otherworldly magic, to him (not in the sense that he's a wizard, just that he's got the magic of Excalibur and being goddess touched).

Now, for the DTIYS!

Rules are

Draw it in your style!

Please no tracing, I want to see what you come up with

Use #DarkExcaliburDTIYS when you post!

Tag me and I will share

Please out a copy of my original art in your post

This will run until June 1

I will pick my top 3 across all platforms

There will be prizes, I just have no clue what lol.

I will link a folder filled with references for you to use! From the armor, to color keys (whenever tumblr lets me paste the stupid link 😡

Have fun!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#jim lake jr #tales of arcadia #dark excalibur #dark excalibur au #darkexcaliburDTIYS #trollhunters #toa #toa fanart #wizards toa #toa wizards #wizards tales of arcadia #rott #toa rise of the titans #rise of the titans #trollhunters fanart #james lake junior #james lake jr

[cesiousblue]

Hey I really hate to ask for help, but if you have anything to spare I would really appreciate the help. It's been catastrophe after catastrophe lately and me and my family are having a rough time. (Further explanation at the end of the post)

If you can't help, please reblog!

My ko-fi is at https://ko-fi.com/cesiousblue and I also have pay-what-you want phone backgrounds/a fun art practice guide, and commissions starting at 15 bucks.

Further explanation of the situation:

My whole life has been an ongoing catastrophe lately and I feel like i am really helpless. My dad's wife has brain damage/ is in the hospital and he's got low mobility and a roach infested house. They live like an eight hour drive away and we have no money so I'm having to take money from my transphobic brother to stay in a hotel, and I have four days there to try to solve like six months of problems without the resources to do so.

We're already in debt and i am deeply aware of just how much time I have to try to turn things around for myself, too. I need to find a new online job I can actually do but the rest of everything has been so overwhelming I haven't really had time or brains pace to do it.

Also I have been trying to get a dentist appointment at a place that will bill medi-cal because I ground my teeth so hard I cracked a molar.

(If several ppl weren't depending on me I think I'd just go crawl into a bog and never return)

A little update 3/16:

We're heading up to my dad's tomorrow and the new plan is to try to get him to come back down with us. He doesn't seem like he can live on his own. And until we can figure out how to get him help here it's just gonna be me and my mom taking care of him.

(The good news is I went to a different dentist and I guess the first one straight up lied to me and all I did was chip a tooth in the back. I'll need a filling but that's not as bad as I thought)

Donations/ comms/ shop purchases still definitely needed! If we CAN convince him to come with us, It'd be nice if we could get a bed or something here so I don't have to start sleeping on an air mattress

#I fucking hate doing this but I really don't know what else to do at this point #cesiousblue

[chouchinobake]

P4 roommates!au hcs

since we're getting a season 4, i wanted to celebrate with hcs i had in my notes for quite some time but never posted :') i'm so excited to see my babies gjfjgkdkd 2024 is gonna be a hell of a year

・bathroom shelves sharing : 40% gregory's make up tools, 40% edgar's shampoos, 20% lawrence and herman's basic stuff

・edgar takes way too long in the bathroom it's criminal

・"tHis cAsTLe iS in UnAcCePtAbLe cOnDiTiOn" — lawrence every 3hours

・gregory lets his art supplies lay literally everywhere in the apartment. eventually the others got tired of telling him to tidy the space and got along with it

・movie night every saturday

・ they all agree on dead poets society to be the Sacred One™

・and disney. they like disney.

・edgar is the official driver since Lawrence drives like an eighty year old, herman has no chill and Gregory doesn't have his driving license

・they go to the library all together at least once every two weeks. they're well known and appreciated by the librarians

・that weird period of time no one is allowed to talk about is when ed and law flirted so hard and yet so obliviously it became awkward for the whole flat-share

・herman and gregory are like kids when halloween is coming. they're the once who put on decorations and buy candies. they even go for a candy tour on 31st. law and ed are tired parents

・they all have such different music tastes their common playlist is a huge mess

・they all agree on classic, jazz and slow rock tho

・ed and law insisted on having an entire wall covered with book shelves. they were the happiest when it happened. precious moment

・gregory is the medic. and he's also the one that gets sick the easiest. beat that logic

・gregory somehow managed to convert the others to billie eilish

・herman is basically bob the builder, when there is a problem in the flat he's in charge

・they just randomly welcome lost pets until their owner shows up

・herman often cooks for them four, he likes to make his friends eat some healthy food

・gregory can listen to the most cheering up sped up tiktok remix songs ever created with a completely straight face

i can't wait to see them on screen, they're so precious <3

#yes in my head law and ed are totally canon #they just click y'know #gregory's my baby i love him #black butler #kuroshitsuji #p4 black butler #perfect 4 #weston college #herman greenhill #gregory violet #lawrence bluewer #edgar redmond #sebastian michaelis #ciel phantomhive #black butler headcanons #kuroshitsuji headcanons

[talesofsonicasura]

Persona 5: Phantom Cat

An idea that plagued me ever since I saw Poppy Playtime Chapter 3 and been playing Persona 5 Royal. Joker but he's a Bigger Bodies CatNap. Things are gonna go insane and have a new flavor of dark.

For those who want to learn more about Poppy Playtime before delving in, this post has all the current info links.

Ren Amamiya was an orphan raised in the Playcare orphanage at Playtime Co. A secondary candidate for the Catnap Bigger Bodies experiments if one were to be found too unstable to use(looks at Ch3 CatNap). It's clear from the various VHS tapes which can be found throughout the chapter that there are some workers who been aware about the horrors done in Playtime Co.

People who absolutely hated it or disagree with such inhumane idealism. One particular scientist decides to do something unheard of: allow a child experiment to escape. Ren being the chosen person as they had grown close to him but were unable to adopt him in time before experimentation. The transformation for the boy gone faulty which led to a more unorthodox method of conversion.

Ren was made into a small Catnap who will overtime grow into a Bigger Bodies version. The perfect size for the scientist to sneak him out in a duffle bag and vanish after work was done for today. A simple swap with a normal Catnap toy.

No one knew they were in the process of moving to Japan nor the truth until it was too late. An experiment has gotten out into the real world. The scientist alongside the recently converted Ren were unaware about the growth process and thought he been made into a normal toy.

A mistake that became noticed when Ren had double in size within a span of two weeks. Despite this new problem, the scientist did his best to raise the boy. Unlike the other CatNap, Ren is completely different from the Smiling Critters as a whole.

His face isn't a stuck in a perpetual grin and he can make various facial expressions like his cartoon counterpart. Ren is around 12 years old when he fully grew into his staggering 23 ft tall Bigger Body. Long lanky body that is more lean has an almost humanlike upper torso. Well if they got extra long limbs.

The youth can easily pretend to be a toy as he's well fed and the healthy weight hides his bone structure. (CH3 CatNap was starved.) Ren can compress his body to 11 ft at minimum for the moment. He needs to train in order to shrink to the size of a plush, even more to reach rat size(thank Shido's Palace.)

(Comparison Bigger Bodies Catnap and the small toy alongside the cartoon art)

Ren doesn't produce Red Smoke but instead normal choloform. This is because he would be upgraded once reaching full size back at Playcare under The Doctor's orders. A safe measure to not deal with two rogue Red Smoke spraying CatNaps.

He didn't have a voice box added as the employees involved in this experiment rather leave him mute. Ren does get one from his rescuer which sounds like his own voice but can be adjusted to fit his age. Despite being a Bigger Body the youth lives a very happy life.

A few weeks after Ren's thirteenth birthday is when tragedy struck. The boy lost his parent from the result of a drunk driver(Shido.) Ren is forced to pack up all his prizes possessions and leave knowing their family home would soon be foreclosed.

