#and they've had their major share of fuck ups

[rosalesbeausderholle]

All the people who are like 'participating in politics does nothing!' like politicians make me mad with rage too with their spineless bullshit and hypocrisy and the rest, and no, they never do near enough and that's very frustrating, and many of them are greedy fucks who would betray us over their own interests in a heartbeat, but it's still a very bad sign to go 'don't vote it's useless' because the revolution isn't going to happen if you can't even participate in the democratic process in your own country and that nihilistic attitude does nothing but hand your country (general you, this goes for all of us) over to fascists, and it's very hypocritical to act like there hasn't been a lot of progress with anti-racism, pro-women, pro-lgbt (among others!!) legislation that was passed in the last 100 years, and that was all due to pressuring the right politicians into it. You don't have to like the politicians, they're not your friends, you just have to pressure them into doing what you want. So, yes, pressuring the right politicians leftwards and keeping them in power is how we've had a lot of very important legislation passed! So, participate in politics, it's literally the least you can do (of course, please do more).

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚☀️・₊✧ 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶'𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 & 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 ♡₊˚☀️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 he's obsessed to the max 𖥔 ceo x baker 𖥔 grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 she talks a lot x he listens a lot 𖥔 spoils the literal shit out of you 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content in vague details 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 super soft nanami 𖥔 close proximity 𖥔 he loves kissing the fuck out of you

: ̗̀➛ words: 7.7k

: ̗̀➛ notes: you guys are so sweet for supporting my toji fanfic which is why i wanted to write another and this time its about my husband, the father of our children, the man who deserves every beautiful thing in this world. if you enjoy my work, please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy!

Nanami Kento entered your bakery at exactly six o' clock.  

You carefully observed the moments he dedicated to perusing the array of pastries, the vibrant mountain of macaroons, and the freshly baked, warm casse-croûte that you unfailingly prepared for him when he clocked out. There was a tender quality to his countenance, noticeable in the slight release of tension between his brows as the soft, buttery flakes dissolved on his tongue in your presence. Without fail, he consistently left a generous tip in your travel jar, dedicated to a solo trip to Malaysia.

"Did you know they've got this thing about not wearing yellow in Malaysia?" you mentioned during your initial meeting, eyeing the distinctive black-dotted tie worn by the stoic salaryman. "Well, not that your tie would get you in trouble; it's not entirely yellow. In fact, I think it's perfect as it is, just like your hair, which also has a touch of yellow.” 

Please cut your tongue off. 

Anticipating a polite nod and perhaps a slightly regretful five-dollar tip left in the jar, you were taken aback when he queried, “Why is that?” 

“Oh, uh . . . a bunch of protesters wore the color during a demand for their prime minister to step down," you stumbled, feeling a twinge of embarrassment for veering off into an unintentional crash course. Dropping trivia about Malaysia wasn't exactly the same as flirting. "So, it's kind of become a symbolism for protest and, well, threat. I read it in a book once. I don't know if it's a legitimate law, though."

“Do you like reading?” he asked, still interested in conversing with you. “Most people would Google information.” 

“I like reading. It’s easier to retain information that way.” 

Nanami acknowledged your gesture with a nod of gratitude as he accepted the casse-croûte and exited your bakery. Anticipating that he might not return due to his reserved nature and your awkward attempts at compliment-flirting, you were surprised to find that he was, in fact, full of surprises.

Nanami became a regular visitor. Day after day, for the past year, he arrived at precisely six o' clock. He continued his routine, whether he purchased a box of pastries, a pair of bagged bread loaves, or simply a casse-croûte and a small cup of milk coffee. You always prepared his order five minutes ahead of time, just in case you were occupied with other customers.

"Enjoy!" you chirped, casting a warm smile at the customer you just served as the bakery slowly emptied, leaving only Nanami browsing the delightful array of small cakes. "Good evening, Mr. Nanami!"

Nanami raised his head in your direction. "Good evening." He finally settled on the black forest cake from the open freezer and brought it to the counter.

"Special occasion?" you inquired as you rang him out, sneakily not charging him for the casse-croûte and coffee. There was a special occasion of your own that you were eager to share, hanging from the tip of your tongue.

"An intern's birthday."

"Sounds fun!" You had been saving up for your birthday present since summer, and Nanami had played a significant role. "When's your birthday?"

"July third."

Your eyes widened with surprise. "No way! Mine is July sixth. We’re summer babies."

“Happy belated birthday,” he said, fishing for his wallet, gaze barely meeting yours. 

"Same to you." Offering the sandwich and coffee, you extended them towards him. "Consider it a belated birthday treat."

Nanami’s brows crinkled. “I cannot accept.” 

"Why not? It's a gift." You slid the items closer with a subtle nudge, leaving him little room to refuse. "And you've given me a priceless gift, Mr. Nanami." Your eyes hinted at the tip jar's location, which now lay empty. 

“Were you robbed?” he asked, concern evident in his voice. 

“What—? No! Oh my god. You’re so funny.” A chuckle escaped behind your fist, and he observed you momentarily before glancing away. "I'm heading to Malaysia next week!"

Nanami gave a subtle nod. Although his lack of a more animated response disappointed you, you understood that shortness was his nature. "Congratulations.”

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami. Your generous tips really made a difference. They covered half of our trip.”

“Our? It’s not a solo trip?”  

You let out a little nervous laugh. Should you really be telling Nanami about your crippling love life? Would he even be interested? Well, he seemed to listen carefully when you talk. Maybe he wouldn’t care, but you really needed someone to talk to about this. Unfortunately, all your friends were too busy with their marriages to care.

“Well?” Nanami prompted. 

"Right, sorry. It's just—I've actually been seeing someone. Funny enough, we met in a Facebook group for solo travelers. He lives in a nearby town.”

Unexpectedly, Nanami's first question caught you off guard. "Can you trust him?" His concern surfaced, causing you to pause. "I'm only asking because you met this man online. You can't trust strangers on the internet."

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami, but I’m capable enough to know about stranger danger," you said with a funny smile, dismissing his parental concern. "Besides, we’ve gone on a few dates over the past month."

Nanami's frown remained intact. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you paying for him, too?"

"Yes."

“Why?” Nanami asked, firmly placing his palms on the counter, making it clear he wasn't leaving until he was convinced you wouldn't get in trouble during your Malaysian adventure.

"What do you mean 'why'?"

His mouth opened but then closed into a thin line, his forehead lines deepening. "It’s not my place to tell you what’s right and what isn’t—"

"Yes, you’re right about that," you interrupted.

"—but this is bordering on recklessness. You cannot use your trip’s money to pay for a man you’ve known for a mere month. Why is he even in the traveler’s group if he cannot afford to pay for himself?"

"Mr. Nan—"

"You are being scammed." 

Your teeth clenched together. You rarely got impatient. Years in the hospitality industry and dealing with misogynistic tenants didn't break you. Even setting up your bakery and almost draining your savings didn't dim your optimism. 

But getting scolded by someone who barely spoke more than five sentences to you in a whole year of being a regular? That's pushing it.

He didn't know you or Toji, the guy you're seeing. He didn’t understand how much you appreciated him accompanying you. So what if you covered his share of the trip expenses? Toji promised to pay you back, and he's been paying the bills for your dates. They might not be fancy, but it's the gesture that matters.

Sure, Nanami chipped in some money, and you're thankful for that. But he has no right to question you. Other people also contributed to your travel fund; it's not like he single-handedly financed the whole trip. You appreciated his support, but he was not in a position to lecture you.

With a sigh, you managed to contain your frustration and said, "Have a great rest of your night, Mr. Nanami.”

Nanami's frustration was palpable as he stood firm, his gaze piercing through the windows of your soul. “I suggest you take my advice into serious consideration. It would greatly upset me if you had the chance to visit one of your favorite countries taken from you.” 

You didn't bother watching him go. Instead, your discovery awaited you at the counter—the money for the coffee and casse-croûte lay there, accompanied by a crumpled yellow note that had slipped to the floor. Moving around the counter, you picked it up and smoothed out its wrinkles.

What greeted you was your own name scrawled across the sticky note, repeated around fifty times, the letters overlapping in a chaotic dance. Some were hastily scratched out, while others were executed with perfect cursive precision. You didn’t know what to make of it.

During your confusion, a new customer walked in. Quickly, you pocketed the note, focused on carrying on with your day despite the lingering frustration that Nanami's cryptic message had left in its wake.

Toji never showed up.

You waited for him for two agonizing hours, extending the torture even more after your flight had taken off. It dawned on you that he likely didn't bother getting a ticket. He probably pocketed the money you sent him and vanished into thin air. Every attempt to reach him failed miserably—your calls were forwarded, and the fifth one hammered the heartbreaking truth that he had blocked your number. To compound your misery, you sent him a string of text messages that refused to deliver your pain. You didn't even know where he lived, as your encounters were always in the obscure locations of your budgeted dates.

The thought of reporting him to the police crossed your mind, accusing him of theft, but the lack of photographic evidence left you helpless. To make matters worse, he hated taking pictures, and you were uncertain if the name he provided was even real. All that remained was a flicker of hope that you might cross paths with the bastard and unleash your pent-up rage with a hard kick to his dick. 

With a heavy heart, you gathered your strength, brushed away the tears until not a single trace remained on your lashes, and lugged your suitcase and carry-on outside the airport, hoping to hail a cab.

The idea of facing the upcoming days at work felt agonizing, goading you to spend them in the isolation of your shabby apartment. You were engrossed in a depressing routine—microwaved dinners, aimless hours on the couch, and a marathon of old cable TV shows.

As hunger struck again, you contemplated your options. Baking seemed like a possibility, but motivation had abandoned you. Pasta could be an option, but the lack of noodles and tomato sauce made it impractical. So, you settled for the one thing that required no ingredients: crying.

At least that was free. 

Despite the inner turmoil, you mustered the strength to shoulder your overcoat, sporting your fleece pajamas printed with candy canes and well-worn second-hand boots. 

The short walk to the corner store felt longer than usual, the biting cold making you clutch your threadbare coat tighter. Your teeth chattered in protest as you entered, and the rush of warm air was a momentary relief against the chill. Fingers numb, you mindlessly reached for familiar comfort snacks—chips, chocolate milk, anything to dull the ache.

A hand much larger than yours beat you to the last packet of croissants.

“Ah, sorry.” You let it go. “All yours—” You choked as you looked up, and up, at Nanami staring at you wide-eyed, his hazel eyes flickering at a rapid speed as if he were hallucinating your presence. Your face flushed with embarrassment, and the weight of the past five days crammed upon you—his uncanny prediction, your own naivety, and the sting of being swindled. “Mr. Nanami . . . ”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in—”

“Good night.”

With a dismissive shake of your head, you left the basket on the counter, mumbled a quick apology, and retreated back into the biting cold. 

You’ve faced tons of humiliating moments—slipping in front of customers, your purse strap getting snagged in a door and dragging you back, and that one unforgettable instance when a little boy labeled your eyebrows as caterpillars in front of a line of onlookers. Yet, none of those incidents could hold a candle to the awkwardness of bumping into the very man who had warned you about the ill-fated choice of paying for a stranger's trip—stranger now—when it was supposed to be your trip. 

You felt a firm grip on your wrist, making your restless pacing suddenly stop.

Startled, you turned around to find a pair of expressionless hazel eyes and a slightly out-of-breath figure. Now is not the time to ogle Mr. Nanami’s broad shoulders, you idiot!

Releasing your wrist, he handed over a white, plastic bag. With a raised eyebrow, you peered inside to inspect its contents. It held everything from your shopping basket, including the last packet of croissants. Even more unexpected, he had paid for it all. 

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” you assured, your eyes already scanning for the nearest ATM, just in case you forgot. "But for now." You pulled out the packaged croissants and extended them toward him. Your body was shaking, not because of November but because of how you were scammed after being forewarned by Nanami. “Please. Take it.” 

He took your small hand in both of his, the warmth immediately melting the tension in your body. “So cold.” 

A soft giggle escaped you at the obvious observation, and you placed your free hand on top of his. "So warm." Sniffling, tears welled up in your eyes. "You know what else is warm? The sun. And it's yellow. It's so yellow."

