#a knot card

[yridenergyridenergy]

"The past will never return

But I will be born again and come find you"

[new official translation of Akuro no Oka's lyrics]

Please start the year on the right foot and do not repost this scan without asking and crediting.

[kusanagihaku]

maybe, in other life, it goes like this.

⭢ haku x mc, 1.7k

Maybe, in another life, between the firm interlace of your fingers will rest not a curse, but a happy ever after. or: a short drabble of pining, yearning, and what it means to long for someone who wants you too.

—

“There’s a shrine nearby.”

You look up from where your CATSMO map is open on your phone. “How near?”

Haku scratches his ear. “About two minutes? If the Galaxy Express isn’t coming in the next twenty minutes I think we can spare a trip there.”

You look down at the map again. You’re sure it won’t take more than twenty minutes for the Express to arrive, given whatever physically impossible warp speed it travels at, but there must be a reason Haku brought up the shrine. “Missing home?”

Haku laughs. There is an undercurrent of exhaustion, which frankly isn’t surprising given the mission you just wrapped up. “In a way.”

A detour less than half an hour after the end of your mission should be easy enough to fudge on the inspection report, you figure, especially since it’s so near dinner time. And since it’s Haku requesting… You stuff your phone back in your pocket. “Let’s go.”

It’s always hard to say no when it comes to Haku.

The shrine isn’t difficult to find, parked in a small patch of land between two office buildings. There are a few people lingering about in the last rays of evening, heads bowed in quiet conversation as they wander around the honden.

Haku leads you around, however, to a smaller sub-shrine tucked under a large tree. The further you walk into the compound, the more relaxed he seems, shoulders slumping slightly and his breathing a little deeper. The gold chains of his uniform glitter as you pass under a patch of dying sun, then dull completely as you come to a standstill in the shadow of a hollow wooden shrine.

Haku takes a deep breath. His eyes flutter closed, long green brushing against the pallor of his cheeks, almost as if he is basking in the aura exuding from the structure. He has done a good job of hiding his weariness – where you are usually distracted by a charming smile you see now grey-purple bags bruising the hollow of his eyes.

Your hands itch to brush his hair away, to let him lean into your palm, to let him close his eyes and rest as you… you hold back a sigh.

Almost as if he hears you, Haku’s eyes crack open. He glances at you, impish grin hanging itself on the corner of his lips. “Staring at me again?”

You flush, but before you can form a retort something white flashes at the corner of your eye.

Perhaps it is by grace of the fact that you’ve been working on this solo mission with Haku for the past week, or perhaps it is due to the trickle of life-and-death situations you have been in since last October, but you react almost immediately, spinning on your heel and reaching out for Haku.

Haku’s hand finds yours, blindly thrown out in your direction as he steps forward slightly to shield you, but his fingers lace with yours instantly like a magnet finding home. His other hand rests on his hip, uniform jacket pushed aside in favour of easy access to his flute.

It looks almost casual to anyone else, this rehearsed defence looking like a startled step forward on Haku’s part, but you know different. You suck in a breath at the hum of power that surges from your ring to where your fingers interlock with Haku’s.

But it is only an old lady, stepping out from behind the wooden structure. She is dressed in simple priest robes, paper fan slung around her wrist, and her eyes round at your alarmed reaction.

She is not a threat, you decide, and you feel Haku’s body relax next to you as he comes to the same conclusion. There is no need to use either of your stigmas, and yet…

He doesn’t let go either, fingers firm in your own.

The priest apologises for startling you, thick Kansai accent warm with welcome. She peers at you kindly. “A lot of couples get married at the main shrine. Have you come to ask around?”

“That would be nice,” Haku smiles. There is a wistfulness in there that sounds age-old. “In another life.”

You glance at him, eyebrows raised, but he has struck up a conversation with the priest about tonight’s weather and how a little rainfall might do the wisteria by the entrance some good in the April heat.

In another life. The words lick flames up from where your hands are joined, a thrum of want and hope that settles in your chest and paints the wreath of your ribs the colour of sunrise.

You know Haku’s interested — he makes no effort to hide it. He cracks jokes about taking you out on dates at least twice a week, as if hearing it enough will negate the fact that what is left of you will be dead come the crest of October, and both of you will be left with a pain time can never erase.

You make no effort to hide your blushes either — he knows how much it flusters you when he tucks your hair behind your ear, how fast your heart beats when he leans in a little too close. He knows how much you want to acquiesce, and yet…

The priest takes her leave, and the two of you are left in the grey wash of an already set sun.