He moves into Yogen-jaya as the place was the closest, most rural but most importantly least populated area. Ren survived by eating whatever food people threw out and stealing from homes if desperate. On one fateful day, he breaks into Sojiro's place where meets Futaba.

She was obviously frightened by the 11 ft (compressed) monstrous cat in her house. Until Futaba notices that the strange creature acted more like a hungry skittish feline from the almost empty messy fridge. It was in that moment Futaba would do something insane. She let Ren stay with her.

Using her hacking skills, the youth stole money from people's bank accounts/cards and ordered Ren food to pick up in secluded spots throughout the neighborhood. The duo's bond becoming that of siblings over time. Although it didn't take long for Sojiro to bump into Ren.

He was super concerned and frightened to see the giant feline in his home even when Futaba jump into his defense. It took awhile before Sojiro trusted Ren as he let the Bigger Body stay due to the sibling bond with his adopted daughter. The two were obviously disgusted at Playtime Co once they heard about the boy's backstory.

For those wondering, this entire thing did change events in the Persona 5 main story. The first being the Phantom Thieves line up. Makoto takes Ren's position as she was taken into Kamoshida's Palace alongside Ryuji in his place. He becomes leader much later.

Next is the Palace lineup. There are no time limits for the first two(no expulsion threat nor Medjed threat. Makoto kept Ryuji from losing his cool for the former.) Futaba's Palace takes the second slot instead of Madarame. The reason being her mental attacks have gotten so worse that Ren sought the Phantom Thieves' help upon finding the Phansite. Futaba was rightfully upset upon finding out but she understood her big brother's worry.

A few depictions of Ren can be found inside her Egyptian Themed Palace, each showing him as a guardian deity. Even Shadow Futaba carries a little charm that looks like him. Ren also awakens Arseńe in this very Palace. His Phantom Thief outfit remains the same but can stretch or shrink to fit his body no matter the size change. Same goes for his weapons, the knife becoming a broadsword when large and the handgun into a grenade launcher.

The current Phantom Thieves absolutely freaked out when they first met Ren. For the beginning, he gave them the request and the keywords to reach her Palace. However Ren wasn't aware that a new obstacle had manifested due to his powerful bond with Futaba.

A stone Sphinx at the halfway point who will only let them through if they present the 'The Pharaoh's True Guardian'. The group believe they needed a plush which is sorta correct. I thought it be funny yet perfect symbolism to make Ren a key companion for Futaba's Palace. Now onto the Joker changes.

Ren is still a Wildcard but he has no access to his original Velvet Room. Keyword being 'original' for he'll gain usage to a completely different one. This one being managed by Margaret who been concerned about the strange behavior of Igor and Lavenza's absence.

Ren's appearance in the Velvet Room is his canon iteration. Although this room takes the appearance of a fun house with him wearing a Catnap hooded costume. Every mechanic in the Velvet Room revolves around carnival rides or game booths.

Fusion are the tea cup rides while Fusion Alarm shifts into Bumper Cars. Itemization is a the Disappearing Crate magic trick. Strengthening results in the Hall of Mirrors. Training being various games from tossing to dunk tanks.

I will be going over the Confidants, Thieves' Den and the other Persona 5 games in a different post as this is getting pretty long. That's it for now! Until next time folks, I'll see you later.

#sonicasura #tales of sonicasura #persona series #persona 5 #persona 5 series #persona 5 royal #persona 5 tactica #persona 5 scramble #ren amamiya #persona joker #persona 5 joker #p5 joker #futaba sakura #persona 5 futaba #p5 #p5r #p5s #p5t #poppy playtime #catnap #poppy playtime chapter 3 #smiling critters #poppy playtime catnap #persona 5 phantom cat #persona au

[analligatorr]

opinion on the porcelain Graves skin???? I don’t hate it but I’m mad it’ll take another year or more until we get another one and porcelain is such a boring theme. Stick him in an interesting skin line for once riot.

Sincerely? I tried to like this skin, I really tried, but.. :/

Well, on twitter I compared Porcelain Graves with the WR exclusive skin Dragon Lantern Graves (not the special edition) I'll transcribe it here.

Let's start with splasharts. Wild Rift's Splash arts are generally criticized, many times I don't agree, some of them are of even higher quality than those of League, which is the case of Dragon Lantern Graves. Even though it's not Graves' best splash, or the best skinline splash, it's pretty and pleasant, my only criticism is that it's a little too static, there's not much movement

the Graves porcelain splash has some problems, at first glance it is.. pretty, but whenever you look at it, there seems to be something wrong, it really is a strange splash, and it's not the fault of the artist who made it.

Porcelain Graves Splash Concepts by Santiago Parra

in the end, they(riot) decided to increase the proportions and add a lot of texture, to achieve this result, so... yeah, it's not the best splash. but it's pretty

Dragon Lantern: 1

Porcelain: 0

About the VFX, let's be honest, they tend to do something very mediocre with Graves when it comes to visual effects, apart from his legendary skin (which it would be stupid of them to do something too simple) Graves' recent epic skins haven't received as much love.

Even though the Dragon Lantern skin has basically the same sounds as the base skin (i guess) the quality of the VFX is absurdly good (better than his legendary if you allow me to say). The Porcelain one.. is... mediocre.. ofc they couldn't put something cool like Lux and Lissandra's skins, right?

I can't post more than one video in a post, so here are the links so you can see the difference between the VFX of Dragon Lantern Graves and Porcelain Graves.

Dragon Lantern: 2

Porcelain: 0

Ok, let's get to the part that irritated me the most. The narrative..

Yes, we agree that Graves is not a big "important" character in Runeterra, he is not there to be a protagonist. That doesn't mean he can't cause real chaos, and set Bilgewater on fire just in an attempt to get revenge on his current partner. Why did I bring this up? because it is absurd to portray Graves as a pathetic and irrelevant character.

With that in mind, read Porcelain Graves' bio:

Not long after gunpowder was invented, the Zodiac searched for a new protector of the Dragon Relic. Though ancient and wise, the gods struggled to find someone worthy, so they settled for Malcolm Graves. Eventually his expertise in firepower was pointed in the right direction (away from all the breakable vases)

It's ridiculous, don't you think?

They are so fond of abusing the fact that Graves is, in some ways, a comic relief, that they make him the real joke, to the exclusion of everything else about him, and making him "unworthy". It's like they're saying "ugh, should this guy really be here? Who called him?". Whoever wrote the narrative of porcelain skinline seems to hate him, for real..

Now let's go to Dragon Lantern Graves' bio:

Graves, a free-spirited mercenary from a foreign land, can hardly wait to join in the fun at the gala. For this burly maverick, harmless ol' lanterns are no more than impractical ornaments—he much prefers filling up massive dragonflame cannons and setting the night sky ablaze with 'em booming explosions and dazzling lights!

1000% better, right? It's almost a delight. It's fun, brings out a little of who he is, and doesn't degrade his image :D

Dragon Lantern: 3

Porcelain: 0

AND WE HAVE A WINNER

#gator talks #malcolm graves #porcelain graves #dragon lantern graves #i don't even like DL skin that much. his hair is horrible #analysis #league of legends #wild rift #riot being a bitch #graves

[thefinalcinderella]

Tsurune Book 3 Chapter 5 - Declaration (Part 1)

whoa it's been more than a month since i posted here

anyways masamina fans come get ur food

Glossary here

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

The original Japanese is "生者必滅、会者定離", which contains the characters for kai and hanare

These are all traditional Japanese wind instruments

Takamagahara is the home of the gods in Shintoism

An imina is the real name of a noble or deceased person

Previous | Next

The light rain was falling onto their kyudo raincoats.

