#this may explain some things

[koukaaa-descent]

the new guy in my head is kind of frightening but in a good way Help

[xxplastic-cubexx]

chat if i may speak

[rinja-espurr]

dont know why i love that specific trope so much but this is so good. the trope ever actually

[aizawashuichi]

my new characterisation of Near includes a deep set need for stability and set structures, which lead into some controlling tendencies, but not necessarily the abusive way. i was thinking back at the interaction between him, Linda and the other kid. Linda invites him to play together, but before he could say anything, the words of the other kid stop him, and he doesn't tell him anything, which is weird given that he's so upfront and direct. of course, he might not be interested in Linda's friendship, but i genuinely think he doesn't want to ruin the existing dynamic between them, because it's predictable. so he prefers being an observer than being involved, unless he's required to, because that's when it's expected of him. as he grows older and is involved in the kira case, this need for stability makes him carve finger puppets, so he can have something to hold on to, to look at again, to control in some way. when the spk members get killed, his reaction doesn't seem to be the same as L's. L's was out of fear (and care). in this case, it's disarray. the puppets walked out the stage without any warning, and he's losing control of the situation.

[eightspringdays]

if you have the feeling this arc may feel incomplete or something is off, take into consideration fujimoto is doing it on purpose

From this 2021 interview with Da Vinci magazine. Fujimoto doesn't spoon-feed you the content, he never has and I think the charm resides in that he never will

[a-host-of-dancing-daffodils]

And because I recently read the Chocolate Box...Please enjoy one of the only things I feel like the show did right with this particular story...

Poirot looking super dapper in his Belgian police uniform:

The cut of this uniform is very flattering on him, I must say...especially with the way it accentuates his chest, his waist, and his ''''''''seat''''''''

And I love the design on the collar/sleeves. Very fancy/official

also. please look at his very silly official hat

Gotta say. Hugh Fraser may have been the eye candy of this show, but. David Suchet sure knows how to be pretty, too

[horsegirlwarcrimes]

In the dead of winter, the wife of a goat farmer gives birth to two daughters, lying in the straw of their barn. They are her first children. It has been four months since her wedding. Unlucky, unlucky. 

“I really am cursed,” she whispers, looking over the faces of the sleeping girls. Identical, right down to the tiny, pin-prick freckles on their cheeks and chins. 

One of the goats approaches to snuffle at her ear, and then at the babies. The one on the left scrunches up her nose at the sensation. She supposes she will have to find a way to tell the girls apart, but… well. It’s not so important. 

Her husband won’t even look at the girls. Unfortunately, neither look very much like him. 

—

“I’m not doing this again,” A-Hua says, gripping the makeshift scrap-cloth bag that holds all of her belongings in this world tight, like it’s full of gold and treasure and not two stale mantou, a strip of goat jerky, and a bent iron nail. She’s dressed herself in their little brother’s clothes, tied her hair up like father does. Their brother is tall enough already, and the two of them short enough, that it’s only a little small on A-Hua. Only shows a few inches of A-Hua’s ankles and wrists beyond the hems. 

A-Yan stares at her, and wonders what, when they look so similar, makes her sister so different from her. 

“You can stay here and try to take care of them for mom and dad if you want to,” A-Hua goes on, not pausing for A-Yan to speak, “It’s good. It’s good! You’re a nice sister. But if you do, you’ll probably starve with them, and killing yourself for our family won’t make anyone love you more.”

“Someone needs to take care of them,” A-Yan says, her voice dull. The fire that burns hot through A-Hua has always been absent in her. Silent where her sister is loud, apathetic where her sister is emotional. Grounded where her sister is flighty. It’s ironic that it is the colder of the two of them who seems to care so much more. 

“Sure, sure,” A-Hua agrees. “Like their parents, maybe?” 

“You used to think so, too,” A-Yan says. 

“I woke up,” A-Hua says. “… you could, too.” 

It’s the first time that A-Hua has made the offer since she decided to leave. For months, A-Yan has watched her sister toss and turn and cry out in her sleep. Her childish enthusiasm condenses and hardens into an alien sort of desperation that A-Yan doesn’t understand. She thinks that she knew A-Hua would leave them before her sister did. But never had A-Hua said: “Come with me. Let’s go together.” 

She isn’t sure if it’s because A-Hua had known she would say no, or because her sister doesn’t want to stay together. 

Either way—

“No,” she says. “Take care of yourself.” 

A-Hua nods, ties her makeshift bag around her neck, and slips away into the night. 

—

She never sees her sister again. 

One year later, demons invade the countryside and slaughter her entire family, down to the last chicken and goat. She comes home from hunting in the late-fall forest a li away from the farm and finds the first of the bodies lying in the dust of the road. She follows the blood trail home. 