“Factually speaking, it is white.” 

You wiped an arm across your nose. “What?” 

“The sun. It’s white. It’s only yellow in children's books.” 

You weren't about to argue with the guy who vindicated your slip-ups. Still, given the circumstances, you wished he'd soften the bluntness and let you bask in the illusion that the sun was a simple shade of yellow.

"I've always loved the color yellow," you mumbled. "Maybe getting scammed was a blessing. I'd probably get fined for wearing yellow otherwise. I couldn't afford to mess up on my trip. Besides, it all depends on the shade, right? Imagine how many fines I'd rack up just testing which shade of yellow suits me—"

Nanami tugged you close, capturing your lips with his.

A sharp intake of breath filled your lungs, eyes widening in surprise. Instinctively, your hands pushed him away, fingers grazing your tingling lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay. Don’t—Don’t worry. About it.” You tucked your lips in and tasted chocolate and mint—two of your favorite combinations. Nanami always seemed like the kind of man who would hate both flavors independently and dependently. “You’re okay. I mean—You’re okay in general. You’re not okay with kissing. You’re probably great, I’m sure.” Your tongue traced the curve of your lower lip, and Nanami’s eyes followed the motion. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.” 

You walked up to him, grabbed the lapels of his coat, and tugged him down a notch, your lips colliding with his. 

Nanami's touch was calculated, his hand sailing onto your cheek, feeding warmth to your cold ear before vanishing into the labyrinth of your hair. Simultaneously, the other serpentined to the small of your back, his magnetic energy drawing you snugly against his chest. His warm tongue delicately swept across your lower lip, an unspoken cue that encouraged you to part your lips in response.

Nanami deepened the kiss, your tongues stroking against one another feverishly as if it were your last kiss. Who knows? Maybe it could’ve been. But the way he kissed with such desperation, releasing soft moans, not allowing you a moment to catch your breath, made you think that maybe this was just the start.

And you kissed him back just as needy.

If your hands slightly released their hold on his lapels, you'd gently cup the sides of his neck, rising on your tiptoes. And if your calves protested, you'd draw him down, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers entwining in his pale, golden locks. The taste of mint chocolate lingered on your lips, and a smile curved on your mouth as he stole a quick peck, pulling back just to gaze into your eyes for a moment before kissing you again.

You’re not sure how long you two stood and kissed there. Nanami was the one who always took the lead, savoring the taste of your pink, tender tongue, kissing your chilly cheeks and dewy eyes. The desire for each other made it hard to break away, yet the need for a breath of air was undeniable.

Finally, you decided to be the one to step back, signalling the end of your first kiss with him.

Your bottom lip tingled as you pulled it in, jaw aching from the infectious smile that had taken over your face. You couldn't help stealing glances at the tall man before you, who returned your gaze with a soft, almost imperceptible grin. Yet, in his eyes, under the gentle glow of the streetlight, you could see the excitement and joy of kissing you, twinkling brightly.

“I'm gonna—”

“I should—”

Both of you sighed; you with a soft chuckle, and him with a discreet throat-clearing.

“I've already missed quite a few workdays,” you said. “Gotta earn that dough if I want to make next month’s rent.” Nanami didn’t quite catch your bakery pun, but he nodded in agreement.

“Right,” you murmured, subtly veering to the side, putting on a little show as you started to walk away. You admitted it—you were a hopeless romantic. You secretly hoped for him to steal a kiss on your cheek and watch until you safely disappeared around the corner. “I’m off now.”

“Goodnight,” Nanami replied, subtly licking his lips for the sixteenth time. Yes, you were keeping count. 

“Night-night.” 

Nanami strolled down his end of the sidewalk. You followed suit, turning down your street. 

Luck had only sometimes been on your side when it came to men and their romantic gestures. Oh well. At least you experienced a passionate kiss from one of your favorite customers. Asking for more seemed a bit too much—

A hand gently pressed against your back, and as you turned, it gracefully curved around your waist, drawing you in. Nanami caught your gasp and kissed you with an urgency that doubled, holding onto you as if his life depended on it, lifting you off your toes. Three sweet pecks later, he released you, both of your faces flushed.

"Get home safely," he whispered, walking away without a second glance.

That night, you couldn't help but giggle into your mascara-stained pillow.

The morning after, you were a whirlwind of joy and light, twirling through the bakery with trays of freshly baked pastries, replenishing boxes and take-out essentials. You greeted customers with an extra dose of sweetness, and to top it off, you even handed out a tray of delectable chocolate jam cookies. And you wore a yellow bow in your hair. 

The oven beeped as the casse-croûtes finished baking, signaling their readiness for Nanami's arrival in just five minutes. You took special care in preparing his milk coffee, indulging in a quiet chuckle at your undeniable favoritism. Though the neighborhood bakery wasn't bustling with a large customer base, your attention was solely dedicated to him—your only regular as everyone else buzzed in the distant city an hour away.

With his coffee prepared and two casse-croûtes packed, you added a chocolate-mint cookie to the bag. Then, you decided to rearrange the shelves of gift baskets to pass the time. 

Setting up the ladder, you ascended the shaky steps until you were eye to eye with the fifth shelf. Heights were never your forte, which, in hindsight, was another reason why flying to Malaysia was out of the question. The more you thought about being scammed, the more your heart wrenched from your lost trip. You’d again brought out your tip jar and prayed the odds were in your favor. Hell, maybe you’d ask Nanami to join you if you decided to take your relationship to the next level. 

As you secured the bow on the basket, your gaze landed on the clock—6:30 p.m., and Nanami was a no-show. 

Anxiety surged through you in an instant.

Did he leave you hanging? Maybe that kiss was a turnoff, and he chose to disappear rather than be upfront about finding you too overwhelming. Did your breath smell bad? Were you a terrible kisser? Or, worse, did something happen to him?

A torrent of worries flooded your mind, breaking through like a burst dam. Each imagined scenario seemed more nightmarish than the last, causing your head to spin. Recent events, like Toji's betrayal, fueled this self-doubt, made you question your intuition. While Nanami was clearly wealthy, consistently tipping a twenty each day, you found yourself questioning whether he had plans to use you for something else. As if that weren't enough, doubts crept in about your appearance and your optimistic, extroverted personality.

It started to make sense, didn't it? Nanami led a tranquil life, sticking to a routine of work and home, while you were a whirlwind of spontaneity—constantly buzzing with new ideas and discussions, unable to sit still or resist laughter at the silliest jokes. Everything seemed to fascinate you, yet nothing appeared to faze him. How could you have been so naive to entertain the thought—

“Good evening.” 

“Ah!” you yelped at the sudden baritone intruding into your thoughts. Your foot, betrayed by the unexpected intrusion, lost its balance on the step. Your arms flailed in a desperate attempt to find stability as you teetered backward, the impending hazard of a severe concussion and potential spinal cord injury looming.

But just as you were prepared to shake hands with God, Nanami's powerful arms swooped in at the last possible moment. With a secure hold, he cradled you in a bridal style, and you clung to him like a shaking puppy, arms looped around his neck.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his breath slightly labored.

You gingerly peeled one eye open to peek at him. His expression was one of calm disorientation; eyebrows knit together while his lips maintained a straight, tight line.

"Yes," you whispered, soothed by his timely intervention.

Nanami steadied you back onto your feet but maintained a firm grip on your elbows. “Look at me.” As you did, he inspected each eye closely while keeping his hand steady on your left cheek. He checked below your jaw, down to your dusty palms, which he cleaned with his silk handkerchief. He also patted down your tousled hair. "Are you sure you're okay?"

“Mm-hmm.” You could cry from how gentle he was with you. “A-Are you okay?” 

“I am now.” He took a composed breath and effortlessly retrieved his suitcase from the floor, brushing off invisible dust. “I apologize for being late. My . . . car broke down.” 

"What? Oh my god! Do you need me to give you my mechanic's number? I promise he's not as bad as the Google reviews say. He's actually quite a sweet man. And he gives me a friends and family discount because my father was close with him." You beamed, and Nanami squinted his eyes as if the brightness of your smile momentarily blinded him, but he tried his best to reciprocate.

“Do your parents live here?” 

You shook your head. “They passed away a while ago.” 

“I apologize.” 

"Don't be." You quickly switched subjects by fluttering towards the counter to pick up his items. “Tell me how your coffee tastes.” You turned around, adding, “I switched to a new brand of milk—”

Nanami pressed his lips against yours, momentarily freezing you. His seamless transition afterward could have fooled an onlooker into thinking you'd been married for years. "Thank you.” He took a sip and nodded thoughtfully. “It’s great. Everything you make is great.” 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sudden shyness enveloping you. From the kiss? The compliment? Him? You didn’t know at all. “Do you still need me to give you the mechanic’s number?” 

“It’s all right. I had it fixed. Minor battery issue, that’s all.” 

“Ah, okay. See, that’s why I prefer to walk.” 

Nanami glanced elsewhere, nodding. “Then, would you like to walk with me after you’ve closed?” 

“Oh.” A subtle flicker of surprise crossed your features. Nonchalantly, you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before smiling warmly. “Of course, yes. I’d love to go on a walk with you. Where are we going? There are lots of cafés in a nearby shopping district. I know all the best places to take you to.” A grave thought struck you just then. “Oh, actually. Hmm.” 

Curious, he tilted his head down, meeting your worried gaze. "What is it?"

"Well," you began, your thoughts taking a cautious turn, "you probably have a set time to be home unless you live nearby. In that case, we could spend the entire evening strolling around. Only if you're interested, of course."

Nanami’s lips twitched. “I live nearby.” 

“Where?” You weren’t ashamed to have been so upfront. It was more of a precautionary measure. 

And he didn't seem bothered, quickly revealing the familiar neighborhood you instantly recognized. It was a fifteen-minute walk from your own place.

"May I step out momentarily to make a call?" Nanami asked, pulling out his phone. It was the latest model you noticed—one that came out last week and mocked your own that was five versions older. “It will be quick.” 

“By all means.” You had to fix your hair and make-up anyway. 

Nanami nodded and exited the shop, leaving you to flee behind the counter. As you crouched down to check yourself in the small mirror tucked away in the lower drawer, you couldn't help but feel a warmth on your face from the unexpected collapse, the sweet, brief kiss, and his impeccable navy blue suit decorated with yellow cufflinks. Maybe a café was too casual for him; a restaurant might have been a more suitable choice. An expensive choice. However, you were adamant about not letting Nanami cover the entire cost.

Upon his return, five minutes later, you both settled at one of the three round tables in your bakery (he even pulled out your chair for you). Sipping on your coffees and enjoying the casse-croûtes and chocolate pastries, the conversation seemed somewhat one-sided. Yet, Nanami's aloof demeanor never made you feel inferior for dominating the dialogue. He listened to every word and vowel with his undivided attention, nodding alongside and adding in short sentences when he could relate to your childhood shenanigans. 

"Wait," he interrupted, causing you to halt in your tracks. The sun cast a warm glow on his face, making his eyes narrow into slits, but God did he look handsome. He extended his hand and brushed a thumb near your lips, discovering a small chocolate smudge. Swiftly, he licked it clean and tidied up the area around your lips with a napkin. "Beautiful."

“What?” 

Nanami was a deer in headlights. He sunk his head, beating himself up from murmuring his thoughts aloud—at least, that’s what you concluded. "You look beautiful," he declared with more assurance, his gaze on your face. "You are beautiful, Y/N."

Oh, my. 

Your heart was going to claw itself out of your chest. You could cook an egg on your face from how heated it had gotten. In fact, you were burning hotter than the sun, which continuously made him squint and blink. “Thank you.” 

He nodded twice, finishing the remnants of his coffee. Rising, he disposed of the cups and wrappers in the garbage bin, then extended a hand to help you stand. "I'll wait outside while you close up."

At a lightning pace, you ensured that everything in the bakery was safely unplugged and shut off. Grabbing your purse, you gave yourself a quick once-over in the mirror, adjusting your face and hair. Stepping outside, you meticulously locked the door and gates.