Minato and Shuu were visiting the kyudojo where Saionji had taught them when they were young. It was the perfect place for intensive training as they could avoid the public eye. But something unexpected happened.

“Please let us join the Saionji school,” the twins Senichi and Manji said.

“I as well. I would very much like to learn from the master of the Saionji school of kyudo,” Seiya said after them.

Saionji’s eyes crinkled into a smile. “Oh my, you are all being very dramatic, aren’t you? I don’t have such a sign put up, though. Do you have the approval of your current teachers?”

“Yes, there is no problem.” “Please let us become your disciples.” “Please.” The three refused to budge, their heads bowed. Saionji laughed aloud as he looked at the three round heads lined up.

“I’m not taking any disciples, but let us draw our bows together. It’s a pleasure to have more companions. I welcome you all.”

Seiya bowed deeply, and Senichi and Manji pumped their fists.

First, they swept, sang prayers, read sutras, meditated for three minutes, and did warm-up exercises. Then, Saionji told them to do these things at home next time.

“It has been a long time since I’ve held a bow in front of people, but Fujiwara-kun asked me to do it, so I had no choice but to accept it. Please watch my shooting.”

Saionji went before the targets with four arrows. He raised his bow up high. His eyes were half-closed, similar to the Buddha’s meditative state. The genuine article couldn’t hide his brilliance even when he became old. The rain hid the scenery that should have been visible, even erasing the sounds of people that should have been audible.

The drawn bow overflowed with joy and begged him not to let go yet. The kyudo terms “kai” and “hanare” came from the Last Teaching of the Buddha, “Death is the doom of every living thing, those who meet must part.” (1) The truth that no one could overturn, and a proud statement of will by the archer who accepted his mortality but never stopped walking. The bow and archer were together until the very end.

When the arrow landed at twelve o’clock, just before the target frame, Senichi and Manji let out cries of admiration.

The second arrow landed at six o’clock, also right before the target frame.

The third shot hit the target at nine o’clock, near the target frame once again. At this point, Seiya’s body was trembling. “N-No way,” Senichi and Manji muttered. Shuu and Minato were silent.

For the last shot, Saionji hit the target at three o’clock, the arrow just grazing the target frame.

Minato went to collect the arrows. Meanwhile, Senichi and Manji were still extremely excited.

“It’s difficult just to hit the target, but to hit the target in different directions!? That’s superhuman!”

Unusually, Shuu showed emotion on his face. That was no wonder, since his master granted his disciple’s wish. He was intoxicated with this greatest luxury.

“Aim at the target without aiming, while having the skill to hit the spots he’s aiming at. After personifying a hundred shots, he aims for even higher peaks. Awa-hanshi from Zen in the Art of Archery was able to do the same thing, apparently. I feel incredibly fortunate to be able to be in this miraculous place.”

“As expected of Shuu’s master. I got goosebumps.”

“It feels like a legend becoming truth, and truth becoming myth.”

Senichi and Manji were speaking enthusiastically, but Seiya felt something like despair.

“I’ve heard about it, but when I actually see it with my own eyes, it just makes me realize how weak I am. No matter how much I practice, I don’t think I’ll ever reach that level.”

When Minato returned from arrow collecting, the five of them sat in front of Saionji.

“My earlier shots are improper, so please don’t copy them. The way of the bow is about perfecting one’s personality and uniting with nature. It is not about hitting a target with arrows. It would be difficult to suddenly free your mind from obstructive thoughts, so the first step is to visualize good form. Believe in yourself and love yourself wholly even if you are hopeless. Then verbalize ‘I can do it’ and fix that into your brain. Your brain will faithfully respond to your words and send commands to each part of your body. If you change your thinking, your body will also change.”

Shuu added, “This is an easy-to-understand example of the placebo effect. If you take a simple nutritional supplement after hearing that it’s ‘medicine,’ your symptoms would recover or be alleviated. It has been medically proven that the expectation or pleasure of a drug activates the part of the brain that boosts the immune system.”

“That’s right. And if we go one step further and follow the voice of our inner soul rather than the voice of our brain, the powers we have as living beings will begin to function. Saying ‘keep at it’ with your heart even when your body is tired will only create an estrangement. Your soul should be telling you that it wants to rest.”

“So, you’re saying that the words uttered by the body, mind, and soul should be the same.”

“We are immature creatures who have not yet matured as humans. It could also be interpreted as saying that we still have room to grow. When we learn to listen to the voices of our inner souls, good situations naturally follow.”

Then, they let out yagoe.

As soon as they released their arrows, they let out a powerful “Yah!”

Minato and Shuu roared without hesitation. It was a lion’s roar. In the other martial arts kendo and judo, one shouted kiai, but this technique had somehow disappeared in kyudo. Seiya, unused to it, was reserved, but Senichi and Manji shouted without hesitation.

“Whoa, this actually feels good.”

Saionji observed everyone’s shooting forms.

“Keep stretching, keep stretching. Yes, that’s perfect.”

“When you reach daisan, your right elbow will remain tense. At kai, the bow hand and sword hand twist, as though wringing a rag.”

They also practiced stretching out their arms and lightly gripping the pillars, then twist their elbows without moving their hands.

After finishing two hours of practice, Minato took out his bento box.

There was takoyaki inside.

“There might not be enough since it was intended for three people. Shuu is around here.”///

Senichi and Manji were glued to Shuu.

“It’s kinda refreshing to see Shuu eating takoyaki in his kyudo clothes.”

“Sen, Man, if you’re not going to eat them, then I’ll have them.”

“Hey, wait, we’re eating them! What, this is really good.”

“They seem to contain the Narumiya family’s secret ingredients.”

“No wonder Shuu loves takoyaki.”

Senichi and Manji devoured them in no time, and Shuu, who was trying to enjoy them thoroughly, stared at the empty bento box.

When they were about to head home, Saionji stopped Minato and Shuu, and asked Seiya, Senichi, and Manji to return home first.

The rain had stopped before they knew it.

The azaleas withstood the weight of their wet petals.

On the scarred floor of the dojo, the long shadows of one man and two boys faced each other.

The sun tilted to the west, dyeing the horizon red, and the sky became a river of deep blue and madder. Purple-tinged clouds dyed by two-colored light flowed slowly along the river. The clouds constantly changed their expressions as they drifted, never remaining in the same shape. Everything returned to the mother sea.

The setting sun gave off its last rays behind Saionji’s shoulders.

“The statute of limitations has already expired. I was hiding something from both of you. In actuality, I told Narumiya-kun’s mother that he was drawing a bow under my tutelage. After the accident, Fujiwara-kun was saddened by the fact that he wasn’t informed of anything. It was a foolish act on my part. I apologize.”

Shuu was ashamed.

“Since Saionji-sensei didn’t say anything, I thought that there must have been some sort of deep reason behind it. I also knew that it wasn’t as though Minato had suddenly lost interest in kyudo.”

Saionji looked into Minato’s eyes and continued.

“Narumiya-kun’s mother once watched a match that you and Fujiwara-kun were in. She told me that she cheered for you both. The promise that you made with your mother has already been fulfilled. Please be rest assured.”

“…Yes, thank you.”

Shuu put his hand on Minato’s shoulder. A faint vibration was felt.

“I guess it was bad of me to keep things a secret… After the accident, I distanced myself from the kyudojo and didn’t contact anyone. Because of that, I made Shuu worry as well. I’m sorry, Shuu.”

“I understand, there’s no problem. I’m glad that your mom was able to watch your shooting.”

He responded by lightly patting Shuu’s hand on his shoulder. Afterwards, something spilled over and wetted his hakama.

Around that time, Kuon, a first-year from Kirisaki, was stretching his legs on a chair. He was watching the footage of the yabusame competition that took place the other day on his phone.