At Huan Hua Palace, Palace Master Su tells her she’s the most extraordinary student he has ever taught. He holds her hand to correct her grip on her sword and walks her through the swing. She’s the youngest disciple of her age group to receive a spiritual sword. Its name is Gu Feng: a solitary peak. The Palace Master says it’s a sign that she will be great one day—singular, above the common person. She finds it a lonely name.

[curioscurio]

Successfully just prioritized my own mental health and quit my retail job!

I did it scared and alone and crying and full of compulsive shame, but I survived.

Some context:

I found my mom passed out on the floor the other day and it turns out she needs a heart stent for a 90% blocked artery. Untreated it would have ultimately led to a heart attack. I know I'm not the only person who's found their mother unconscious on the floor but I can't imagine it's easy for anyone.

She's doing good right now though! She's expected to make a full recovery, but the emotional toll plus CPTSD made the situation so much worse for us. It also triggered a huge breakdown ( or suspected autistic burnout ) that has left me unable to continue my retail job. That and far too many problems with the job itself. I was already pretty sure about quitting, but this for sure sped it up.

Anyway! Time to look for remote work. Again...

[mechazushi]

25 Minutes. . .

Two oddly dressed men walked into a shabby elevator located inside an even more dilapidated building. Both of them were dressed in blue clothing, one in a more conservatively decorated trench coat than the man next to him with the much longer overcoat. Both carried swords that one could tell at a glance matched what would be their personalities should they have been compelled to speak. The taller of the two carried an air of severity that slid off of his rigid stance, making it all the more obvious when also considering the katana on his hip. The shorter one had more of a bored but still lively appearance that complimented the odd design of the weapon carried on his back. What seemed to be the most interesting was the fact that both of them were carrying a mountain of pizza boxes.

"Home sweet base." Nero sighed numbly as he stepped off the elevator.

Followed shortly by the man that was biologically his father, the pair of them trudged casually down the hallway towards the apartment they were currently staying in the next few weeks. As they stopped in front of the hastily repaired door, Nero shifted his load of pizza boxes to one arm and abruptly moved them on top of Vergil's pile.

"Do me a favor and hold this." He crassly asked as he dig around in his coat pockets for his set of keys.

Vergil took an investigative sniff from the new mound of food in front of him and tried not to recoil from them so hard as to drop them, "I honestly don't understand how you lot can eat this dredge. I could smell the grease even before we entered the parlor."

"We paid extra for your veggie deluxe on thin crust, so shut up." Nero countered as he finally found the key he was looking for. Vergil noticed his son taking a moment to himself, letting out deep breaths almost like he was centering himself.

"Is everything alright?" He asked, keeping his tone deceptively neutral.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just..." Nero started before leaning his head back and sighing heavily again.

"I will never say this willingly to his face, not in a million years, but... I like Dante. As far as Uncles go, he's not bad considering what this family is like. But lately I've started wondering if you getting kidnapped as a child didn't inadvertently prevent you from killing him earlier in your lives."

"What I find to be more interesting is the fact that you're only now asking yourself this question after having to deal with not only him, but someone who is almost exactly like him on top of that." Vergil retorted as an eyebrow raised in evaluation.

"I wouldn't say he's exactly like him." Nero countered as he slid the key into the lock, "I mean, he's dorky, but I wouldn't-"

"Dorky? What is that word?" Vergil interrupted suddenly.

"it's like a nicer way of calling him a bumbling idiot." His son answered after a moment of thought.

"I'd rather you just call him a bumbling idiot." Vergil muttered sorely.

"I don't know, I feel like that's a bit harsh for him. I know he means well and all and he's the one that's stuck here." Nero rambled on as he pushed the door open, moving past the threshold just enough to take back his stack of boxes from Vergil's hold.

"Are his jokes corny? Sure, but unlike Dante, I like to think he actually has a little tack." Nero continued as he walked into the main living area and headed for the kitchen. Neither of them got very far before they heard a loud crash and a shout coming from a connecting room off of the living room.

"Oh God, Dante!" The now familiar voice of their interdimensional visitor sounded nowhere near distressed and more joyful instead.

Nero just groaned as roughly dropped the pizza boxes on the counter before marching over to the doorway that opened up into the game room-turned-battle plan room.

"We were gone for less than twenty five minutes and you two are already wrestling?!" He shouted as he quickly rounded the corner to look at the two of them. Anger quickly turned into confusion, then shock, and finally comically vocal disgust and Nero practically sprinted away from the open door frame.

"NOPE, NOT WRESTLING! DEFINITELY NOT WRESTLING!" Nero yelled as he ran past Vergil to head towards the bathroom.