Without a word, Nanami entwined his fingers with yours, causing you to smile like an idiot at him. He maintained a straight, vigilant gaze, seemingly unresponsive as you wrapped yourself around his arm. A subtle smirk tugged at your lips when you felt his muscles flex.

You walked for hours, café-hopping and trying pastries, baked goods, and sweet drinks. Every time Nanami attempted to cover the expenses with his cash, you scolded him, insisting that since you had suggested the place, you should be the one to pay. It was a rule you had read about online, and all your friends stuck to it religiously. The thought of Nanami spending his hard-earned money on your interests made you feel incredibly guilty.

As a matter of fact, you were feeling guilty about tons of things. He told you he worked at an investment firm, which meant it was a nine-to-five, likely sporting a migraine he kept hidden, and now he was being dragged around the shopping district by you, forced to listen to you because he was a man who didn’t complain, wouldn’t complain, and long, story short, you wanted to die. 

“Kento,” you muttered, removing your hand from his, goosebumps rippling on your skin. 

“Yes, darling?” 

Your chest felt like it was being clenched in a fist. “I'm . . . I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For making you do all this. For making you pay for everything. For dragging you around when you're probably on the verge of exhaustion." Avoiding his gaze, you fixed your eyes on the concrete beneath you. “I know I can be too much sometimes—well, all the time.” A self-deprecating chuckle escaped your lips. "Exes in my past relationships have made it clear. I get overly excited easily, crave attention like one needs oxygen, trust people too easily to the point of getting scammed, and, well, I don't bring anything particularly special to the table. I'm sorry, Kento. Maybe it's best if we just stay friends?”

Nanami’s soft fingers lifted your chin up. Your words absolutely shattered his face, leaving you to feel worse than before. His lips were parted into a frown, his brows were scrunched up, brown irises flickering like he couldn’t believe you said that. This was the most reaction he had given you in the year that you’ve known him. 

“No,” he said. 

You blinked the tears gathered at your waterline. “No?” 

“No.” Nanami took a calming breath, closing his eyes. His forehead gently pressed against yours. “Please, let me be selfish for this once. For you. I can’t let you go—I won’t let you go."

"Kento—"

"I want to do this, Y/N. I want to pay for everything. I want you to drag me around because I’ll never be too tired for you.” Nanami drew back and cradled your sobbing face in his large hands. “I know I fail to show it, darling, but I love your excitement. I love paying attention to every detail of you because you’ve become my oxygen source. You’re a good, kindhearted woman, and anyone would be lucky to be seen by you. And you don’t have to bring anything to the table because there isn’t one dividing us, keeping us lengths apart.” His lips brushed your forehead, imprinting his words into your mind. "I want us to be more than just friends. I want us to be best friends. Lovers. In this life and the ones that follow."

You could explode. 

Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, seeking support as if the ground beneath you was about to crumble. Yet, you knew he would catch you, just as before. He was so real, embracing you wholly, both of you breathing in each other's scents to confirm a human like this could exist. How grateful you were he stumbled into your bakery that one rainy night, and how grateful he was that you offered him free coffee and a casse-croûte while he was freezing and trembling. His presence brought life to your bakery, gave you something to look forward to when you were at your lowest, and you gave him . . . everything. You were his everything since the first day. 

As the shared silence lingered, Nanami's phone shattered the moment, its noisy ring cutting through the haze. You instinctively stepped back, but he clung to your hand as if afraid you might slip away.

Never, Nanami Kento. You’re stuck with me. 

When he took out his phone, you caught a glimpse of the contact name: Satoru (assistant). 

Before you could process the fact Nanami had an assistant, he swiped right. “Yeah?” 

The voice on the other end resonated with loud cheerfulness in the quiet alleyway. Nanami half-rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Very well. Leave it there. I’ll be there when I want to.” 

The assistant chuckled and sang his goodbye, the cheerful tone abruptly cutting off as Nanami ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket.

“Do all stockbrokers have assistants?” 

He tilted his head. “I’m not a stockbroker.” 

“Oh? I’m sorry. I assumed because you worked at an investment firm.” 

“Yes, I was a stockbroker.” He nodded, warming your hand in his, then casually added, “But I own a firm now.” 

Your brows hit your hairline. “That’s amazing!” 

“Thank you. We have several locations around the country. Kento Investments. Have you heard of it?” 

Heard of it? You were a client some time ago when you were starting your bakery. All you encountered were glowing reviews about their ethical practices, a refreshing leave from the scheming ways of most investment firms that had previously taken advantage of you. It stood out as the industry leader in your research, and the team was lovely in guiding you through the process, so much so that you even invited them to your grand opening.

"Ah, you have." Nanami grinned, gently tilting your chin upward and closing your gaping mouth. "Therefore, my darling, don't feel guilty about me covering the expenses. I'm quite secure in my position to support both of us for centuries."

All you could manage was a disbelieving chuckle as you rested your forehead against his chest. Taking it as an invitation, he embraced you, crowning you with kisses. 

Lifting your head, you said, "There's something I want to get for you."

"What is it?"

Hand-in-hand, you pulled him back toward the bustling district, the sound of his deep laughter echoing in the air. Your own laughter naturally joined in.

As you strolled past a vendor selling accessories, your attention was drawn to an item you had briefly noticed earlier in your walk. Although you planned to purchase it the following day and surprise him in the afternoon, tonight felt like the perfect moment.

Politely approaching the elderly vendor, you asked, "Could I please try those on?" He handed you a pair of round sunglasses with a green tint to the lenses. Standing on your toes, you carefully placed the glasses on Nanami's nose, adjusting them to sit perfectly on the bridge. The sides of the spectacles featured a stylish steampunk design that complemented his narrow, sharp features. "Handsome.”

"I'll take it.” Nanami reached for his wallet. However, you were one step ahead, swiftly bringing out the spare change you had set aside in your coat pocket. You had already calculated the price, ready to outsmart him in this little game of charity.

“Y/N.” 

“Thank you,” you said to the shop vendor, ignoring Nanami’s stare. 

“Y/N.” 

“Yes, darling?" You looped around his arm and began your stroll down the sidewalk. “Oh, come on. Let me be selfish and treat you once in a while.” You cut off his protests with a kiss. 

He surrendered instantly. 

Over the next four weeks, you didn’t realize how quickly you’d become comfortable with Nanami. Like clockwork, he would arrive at your bakery, patiently occupying a table until your duties with customers or decorating displays finished. Now resembling a vibrant florist shop, the bakery owed its transformation to Nanami's thoughtful gestures—bouquets of flowers in every shade of yellow, orange, and white became an amusing routine. As you arranged them in vases, you would burst into fits of giggles like a maniac. 

You and him were like a Venn diagram, overlapping in unexpected places. He enjoyed non-fiction, classics, and history books; you immersed yourself in the world of romance and mystery novels. TV nights were a compromise between his love for documentaries and your penchant for anything sappy on Netflix, occasionally spicing things up with a true-crime documentary. His fascination with astronomy met your fixation with astrology, and surprisingly, he didn't scoff when you read the lines on his palms. Instead, he appreciated it just as much as you cherished his nightly photos of the moon and his ability to name the stars above.

At least, you were both Team Cats.

Nanami introduced you to his friends, including his quirky assistant Gojo, who had a habit of shamelessly flirting with you, seemingly just to get under Nanami's skin. However, your boyfriend was secure enough not to let it bother him. Yet, a trace of possessiveness would emerge during sex—when the two of you were entwined in bed, bodies bared and bathed in the aftermath of shared sweat.

Exiting the restaurant after a delightful dinner date, Nanami turned to you and suggested, "I'd like to invite you to my home tonight."

Finally, you thought, resisting the urge to dip your toes into the topic of visiting his home, especially considering he had been a frequent guest at yours.

The fact that he lived nearby had always puzzled you; he mentioned it casually yet never extended an invitation for a simple coffee or a chat on his welcome mat. Weekends saw him working from your living room, staying overnight, but on weekdays, he'd only spend a brief hour or two with you before heading home, a practice that seemed counterintuitive given his closeness. Despite the confusion, you hesitated to jeopardize your relationship by fishing too deeply.

So far, Nanami hadn't given you any reason to doubt him.

"Are you sure?" you asked cautiously.

"Absolutely, darling.” Nanami took your hand and planted a small kiss on the back of it. "I apologize for the delay. I've been having it . . ." He casually flicked up his sunglasses that had slipped. ". . . renovated."

“Oh, I see. Well, in that case, I’d love to!” 

Nanami nodded and leaned down to kiss your cheek. “Thank you for being so patient. I know it was eating you alive. You're not exactly the master of hiding your emotions.” He gave you a small smile and kissed your cheek again. 

You responded with a smile that crinkled your nose. "Just a bit anxious, that's all."

"Understandable.” He guided you toward his neighbourhood, exchanging a warm smile as you nestled against his arm. Observing the goosebumps on your skin and the faint shivers, he realized you had forgotten your cardigan. Without hesitation, he removed his blazer and draped it around your shoulders, helping you slip your arms through the sleeves and buttoning it up.

You took a deep breath, inhaling the pleasant scent from the collars. "You always smell so good."

Nanami bent down, kissing the side of your neck right above your racing pulse. "As do you," he murmured against your skin. "Always."

“Gosh, you're so flirty,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his midsection and burying your face in his chest.

“Come on now.” 

You walked for another ten minutes, taking a five-minute pit stop to pet a stray cat before stopping in front of a towering residence building. It was one of those extravagant ones boasting a fountain in the lobby and a vigilant security guard who greeted Nanami with a two-finger salute.

Hand on your back, Nanami guided you toward the elevator with mirrors on all sides.

He exuded an air of sophistication in his neatly rolled-up black dress shirt, complemented by beige pants. His pale, blond hair was slicked back, a Rolex clasped his wrist, and veins corded his well-defined forearms. The sunglasses you had given him rested atop his head. 

As Nanami caught your eyes on the reflective surfaces, a sudden blush warmed your cheeks. “What is it?” 

“Nothing,” you whispered, fingers idly playing with the golden butterfly bracelet he had given you on the night he asked you to be his girlfriend. “I was just . . . God, you’re so beautiful. Sometimes, I think I’m dreaming of you. And I don’t want to wake up from it.” 

Nanami released his grip on your hand, wrapping his arm around your waist. He tilted your chin upward and planted a lecherous kiss on your lips. As you stumbled backward, your back met the cool surface of a mirror, and you clung to his biceps. He continued kissing your jaw and nibbling at your neck.

“Ken—Wait, there’s a camera!” 

“I own the building.” 

Without allowing you to react, he kissed you fervently, his hands framing your face and his knee pressing between your legs. Your hips ground against the muscled surface, creating a heated friction that drew a moan from him.

The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival, but Nanami was undeterred. He refused to break the kiss. Lifting you effortlessly, he cradled you with a single forearm beneath your backside and your arms encircling his neck. Laughter echoed as you entered directly into the main corridor of his penthouse.

“Your front door is an elevator?” You marveled with an open jaw. 

“Yes, it seems so.”

Oh, how you loved his monotonous replies. 

Nanami gently placed you onto the expansive white surface of his couch, smoothly moving over your body to continue. 

“I knew you were a clean freak,” you said between his kisses, “but your penthouse looks like it was bought this morning.” 

“Two weeks ago.” He kisses down your neck, sideways toward your left shoulder. “That’s why I waited to invite you. Gojo was having the place decorated. I've installed a library for you, too. We can go book-shopping this weekend.” 

"Wait, what?" You pushed him back by his chest, incredulous. "Hold on, hold on, hold on. You mean to tell me you moved in just two weeks ago?"

"Yes," he answered, tilting his head slightly perplexedly. "When you asked about my residence, I panicked and couldn't come up with a proper answer, fearing you might decline my invitation for a walk. So, I bought this building from the previous owner on the spot. There are also commercial benefits. Quite a strategic move, if you ask me." With that, Nanami resumed his attention, focusing on kissing your collarbones and skillfully lowering your dress, exposing your chest to him.

But you were still stuck on the subject like a pesky fruit fly. “But you don’t live here?” 