“Fujiwara-senpai, how beautiful you are. In comparisons, how impudent that commoner is!”

On the screen was Minato answering interview questions. Kuon tossed his phone onto the side chair and grabbed several pages of documents.

This was the report from the detective agency.

“Narumiya Minato, born on December 21. Graduated from Kotonoha Elementary School, graduated from Kirisaki Middle School, has a medical history… What, he has such an obvious weakness? This might be useful.”

Kuon uncrossed his legs and stood up. He called for a maid.

“Give this detective his completion bonus. Also, tell him that there are additional requests. The others are incompetent, so keep them out of my sight.”

“Yes, sir.”

When the maid left, the corner of Kuon’s mouth raised.

The sound of a flute resounded through Yata Shrine.

Gagaku music was being performed to the members of the Kazemai kyudo club, who were gathered in the front shrine. Minato and the others, sitting in seiza, waited impatiently for the moment when the performance would begin.

Gagaku was a form of Japanese classical music, and was a unique art that combines traditional Japanese music and dance with music introduced from the continent. It boasted a history of more than 1,200 years, and many people might have heard it at hatsumode or Shinto wedding ceremonies.

The performers were Masa-san, Ren, and Masa-san’s mother. Masa-san’s mother was in charge of the main melody and played the hichiriki, Masa-san played the shou, and Ren played the ryuuteki. (2) They were all made from bamboo. The hichiriki, shou, and ryuuteki were called the “three pipes,” and the taiko, kakko, and shouko were called the “three drums.” The wagon and biwa were also included at times.

The shou represented the sound of heaven, the light that shined from heaven. The ryuuteki was the sound of the sky, the cry of a dragon that rushed between heaven and earth freely. The hichiriki was said to express the sounds of the earth and the voices of the people, and it was believed that by playing these instruments together, it was possible to create the universe.

“I’ve heard that Western music adopts the rhythm of the heartbeat, and Japanese classical music adopts the rhythm of breathing,” Keyaki whispered to Kanbayashi.

“It’s truly elegant music. It sounds like the divine voice of heaven, or the voice of the sobbing dead.”

Ryouhei and Nanao also joined the conversation.

“It’s not the dead, it’s a cute dragon. Pyuu, hyororororo.”

“That’s the sound of a water whistle. Isn’t it more like fuaan, kyuu, bobobobobobo?”

A shadow descended over Kaito’s face.

“You guys talk too much. Shut up and listen.”

The three girls decided not to listen to the boys’ innocent conversations.

After the performance was finished, Minato ran to the performers.

“Masa-san, may I ask you a question?”

“Is it about the priesthood stuff from the other day?”

“No, that’s not it. A long time ago, I read an explanation book on the ‘Heart Sutra’ after Saionji-sensei told me that I didn’t study hard enough, but there’s a part that I was confused about.”

In Buddhism, there were the “six sense organs,” the “six objective fields of the senses,” and the “six consciousnesses.” All together, they were called the “eighteen components of perception.”

The “six sense organs” were the sense organs humans were equipped with—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind.

The “six objective fields of the senses” were the objects of perception—color, sound, scent, taste, touch, and mental presentation.

 The “six consciousnesses” were the perception that arose from the six sense organs perceiving the six objective fields of the senses—seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching, and reasoning.

“The Buddha gave words to the materials and phenomena of this world, classifying them in detail. He also taught that we should abandon our obsessions. But the Heart Sutra says that the organ called the ‘eye’ perceived ‘color’ and perceived it as ‘beautiful.’ So, it’s saying that all of this is just an illusion, right?”

“Yeah, that’s probably the most common interpretation.”

“I also found it strange that the sixth of the six sense organs was translated as ‘mind.’ The others are names of parts of the body, so why is the sixth one different?”

“I can’t answer that right away due to my lack of study, but I think that what the Heart Sutra was trying to convey wasn’t so much the first half, the empty mind, but the second half. If I were the writer, I would put the important points in the conclusion.”

“The ending is an incantation, right? ‘Let’s all chant it together,’ like that. I thought the theme of the Heart Sutra was to learn the truth and wisdom of the universe, wasn’t it?”

“If you cannot attain enlightenment unless you give up earthly desires, then most people would be unable to reach this state. Because wanting to save people is also greed. Heaven wouldn’t give to man useless things. Kukai taught that the desire for food, sleep, excretion, and sex, are all of the status of a Buddha. If the desire to eat and sleep disappear, the survival of living beings is in danger. The Buddhist teaching to abandon greed means ‘do not covet, do not go too far.’”

Ren, who was listening nearby, laughed lightly.

“Archers have to learn Buddhism too? Sounds busy. Sorry to interrupt, but I think it’s time to call it a night. Masaki, you have another errand to do, don’t you?”

“Yeah, got it. Sorry, Minato, next time.”

Masa-san hurriedly left the scene. The other members were also preparing to go home. Minato realized that he was the only one left behind and was about to follow everyone else.

Suddenly, he felt something like an electric current near his shoulder blade. He turned around and saw Ren with one finger outstretched.

“You’re a sensitive person, aren’t you?”

“Huh?”

“I just put my fingers on your back and sent some qi. Is your sensitivity hereditary? Does it run in your family? Actually, Masaki is also sensitive, even more so than me. He can see and hear all sorts of things. Minato-kun, what is the color of the outside lights of Yata Shrine to you?”

“It’s usually rainbow-colored. I’d say the purple is deeper.”

“To most people, myself included, it only looks white or yellowish. You may be one of those people who don’t realize they have a strong connection to the gods, or in other words, nature. Since both of you are spiritually inclined, you should ask a lot of questions now. That guy may not be back for a while. And I don’t know if he’ll continue coaching at Kazemai.”

“…What?”

“It seems that he found something he couldn’t catch if he didn’t chase it now. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold him back.”

“What do you mean, you can’t hold him back?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Ren took off his eboshi hat and put it on Minato’s head, then turned on his heel.

As always, Ren did nothing but tease and didn’t talk about the important parts. To only drop hints and not inform him of anything was too malicious if he was doing this while knowing that it would cause him a lot of stress. It would be fine if it was good news, but that would transform into anger if it was a rejection email.

The sound of the gagaku music lingered in his ears, and the scar on his left side started to itch.

Minato stood there, holding the hat.

One Sunday, Minato was riding his bike.

He was taking a short trip to town to go shopping. He was buying daily necessities for the summer.

The wind caressing his neck felt comfortable. The sky was blue with rising clouds. Flowers were in full bloom in the gardens of the houses he passed, and he saw two cats sleeping snuggled together. A dragonfly was flying parallel to Minato’s speed, but he wondered how far it would follow.

After passing through the crowd, he parked his bike in front of a store. It was a casual clothing store. While looking at the suggestions for coordinated outfits, he proceeded to the department he was here for.

On the way there, someone called out his name.

“Minato?”

“Masa-san.”

“I saw a bike similar to yours in front of the store, but I didn’t think you would really be here. You came all the way here by bike? I thought your house is a long way from here.”

“I also just wanted to ride my bike. There’s a hole in my jeans. Which one do you think is better?”

“Let’s see, you look good in the classic indigo blue, straight-leg style. For the upcoming season, chino shorts would also look good.”

The two looked around the store. They separated for a while and then promised to meet up again at the exit.

Masa-san handed Minato a package.

“If you want, you can take this guy home too. I think it’ll go well with the jeans from earlier.”

“Huh? Oh, t-thanks. Um, actually, I also…”

Minato also held out a gift-wrapped package containing clothes. It was the exact same wrapping, only the color of the ribbon was different. Both people were momentarily speechless.

“We ended up exchanging gifts.”