Now curious, Vergil carefully placed his batch of boxes down on the counter and made his way over to where his brother was most likely being a source of the distressing incident. Rounding the same corner, the first thing he noticed was Dante in a state of partial undress while standing in front of what was once a cluttered pool table. His shirt was hanging around an elbow with his pants just barely hanging on his hips. He was busy trying to pull a pant leg over one of his boots as he hopped on the other leg. Still not understanding what had happened, his vision soon caught movement from under the table that resembled Kafka Hibino, a man that had become trapped in their world and was currently rooming with Dante as they all figured out a way to send him back. Looking past the discarded documents and game pieces that once stood for allies and enemies now on the floor, he could also see that Kafka was much more naked than his brother, having only his boxers to his name. With all the pieces in front of him, did he finally realize what could cause his son to run out of the room.

"Really Dante, really? He's not from here!" Vergil cried as he figured out what had happened while they were gone.

"Wow, and after all that bonding we had just to find out you're a racist." Dante tried to joke as he quickly shuffled his pants higher around his waist.

"I mean he's not from this world!" Vergil attempted to counter back, still reeling from the revelation that his brother was and apparently is trying to... court the Kaiju from another realm.

"You say that like it's a problem. It's not like I'm going to get him pregnant or anything?" Dante argued as he fixed his shirt back over his head.

"Damn, so those last twenty minutes are all for nothin', huh?" Kafka cackled as his head popped over the pool table with a shit eating grin.

"Kafka, now's not the time." Dante replied as a hand came up to rub at his face.

"Right, yep, sorry." Kafka muttered as he dove back down to look for more of his clothes only to peer back over the table again.

"Uhh... pants?" he asked cryptically, directing the question towards Dante.

After taking a closer look at the khakis he was wearing, he turned towards his partner.

"Ahhh, shit, I think I'm wearing them." He muttered apologetically.

"That's fine. I think I see your pj pants over here anyway." Kafka answered as he quietly crawled away from the table.

There were so many emotions running through Vergil's mind that it almost felt like he was physically shutting down. Just standing there, vibrating in what was mostly shock and anger and it only spiraling worse from there. The only action he could bring himself to do before he blew his top and did something drastically worse was to scream at them all over again.

"Honestly, on God's Green Earth, how did you manage to fall in love with someone who's more of a bumbling idiot than you are!?"

"HEY! I resemble that statement!" Kafka shouted back as he clumsily leapt up from the floor and held onto the edge of the pool table for balance.

"It's "Resent" that statement Darlin'." Dante corrected gently.

"Oh, is that the word?" Kafka asked before he clicked his tongue in disappointment, "Damn, English got me again."

"Seriously though!" Nero bellowed out as he stomped his way back from the bathroom to scold them some more, "Twenty five minutes is not a lot of time! Were you two just waiting for us to leave and-" As he came around where Vergil was standing he made the mistake of looking Dante in the eyes and was immediately reminded of what he saw when he first walked in.

"Nope, shit, I looked again." He bemoaned as his hands came up to his eyes and walked away.

Vergil just heaved an almost signature sounding sigh of disappointment and shook his head solemnly, "When you two feel like you can behave like actual members of society... There's food on the counter."

"Oooh, food!" Kafka chirped as he wrangled his shirt back on.

The pair of them took an extra second to straighten out their outfits better before walking into the open living room and kitchen. Nero was digging around in the fridge and loudly knocking around glass bottles while Vergil took his time separating out the pizza boxes into three piles. Nero eventually pulled his head out of the fridge and smacked the cap of a beer bottle on the edge of the door, swiftly popping it off. He took several swigs of it before turning around to face the boxes, only to develop a look of disgust once he saw Kafka's outfit.

"Not the Elmo pants..." He whimpered in repulsion.

"What? What's wrong with Elmo?" Kafka fired back in confusion.

"They're his pants!" Nero exclaimed as he gestured to Dante with the hand holding the bottle.

"Yeah and he's wearing mine. Trust me, I'd love to take them back off of him, but you know, three's company and all that." Kafka joked with a touch of anger in his voice. Nero just groaned weakly and opened his pizza box.

"I don't think I can even bring myself to eat this now." He commented unenthusiasticaly.

"You probably shouldn't anyway. The amount of grease on that could kill a lesser demon, I think." Vergil sneered as he tucked into his thin crust.

"And just like that, I'll eat it to spite you." Nero countered as some joy came back into his manner.

"Aw, It all looks so good!" Kafka exclaimed as he saw the spread, " Oh, is that mushroom?" He asked innocently as he looked at Vergil's pizza.

"Don't" Vergil answered threateningly as his thumb clicked open the top of his katana.

"Juuust askin'." Kafka chuckled nervously as he held his hands up defensively.

"Here." Nero commanded as he shoved a smaller box in Kafka's direction, " Take your loaded tots and leave."

"Geeze, I know where I'm not wanted." Kafka growled woefully, "I'll be on the roof I guess."

"Hey." Dante said softly as a gentle hand came around Kafka's wrist, "I'll meet you up there in ten, okay?" He offered with a wink, hoping to cool the sting from the rude reception.