“In another life.” The words sound strange coming from you, standing out against the hum of the cicadas.

“In this life, too, if you’d have me,” Haku says. His tone is light, but you don’t have to look at him to taste how bitter his smile is. You both know it will not be possible.

The chasm between you is larger than what six months can bridge.

All too soon he is pulling his hand away to hand you a coin, warm from where it has been sitting in his pocket.

“Thank you,” you murmur, and then the only sounds left are the dull clink of the coins falling into the wooden offering box, and the clatter of the bells as Haku steps forward to tug on the straw rope hanging from the rafters.

You both bow twice, and clap.

You don’t remember what you wish for – you pretend you do not wish for him – before your mind wanders off to the phantom press of Haku’s palm against yours.

Maybe… Maybe, in another life, it looks like this:

Your hand in his, standing not on the edge of an inky galaxy but on the infinite edge of forever.

No responsibilities, no curses, no anomalies, just two dust motes floating in a shared beam of sunlight, spinning together again and again like atoms dancing their way home.

Haku does not let you go in this one, no — his fingers will be wound between yours not with the intention of fighting or saving or protecting, but just holding.

The jokes he cracks about taking you on dates will not dissipate into longing, the brush of his breath against your ear will not burn. His eyes on yours, his touch on your hair, his hand on the small of your back — they will not linger late into the night long after you return home.

Instead of giving you his umbrella, he will share it.

His hands will be a warmth, a weight. An anchor under the brightness of rainy moonlight, holding you steady in the sea of ordinary life, like you both are nothing but two river stones finding yourselves in the middle of a shared stream.

You will drink in the whiskey gold of his eyes without fear of setting your lungs ablaze, and taste the laze of his smile without fear of forgetting.

You will meet him in the middle this time, languorous and lingering, and you will love him, like the moon orbiting the earth orbiting the sun, leisurely and without any intention to stop.

Maybe, in another life, between the firm interlace of your fingers will rest not a curse, but a happy ever after.

Or maybe, in another life, it goes like this:

Maybe, in another life, you are sitting next to him on beige-grey tatami, laughter in the air and afternoon sun tangling its fingers in his hair in the best kind of halo. He is looking at you, all bright eyes and soft adoration. It will send your heart bubbling like soda in the back of your throat.

Over and under and under again, he will repeat, then laugh when the red string of your ume-musubi slips through your fingers for the sixth time. Perhaps we can just buy ready-made ones in time for the wedding.

No, you will say, fiercely, not because this is Haku and the deftness of his fingers have already weaved three ume-musubis in the time it has taken you to struggle through one, but because the idea of being wedded wearing plum blossom knots weaved by the other, breathed to life in the curve of your thigh some time between sunset and sleep last night, sings a sweet promise of forever. I can do it.

It will take you two more tries, but you will do it, red tassels slotting into place like Haku has slotted himself into the space between your heartbeats, undeniable and sure.

Well done.

His congratulatory kiss will send the sun down your spine; the reach of his hands for yours will send gold through your veins.

Maybe, in another life, the moor of his fingers as they curl into yours, warm against your ring and the ume-musubi you will pin to his lapel, will mean the same thing two toothbrushes lined up on a bathroom counter does. It will feel like shoebox Nakameguro apartment does, like dancing in your socks by the light of the moon, like my-Hotarubi-hoodie-on-your-side-of-the-closet, like train station warabi-mochi bought because-I-know-you-like-it.

Maybe, in another life, you will be as much each others’ as you are the universe’s.

But in this life, you open your eyes, and you bow, and you turn away from the shrine, and you do not say anything when Haku’s hand brushes the back of yours as the both of you walk away.

[merakiui]

Meraaaaa do you have any thoughts on werewolf Kalim? He’s such a sunshine I love him but also I want him to obliterate me and give me pups against my will

His Halloween art has me in a mess hahahahaha

Soft, gentle non-con with pussydrunk Kalim!!!! >0< you smell so good and you’re so warm! He’s watched you from afar, admiring how pretty you look when you’re strolling in the forest to pick berries for your next pie or hanging the laundry out to dry (he’s definitely stolen borrowed your panties before). You’re squirming beneath him while he’s eating you out, eagerly lapping at your folds and rolling your clit between his fingers. He could do this all night! You make the cutest whines and whimpers. You don’t really want him to stop, do you? You’re enjoying this, too! He’s not going to hurt you; he loves you so much! Why would he hurt you? You’re only crying because it feels so good, right? Because you’re so happy. Because you like him, too! It’s definitely not because you’re scared and don’t want this. Preposterous.