“Haha, that’s right.”

“Thank you, I’ll try it on as soon as I get home. I’ve also bought some other stuff, so I’ll give them to the other Kazemai members tomorrow. Minato, are you free right now? You can come and pick up the book I was telling you about.”

“Oh, the book that wasn’t for sale.”

Masa-san had come by car, so they loaded Minato’s bike into the car, and Minato sat in the passenger seat. After a while, they arrived at the parking lot of a two-story apartment building. Masa-san’s apartment was a one-bedroom apartment, and it was built not long ago. When Minato first visited, he imagined that Masa-san was living in a four-and-a-half tatami room that was built over thirty years ago. “What kind of image do you have of me?” Masa-san had lamented. There were ornamental plants by the window, Scandinavian-patterned cushions on the couch, and a Shinto altar enshrined on the wall, as expected of a priest. Everything was neat and tidy, but Minato noticed a prescription bag in the corner of the kitchen. What was more, there was something sitting there that didn’t fit the season at all.

“Masa-san, the kotatsu…shouldn’t you be putting that away soon?”

“I was too lazy to clean the kotatsu futon, so I just left it there.”

Masa-san opened the closet and took out three cardboard boxes. He spread his arms out towards them, which looked heavy.

“Search to your heart’s content.”

“Were you tired of searching? Is that why you called me here? That’s what I thought. You’re so lazy.”

He found the book he was looking for when the box was almost empty. After putting it on the table, Minato and Masa-san sat down at the kotatsu facing each other. Their feet were touching, and they both laughed.

Minato was searching for a book titled The Archery Saint Awa Kenzou—The Representative of Heaven, Earth, and Nature by Sakurai Yasunosuke. It was published to commemorate the 120th anniversary of Awa Kenzou’s birth, so it was thick and heavy.

Masa-san slid his long fingertips over the cover, as though caressing something dear.

“Awa-hanshi’s words are difficult to understand unless you have a background in Buddhism, Shinto, or Confucianism, but this book explains the ‘path of shooting’ in detail. Beyond a hundred shots and hundred hits, there are the ‘one shot and expire’ and ‘shari misei.’ Shari misei refers to the inherent manifestation of someone’s inherent Buddha nature or divinity through archery. It involves letting go of negative emotions such as worry and anger, and it emphasizes dantian breathing. He even said that ‘Takamagahara is inside people’s stomachs.’” (3)

“Saionji-sensei told me once to listen to the voice in my stomach, not head. ‘One shot and expire’ is the teaching of ‘you died with a single shot. Now, become a newborn baby.’ So, I wonder if shari misei is growing even further from a baby.”

“In fact, the hundred shot-hundred hit level is the lowest of the five stages called ‘shakai,’ and it’s still at the entry level of ‘learning shooting.’ However, Awa-hanshi says that even if you don’t hit a hundred shots, you can still reach the realm of one shot and expire and shari misei. He also taught kyudo at high schools, and it’s said that he loved young people very much. When his disciples shoot with all their might, he would embrace them and cry with joy.”

“I’ll take my time to read it. …Um, Masa-san, Ren-san said something recently…”

“Did he say something again?”

“Um, something about your eyes.”

“Oh, my eyes are fine. Because I’m living in a place surrounded by so much greenery.”

“That’s right. I also grew up in the mountains.”

It was weird to forcefully ask someone about something they were keeping secret. Nothing was clear yet, so he was sure Masa-san would tell him if it was true.

Minato was about to return the book to where it was before and found another book at the bottom of the box. It was as though it was hidden away. He picked it up.

“There’s a name on this picture book. Maybe it got mixed up with someone else’s book? How do you read this?”

Minato was pointing at a name written in oil-based marker.

It read 玉守正樹.

“It’s ‘Tamamori Masaki.’ My old name.”

“Is it your old last name?”

“I changed it along with my first name. For me, my old name is a cursed name. I don’t really want to remember it.”

Masa-san had a bitter look on his face, which was unlike him.

Just like Ren the other day, these brothers had too many secrets. Minato didn’t care if he didn’t tell him the reason. But, it was too sad that he hated his own name.

“No, it isn’t, right? Iminas were used until the Meiji era, and they were important things that only the lord and his family knew about. The only time someone would tell it to another person is when they are proposing marriage.”*

“…Huh, that’s bad. Seiya would beat me up if he finds out about this. So, can I hear your answer?”

“Answer?”

“Your answer to my proposal.”

“Huh? I-I don’t get that kind of thing.”

“That kind of thing, huh…”

“I’ve never thought about that kind of thing.”

“You’re calling it ‘that kind of thing’ again.”

“You’re a terrible master.”

“Minato, you’re a surprising Urashima’s casket. I can’t even imagine what’s inside you.”

Masa-san chuckled. Apparently, Minato was being made fun of. Ugh, I seriously can’t win against this guy.

Minato stood up.

“I have to go home soon.”

“Shall I give you a ride?”

“It’s okay.”

When he pushed the doorknob, a gray sky spread out before him.

“Oh, it’s raining. I didn’t bring my raincoat today.”

“A rain that’s trying to prevent you from leaving, huh? Do you want some coffee?”

“Sure.”

Minato closed the door.

Previous | Next

#tsurune #tsurune translation

[cobaltswriting]

Character Essay: Snape

So, there are some characters that I have feelings about. Like, that I can see what the author was trying to do with them, but I also just... think they failed.

Unsurprisingly, two of these characters have to do with Harry Potter. Severus Snape, and Albus Dumbledore.

Yes, I know, J.K. Rowling is a terrible person and a TERF. But this is still something I wanna write about. And this is my blog. So... yeah. The Albus Dumbledore post might come later.

So, Severus Snape.

I’m gonna break this down into 3 big issues I have with the character. Which does definitely call into question the way Snape was written. And I'll even put it under a read more so any people who are pro-Snape for whatever reason don't have to read any further.

And yeah, this isn't going to be nice to Snape. Like, I've said it before, and I'll say it again, Albus Severus Potter should have been named Rubeus Remus. It is actually kind of a crime that he never named a child for Hagrid, considering Hagrid was literally the first person who was nice to him and introduced him to the Wizarding World. But I digress, let's get to the main subject of this essay.

1. Treatment of Students

We know why Snape treats Harry like shit. It doesn't make it ok, but I wanna talk about other students. Disregarding the favouritism towards his own house, we already come across a huge problem, that is also a problem with Dumbledore as well...

Snape's an abusive teacher.

Even if we disregard Snape's treatment of Harry, we have how he treats students like Neville, and insults leveled at students not within his house. Even the best Hermione, who is basically as close to a perfect student as we get, is simply ignored and passed over without a comment, and Neville... Hoo boy.

Like, I don't know the specific guidelines teachers are given that they're not allowed to cross, but Snape breaks almost all of them. Insults and abuse are hurled towards Neville constantly, even when he's in other classes, like him insulting Neville right in front of Lupin. And while I do like Lupin... Lupin just smiles at it. Nothing ever happens. Snape apparently never even gets told off about abusing his students. Hell, he yells at Hermione and Harry in front of the Minister for Magic in the 3rd book, and Fudge, while surprised, does nothing about it other than trying to calm Snape down.

Like, is abuse just... not a thing in the Wizarding World? This comes up in my thoughts about Dumbledore as well, beyond this, but...

If Snape was a teacher anywhere else, he would have been fired. Like, immediately. But he's just allowed to do so. Like, the closest thing to punishment he gets is that he's not allowed to teach Defence of the Dark arts until Harry's 6th year.

And just so we know this isn't the norm, let's look at another teacher... Minerva McGonagall.