Kafka just smiled and leaned back to plant a quick kiss to Dante's scratchy cheek. He turned and took his food out the apartment and clicked the door behind him. All three watched with varying expressions. Dante was smirking and content, Vergil was unreadable as usual, and Nero looked like he wanted to set the door on fire.

"So many questions, and I don't want an answer to any of them." Nero muttered as he harshly chewed through the stringy cheese.

Hey, soooooo.... Guess who finished the Devil May Cry show over on Netflix...

Only thing I'm gonna say about it is that it's another contender for the long list of shows that fall under the category of "If You Didn't Grow Up on the Source Material, It's Not Bad."

Like, I can see where people might have broken out the torches and pitchforks over a few things, but it wasn't overall a bad watch. Funnily enough, It's almost like Kaiju Number 8. As in, "It's not Ground-Breaking or anything, but just mindless good fun."

@sonicasura made a post a while back about how if Dante and Kafka met, they would definitely be compatible as lovers and would have an interesting dynamic and after having watched the show I Get It Now. Mentally could not stop thinking about this AU so this is another instance of "If I don't write this down NOW, I'm not going to get anything done on anything else." I have so much in my head about this I honestly could make a fan game over this.

Also I feel like I should specify that Vergil and Nero aren't homophobic, they just don't like Kafka. Mainly because it's like working with a version of Dante that YOU KNOW he doesn't have to act like that constantly, but not only is that his default personality it's a less suave version that feels more annoying to them.

[jude-harley]

i'm gonna do something i shouldn't and vaguepost about pathologic discourse i saw on my dash, specifically about daniil dankovsky and his position in relation to labor unions/organizing

i want to start by highlighting the idea that

a.) labor unions are a good thing

and that

b.) a good character would support that good thing

so people who think a character is "good" feel that character should/would support that good thing

this is the part of the post where i would get into more nuanced discourse except because i've only played the first game (and only the bachelor and haruspex routes) and don't feel prepared to cite certain passages from memory i feel unprepared to actually address some of the arguments made

so i'll just say this

i completely and totally understand the impulse to apply the simple a-b logic highlighted in the first part of the post to a character you like, and am not immune from doing so myself. but:

danil dankovsky is not a good person.

and he waltzes into town wearing the single most expensive piece of clothing in the game on his back.

[yuus-sentient-teddy]

To heck with it--FragMem fluff

aka Happy First Anniversary to Fragaria Memories!

Apologies if OOC, this is the gist that I got of their characteristics. I hope you guys enjoy regardless!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was looking to be another late night in the castle's library, but at least you had the quilt Romarriche gifted you to keep the increasing chills away, and small snacks and tea to keep your spirits up.

Actually, you never brought the snacks and tea: they were always there when you came into the library. It started almost a month ago and none of the librarians could tell you who left them there (or so they claimed). You had an idea who the culprit was regardless; you recognized the tea set and plates as the ones he reserved just for special guests. You didn't approach him about them, though, afraid that if you did, your fluttering heart would make it difficult for you to properly thank him.

Besides, you still needed to figure out what to gift him back in return for the quilt. You've considered an embroidery of a bouquet of roses, tea from another kingdom that you think he may enjoy, and a quilt of your own making, to name a few. They were good ideas, but now that he was providing refreshments, you thought the gift should be a little more refined--

You blink, refocusing on the form in front of you. You chide yourself for letting your mind wander back to gift ideas and him. You have forms to finish and a bed to fall into, now isn't the time!

With a huff, you reread the paragraph and adjust the quilt over your shoulders. Your fingers run over the stitching and feel the soft texture of the fabric. Even if it's been months already, you still appreciate the craftsmanship of the quilt and you are thankful for the comfort it brings.

You know what, perhaps you should make a quilt after all; you aren't as skilled as the older needle-workers, but you're pretty good at the craft. You just need to figure out what patterns he likes, maybe you can casually bring it up the next time you two chat. While you're at it, you should thank him for the refreshments. He's so thoughtful, and you really should have told him you appreciate them when they started appearing.

Despite your best efforts to focus on the paperwork, your sleepy mind further wanders to him and plans for the quilt.

It isn't long before you quietly doze off.

You're not sure how long you were asleep, but when you become conscious, you realize a few things:

One, you're being carried by someone.

Two, you're snuggling against this person, who is so warm and whose arms feel safe to be in.

Three, there's a faint perfume of roses, tea, and a certain sweet something that altogether is unique to one person.

Romarriche.

Romarriche is carrying you.

You try to keep calm and be still. If you are still dreaming, you don't want to wake up quite yet.

After a few seconds, he stops to open a door and the familiar scent of the scented candle you burned earlier greets your nose. He's brought you to your room.

You feel yourself being laid on your bed, legs hanging over the edge, and your shoes carefully taken off. He lifts you up and puts you down again so that you're lying completely on the mattress, and your heart flutters at how he does it so effortlessly. The blankets are pulled up to your chin and gentle hands tuck you in. All the while, Romarriche whispers to the supposedly sleeping you.