“I don’t.” His mouth brushed over the mound of your left breast. “I live in Shibuya.” 

“Shibuya? Kento, that’s an hour and a half away!"

"Hmm." He glanced up, mouth sucking at your nipple.

"You've been faithfully coming to my city every single day, all the way from Shibuya, for a whole year? You've been burning all that gas just to be with me?"

He broke away to say, "Gojo drives me occasionally," and switched to your right breast.

"Nanami Kento, are you out of your mind?"

Finally, he released you and sighed. "I fail to see the issue here." He appeared so innocent, with his moist lips, tousled hair, and a crumpled dress shirt. 

You hurriedly sat up, readjusting your dress, which seemed to displease him. "I'm at a loss for words." Your gaze caught the weariness etched on his face, the bags under his eyes, the slow, heavy blinks signaling his desperate need for sleep. "You haven't actually been living here, have you?"

Upon hearing that, Nanami let out a weary sigh. "I do it when I'm too drained to make the drive back on weekdays."

As the details of his schedule fell into place, you flinched inwardly. He would rise at the crack of dawn, dedicate endless hours to handling clients at the office, and then endure a lengthy drive to your city, only to spend his evenings with you before leaving around midnight to return to Shibuya. The only time he would stay overnight at your place was on Saturdays, and he would depart early on Sundays for work. And all this time, you had believed he had an office in your city.

Oh, God. 

You loved him. 

You loved him so much.

Tears welled up in your eyes at the realization of just how much he loved you. The man had gone so far as to purchase an entire building in your city just to be closer to you. He showered you with affection at every opportunity, devoted his alone time to you with undivided attention and mind-blowing orgasms, and his bank transactions were probably dedicated to you. 

“I don’t deserve your kindness,” you whispered. 

“Neither did I the night when we met.” Nanami’s words always had a comforting effect on you. He gently pulled you onto his lap, and you curled up like a fetus, planting a kiss on his cheekbone. “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Y/N. I love . . . God, I love you so much. I didn't realize I was capable of feeling this much love for another human until I met you. It was all locked up inside me, and you held the key all along, darling." Leaning forward, he smoothly swept his blazer and delved into the pocket, revealing a small yellow box. With trembling hands, you accepted it and opened it to find a petite, golden key inside. “Our front door is an elevator.” 

Your breath hitched. “What?” 

“Move in with me.” 

“Kento—”

“I know. I know it's quite early to discuss this, and I want to give you the space and time to consider it. As you mentioned, your lease ends next month, and I'll officially be transitioning to remote work with a few business trips every other week. It would mean a lot to me if you decided to join me on those trips." He gently placed the key in your hand, kissing your fist. "I'm scheduled to travel to Malaysia next month."

Overpowered with emotion, you choked out a sob and immediately lunged at him with a hug, causing both of you to stumble backward as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He loved you. He wanted you to move in with him. He wanted to travel with you, starting with Malaysia. Suddenly, the tips he left in your jar took on a deeper significance, backing the idea that you weren't meant to journey alone, why you weren’t meant to go with that swindling bastard. As Nanami's gestures of kindness and service became increasingly evident, your tears welled up, choking him in a tight embrace that eventually had him laughing.

Last November, Nanami Kento had stepped into your small bakery, raindrops clinging to him, unknowingly marking his permanent presence in your life.

[fellthemarvelous]

Holy forking shirtballs

I'm choosing violence today. I started this on Twitter, but I'm going to finish my thoughts here like I always do.

But what really blows my mind the most is the way that people look at Aziraphale's "choice" at the end, as if he had one to fucking begin with.

I'm sorry, but Aziraphale knows how messed up Heaven is. He told The Metatron, more than once, that he did not want to go back to Heaven! We can debate what each of us means by "choice" all night because my "choice" and your "choice" might be two different concepts. He could have been strong armed by The Metatron or he could have looked at where things were headed and realized he had no choice but to intervene himself.

You need to ask yourself what Aziraphale has a moral imperative to do.

What do we owe to each other?

Seriously, if you have not watched The Good Place, I recommend you go and watch it, because it absolutely shaped how I've viewed Good Omens 2 since its release.

My levels of frustration with the bad faith mischaracterizations of Aziraphale are off the charts. If you are blaming him for everything, implying that he should have to grovel and that Crowley has a right to hurt him back, you have missed the point of Good Omens entirely.

I defend Aziraphale, but I don't think one of them is more right or wrong than the other. They're equals. They're a group of the two of them, acting and reacting to each other throughout history. They're Alpha Centauri.

I cannot even begin to explain how fucking devastated I felt when Crowley said these words, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. What he said took a lot of courage because he's finally admitting something they've both been too scared to publicly define for 6,000 years. Crowley has had to spend so long with a rough outer shell because he fell and had to hide all of his softness.

The look on his face was one of pure joy when he created that nebula, but I think the fact that he got to share that moment with Aziraphale is what has always stuck with him.

So yeah, seeing Crowley with a broken heart at the end of "Every Day" was sad for me as well.

My brain still lives here!!

But Neil has said that Good Omens 3 is not quiet, gentle, or romantic. I imagine it's going to be more like the the first season in which they are not central to the plot. GO2 will help us make sense of how they ended up where they are when we see the bigger picture with all the other major players involved with GO3.

Aziraphale was still a soldier and accidentally got himself discorporated in his own magic circle in season one. He had a platoon waiting on him to start Armageddon, and he deserted them to go save the world with Crowley instead. Aziraphale is a deserter. I need everyone to remember that. He yeeted himself out of Heaven and sought out Crowley before even locating a body just to warn him about what was happening so they could try to save the world together.

I can't help but think of 1941 and that magician who had been arrested for being a deserter.

Aziraphale disobeyed orders. That took courage but it branded him as a traitor against Heaven. They tried to destroy him for it the same way Hell tried to destroy Crowley for his part in stopping the war.

Aziraphale and Job are the only characters we have seen interacting with God directly. Aziraphale has spoken to God before and he is determined to do so again.

Aziraphale knows Heaven is flawed, but he also knows it's supposed to be good. He wants it to be good. He does not like the way the system works and he wants to make a difference. (And I'm pretty sure he's also determined to talk to God without being intercepted by The Metatron.)

Since when is that a bad thing? I don't get it. And I've had this discussion before.

If you need to change the system by burning the old one to the ground, it's still change, and we don't know what Aziraphale has planned.

It seems to me that people just want to see Aziraphale fail because it would punish him for returning to Heaven instead of running off with Crowley.

Some of y'all take everything Aziraphale says or does and twist those things into malicious anti-Crowley actions because you think the only reason Aziraphale exists is to make Crowley happy, and if he isn't thinking only about Crowley then he's doing something wrong.

Aziraphale does not exist as a plot device to further Crowley's character. They come as a pair. They've been learning from each other for 6,000 years. Crowley challenges Aziraphale just as much as Aziraphale challenges him.

You can be mad at Aziraphale all you want, but villainizing him is gross. Defending Crowley does not mean you have to tear down and mischaracterize Aziraphale anymore than defending Aziraphale means you have to tear down Crowley (but I don't see that happen on nearly the same level it happens to Aziraphale). Stop painting Aziraphale as an abusive partner, for fuck sake.

Aziraphale knows there are flaws in the system. He wants to make a difference, and since he has seen that Gabriel can change, then maybe the whole system can. He has to at least try, and if he can succeed then maybe he and Crowley can stop hiding and finally be together without having to look over their shoulders all the time.

Why is that a bad thing? He's just as protective of Crowley as Crowley is of him!

But don't forget that Aziraphale's wing was covering Adam and Eve too. As much as a wants to protect Crowley, he has a moral imperative to keep humanity safe as well.

He sent Adam and Eve into the unknown with a flaming sword so they could protect themselves.

As much as he wants to be with Crowley, there are 8 billion people on Earth heading toward the Second Coming and Judgment Day. They'll work together to fight alongside humanity in the end. Aziraphale should not have to humiliate himself just to earn Crowley's forgiveness. That's a rancid notion.

The Resurrectionist was a whole ass moral dilemma for Aziraphale, which is why I brought up The Good Place earlier, but that's a post for a different time.

Aziraphale has his own motivations and they're just as important as Crowley's, and they don't have to be chalked up to Aziraphale being the bad guy. Weird, I know, but shades of grey.

"To the world."

[biibini]

Its okay if you dont wanna do this but i really wanna know what you think mizu would do when reader gets her period

modern!mizu x reader gets her period (request)

tags: period, cuddling, fluff, kissing, modern au, modern mizu, mizu being best girl

a/n: ok midterms r coming up so soon HAHAHAHAH (im so nervous)

modern!mizu would def have the supplies

but i’d feel like she’d carry the lighter, smaller pads

but on most days, mizu would be a tampon used

to ur surprise, she typically uses panty liners for the majority of her period

and even if she does get a heavy period, she can handle it on most days

(yeah im fucking jealous i wish that was me)

like perfect silky hair and thin pads???

mizu my girl

hand those genes over

anyways

she would have aspirin and a hot pack on hand if u need it

when she was growing up, they used to be super heavy but now they've become lighter

if ur a heavy flow typa gal,

oh lord its extra packs for mizu to buy

at first, she would be rlly confused at the sizing and the number of flaps/extensions the pads would have

and what specific color to buy

(iykyk my heavy flow girls will know)

but she doesnt mind, u need them

as long as her girl is covered and safe and sound

if ur a tampon girl, mizu would double check to make sure she got ur brand when she goes shopping

modern!mizu would notice ur cycles, especially the week beforehand when ur rlly moody

whether its u being acting more impatient or upset than usual

she checks and makes sure that she has the necessities at hand

if she doesnt, she’ll say she’s just gonna run some errands

technically its not a lie

she does go to the closest convenience store

but the errands in question: pads/tampons and something sweet

(personally im a chocolate sweets girlie)

she’ll get u a lil sweet treat that’ll last u for a week or two

modern!mizu would also pour an extra cup of tea for u before bed

she just wants u to be as comfortable as u can be during ur period

and if u guys are cuddling and watching something before bed

she’ll make sure to keep u comfortable

“Mizu, pleaseeee. Just one more episode?”, you plead. You guys had just finished the second to last episode of the show. Sure, you felt a little tired. But the thought of moving and crawling off of Mizu’s chest didn’t outweigh the comfort of the couch.

Mizu sighs.

“You always do this and then you end up falling asleep.”, Mizu states as she grabs the remote control.

“Not necessarily-“, you rebute. Technically, she wasn’t wrong with your history of falling asleep. But not this time.

“Mmhmm. Right…”, she responds, a little sass in her tone.

You pout. “Please. I promise, I’ll stay up.”

You place your warm cup of tea aside, allowing you to wrap your arms around Mizu’s neck. You feel the heat of her neck against your forearms.

“Besides, it’s the final episode.”, you smile. You look at Mizu for sign of defeat.

“Ok fineeee,” she clicks on the next episode button, “Stay awake now. I’m not summarizing it this time.”

You plant a kiss on her cheek, pulling her closer to your body. She places her mug next to yours and letting her arms wrap around your body. You feel the warmth of her hands press against your body, almost burning from the hot tea.

“I promise I won’t.”, you assure as you sit back against Mizu’s chest again. You feel Mizu’s arms relax and allow you to prep yourself before watching the finale.

Mizu smiles as she felt your body lay back on hers. Your weight alongside the blanket you’re sharing relaxes her. You feel her arms gently wrap around you again as you hear the intro to the episode play.

Her hands start to drag along your sides to your stomach. You feel her burning palm place itself on the top of your lower stomach. Its presence shared a similarity to a heat pad.

You hum in response. While her right hand is busy drawing attention to your lower stomach, you feel her other hand wrap around you and pull you closer. You feel her lips lightly graze your shoulder.

“Mizu, it feels good but-”, you say as her right hand starts to gently massage your stomach.

Fuck. That feels so nice.

You hold back a groan. “Not here, hon.”, you say as you nod your head towards Ringo’s bedroom door.

“I know, don’t worry.”, Mizu responds as she places a soft kiss near your neck. “I just want you to feel comfortable now. You’re on your period, right?”

You nod in response.