She is the head of Gryffindor House (although I still think she should be a Ravenclaw. As should Hermione. BUT ANYWAY) but she does not favour her house. Excluding Quidditch, in which she supports her House's team, but that's a different thing, that's fine. Whereas Snape has probably never taken so much as a single point from Slytherin, she was responsible for the largest amount of points taken from Harry at one time, if I'm right. If not the largest amount, certainly the largest amount of points taken in the first book. She is also strict, but is also shown to be fair, and will compliment a student and praise them if they do well. She praises Hermione in their first class, because while Hermione did not entirely succeed, she did show godd progress for her first try. And while we do not see her compliment a student from another House, it can be assumed that it does happen.

This is how a teacher SHOULD be. They are there to nurture students, teach them, not abuse them and play favourites.

There are other teachers in Hogwarts, but Snape is the main one who abuses them. A case could be made for Barty Crouch (disguised as Mad-Eye Moody) abusing them, by putting them under the Imperius Curse) but considering he was a Death Eater, and was apparently doing it because Dumbledore wanted him to, we'll just... ignore him. I don't think it's too far from what Moody would actually do, although I don't like to think of Moody as abusive.

But yeah, Snape is very abusive of his students, to the point that the most positive thing he can really do towards a student that isn't from Slytherin is ignore them or say nothing. And abuse is a really fucking bad thing, in case you didn't know.

Let's move onto the next topic...

2. His 'love' of Lily Evans

Yeah, I put the love in quotation marks. Mainly because it... doesn't really read that much like love to me. I am aromantic, so that might have SOMETHING to do with it, but...

It just comes off more as a creepy sort of obsession than anything else. An obsession deep enough for him to have a doe as a patronus.

Like... let's start from the beginning. The first time we see Snape and Lily, Snape is spying on her and it's implied that he's been doing so for a little bit. Even though they're just kids, I'm pretty sure that counts as stalking. And then he makes a branch fall on Petunia when she insults them, which could have seriously injured her, depending on the size of the branch and where it hit her. It was enough to make Petunia cry at the least when it hit her shoulder.

Snape also encouraged Lily to steal letters from her sister and read them, when they found out that Petunia had written to Hogwarts. Although I guess that doesn't really come into the subject of his 'love' for Lily.

We also see that Snape is very... racist, I guess? Does the whole blood thing count as racist? Calling Lily a Mudblood, and then when he tries to apologise he can't even deny that if it was anyone but her, he would not apologise for it. So basically having different rules for her, which I guess could come into a love thing but the fact that he calls muggleborns Mudblood and yet 'loves' one comes out as... kinda fetishistic to me, I'm not gonna lie.

In the books we also have him desperate to protect her from Voldemort, crying when she's dead... And yet despite that, he is horribly abusive to her son, just because he looks like his father. And yet he does say that he wants to keep him safe, angry at Dumbledore when he finds out they've basically been raising him like a lamb to the slaughter. So apparently he's fine with possibly mentally scarring Harry, but killing him? Oh, that's just totally unforgivable!

You can point out various things across the books that Snape has done for Harry, but that doesn't change the fact that Snape is INCREDIBLY abusive to Harry, even moreso than he is to other students.

And then we have him taking part of Lily's letter, just because it had her signiture, and part of the photo that showed her in it, which just... always struck me as creepy. Stalker-ish. I dunno how to explain it any better than that.

And then, we have absolutely the creepiest part... him wanting Harry to look at him as he dies. Just so he can pretend that he's looking into Lily's eyes, probably. Which... yeah, that's just super creepy.

Like, I honestly cannot see it as romance at all. It just comes off as Snape having an obsession. It's even worse in the movies where he is shown cradling Lily's dead body against him and crying. Which normally wouldn't be that bad but with everything else on top of that... yeah.

This does bring us onto the last subject...

3. Snape's 'Redemption'

Snape's redemption is supposed to happen after his death. Here's the problem... he's one of the main examples about why J.K. is very poor when it comes to redeeming characters. Like, Draco could have been set up for a redemption, but he wasn't, as were his parents. Snape was set up for a redemption... and J.K. seems to think it was enough?

So, the main thing that is supposed to redeem Snape, that is meant to make us think he's ok... is showing us his past with Lily, and various discussions with Dumbledore. The whole sequence is for exposition and to try and make us think Snape is a good guy because he 'loved' Lily, and that was his motivation for everything good he did. Which, again, comes off as pretty obsessive.

Here's the thing though...

Snape abused Harry for 6 years of his life. He made Draco set a snake on him in his second year. He repeatedly broke into Harry's mind which seemed to end up having the opposite effect that Dumbledore wanted. Dumbledore even basically admits as much, saying that Snape was a poor choice for it, that he had hoped Snape would be able to see past his hatred of Harry's father. He refused to listen to anyone when it came to Sirius, refusing the possibility that Sirius might be innocent (until Dumbledore talked to him about it, probably), outed a colleague as a werewolf, which, considering the allergory J.K. was aiming for, was like outing a gay man, and made him resign from his job because he knew student's parents would be writing in to complain about it, so it essentially cost Lupin a job, which as we know, is already something that werewolves had problems with.

I do have issues with J.K.'s allergory of werewolves as homosexuals... but let's just say that one of the most notable werewolves, after Remus, was known for attacking and 'turning' children and leave it at that. It's not relevant to the topic at hand anyway.

Showing us that Snape did some things right, and that he 'loved' Lily... like, let's pretend that he did love Lily for a moment, and that it wasn't a creepy obsession.

... That still doesn't excuse the shit he did. It doesn't excuse the abuse at all. It doesn't redeem him from being a Death Eater. His only reason for wanting to save the Potter family was Lily.

Saving Harry's life in the first year by countering Quirrell's curse, and then acting as referee in the next match to protect Harry? That doesn't redeem the abuse that he inflicted upon Harry in the first year, let alone the rest of it.

Let's assume he had the best intentions in Prisoner of Azkaban, and he was interested in rescuing Harry, Ron and Hermione from Sirius. Although that is a HUGE assumption, all things considered... still doesn't redeem him.

Checking that Sirius was indeed at headquarters and then alerting them that Harry had gone to the Department of Mysteries to try and save Sirius when Sirius wasn't even there? Still doesn't redeem him.

None of the good things Snape does redeems him for the abuse he inflicted upon his students and especially Harry and Neville, and his love for Lily reads more like a creepy obsession.

J.K. tried to redeem Snape... and absolutely failed. Sometimes when you write a character, you need more than a single chapter to redeem them.

I'm not even sure if Snape was redeemable at all. Abusing children is a pretty fucking terrible thing. And I don't think it's even me being biased for being abused by a teacher, it's just unacceptable.

#anti snape #anti severus snape #Harry Potter #character essay

[ruibaozha]

Li Nezha, Protector of the Queer Youth in Taiwan. Part 1.

Hello Tumblr!

I have been hard at work assembling the first few posts for this blog, but I would like to start with something relatively lighthearted. Our topic for today is modern depictions of Li Nezha, or most specifically, Nezha as a queer icon in Taiwan.

In the interest of maintiaining a somewhat steady flow of posts, the original form of this post has been broken up. The following posts will expand on the points made here and additionally will discuss the impact of Nezha in the Taiwanese Queer Film scene and it's possible influence on Nezha (2019).

This is an unexpected angle, but one I dearly want to share. Please continue under 'keep reading' if this also interests you.

Before reading a handful of discomforting topics arise. There is mention of suicide in relation to the original myth, the concept of filial cannibalism in relation to the original myth, and discussion of the AIDS crisis.

I would first like to state that the cultural differences between Taiwan and Mainland China are not many, in several aspects they are the same - barring current geopolitical factors. Many fled Mainland China during 1949, a great deal settling in Taiwan. Naturally they brought their culture and worshipped deities with them, Nezha among the wide range of gods brought.