"I deeply admire you for your dedication to doing excellent work and wanting to help wherever you can. I just wish there was a way where you wouldn't have to push yourself to exhaustion."

You feel strands of your hair being brushed away from your face. His fingers lightly touch your cheek and linger there.

"I feel that every time we meet, the bags under your eyes get deeper, and I cannot help but be more worried. I do remember what you told me that night, but I also remember you nearly falling asleep into your lunch just last week and again three days ago."

He sighs. "I want you to know that your coworkers and I would be more than willing to share your burden. You wouldn't need to stay later than usual that way."

His perfume gradually becomes stronger. "I hope that somehow, my words can reach you in your dreams. I dearly care about you and wish for you better health."

Something soft touches your forehead; it doesn't get past being feather light. It's there for just a second, then it's gone along with his scent.

"No," you hear him whisper to himself, "I mustn't. It would be improper of me to assume they would feel. . ."

Hang on, that tone in his voice. It couldn't be longing, could it?

He sighs again, then says with a smile in his voice, "Have sweet dreams, dearest."

Once he leaves, you open your eyes and think about what just happened. You clench your hands and internally scream.

Romarriche cared about you this much?! Did he know that you appreciate him and that you really like him?!

A realization hits you that makes your face warm up.

That feather-light touch on your forehead. . .

"It would be improper of me to assume they would feel. . ."

". . . dearest. . ."

He was in the process of kissing your forehead and stopped because he didn't know if you felt the same towards him.

Romarriche liked you.

You smack a hand over your now burning hot face. Great Strawberry King, you really need to work on that quilt ASAP!

. . . And tell him that you like him back.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You look forward to harvesting the newest species of apples, so much so that you're sure the horses would roll their eyes if they could whenever you gush about it. You can't help it! You just love seeing how well the apples grew, and tasting one and thinking about the potential dishes you can make.

Stepping outside, you take in a deep breath of the fresh morning air and smile. The sun is just on the verge of peeking over the horizon and the autumn chill lightly bites your cheeks. You notice some farmers climbing into a wagon, likely coming back from the kitchen after delivering vegetables and apples for this morning's breakfast, and you wave to them. They wave back, then head on to their side of the field.

Your fellow harvesters won't arrive until a little later, so you decide to meander around.

You pass rows of various fruits and take a quick look at a patch of ripe pumpkins. Your lips immediately lift into a smile as you remember a certain Fragaria helping the farmers plant the seeds and attentively listening to their talks about pumpkins.

He was cute and had a very bright personality, was proud and had faith in the goodness of everyone he met. You two would have small chats at random times throughout the day, but nothing more beyond that, what with his knightly duties and your tending to the farm and the livestock keeping the two of you busy. You'd really like to get to know him better.

You look up every so often at the sky for incoming warm shades and you rub your hands together or lift the collar of your coat a little higher. You don't mind the autumn weather, but it does get a bit too chilly for your liking. It still doesn't stop you from getting up early and being the first to be ready to harvest.

You suddenly hear your name being called. Startled, you turn around.

Jogging down the dirt path, white and red uniform visible in the early gray morning, is Hallritt. He stops before you, panting, and his cheeks are pink from the autumn chill and the small excursion. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting you, but I wanted to give you something."

He holds up a red knitted scarf and your eyes widen.

"It's just, I've noticed that you keep hunching into your coat and I get worried that you might catch a cold. So, I learned how to knit a scarf," Hallritt explains bashfully. "I'm sorry if it's a little crooked in some parts. I've never knitted before and practiced before making this, but. . . I hope you still like it."

You're silent as your mind registers his words; he slowly starts to become worried. But before he could say anything, you smile and say, "I haven't seen you a lot as usual and thought it was just my imagination. I appreciate this, Hallritt!"

Your fingers brush against his when you accept the scarf. In that brief moment, you feel a tiny spark that makes your heart skip a beat. You don't notice that Hallritt's eyes had widened a little, feeling the same tiny spark.

You wrap it around your neck and immediately laugh. Hallritt joins with his own. "I didn't realize the scarf would be this long," he says.

"No, it's perfect! Look, I can wrap my hands around the ends!" You proceed to demonstrate this.

"That's a relief!"

Somewhere beyond the rows, you hear horses fussing, and the sky starts to take on a pink tint. "I have to get going soon. Will I see you at the stables later?"

"Yeah! I have to apologize to Blossom for not visiting her for so long. I hope she can forgive me if I bring her treats."

"For someone like you, I'm sure she will."

"Wow, you really love that scarf," your friend observes.

"How could I not? It's so soft and warm!" you say, nuzzling against the yarn.

"You sure it's not just because the knight gave it to you himself?" they tease.

Your cheek warm up and you narrow your eyes at your friend. "No!"

After a beat of silence, you quietly say, "It was nice of him to make this for me, though. I've been racking my brain for the past hours settling on a gift."