“So c’mere. I’ll keep you nice and warm.”

modern!mizu would put ur towel in the dryer while u shower

ik its oddly specific

but i feel like she would make sure to make u feel warm in any way possible

with or without heat pad

same concept applies for the blanket

shes always so thankful her and ringo got an apartment with an in-unit washer dryer

when ur washing up, she’ll typically be doing some light studying with some tea before bed

a break inbetween would be the pop the towel in the dryer

next break is swapping out the towel for the blanket

final break is bringing back the blanket right before u get into bed

its a strange strategy but it helps her stay focused and paces herself while synonymously taking care of u

modern!mizu would make sure she’s wrapping her arms around ur lower stomach when ur cuddling at night

the heating pad gets annoying to sleep with

especially if u tend to toss and turn at night

but having her hands warm u helps u relax at night

when ur trying to sleep, she’ll gently caress and massage ur stomach to help release any tension

at first, u thought it wouldnt have an effect on u

but the more she did it, the more relieved u felt at night

mizu would also feel relaxed knowing that u r relaxed as well

when she heard ur snores, she knows shes done a job well done

[exhuastedpigeon]

Buddie Hiatus Fic Rec - Month 7Nov 16 - Dec 15

0-5k

share this hour of make-believe by fleetinghearts / @shitouttabuck Gen | 1.2k quarantine finds eddie sharing a bed with a pillow-thief and sleep-talker. he minds less than he thinks.

In my defence I was left unsupervised by Spotsandsocks / @spotsandsocks Mature | 1.3k Buck gets bored and decides on a new look, he may have doubts about the end result but Eddie’s having thoughts, interesting thoughts.

moth to a flame by brewrosemilk / @gayhoediaz Teen | 1.7k Eddie’s kiss is so gentle that Buck aches.

coax the cold right out of me by oklahoma / @sunshinediaz Teen | 2.6k “You know,” Eddie begins, running his fingers through Buck’s damp, frizzy curls, “when I booked this cabin for the weekend, I had plans for us to fuck real nasty by the fire.”

I’ll be anybody but me by justhockey Not rated | 3.4k Just one single moment, and his house of cards almost came tumbling down. Buck shouldn’t be surprised though, he’s never been much of a magician; no matter how hard he tries, he’s never been able to make himself disappear.

The spaces in between by sparkles_stars Teen | 4.4k Buck and Eddie get curiously domestic, pine a little, and ultimately - with sweetness and light - get together.

5k-10k

in the rough draft, [s]he loved you by iinryer / @iinryerGeneral audiences | 5.3k during the flight home to LA, eddie tries to write down some things he wants to say to buck

reachin for me (makin love to someone else) by inbetweenthestacks / @organizedstardustExplicit | 8.3k Buck says Eddie’s name while having sex with Natalia.

I wanna spend my forever like that by wikiangela / @wikiangelaGeneral Audience | 8.6k Eddie catches a cold and stubbornly denies he's sick, while a fondly exasperated Buck is trying to take care of him.

Friends Don't by chronicallystendan Teen | 8.7k Eddie and Buck have always been closer than most best friends and it's never bothered them, but lately they've been starting to wonder if there might be more than just friendship between them.

10k-20k

Claxons and Silver Bells by catwalksalone Teen | 10.5k Eddie dies. Only someone, somewhere is willing to give him a second chance. All he has to do is figure out where he went wrong the first time around.

Don't Listen When I Scream by devirnis / @devirnis Mature | 10.9k The man shoves Buck into the chair. Picking a hunting knife up from the tray, he points it at Eddie. “If you fight back or try to escape, I will slit his throat before you can even blink. Understand?”

Why Not Take All of Me? by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars Mature | 13.2k When a small disaster strikes the morning of Maddie and Chimney's wedding, Buck, Hen, and Chim find themselves unwittingly caught up in an emergency across town, while Maddie and Eddie get stuck in an elevator.

it hurts to hope for more by 42hrb Mature | 15.6k Buck wants to be a dad, it takes a couple break-ups and a major non-romantic heartbreak for him to figure out that maybe he already is.

30k +

you still make sense to me by farfromthstars / @buckactuallys Mature | 31.1k eddie is ready for a new relationship – but why does it never feel right? buck has a lot to work through, and doing that comes with a few realizations.

and here, too, am i by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars Teen | 41.1k Six months into their marriage, Eddie is still struggling to decide whether or not he wants more kids, when he knows Buck does. The universe may not scream, but it certainly talks.

Both Blade and Branch by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars Mature | 62.8k The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back.

Month 1 (May 15 - June 15) Month 2 (June 16 - July 15) Month 3 (July 16 - August 15) Month 4 (August 16 - September 15) Month 5 (September 16 - October 15) Month 6 (October 16 - November 15)

[yxstxrdrxxm]

SYNOPSIS: Kazuha, a well-known tailor in Inazuma, had a spouse. It's only a shame that his spouse is known for their 'infidelity' in his eyes. [ songfic ]

TW/S: Yandere tendencies, stalking, minor and major character death/s, emotional manipulation in a way, gore, violence, fire/arson, sewing... questionable fabric, unreliable narrator, shifting POVs, dead dove: do not eat, dollification, delusional thinking, Kazuha progressively loses it till the end, beheading, oh God this fic and tws are long Im so sorry―

NOTE: During the fic, it is recommended to listen to "The Tailor of Enbizaka". It will make sense when you read through this fic :)

(also, I apologize if this took a while for me to write. I got busy and writer's block hit me :( anyways, second work and its the best boy! Though, I hope you all don't blame me for fucking him up. Also also!! This is very much a long, LONG fic— like 2k+ long, so 🫡 gl soldier, I'll see if I don't need to make this to a 2 part series)

(update: this fic took 6k words, good luck y'all, this one is a WILD ride)

In Inazuma, there is a tale that is shared by many about a crimson clad man and his lover.

The others never settled on what he looked during the day before his death, nor were they sure what his prior job was before he became a tailor. However, they always complimented him for his looks and his skill, knowing that whatever he used as his own special fabric would be tailored and taken care of well.

Even with one full of holes and tears, he is gifted with the ability to patch them up till it was brand new. In the village he lived in, he was regarded for having such a talent, and he had his shop open and full of visitors.

However, the only thing that made people question him was his behavior. Despite how mild-manner the tailor was, he often comments on how his beloved darling refused to come home and continues to cheat on him.

Many those that still lived during the time said the crimson-eyed tailor acted delusional, but just how far can those delusions go?

No one knows but the man himself... And the one who persecuted him, too.

It was that year since I've seen my beloved after the accident.

A year that, when I saw them, I've longed to see them and speak to them about our time together as a married couple.

To begin with, I am Kaedehara Kazuha, or― as the townsfolk here call me, the 'Crimson-Eyed Tailor'. Although I am highly regarded for my craftsmanship, many told me that I am odd for my adoration for my beloved maple.

Why is it that odd? I thought all married couples do this, even if some think that it feels off.

Besides that, however, my darling isn't quite aware of my... Endeavors. More specifically, their streak of getting out for hours, perhaps days and weeks, and not even coming around to speak to me.

I am bound to them by an oath when we were married: we both drank sake together under that faithful light of the moon, with only nature watching over us. However, it would seem as if they have forgotten that, and ended up cheating on me in broad daylight.

Like they had no such shame.

Alas, I am but their husband, and I can't simply get mad at my beloved spouse. I know they did no wrong, for they sometimes meet with others as an act of being 'friendly'.

So while I focused on fixing the kimono, I've began to hear something that had been passed around in the village.

Something related to my darling's little ventures.

"I have spoken to [Name] about the matters in their marriage recently," one of the ladies spoke, her voice not so soft enough to conceal who she was speaking about as I fixed the fabric in my hands.

"And from what they told me, they're getting their kimono fixed for when their lover returns home!"

I simply continued on sewing, but the lady's next words had me flinch.

"Ah, they've been married for years, aren't they? And it seems they even have their shiromuku ever since their marriage to sir Kamisato Ayato. How romantic!"

...

The blood continues to spill on my finger, with the needle that I used pricking it when I've lost focus and got too careless.

How uncouth.

From the tale shared by the folks of Narukami Island, they talked about the crimson-eyed tailor's marriage with his supposed 'spouse': an immigrant of sorts from Fontaine, traversing to Inazuma to meet with their lover.

Their relationship together is strange. From the accounts of those with prying eyes, they said that he was the only one putting an effort to their relationship, and they wished to take it slow.

However, there are those that disagreed, saying that it had been the other way around— and it was he who wished for them to slow down.

No one can decide what the tailor had done, for they can't even tell if his desires were to rush or to slow down. But what can be confirmed is one thing everyone kept saying.

He doesn't like his trust being broken.

It had been days after hearing what I did.

I hadn't seen my dearest beloved in those days, and the day I saw them had been when the heir of the Kamisato clan had returned.

I had been busy as ever in sewing till I realized that I'm running out of thread. I don't have any spares, and I'm well aware that there are a few shops that sell supplies for sewing.

And so, on a lazy afternoon, I've got out of my shop in the hopes that I can catch the store to buy the supplies I needed.

The soft sound of wood hitting the pavement greeted my ears, alongside hushed murmuring and discussing with the commonfolk. I greeted a few that noticed me in passing, but they were swift to return to the people they were speaking to prior.

It was a mundane thing, really. But it was the type that felt familiar.

Turning a few corners, I managed to locate the shop I was looking for. Walking up the stairs, I waved at the lady taking care of the store—

—not before my ears perked up at the soft chattering in the distance.

My eyes trailed over to the source, and then, I see them.

My beloved maple.

I saw that they were conversing with the heir of the Kamisato clan, his hand reaching over to hand them a small gift: a small box, with the ribbon being the color of purple. I spot the gleam of gold on top of the ribbon, which eludes me to think that it is the insigna of the clan crested in gold.

How tacky.

I had to hold back the urge to stop them as their conversation was hard to discern, my focus back on the woman running the shop with the supplies I require.

"Hello, madame," I greeted, making the woman smile and nod in greeting as well. "Do you need fabric again, Kaedehara?"

I chuckled, but it was only to mask the bits of instability in my voice.

"Oh, not fabric, madame. I simply desire thread. I have ran out of red and black, and I didn't want to delay the commission I had from monsieur Lyney. Do you have any right now?"

"Red and black thread, hm? I can check at the back. Please give me a moment to look."

With a bow, the seamstress turned around to leave. With that, I let go of the breath I held and turned my gaze back to the bridge, just a few ways away from where my beloved sunset was at.

Watching the two figures, I couldn't help but simply stared at the attire that the heir wore.

Montsuki Haori Hakama: that usually means black or gray. I've known that colored kimonos were not worn with this in mind, and he certainly didn't wore anything that would be too straining.

Still, that shade of black is made of high quality. I'm not surprised if he wore it so rarely, as though to preserve the detail and its intricate work from his very own seamstress.

...

I wonder if I can take it?

Watching the two descend from the bridge, my eyes wandered back to the lady as she returned with the spools of thread, all varying in degrees of color and quality.

"Here you are, Kaedehara! These are the best I can find that fit the colors you asked for."

My eyes twinkled as I took the spools to my hands, my fingers turning and nudging the thread to see just how strong it is.

Interesting. Good quality, too... Maybe I can use this to finish that outfit I've been saving for a while.

"Thank you, madame," I thanked her, making her laugh. "Oh, it's not a problem, Kaedehara! You've done so much for this little town of ours, this is but a simple thing to repay for your efforts!"

With a nod, I paid the seamstress and turned back down to descend from the bustling upper part of the town, the sight of what happened in the bridge a bit further away bothering me from within.

No matter, Kazuha, I mused, carrying the items I required as I felt myself walk back home. Even if you want to get rid of him, it will be much too complicated. You simply need to be patient and wait till the opportunity comes.

...

Although, whoever made his clothes... I wonder if I can speak to them to inquire about their techniques.

The first case that started this was a cold one.

One that is related to a person no one knew so highly about, be it by their background, appearance, and even their name. All they were known for is being the 'tailor' for one of the clans.