In more recent times the widespread popularity of Nezha in Taiwan is fascinating, though he may not have as many statues or dedicated temples, his ability to excite the younger generations is unmatched by the rest of his pantheon. Overall, Nezha ranks seventh most popular when measured by publicly available shrines or temples (1). But if we are to measure popularity based on the amount of statues that exist Nezha is only outnumbered by the earth-deity Tudi Gong (2). Thus it is understandable Nezha himself became a reflection of the interests of the youth, especially if one considers his image to be of someone unafraid to challenge authority and those that oppress you.

The idea of a queer Nezha is a fairly novel thing though. 1971 saw the publishing of 'Nezha in the Investiture of the Gods' or Fengshenbang li de Nezha (封神榜裡的哪吒) by Xi Song which served almost to fill in numerous gaps in his personality as well as add a more psychological aspect to his rebellion against his father. The novel introduces the father as extremely strict, his brothers envious of him, and a mother who loves but cannot understand him; our result is a deeply melancholic Nezha who frequently ponders the meanining of his own life (3).

Any semblance of homosexual tendency is largely absent until the end of the novel which coincides with the killing of Ao Bing in the original Canonization of the Gods. Nezha is bathing in the river here as well, except he sees Ao Bing through the water's surface. Nezha wants to reach through the water and hold him, and the two play together for a while before Nezha accidentally kills Ao Bing (4). Rather than be demanded to repent, the Nezha here punishes himself for the accident.

Many films concerning Nezha to this point focused more on martial arts spectacles rather than his temperament and personality. However 1992 saw the release of the film 'Rebels of the Neon God' by Tsai Mingliang, though not adapted from the Nezha origin story, concerns the problem of self-indulgent youth in modern society. Interestingly the Chinese title Qingshaonian Nezha (青少年哪吒), can be read two ways: Young Nezha or The Youth as Nezha.

His (Nezha's) name is mentioned three times over the course of the film. The first instance is when one of the youthful protagonist's (Xiaokang) mother is explaining to her husband their son is so misbehaved because he is the reincarnation of Nezha. The second is when two of the protagonists (Xiaokang and Ah Ze) enter a dispute, one of their motorbikes defaced with the phrase "Nezha was here". The final time is when these same protagonists are lamenting their poor luck and are instructed to worship Nezha.

Being a gay man himself it isn't surprising that the homoeroticism portrayed by Xiaokang is later elaborated upon in Mingliang's 'Vive l'amour' (1994) where the quiet Xiaokang is attracted hopelessly to the rowdy playboy character of Ah Rong, so much so that Xiaokang kisses Ah Rong without his knowledge. It concludes with Xiaokang and his father participating together in a dubious homoerotic setting together before recognizing each other in 'The River' (1997).

These films were released surrounding Tsai Mingliang's 1995 documentary about how the AIDS crisis was wracking Taiwan, and against the director's wishes, Mingliang focused heavily on the gay men the disease was affecting most in an attempt to dispel the misinformation about the disease itself and the gay men it was affecting. The previously mentioned 'Rebels of the Neon God' (1992) only featured one explicit mention of the AIDS crisis, Xiaokang vandalizes the side of Ah Ze's motorcycle in bright yellow paint "AIDS". This action is arguably an allegory of Xiaokang's repressed homosexual desires towards Ah Ze (5), the use of the HIV virus synonymous with homosexual engagement - despite it being well known in 1990's Taiwan that there were multiple modes of transmission.

Of course other interpretations of this scene exist, but for our purposes today, it is not only Xiaokang's projection of his own desires but a very literal representation of the idea of a 'contagion' - or the circumstances that draw previously unrelated individuals together. The vandalism of the motorcycle may also be seen in this light (6).

Is it worth drawing comparisons in assuming Xiaokang and all of his homoerotic tendencies is meant to be a stand-in for Nezha himself? I think so. The film (Rebels of the Neon God) presents numerous cases that enforce this idea if you are not yet convinced.

As previously mentioned Xiaokang's mother states that he is a reincarnation of Nezha, a conclusion she reached after seeing a fortune-teller and told as much. It is important to state that the original myth features a Nezha slicing his flesh open to return to his mother, and removed his bones to return them to his father. At first glance it appears to be a case of filial cannibalism (a post topic I am drafting) meant to strengthen the bond between parent and child - but the purpose within the myth is to sever that relationship completely. It can be argued this very literal severing helped bring Nezha into the hearts of the youth who were alienated.

Xiaokang's mother explains this to her husband upon arriving home, telling her husband that Nezha was said to hate his father Li Jing more than anything else, briefly mentions his surname to also be Li, and outright blames Nezha for Xiaokang's poor relationship with him. Upon overhearing this, Xiaokang pretends to be posessed by Nezha before his father launches a rice bowl at his head. The ambivalence of Nezha 'returning his flesh' seems to almost mirror the animosity Xiaokang and his father have throughout the film.

Even the English title 'Rebels of the Neon God' can be read as sharing homophonic resemblance to the name Nezha. 'Neon God' can be a rereading of 'Nezha' in that the first character of his name can also be pronounced as '-nai' which becomes an exact homophone for the Chinese term for neon, while the second character '-zha' is a suffix that plainly suggests deification.

To wrap up this post I would like to thank you for joining me on this foray of a more modern take on Nezha's significance, his overwhelming modernity carrying numerous modes of importance depending on where you are looking. He has not shed his origin myth, rather it informs how he is percieved more than ever - his severing of paternal ties no longer a case of an unfilial child but of someone standing up for themselves in the face of oppression. And it is perhaps this that makes him so attractive to both the young and old of Taiwan, all subjected to the terror and violence of the Chinese Communist Party.

Thank you once more, and I hope to see you again in part 2.

Citations:

(1) Li Fengmao, “Cong Nezha taizi dao Zhongtan yuanshuai: zhongyang-sifang siwei xiade hujing xiangzheng,” 41–43.

(2) Tsai Wentin, “Taitzu, the Child God,” 53–55.

(3) Xi Song, “Fengshenbang li de Nezha,” 209. A translated portion of Nezha's monologue here is as follows "Oh, Master, my birth is a mistake with no reason at all. Since my childhood, I have understood that I am reared by an overbearing mother and a father with much too high expectations. They seem to have never cared about my actual existence, but intenselyrestrain me with the correct direction of their thinking."

(4) Xi Song, “Fengshenbang li de Nezha,” 217.

(5) Ji Dawei, "Wo kan gu wo zai: chengzhang dianying yu shenfen rentong," 95-105. Dawei's 1996 examination is as follows. "Perhaps Xiaokang resents the fact that Ah Ze is sleeping with a woman, or perhaps he is cursing Ah Ze as homosexual, and thereby taking the identity he himself dislikes, and displacing it onto the figure of the Other. Xiaokang is not sexually active, and therefore he despises those who are and struggles to reject sex altogether. He is terrified he might become a homosexual, and therefore he first verbally attacks others, and then projects onto them the suspicion of homosexuality."

(6) Carlos Rojas, "Nezha Was Here": Structures of Dis/placement in Tsai Ming-liang's "Rebels of the Neon God", 76.

If timestamps for cinematic moments mentioned through this post are requested, I am happy to provide them.