You sit back against the barrier of the cart, staring at the clear sky. "I'd like to make him something with apples, but there's just so many things I could do!"

Your friend considers something. "Come to think of it, I don't think I've seen you try the apples we just harvested."

You blink and sit up, knowing your friend is a fellow baker. "Have you?"

They smile. "I think the taste will speak for itself."

Hallritt had been looking forward to chatting with you again, so he was a little disappointed when you weren't around as much as usual. Was this how you felt when he got preoccupied with knitting the scarf? He feels bad now.

"Hallritt!" To his pleasant surprise, it's you. The scarf is wrapped twice around your neck, and the ends flutter a little behind you as you jog towards him.

"Hey!" you greet, stopping before him. "I was hoping you'd be here. Here, I want to give you something."

You hold up a small casserole dish wrapped in cloth.

"Oh, you didn't have to!" he says.

You shake your head, insisting. "It's thanks for the scarf."

When he accepts it, he could feel the warmth of whatever you had made. "I made it with the newest species of apples. It took me a little bit to come up with the recipe, but I did it!" you explain proudly.

"You came up with the dish from scratch? Now I really can't wait to try! At the same time, it makes me relieved. I've been wondering where you've been for the past weeks."

"Sorry about that, Hallritt." You shrug and smile apologetically.

"There's no need!" A thought comes to him. "Why don't we go to the parlor and share this? I've. . . kind of missed talking with you."

Your cheeks heat up. "Honestly, me too. But you don't have to share, though! If anything, I'd like to hear what you think of them."

And so the two of you spent a cozy afternoon in the parlor, catching up and laughing, and unknowingly moving closer together.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You yelp again for what seemed like the umpteenth time and manage to catch yourself against a brick wall. You're usually good at handling icy paths, but you've never gone down this street before and it is ridiculously slippery. You wouldn't be surprised if this street has an associated notoriety.

"Are you all right?" Tuxam asks, just three paces in front of you. You are impressed and envious over how he hasn't slipped even once during the walk. You think his cane might be helping, but it doesn't take away your feeling.

"Yes, just almost slipped again is all," you say, shaking your head and steadying yourself.

". . . Here." You look up from the sidewalk. He's offering his arm to you. "H-hold on to my arm."

He clears his throat, embarrassed by the stutter, and the dust of pink on his cheek darkens. He's still avoiding eye contact as he says, "As a gentleman, it would be unforgivable if I continued to allow the risk of you falling and hurting yourself. It is already improper that I let you slip the past few times already. O-of course, you do not need to accept my help, if you aren't comfortable!"

Like any other citizen of this kingdom, you are aware of Tuxam's fixation of being a proper gentleman. While there are moments where you think he is going overboard, you think it is charming how he insists on holding open the door for the next person or pulling out a chair for you to sit in. Or maybe you just think the Fragaria himself is cute--ahem!

You shake your head and smile. "No, it's fine! I appreciate it."

He's stiff and a little awkward as you both loop arms, but as you two continue down the sidewalk, he relaxes--just a little bit. This is much closer than the two of you have ever been; the other time was when he readjusted your tie and had unknowingly stood very close. You wouldn't forget how embarrassed he got over invading your personal space, but you didn't mind. . . mostly because you yourself were preoccupied by your racing heart.

You spy the two of you in a reflective glass pane. You had a pleased but shy smile on your face while Tuxam had a straight but blushing face. Altogether, you two looked like a couple heading for their first outing.

Whoosh!

"Whoa!"

A gust of cold wind suddenly smacks into you two. Immediately, you duck and huddle closer against Tuxam, your free hand gripping his sleeve. Once it passes, you look to him.

"Sorry about that, I was--Tuxam, are you okay?"

His face is bright red and he seems to be on the verge of exploding. He shakes his head. "Yes, I'm all right. You don't need to trouble yourself over me. Are you all right?"

"Yes, just surprised is all. Oh, your hat's a little crooked. Here, let me fix it."

You unlink your arms and adjust the hat accordingly. You then notice his bow tie is crooked as well and begin to carefully fix it. All the while, Tuxam is quiet. Another wind comes, but it's significantly calmer and causes loose snow from building roofs to fall.

He can't stop staring at you. He thought of you as perfection when the two of you first met, and being able to properly see your face, he was well reminded of it. The backdrop of lightly falling snow makes the scene somehow more beautiful.

You eventually notice his staring and realize how close your faces are. Your cheeks heat up. "I'm sorry, am I standing too close?"

He blinks, cheeks heating up as well. "Ah, no! I was just. . ." He falters for a moment, then collects himself. "Thank you for fixing my appearance. It would have been improper if it continued to appear unruly."

You smile in response. "Of course, Tuxam. Shall we continue walking?"

He agrees. When the two of you link your arms again, he's a little less stiff than before.