Kalim tells you all about how he’s always waited for this moment—how he can’t wait to finally show you how much he loves you. He’s been wanting to give you pups for so long now, always daydreaming about his cute human mate knocked up with his adorable pups. He’ll be so good to you when you’re pregnant. You won’t have to lift a finger! He promises this, and Kalim would never break such important promises.

He fucks you in every way, sometimes sloppy and quick, fueled with eager exhilaration, and sometimes slow and sweet, murmuring the kindest, most loving things into your sweaty skin. He marks you all over, focusing on your nape the most to ensure you’re properly claimed. You’ll be so out of it, unable to protest or even speak coherently, so overstimulated that all you can manage are whines. Kalim’s just as affected, quickly losing himself in the feeling of your pussy wrapped snugly around his dick. It’s so tight and warm inside. He knew you’d be the right one for him!

He cums so much, too. With seemingly endless stamina, you endure so many rounds, the final one thankfully coming to an end when he snaps his hips forwards to pin you in a mating press so his knot can finally slip inside, effectively locking the two of you together. And even if, by some miraculous stroke of luck, you don’t get pregnant after all of that he’s more than happy to repeat this process! You’ll agree to it as well, too far gone to think logically, all thoughts snuffed by how good it felt to be fucked so thoroughly. <3

[firehose118]

sometimes you get to a point in a wip where you start doing actual work at your job to avoid the problems you’re having with your fictional guys

[springlucked]

Do you have any specific Jack and Dave designs in mind for your fics?

mmmm honestly no I don’t! I prefer to keep their descriptions (mostly) vague so people can imagine them however they want

[alychelms]

Only one more week til our Kickstarter launch for the pattern deck from our Rook & Rose epic fantasy series! We go live on August 8, but you can sign up for notifications now.

[artofarklin]

Woad:Stone to Stone is a solo journaling TTRPG based on Welsh Mythology and inspired by history. Travel through mythic Cymru in the 12th Century with a celtic Tarot Deck as your guide!

Fight the English. Befriend the Fae. Seek the Fae.

Woad was funded in 48 hours, as it nears the completion of it's kickstarter campaign help us unlock more stretch goals by backing now!

[trans-cuchulainn]

it's amazing how a few nightly stretches can diminish my pain significantly and yet i do not do them

[maledictus-maleficus]

Bringing this back. Try if you dare!

[theosjunkdrawer]

Something about procrastinating booking a hotel for a wedding until 2 days before the deadline and then being told they'll call back for 2 days straight and now it's 11:35pm and in 25 minutes it is technically too late to confirm this shit and I Know The Person At The Desk By Name Because She's Been There All Day and I still haven't got a call back. I am out of school and still procrastinating deadlines continue to tear my stomach up

[thebrightness]

thank fuck, my grandparents heard about my suffering from TMJ and grinding my teeth, and they're both gifting me some money to go towards the $3500 mouthguard as an early birthday present. soooo fucking grateful because that means with my next paycheck I can purchase a Device to stop the agonies

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

every halloween I'm like, "I should write the short story where the werewolf gets kidnapped by a serial killer," and then for like ten years, I do not.

the whole fun bit, of course, would be narrating in a not close third, so that there's just some guy tied to a chair getting threatened and he's entirely too chill about the whole thing until he realizes what time it is, and then he's increasingly stressed about how he's gonna miss his Halloween date...

[artificial-condition]

Went to two farmers markets, a nursery, and got boba today!! 🌸

Everything is beautiful and lovely and it feels amazing outside (wore my carhartts with a tank top)

I bought from the farmers markets: cornmeal, bread, pomodoro sauce, two different soft cheeses, honey, apple blackberry jam, jowl bacon, and crowder beans (super excited about these because I can’t find them in grocery stores around me)

Also I saw a lovely fiddlehead fern bench at the nursery that I really would love for my garden space but it’s $300 :(

[yugiohcardsdaily]

Chronomaly Gordian Knot

“When this card is Normal Summoned: You can Special Summon 1 ‘Chronomaly’ monster from your hand, and if you do, this card’s Level becomes the current Level of that Special Summoned monster.”

[reluctanthurricane]

Why do I lose things so goddam always?

[inbabylontheywept]

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.