#li nezha #nezha #lmk nezha #nezha reborn #the legend of nezha #nezha 2019 #dislyte nezha #queer history

[ravixen]

Hi aeris! I like your writing so much, I feel like I actually might have read everything on your blog hahaha! I was wondering, could you maybe write a youtuber!au for dino? Hope everything is going well for you :)

youtuber!chan

➔ au!ramble || request || youtuber!au

➔ warnings: none || 1056 words ➔ notes: fluff, slice of life ; oh, that's impressive! i have a lot of writing on this blog haha sorry for the wait! despite typing this up in january, i only post one new thing a week, so your request didn't get published until now. it makes for a more consistent schedule, but it definitely makes the wait longer </3 anyway, reblog if you liked!

i know including dino's danceology is such a cop-out, but he's so passionate about it that i feel like i have to include it. so his main content is a self-choreographed dance video that he uploads once a month

but it's also kind of a vlog channel where he challenges himself to learn from different dancers! he visits various studios and signs up for whatever class sounds interesting to him. to make it fun, he'll ask the person behind the desk to choose a random number

regardless of his familiarity, he gives his all and has so much fun doing it. occasionally, he'll come up to a classmate and have a quick chat with them about what got them into dance. viewers love hearing the stories

one person got into dance to get them out of the house. another is doing it because it was their best friend's dying wish. another has kids who are taking a dance class in the same building at the same time. someone else wants to impress their partner at their wedding next year. he just loves knowing that art can bring so many people together, regardless of the reasons

eventually, his channel does get popular. cute guy, infectious energy, fiery passion? it's just a recipe for success. unfortunately, this means that he does get recognized more often, and he likes the attention, but it does make classes harder for him

too many eyes on him, even if he's trying to stand in the back and hide his face with his hat pulled low. people edge away from him, not wanting to be compared to the talented dancer, intentional or otherwise

and the worst part of it is that, though people have been supportive about his dancing journey, he feels like he's That Guy now. the one who can be (and needs to be) perfect at whatever he does no matter what. he feels like he doesn't have the space or grace to fail in front of everyone anymore

so he announces a break on his channel and returns to his roots. it takes a while to find you because you've lost touch over the years, but when your friend says that you're at the childhood dance studio, he's elated. even after all these years, you're still there

only to find out that you're not there to dance...you work behind the scenes now, cleaning up the studios between classes because you've lost your passion for the art

he can't believe his ears when you tell him. you? you of all people? you were one of his best partners! you were amazing! a gem in the making!

"yeah, well." you give a bitter laugh, putting the mops back in the closet. "even glass shines under the light."

but your reasons run deeper than that. you want to get back into it — why else would you work part-time here, trying to surround yourself with people who have motivation to spare?

he decides that he's not going to trouble you with his own problems. instead, he's going to take your hand and jump headfirst into the dance world again

he doesn't start slow. the first place he takes you is a breaking competition/jam in the next town. it's noisy, it's packed, and honestly — it's perfect because everyone's losing their minds over the participants' threads and footwork

"you're lucky i didn't secretly sign you up!" he yells into your ear, one hand hovering around the small of your back and the other holding a plastic cup. the contents threaten to spill as you shoulder through the crowd for a better look

it's almost a complete 180 when, two days later, you're in the rickety chairs of your elementary school auditorium, watching kids stumble through a ballet recital. you lean over to snicker to chan, "remember when we got the tree parts?"

the parent next to you, phone up to record their baby, glares at the two of you until you shrink in your seats

his break was supposed to be two weeks long, but he also got a part-time job at your old dance studio and the weeks stretch by before he knows it. it's fun, though. catching up after all this time, turning on the music and being silly when you're supposed to be wiping down floors, racing to the convenience store to see who buys their favorite ice cream first

it's all — fine. until you're at some tango showcase and one of the audience members recognizes chan. honestly, he's surprised he's gone this far without being recognized (as conceited as that sounds). the stranger asks him if he's planning to go back to youtube at all, and you look at him, wide eyed, because he's never mentioned a channel this entire time? much less one that has so many subscribers that people are approaching him in public?

"i don't know," he laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "i've been busy."

but now that the topic has been brought up, the tables have turned. you binge a ton of his videos, often in front of him, and he's cringing at some of his early ones. back when he was too excited and didn't know how to edit. "it's character development!" you're yelling at him as you run away, phone on max volume

you're the one trying to get him to dance more, and it becomes this weird dynamic of pushing each other to get back into dancing and realizing that hey. that energy was inside me all along — i just forgot how to get it out without having someone here

because it's definitely possible to hone your craft by yourself, but finding yourself in community makes it so much more fun

"let's start off slow," you tell him. so he's just doing short dance challenges with you and posting them, which surprises viewers because

1) he's back after nearly three months of no communication

2) he's posting a lot and sporadically, unlike his previous strict schedule

3) WHO IS THIS GUEST??

you're introduced as his friend, but the way he laughs with you at the end of takes, hand clinging onto yours after you high five, has them thinking it's...something. for now, they'll drop eye emojis in the chat and appreciate that their dancing king is back

#caratwritersclub #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #chan scenarios #dino scenarios #dino fluff #chan fluff #g: svt #m: chan #t: auramble #s: request #hyunyin #ravixen #youtuberau

[natsadkid2]

27 March 2022 for latest update from this blog and now I’m back!

Re-draw project: Teenage magazine ft. Irwin and Barry💅🏻

This is original pic I drew ~3 years ago👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻, You can see some little details of their clothes that changed a little bit especially Irwin’s suspender belt for more fit to his jacket

If you winder why I put too much watermarks on new one lol, actually it’s a little joke that I wanted to do something different from my previous work that the watermark has only one, in the bottom right of the image. I just hope it can protect me from someone who will steal or re-upload my FanArt (actually this way can’t solve this problem that much but “at least” many ppl gonna know where is this pic from/ who’s real art owner when my arts were re-uploaded by another ppl)

Actually I don’t think before that one day I must post about this point, bc I think my arts aren’t famous or good that much to touch someone’s heart(?) until use it as a stuff for sending to wrestlers. Plus, there have many many artist whose has more opportunity to take more risks than me because I think they’re all better artist than me. But at last it still happened to little blog like mine💀look at this👇🏻👇🏻

I'm a wrestling fan from Thailand. Getting an autograph from each wrestler is very difficult and never happened to me(Whether it's a problem with currency units, banks, transportation costs that far away like on different side of the world, etc.) So, each wrestling Fanart I draw I don’t expect anything about money or even expect that they(wrestlers) will see my FanArt(bc they’re all old and not use any social media) . I’m drawing bc of self-relaxation/ make you enjoy my arts/ make you know that I like these wrestlers too. But there has someone expect money by using my art (that owner doesn’t expect anything) to be the way to earn little money, I just think it’s not fair Plus, if I got an autograph from my favorite wrestler on my Fanarts for real, I would definitely not sell it. Because it’s something that has sentimental value, cannot be measured in monetary terms. Meanwhile, some people can easily get a wrestler's autograph BUT didn't see its value, sold it for someone else , That’s horrible/ not cute/ not ✨FABULEUX✨ at all 🗣️🗣️

Until this day I still can’t describe my feeling about this, funny? Irritable? Or???😂. Bc at the same way, finally FanArt from Thai girl can reach the hands of uncle Mike and uncle Barry, they have seen my FanArt already. I can’t believe it happened to me

(⭐️Important point) You choose my ugly fanart lol I mean.. not many people understand that it’s WWF Highschool AU!!🤦🏻‍♀️can’t imagine how uncle Barry and uncle Mike gonna feel when reading wtf sentence on this art by don’t understand anything. They can’t access the imagination of young girl😂

And yes, this is my face when I scroll down the phone screen and see many old FanArt with weird lines and coloring lol. Too baddddd😵‍💫But I won’t delete them lol. Keep it as memories how far of my drawing development.

#I’m not feel anything now just funny and feel like…wtf😂 #I think some followers have known about this already but someone is not I will tell you again. #wwe #wwf #mike rotunda #barry windham #irwin r schyster #WWF Highschool AU #drawing