A few paces down the sidewalk, he speaks up. "If you need to hold onto me with both hands, you may. Your safety and comfort are important, and it wouldn't do if I ignored those."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You remind him of the poems he read about the the spring and summer breezes. Warm and refreshing, and a singing voice that carries beautifully across the field or a room with an open window. Sometimes, the breeze that is you turns into a dizzying wind full of anxieties. He's more than happy to listen to whatever is on your mind, and for that, you're forever grateful.

You try to repay him for being so patient and willing to listen to your anxious thoughts, but he waves them off. You accompanying him on his traverses into the nearby fields is more than enough.

It's something the two of you do sometimes after all the work is done, if the sun is shining brightly and Puruth is in the mood to look for four leaf clovers. Sometimes you bring your lyre to get his opinion on a work in progress or to have something to fiddle with. There are moments where you even come up with a poem or random composition on the spot.

The latter scenario isn't that rare, not when he looks right at home in a sunny flower field. You'll often see Puruth standing in the middle of ankle-height grass, staring at the distance with a relaxed smile, while the sun casts its golden light on him and turns him into an enchanting prince.

You think Puruth has caught on that some of your sporadic poems and compositions are inspired by him. You also think he's aware that you're aware some of the poems he writes himself are inspired by you.

Neither of you seem to want to point it out, but if the glint in his eyes are anything to go by and if he understands the glint in yours, this arrangement is just fine. It's basically a fun little open secret between the two of you, one that you hope lasts for a long time.

The gentle rustle of leaves. The smell of dirt and a tinge of lavender in the passing breeze. You open your eyes to the sleeping face of Puruth just a small step away from you. He's facing you, and you wonder if he had fallen asleep while watching over you. It wouldn't be the first time.

In the hour before you fell asleep, the two of you climbed up a small hill and sat beneath one of the trees at its top. There, he read poems from a book he borrowed from the town's library and the two of you chatted about them. You vaguely remember a poem about dandelions and thinking how nice it was to listen to his voice and how comfortable the grass felt.

The book now sits between the two of you; a ladybug was making its way across the cover. Surely Puruth wouldn't mind if you looked through to see what other poems were there.

You sit up--and that's when you discover something that makes you chuckle.

Three-leaf clovers have been stuck through the buttonholes of your jacket and the loops of your shoelaces. Puruth must have collected the clovers and stuck them in while you were asleep.

You pick the one at the very top of your shirt and realize it's a four-leaf clover. You huff through your nose, smiling. Carefully, you tuck it in his hair--then stand up and head down the hill to look for a clover patch.

In just a few minutes, his hair is dotted with the little green flora. You didn't have Puruth's luck in finding four-leaf clovers, but at least he had the one he gave to you. You silently laugh at your handiwork and reward yourself with reading the book of poems, eagerly waiting for his reaction when he wakes up.

You hope afternoons like these last for a long time.

[autisticaradiamegido]

thoughts on dave and aradia (<>)?

day 356

BIG fan tbh. in this house we love and respect timerails

truly yall read this log and tell me theyre not cute

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

ok i know that there are like very conservative areas where this is broadly speaking true………. but this is an insane thing to say as a universal fact lol

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia,

I just wanted to say you are an inspiration to me. I'm in my twenties and also struggling with an insane amount of health issues with new ones constantly popping up, which makes me feel like I will never be able to do anything with my life. Except maybe for writing, because I can do that in my bed and I love escaping into fictional worlds.

I don't know much about your life except what you share in the author's notes, but knowing that you're living life out there and writing these amazing stories despite all your health issues gives me hope. Unfortunately I live in the US, so it's easy to fall into a spiral of doom, but maybe I can be like you one day. The choices you make every day to keep pushing forward, keep doing things that make you happy, is what makes me believe that it's possible for me to keep going, too.

Hiya anon,

Health issues suck, don't they? I started my Crappy Pokemon Collection of Chronic Health Issues in my teens but I remember I really started to get concerned in my 20s when it just kept happening. And kept happening. I think there's a sadness/grief and depression and anger that comes with that too, and a fear.

For what it's worth, science comes up with new medications all the time, new discoveries, new breakthroughs. I have started medications that have helped some issues I've had for 25 years, thinking they'd just progressively get worse. And to be fair, some of my issues do progressively get worse, and I do have new chronic illnesses or chronic or stupid health things come up fairly frequently. And as I'm sure you know, maintenance and surveillance and chasing this shit up is its own job and labour that is extremely thankless.

But outside of that, there is a great radical activism in simply being kind to yourself, loving yourself, trying hard not to see yourself as wrong in the world, as still deserving to take up your space, no matter how much that changes over time.