There had been a lack of evidence and information about this due to how many tailors had been requested all across Inazuma at the time. It was understandable that people chalked up to them being missing as nothing more than an unfortunate case, not one worthy of being dug into.

Others had suspected that it had been associated with something else, that something (or someone) had done this deliberately. There was no evidence to this, but their claims were loud as they were bold, making it difficult to ascertain its authenticity.

However, the masses have all agreed that this was a normal occurrence. It was not one worth noting, because there had been a lot more that spoke of the same tale, always eluding to their fate being that they were murdered.

It was, unfortunately, the 'norm' of the village in the legend. A norm that, if the people of Inazuma heard it today, would have turned their heads in disgust for how abhorrent it sounds.

Still, many remained curious of the biggest what if that seem to echo in their mind.

Was the tailor associated with his sins?

The Kamisato clan has had it's ups and downs, and it isn't strange to see that they were seeking out talented tailors and workers to work under them.

What was surprising (to everyone), however, was that the head of the clan hired me to work as the Kamisato Clan's personal tailor.

The reasoning behind it was quite simple, especially with what the heir spoke to me when he and I met in the morning when I was to be summoned in the estate— due to his personal tailor (a family friend, he said) going missing for days, they were unable to track down his whereabouts and presumed that he has gone missing.

I was only hired as a "replacement" for the clan's special tailor till then, and he made it extremely clear that there was nothing else to it. Nothing that would spell the fact that I will permanently stay in that position.

Of course, to many, this may sound as an odd deal. There are so many tailors such as myself that would die to be consulted on, to work as the head of the clan's seamstress and work for their outfits. And perhaps, in their naivety, they may consider it as their efforts finally paying off in some way.

However, I have been in a clan myself before. This is nothing more if not a business deal.

A deal between one rising clan, and one whose surname has lost it's widely known heritage.

This only benefits the Kamisato Clan in the effort to save face. To save face of the potential backlash they'll deal with should any information of the missing clan's tailor be brought to light to everyone who remain blissfully ignorant of the innerworkings of the clan.

I would normally deny this kind of offer, mostly because there is no benefit for me to join and work for them. However, times have changed, and I simply reconsidered denying Kamisato Ayato's offer.

... There is a few benefits to me joining. It may be minimal, but it is better than scrounging around in the dark.

And so, I agreed to the offer.

The arrangements set for me to move was quite swift. I'm aware that that he is a man of his word, so it was quite easy for us to prepare my living arrangements and move to the estate.

With the supplies I get from the clan, it's been easy to stay put and gather information to the person I'm targeting.

... That was, until that day came.

I remember it clearly: it was the ends of fall, where the maple leaves fell more and more around the estate's grounds. This usually signified the coming of winter, so I usually savor the season by having time off to admire the scenery.

And in one of my walks, I had travelled from outside of the estate to see if things have changed.

Which, to my luck, I've encountered my darling beloved.

But just like last time, they were not alone.

In the journey of my wandering, I have seen them speak to the sibling of the older heir, Kamisato Ayaka, as they sit on the table outside of the Komore Teahouse.

From how far I am to the entrance of the teahouse, it gives me enough space to watch them interact like friends. The way that the Himegimi raised her fan to cover her face, perhaps from her eyes crinkling in amusement from what they told her...

... It was intriguing. Very intriguing.

So much so that I've felt the claws of envy grip in my chest, clutching its metal nails and making punctures on my already bleeding heart.

What a nuisance. Must you hurt me like this, darling?

I can hardly remember what happened after that. After all, my focus had been set on the two speaking to each other like they were simply companions, unknowing of what fate may bring upon them.

...

"Oh? Kazuha! I didn't notice you came to the Teahouse as well!"

My attention was swiftly pulled away from the sight of my dearest gem, and it landed on the familiar sight of olive eyes. From the appearance alone, many wouldn't think that an immigrant of Mondstadt would be a fixer.

Not even I would be able to see it happen.

However, this man had the skills to prove of his worth— after all, being Inazuma's 'fixer', he's often the go-to man to fix any and every problem that the Narukami Island and others may face.

Which makes him a glass canon— one that is volatile and unpredictable, even under the guise of a friendly face.

That is what Thoma is.

But this "glass cannon" has his weakness, and I know how to use it to my advantage.

Letting a smile slip to my lips, I chuckled, raising my hand to cover my mouth. "Well, I've been foretold by others about Komore Teahouse and it's history. I've been meaning to visit it, but I'm so busy fixing kimonos and making them to have time to spare."

A white lie, but then again, there are many of those that have been foretold in the waking of this world.

What does adding one do at this point? I'm already damned by the heavens the day I've seen the 'truth' of this fate of mine.

Just one lie wouldn't hurt, right?

"Haha, I can't blame you," the taller blonde seem to answer my query with his own, albeit he did seem to look more like he was at ease. Still, I needed to be weary; he can change sides if he so much as sensed that something is wrong.

"After all, with what the missing tailor in the clan circulating around the others in the estate, I'm even surprised that you manage to fill up in their position for months!"

... Oh? So he's noticed my talents, hm?

I shook my head.

"Oh, please. I'm just a humble tailor, Thoma," I reasoned, letting out a heavy sigh. "I have thought of asking them for advice on how they do their work, but since they're missing, all I can do is substitute for their absence."

He gave me an apologetic smile and nodded.

"That is true... I guess I'm just a bit too ecstatic to finally have someone that can fill in their role seamlessly. Lord Kamisato Ayato would've been panicking if we didn't have a replacement soon for his anniversary with his spouse."

... Spouse, huh?

"Hm... Is that so?"

I frowned in thought as I ponder over wanting to... Ask him for a favor. Sure, this one wouldn't do well on one's conscious mind if they knew, but it was simply for their sake.

It was all for them. I knew that.

It wouldn't hurt anyone if I asked Thoma to do this for me. At least, while I still have the chance to do so.

I can only hope the cannon does not think of shooting it's shot to me if I slipped up.

"Speaking of, Thoma, may I ask you for a favor?"

After the first missing case of the tailor, there had been more that were reported. The victims were all varied in their appearance, age, and even from where they used to live, be it in Narukami Island or even outside of Inazuma itself.

It was difficult to tell how many there were exactly, especially with how the legend is interpreted. Some said it was 20, while others said it was 50. This legend has been passed mouth to mouth, so details were not a key figure for a few to remember well.

However, every iteration has the same detail. The victims all had the same similarity as the tailor that simply went "missing".

All of them, in some way, were associated with certain individuals— one of them being his maple, where a few commented that they were the apple of the crimson man's eye.

From the legend and how it has been told, it is safe to assume that the motive was obvious from the first missing case.

It is akin of an open secret, if said secret was twisted to fit his ideals.

"Haven't you heard?"

"What? What is it?"

"The fixer, Thoma… He went missing just few days ago."

"What!?"

…

Ah, so he went missing like the others?

My ears had perked up at the news that we were told. Although Thoma is one many people never thought of being a 'target', the fact he went missing is... Odd.

"Perhaps he had done something," I heard one of the servants whisper amongst themselves, looking rather cautious. "After all, he's been very privy on a few things..."

"Yes, but he isn't the person I'd expect to vanish like that—"

"Shh—! People are going to hear you, you know! Keep it down!"

Hearing their footsteps echo as they take their leave, I turned back to what I have been working on. The sight of the kimono graced my vision as I raised the needle.

I began to sew the tears on it, letting out a soft hum while I fixed the black fabric from it's horrible state.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut—

"Sir Kaedehara? Someone is looking for you."

...!

I felt the needle prick my finger, but I didn't say anything. With a quiet hum, I raised my head to see someone speak to me, their face grim as they shifted on their feet.

Ah.

Despite the feeling of blood pour onto the fabric, I smiled and nodded, putting down the fabric of the kimono I was fixing.

"I'll be right there. Please tell them to wait for me."

"Really? Oh, thank Archons. I'll get going."

Watching them take their leave, my eyes flit over to my scissors.

Still as sharp as ever, I mused, pushing myself to stand up before fixing my attire. Mayhaps today won't need it to be sharpened.

For now, I had to see what the client wants from me. It would simply be a shame if I leave them alone for far, far too long.

Mayhaps they're here to inquire about the kimono I made. I made sure to add my personal touch to it.

...

As I walked to where my client sought to look for me, I see a familiar sight befell in the grounds of the Kamisato Estate.

The himegimi is currently speaking to my betrothed like they are close companions, and the magician (Lyney was his name, I recall), had been listening to their discussion at hand.

His eyes seem to lit up when he saw me, offering me a welcoming grin.

"You must be the tailor that my sister assigned, aren't you?" he asked when I was close enough to hear him, making me chuckle. Taking a seat across, I simply nodded, keeping my professional smile and demeanor in fear of offending him.

"Indeed, I am that tailor. My name is Kaedehara Kazuha, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"Haha, please, the pleasure is all mine!"

The magician shook my hand with mine, and the meeting went as smoothly as one may expect. Although, I couldn't help but let my eyes wander sometimes to where my lover is.

You were speaking to Ayaka like she's a friend of yours. I shan't stop you, darling, but perhaps you aren't aware of the pain you put me through.

Still, I couldn't afford to raise my voice, nor can I think of hurting you with my actions.

How unfortunate. Mayhaps I need to teach you a lesson myself, my angel.

If there was one thing that the legend failed to elaborate, it is the state of the missing people. However, there were... Creative liberties to those that began to see if the legend was true; or, pray tell, associated with any real life events.

To the eyes of others, going missing is a serious deal. It sparks a lot of ideas for what could've happened to them, and especially if they are alive or dead.

Albeit many shrugged off the prior cases, this one was serious. After all, the one that went 'missing' is the fixer of Narukami Island— Thoma, the immigrant in the nation of lightning.

It is, after all, what sparked the eventual downfall of the crimson-eyed tailor and his beloved. Many had thought this was the turning point, but those that did were found to be wrong.

This, after all, was simply the beginning of such downfall. But it wasn't to his lover, the missing residents, or even his companions.

It was to himself, when he used the blades to commit a sin undeserving of forgiveness.

The news that brought upon the missing Himegimi greeted the Kamisato estate that day.

I remember how people were in a disarray. They were much more shaken as they tried to get any sort of lead to where she is, and for some, they were already thinking of quitting.

The estate is already shaken from when Thoma went missing, but now that the young heiress has up and disappeared— especially in winter— it was in chaos.

While I sew the kimonos handed to me, there was an obi that laid on the pile by my right. It was a bit worn, but it can still be saved.

I needed to fix it, and give it my own personal touch. That way, it wouldn't look as though it had been abandoned by it's past owner.

Alas, the noise is getting to me. I could feel the silk resting on my bandaged hand slip every once in a while, if it weren't for how tight I've been holding the fabric.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

I needed to put my focus on what I'm doing. I needed to focus on the job.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

I mustn't let blood nor dirt stain my creations.

That is what my mother taught me.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, se—

"I apologize if the estate is in a disarray, detective," I hear a familiar voice speak amongst the hushed and panicked whispers. "The estate hasn't been the same ever since my retainer and my younger sibling had gone missing."

"Oh, it's alright! I'm sure this matter is too serious for you and the others to keep things organized."

"Haha... You can say that it is. Now, it's just right this way..."

... A detective is in the estate. How curious.

It wasn't right to snoop, but I was curious. Curious enough to have finished the kimono I was fixing before I stood to leave my quarters.

The others paid no heed as I followed after the two to Ayato's room, too focused to do what they were assigned to even bat an eye when I got close to where they were heading.

It was only when they were inside that I've stopped and simply bid my time, my focus set on what was happening by the shoji leading to his office. And it didn't took long till I hear things from the other side.

"Ah, so you think that someone is out for you?"

"Yes. Although I am normally adept in figuring out who it could be that's causing this to happen, I can't put heads or tails with how their presence eludes me."

"Man alive... And you said that it started when they went missing?"

"... Yes, detective."

"I see... Man alive, that sounds like it wasn't just a single, one-off case, then. I can help you, but this will take a while if there's no leads."

"I see. It's fine, detective. I'll pay you enough when you figure out where my retainer and sister are. I could hardly think that someone would take them without such consequence."