I have loved ones in my life who spend most of their time in their bed (and otherwise in a wheelchair), all in their 40s/50s, all who have rich lives filled with loved ones. That doesn't mean they're not sad sometimes, or not frustrated with an ableist world (especially around how quickly everyone gave up on us), but it does mean when everything feels awful and despair-filled, they have people who love them, they have hobbies and interests (game coding can be done from a bed, art can be, cross-stitch can be, writing can be, and even sometimes chopping fruit and vegetables can be if you have one of those sturdy overbed tables and can trust your hands), they have things that get better and things that get worse, they all think their lives are better now because it does just take time to...learn how to live in a body that does this when you're younger and had different visions for yourself.

I spend a lot of my time in bed. I need to lie down every afternoon for several hours or I'm non-functional in the evenings and that's on my best days. Escaping into fictional worlds is honestly such a blessing, whether it's in writing or movies or TV or anime or manhwa etc.

Sending hugs and solidarity and much love for how things are in the USA right now, especially for ill / disabled folk. There are lot of people fighting the good fight, so please make sure you take the time to rest, even on the good days, when you might be tempted to push past your limits to get everything done.

It took me forever to stop overspending energy on my good days, and I still do it all the the time, lol.

[quibbs126]

Something that’s been bothering me, in Cyberverse Season 1 we hear about the Decepticon cause being made because Megatron wanted to fight against and change the corruption on Cybertron

But like, we never actually saw any of that in the flashbacks. Best you can say is Starscream having a high opinion of himself due to being a jet (or at least that’s what I think was going on? It was something about Starscream and being a jet), but you can also assume Starscream’s just being an ass, not that this is a systemic issue on Cybertron. Outside of that, everyone seems to have been doing fine, they got along and everyone was vibing and having fun, going to Cube games and chilling at Maccadam’s, going out to do some racing on a vacation to Velocitron

I do suppose we were limited to only seeing things that Bee witnessed himself, but he was there for other important events before war was declared, we could have seen some more evidence that things were bad on Cybertron before the war and why Megatron and Optimus were so intent on changing things

As it is, it feels more like telling and not showing, and I don’t really understand why the Decepticon cause was needed in the first place. Well I mean I do, but that’s because I know the story in other continuities, not because Cyberverse told me

And if I can pivot slightly, I feel like this is an issue in other shows as well. Earthspark barely went into the backstory of the war at all, only making vague allusions like the “lower-class” remark and Orion Pax getting the Matrix (which honestly I don’t remember why he got at all and if it was related to the war). And yes, Earthspark was about moving forward after the war, but also the show wanted to portray Decepticons in a more neutral light, allowing them their second chances to do better after the war. Not to mention Megatron switching sides due to realizing how far he’d strayed from his original cause. I don’t feel like telling the Terrans the original causes of the war would be out of question, it makes all the sense. Also if we’re trying to portray the Decepticons as not being pure evil, explaining the horrible conditions that drove them to starting it would do wonders. Megatron is here, he can tell the Terrans with all the correct info if the Autobots can’t

Prime also has this problem, but I’m willing to give it a lot more leeway because it was part of the Aligned continuity, which was made up of more than just this one show, and Transformers Exodus I’m told went into this backstory a lot more. So okay, it’s explained somewhere. Though personally, I wish we went into this backstory a bit more in the actual show, because all I know from it was that Megatron was a gladiator fighting for change, Orion Pax met him and agreed, then they proposed their ideas for change to the Senate and it caused them to split. I don’t actually know why they were fighting for change. Again, I know Exodus did and it was around at the same time as the show, but we don’t all have access to Exodus. And honestly it might be the reason the other shows don’t go into it much either, despite it being the only one with an excuse

Like I think this annoys me because it feels like the shows expect you to know the general backstory so we don’t have to go into it. But you’re supposed to tell us this, especially when this isn’t like Batman or Superman’s origins where everyone knows the backstory of the war

I know what the backstory is, but not because these shows told me. It’s because Emperor Kumquat told me in a YouTube video where he was explaining the Aligned backstory from Exodus, while making the point that people who only watched Prime wouldn’t know all of this. How was I supposed to know this information if I hadn’t?

And to go back to Cyberverse, I can make excuses for Prime and Earthspark; both were set long after the war started and Prime especially didn’t have much reason to go into it outside of what it did. But not only did Cyberverse have the means to show us corrupt pre-war Cybertron vis Bumblebee’s flashbacks in Season 1, it had at least a little leaning to making the Decepticons more sympathetic. They are still for the most part antagonistic, but it did make the point that Optimus originally agreed with Megatron, we had bots on both sides getting along during peace talks and Windblade being angry at Slipstream’s killer, had most of the main threats not be Megatron’s forces that had the two sides forced to team up, and by the latter half of Season 3, had Megatron be more heroic, with him saving the day from the Quintessons and wielding his own Matrix of Leadership, and working to stop the other him that he knows is coming to reclaim his Matrix. They aren’t at Earthspark Season 1’s level, but they weren’t making the Decepticons pure evil either. So I feel like we should really see what it is they were fighting for originally

[iamthemaestro]

gender rant in tags