"Oh, no worries. With me around, no criminal will get out unscathed— I'll make sure to bring them here when I figure out who did this."

...

I see.

Perhaps its about time I have to settle this with him.

There was a time where I have thought that things will change.

Where these cases will be laid forgotten, perhaps even unresolved with the lack of hints.

I spent weeks on end, keeping my tracks short and erasing any leads that can lead towards me again.

I spent so, so long trying so desperately to hide anything resembling my crimes.

But alas... He found me.

It was the time where I had to dispose of those bodies. Although I had no heart to bury them under nature, I was not above treating them as though they were simply people.

Even in death, I wanted to make them feel like they look peaceful. Although, perhaps simply sewing their wounds left by my scissors was not something I can treat.

In the middle of the night, I was carrying the Himegimi outside of the abandoned houses I tend to with her retainer, Thoma. I had thought of letting her rest someplace else. Her attire has been sullied, and I needed to keep the two somewhere where no one can find them.

Corpses rot over time, and if it was possible, letting them turn to nothing in the likes of Tsurumi Island will be enough for my weary heart to rest.

With how adept I am of keeping my tracks hidden, I had thought no one would be able to tail on me. But alas, due to the missing cases I've caused, perhaps I wasn't expecting this to happen.

"I knew you'd be here, Kaedehara Kazuha."

I simply paused upon hearing his voice, my head craning back to see that it was Ayato. Despite how composed he looks, I can tell that the nights he spent trying to search for his beloved sibling and retainer wore him down.

His once flawless appearance was nothing but sullied, his attire feeling like its simply hanging off of him, and the way he staggered while looking at me without a shred of restrain is new. Raw for such a heir.

"And that body..." he murmured, his eyes glaring daggers when he found out who it was.

Perhaps it's her dress that makes her recognizable. Or the hair.

"... I thought I've erased everything that can lead back to me," I spoke, sighing as I placed Ayaka's body down. "What a shame. I was quite close to erasing any traces and signs of their whereabouts. It would be nice to only have them be marked as 'missing', not dead."

"So... You admit to it, then?" the heir asked, walking over with stride. "That you have done this, Kaedehara?"

I simply said nothing.

And I knew that was enough of a confirmation for him.

"I knew something was wrong with you," I heard him speak, which caught my attention. Turning my body to finally face him, I watched as he scoffed and continued, "After all, a man as serene as you often had the worst to hide."

"Oh? How curious. Why would you say that?"

I saw his lips curl to a smile.

"Why, I had someone tail after you," he answered, his tone sounding so blunt and his demeanor became more like he's simply 'teaching' me something. "Someone that is associated with the clan. I'm sure you know who it is."

... How uncouth.

"I see... And you confronted me now? For what?"

"A duel."

He unsheathed his blade, and raised it towards my direction.

"I do not usually participate in these, but I'd like to honor your tradition. If I win, you turn yourself in to the Tenryou Commission. Confess all of your crimes, and we shall call it even."

"... Very well."

I raised my own blade, as a sign to his own.

"I needn't state my own terms if I lose, as I can't let you get out alive. Now, let us settle this matter... To each of our graves."

Usually, such details cannot be recreated from interpretation alone.

However, this one was the few exceptions to it's inevitable fate due to it's popularity.

The legend had focused on keeping the existence and ties of the Crimson-Eyed Tailor up for the listener's interpretation. This scene, however, was directly associated to a case that had been tackled many years ago.

The case went as such: each resident of a town goes missing each week. No one knows when it happens, as the day is often random. The victims of these disappearances are also random, so no one could derive from it being a 'pattern'.

No matter how young or old one is, their gender, their living conditions, and even their past... When they least expect it, they simply vanish. Erased.

The only times where the victim was found, several eye-witnesses had different iterations. Some said that the bodies were buried, while others found it floating by riverbanks and the side of the sea.

But the most common— and widely known, of course— was that each victim were made to a doll.

Their limbs were nothing if not sewn with thread, cuts of various degrees being patched with thread of similar color to 'mask' it's oddity. Their eyes were closed, but those that were unfortunate to open it were only greeted with it being turned to the back of their heads.

In some victims, several pieces of their possession were taken. However, most kept theirs on their person, and were seen to not be tampered with.

No one knows what drove someone to this degree. No one can even comprehend such a fact that it was entirely possible.

But to someone who's mind was twisted to the point of no return... It was.

This case had a name, but every resident of Inazuma refused to speak of it. Each time one does, they were told of the legend behind this case.

They were told of the Crimson-Eyed Tailor, and they were warned of one thing.

"Do not look at him or his betrothed. If you do, you're as good as dead."

...

It had been a year since our fight happened.

I remember the chaos that occurred back when I finally erased that man. Although it did left his body in an undesirable state, I still fixed and sew him up so that he didn't look as such.

Even in death, I wish to give the heir some form of dignity. That, in some way, I wish to give him his final respects.

After all, he had simply misunderstood my intentions. He didn't knew that I was out for one person from the very beginning.

The downfall of the Kamisato Clan was imminent at that point. I've seen many flee, and witnessed the tragedy befall on the Narukami Island. Many of the people I've met had simply ran off to seek refuge, the terror grasping and choking them like they were unable to think.

However, I remain clear. And I simply continued to do my work diligently.

I have been working on something... Special. And with one last snip of my bloodied scissors, it was now complete.

My final and life-long work, all laid across and now in my hands. The fabric I chose was rather difficult to sew. I should have known that human skin would be too hard, depending on where I retrieved it from.

Dying it in black, I wrapped the obi that had been sewn with the use of the Himegimi's locks, and retrieved the crest of the Kamisato Clan. Adorning it on my person, I viewed myself at the mirror to see my handiwork.

"Finally," I murmured, feeling an odd sensation in my chest as I wore the fruits of my labor. "It is now complete."

With the chaos guiding me and masking my presence, I fled to head by the mountain.

I knew where you were bound to go.

I knew of your crimes long before you knew me.

I didn't paid much attention if anyone saw me. I didn't care if blood simply poured from my attire and to the ground that I'm walking on. I could hardly give a damn if some realized of my crimes in that blasted estate.

I had my scissors with me, and I only wish to fulfill my last wish before I leave this cursed world.

You murdered my family, [Name].

You were the one who caused that fire all those years ago.

I remember those burns you gave me. I remember just how much of a coward you were, fleeing from the scene you caused yourself.

How could I lose everything? And how can you keep your family?

No. No, that mustn't happen. I must set this right.

As your 'lover', I'll make sure you understand what you did wrong.

The culprit of the legend was caught, at least by the end.

All of the townsfolk had banded over to help the detective figure out who had caused such a stir, and it was only because of one eye-witness that said everything. That simply told the truth of the man behind it all.

It was the Crimson-Eyed Tailor, the one who was gripped with envy, that caused such a massacre to occur.

When they found what became of the last victim, his 'lover', they became a doll of his own. After killing them, the legend proceeded to speak of how he had simply 'sown' their skin alongside his, making them his perfect beloved doll.

One of the iterations even mentioned that his unnamed lover was in a Shiromuku outfit, eyes gouged so they may "never look at another man". At least, from what the tale has concluded.

Because of the severity of his crime, the tailor was sent to be on his death row. When the detective tried to get information out of him, they found out that he has lost his mind.

He became a shell of the brilliant man they knew, laughing and speaking that he has finally fulfilled his desire.

Even when he was dragged onto the guillotine, that day was marked as the end of the massacre, and those who were alive spoke of the man's chilling laughter up until his head was cut off.

...

And that was the end of the "Crimson-Eyed Tailor" and his legend.

Or, more accurately, the history of the known "Dead Man's Heart" case, and how Kaedehara Kazuha murdered the one he "loved" for revenge.

@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2023

[youareunbearable]

Thinking about the Nauglamir, as one does, and just, like I know I have a bias as an Indigenous woman who's historical artifacts are often stolen and who's peoples' treaties and promises are typically disregarded by other authority figures and whose ancestors were treated like animals and hunted for sport but God Thingol fucking sucks in that tale (and in general)

Like I've always kinda disliked Thingol, gives off major White Settler vibes but this whole tale is so tragic when you look at it through an Indigenous lens

We start off with a friendship. Good old Finrod Badger man himself, hears about his cousin Caranthir doing business with a new type of people that Love Gems just like the Noldor! Hes Thrilled!! He meets with the people, Dwarves, and while they are a lot shorter and got more hair than the Men he met, they become fast friends.

He talks about his travels and mentions that he fell in love with the art style of Thingol's domain. The Dwarves are uneasy, cause they have bad history with Thingol's people, but inform Finrod that Actually We Made That. Finrod is Over The Moon and commissions them to make one for him too. As a show of faith, they allow him to build it on a mountain that has history to them and Finrod, you know he would be, is respectful of this and pays them their due and more through Elf goods and more trade then they normally would have

Nargothrond is done and Finrod is super impressed with their skills and commissions them again. This time, to make a necklace of the gems he personally carried over from Valinor. The Dwarves would understand the importance of these gems, they're literally Family Jewels and one of the only things Finrod has left of his homeland

So the Nauglamir is made. From Noldor gems and Dwarvish skill and shared friendship and memories of both parties. Its an agreement, a contract, a visual showcase of the friendship and alliance between the Dwarves and the Noldor.

(My people did this to. We made visual agreements. Wampum belts. Each shell bead took 1 whole day of hard labour to make and these belts had hundreds of them. They're symbolic and important as well as a beautiful showcase of skill and craftsmanship. They are almost always made between friendly nations)

Then we have Azaghal. Who was saved by Maedhros and had a great friendship with him. They exchanged gifts, worked together on an alliance, and probably traded tales with each other. Azaghal and his people would have known why the Noldor are here in Beleriand. They would have known the importance of the Silmarils to the Noldor, to the Feanorians especially. They could avenge their fallen kings, stop the evil from spreading, complete their Oath, and go home. Azaghal was even willing to give up his life, and the lives of his men, to help Maedhros get a Silmarils back.

Finrod is dead. The Noldor are weak and scattered. Maedhros is displaced from his home in Himring, and all the gossip they hear about him is that he's a shell of the Elf he used to be before the Noldor High King died.

A group of Dwarves are ordered to come to Doriath on Thingol's behalf. "Add this gem to this necklace" theyre told. Its a beautiful necklace. Its a beautiful gem. They start to do as they are told but things aren't sitting right with the Dwarven smiths. An older one notices first.

On the necklace with the beautiful and feather light gems, they notice a little sigil on the clasp. Its a Dwarven Smith sigil. They know the only work that smith did with Elven gems was Finrod’s Nauglamir. The smiths whisper amongst themselves in a frantic hiss. Why would the king of the Sindar Elves, one who has vocally stated his dislike and distrust of the Noldor, have Finrod’s necklace that THEY made for him out of friendship?

They turn to the strange gem they've been told to set within the Nauglamir. Its brilliant, beautiful, and glows with an inner light that is so very Elvish. One smith mentions the tale of Finrod, how he died helping Beren and Luthien get a Silmaril. The same Silmaril that the Noldor, and the Feanorians, need. The one their kings died to help them get.

One of the Dwarves feels sick. These are stolen goods. Goods literally taken from a grave and from their allies enemy and given to another that literally wouldn't even spit on them when they burned. Thingol cannot have these goods, from the perspective of the Dwarves, they aren't his. The Silmaril, well, maybe you could make an argument, but the Nauglamir? No way, it was stolen from a literal graveyard of a Noldor city and the person who gave it to him had no right or claim to it ever.

So the Dwarves tell him this. And Thingol is furious. He says, and I quote: "How do ye of uncouth race dare to demand aught of me, Elu Thingol, Lord of Beleriand, whose life began by waters of Cuivienen years uncounted ere the fathers of the stunted people awoke?" And goes nuts. He's throwing out slurs, he's trying to pull a Karen, definitely claiming Manifest Destiny which is so wild and kicks them out without even paying for their labour. For their craft, their skill, their time. He doesn't acknowledge the unwritten treaty of friendship by completing this craft of unimaginable skill.

So they take it back. Sure Thingol died, but he is a thrice over thief at this point and no friend of the Dwarves or their allies.

Then Mr vegan "ill never harm or eat a living being" murders all the Dwarves that are trying to go back home with their rightful due. But what would Beren know about that anyways, he clearly has no head or mind about whats right or wrong as he himself finds it easy to cash in a favour from a king not to help resettle his displaced people, but to ask this king to sacrifice his own men and life to help him get married.

When Doriath is sacked by the Feanorians, oh I bet the Dwarves were pleased. I bet some of them even joined, what with being allies of the Noldor and all. The Dwarves hate the Elves, but not the Noldor who were loyal and trustworthy friends. Who paid and honored their skills and craft, who were cheated by the Sindar just as much as they were. Who fought and bled and died fighting evil while the Sindar stayed behind in their girdle

It was Silverfist Celebrimbor himself, a Noldor and a Feanorian who continued with their relationship. Who gave them rings of power to solidify that relationship. Shame he was betrayed, be he didn't mean harm.

By the third age its a shame the Noldor are the smaller group of Elves in middle earth. They would have helped Durin’s Folk more. The Elves and Dwarves might of had a better relationship. I'm sure Elrond tried, and some Dwarves were warmer to him on account of being adopted sons of Maedhros and Maglor. Buts hes also Thingol's blood, and that is a blood memory type of mistrust.

[genericpuff]

I WANNA TALK ABOUT THE FUCKING EISNERS-

i've been finding lately that there are so many topics i still wanna talk about concerning LO and its development and they just don't happen because i get distracted or busy and my brain is like "ok we're just gonna pretend we've already talked about it even though we haven't" JFKDLSAJFDASKLFJSLKA

Let's talk about the Eisners and LO's recent 'win'.

I've already briefly mentioned in previous posts that LO has had a lot of its awards and accolades bought for it. This is especially true for both the NYT Bestseller label (seriously, none of those labels are ever earned, it's not some top 100 list that you compete on, it goes to whoever is willing to pay for it or whoever an editorial column wants to highlight) and, of course, the Eisner Award, which is not exactly an award judged by the industry's finest (the judges this year were made up of largely comic book shop owners and librarians).

But we're not here to talk about that. I wanna talk about what happened after LO won its second Eisner.

First off, the fact that it can be nominated at all when it doesn't even really fit the criteria for their submissions is sketchy at best:

see: "new, professionally produced long-form original comics work posted online in 2022." LO is not 'new'. Sure, it has new episodes, but I don't think that really follows the spirit of what they meant by 'new'. The Eisner doesn't seem like an award that should be granted to the same series twice, is my point, and that's one of the many complaints brought up in the absolute dressing down that LO got in its announcement post on the Webtoons Official IG page.

Of course, you can see for yourself right here.

But for the sake of fun, let's share some of the excerpts here.

(and yes I'm sharing a LOT of these because frankly I don't trust WT to not delete them in an attempt to hide all the shit that's being thrown at their precious "baby")

While names have been censored to protect the users involve, I will say one thing - this isn't some attempt from antiLO/ULO members to brigade the series' win, there are other comic creators in this discussion as well from the Canvas section who aren't pleased with seeing LO win another Eisner when there are multiple new series from this past year alone which deserve more attention than they're getting. Again, see for yourself if you click on the link above, the vast majority of comments on this post are expressing their disappointment and you can tell from how they've been sitting at the top while all the positive comments are being 'pushed' to the bottom - the like counts say it all.

All of this, paired with the fact that LO didn't win a SINGLE user-voted award during the Webtoonies, goes to show that the Webtoons audience is over LO. They're done with it. It's not relevant anymore, the only ones who still keep up with it are the stans and those holding on in the hopes that the story gets around to resolving the SA plotline and gets its TV show (which I've also mentioned has a real possibility of not happening, at least not now when it would count the most LMAO)

It still gets more likes than any other series on the platform (for now) but you can tell during its current hiatus that when LO is out of sight, it's out of people's minds - despite many of these episodes now being weeks old, their like counts aren't going up, no new readers are being pulled in. And the fact that a series with over 6 million subscribers can barely scratch 100k likes nowadays is... really something.

And that's on its free to read episodes, it's FP episodes - where views count the most because it's where LO makes its money and initial views - aren't even a fraction of what the free episodes often take well over a week to gain at this point.

Episode 252:

And the midseason finale, 253:

Compare it to Down to Earth which gets 70k likes on average on its free episodes (though its current new FP is sitting at the 1k mark), is LO still bringing in higher numbers than other series? Yes. But it's clearly falling to a point where it's going to be on par with every other comic on the platform in no time. I can't even imagine what it's going to be like after it comes back from this poorly-timed hiatus, when all of its official fan groups have also been shuttered preventing people from staying in touch within their own fandom.

Awards like the Webtoonies are, while largely just for street cred, still audience-based, and I really hope the fact that the people have spoken not once, but twice through their engagement with the platform - both through the comment section on LO's Eisner win and the votes in favor of other series in the Webtoonies - will be a major wake-up call to WT that they can't keep trying the same things over and over again expecting different results. They can't keep stuffing money into LO as if advertising or awards are the reason LO isn't pulling in the numbers it used to. They can't keep pretending that LO still has the merit and credibility that it once had 5 years ago.

It's like that comparison from Super Eyepatch Wolf talking about why you shouldn't take advice on how to be "successful" from Youtubers who got famous 5+ years ago:

"Say you decide you want to become a carpenter, and particularly, how to build a nice chair. Think about the kind of person you'd want to learn that skill from. Would it be from someone who has built nice chairs every day for 20 years? Or would it be the guy who built one nice chair five years ago out of a special kind of wood that doesn't exist anymore, who has no experience with the kind of wood available to you now?"

LO is a byproduct of a version of Webtoons that no longer exists. It was fortunate enough to join the Canvas section when the Canvas section was still only lightly populated, before WT started trying to sell the idea that anyone could become "rich" on their platform (an idea largely perpetuated by creators LIKE RACHEL who only became big because WT threw all of their money at them), before Greek myth comics became commonplace (again, something that's a consequence of Rachel/Lore Olympus) and before the romance genre became largely filled with problematic "dark" romances (again, see Lore Olympus).

Do you see the pattern of what I'm talking about here? A lot of what Webtoons became known for was a byproduct of Lore Olympus and series like it, because those series did phenomenally well, due to being in the right place at the right time, so WT went "hey, cool, this makes us lots of money! Let's do more of that!" Obviously this isn't to say that Lore Olympus is the root of all evil here OR that it didn't have its own merit back in the day, but if you make a series that blows every other series out of the water in stats, it's only natural for a company to want to pursue more series and story tropes like it in the hopes that it'll replicate exactly what comics like LO did, completely misunderstanding why LO did well in the first place. At the time, LO's art was unique for the platform, and it was tackling a story that was extremely popular on platforms like Tumblr so it naturally gained a crowd.

But that was five years ago. Since then, the WT audience climate has changed dramatically, as it always does every few years; and LO and WT haven't kept up. We went through a phase of BL, isekai, and now WT seems to be in an odd limbo because it's still clinging to a series from three whole lifetimes ago, especially now with so many of its other signature series either finally ending (True Beauty) or walking away from the platform entirely (Let's Play).

At this point, Lore Olympus is a chair that was nice five years ago, but has since started to fall apart - its paint is chipping, and its legs don't stand up so well anymore - and WT is still trying to sell it you as the exact same chair - with cheap new paint and a few bits and bobs attached to try and convince you that the chair is new - but it's long past its prime. This isn't to say that the chair itself doesn't deserve to exist, just that it shouldn't be given so much proprietary advertising and attention when there are so many other works on the platform that deserve to be uplifted and seen.

LO was good for its era, it was successful for a reason, but we're halfway through 2023 and it's painfully obvious that the comic and the platform's audience is ready to move on to new territories. Webtoons just needs to learn to let go.

[freckliedan]

in your opinion do you think that now they’re not in the closet publicly anymore, it’s not that they necessarily care that people think/know they’re together, it’s just more that they want to keep their actual relationship private?

ooh this is a good question honestly! i mean, they've said it themselves that they're private, and their actions back that up too. i think a huge part of the way they've navigated the privacy for their relationship while & since coming out has been about setting a clear boundary, considering the past violations of their privacy?

but honestly i think there's another huge piece of why they've been so private over the last five years and why that's changing now! i think the gaming channel hiatus era has been their individualization era, which was important for dan especially. like, phil had some time as an adult to learn who he was before he met dan; all of dan's identity formation as an adult happened in the context of his relationship with phil.

spending your entire adult life in a relationship with someone, AND living with them AND working together AND having shared friends for the vast majority of those years? speaking from experience: you can reach a point where you're less able to identify your own individual wants and needs and strengths and dreams, even if it's a healthy and beautiful relationship.

especially if there was any level of tumultuousness in your home life lol

with the added pressure of being a public figure it makes a lot of sense to me that a hard reset had to happen for dan's exploration of who he is and wants to be and enjoys doing with his career to succeed! dan is not okay being fucked over is such a heartbreaking thing, but the time dan spent almost completely out of the public eye followed by a fully solo tour & span of his career shere he was regularly posting is like—it makes sense!

it makes sense that the last 5 years were focused on everything but their relationship! but it also makes like equal sense to me that they're returning to the gaming channel and joint content and a higher level of being open with us, too.

they tried fully solo careers. and i'm sure they both know now, what they like doing independently of one another. but it's so clear to me that they've returned to the gaming channel because they genuinely love to make videos together, and it's a part of them making a fully informed choice about their future careers.

like. it actually really grinds my gears when people say that dan and phil only came back to the gaming channel for the money, tbh! because yeah, i'm sure it's one of their best options for bringing in money. but like... yall they are rich people. they absolutely have money invested. they absolutely are having their money managed. they almost certainly could pull off never working again if they wanted to.

they wouldn't phone it in just for money, not with the standards they've consistantly shown themselves to have for the work they do. like, yes, they're doing their job and making money for it. but i just don't understand seeing this as anything but a choice they made because they love working together—and because they're sure of that, having spent half a decade on solo projects.

the individuation era ending also makes the higher level of being open about their lives make sense. i've always thought we were due for a being loud about how happy they are in their relationship era post coming out and. well. this is definitely that. i can't say i ever wanted to hear this much about their sex lives but i also can't truly say i'm surprised!

i think this is an era of shifting boundaries to be at least a little more open regarding their relationship and life together and i think that's what they're boiling us about this gamingmas! ultimately they're always going to keep more to themselves than they ever share with us but like. things are changing!

[indestructibleheart]

Hi, fam! Okay, so I'm going to be out at an appointment tomorrow morning, so I'm kicking this off a little bit early. It's technically Wednesday in several timezones and very nearly Wednesday in mine. I'm... also a bit eager to share this, ngl.

I know that I've shared a lot of angst lately, but I swear that's not all I'm doing. 😅 In fact, the actor/playwright AU decided to wallop me in the face out of nowhere after sitting in my WIP folder for months. I'm really excited about it, so I'm gonna share the first scene!

(Also, those of you who have been to New York with me will recognize my favorite brunch spot in this scene lmao.)

---

You probably didn't even know I was in the room, but I noticed you straight away. You were talking with your friends, happy and animated and fully alive—a person living in dimensions I couldn’t access—and so beautiful. Your hair was longer then. You were the center of attention, but you weren’t afraid. You had a yellow ipê-amarelo in your pocket. I thought, this is the most incredible thing I have ever seen; I'd better keep it a safe distance away from me. I thought, if someone like that ever loved me, it would set me on fire.

INT. MOM'S KITCHEN & BAR - HELL'S KITCHEN - LATE MORNING

"I'm telling y'all," Alex is saying, punctuating with dangerously large bites of his pancake burrito. "The dude's a dick." 

It's been two hours since the nightmare audition, but Alex has been on this tirade since June and Nora first slid into the retro diner chairs across from him (at least forty-five minutes ago).

They're at Mom's: a restaurant-bar in midtown that can only be described as millennial nostalgia incarnate. The trio fell in love with it two years back—post-karaoke, stumbling in right before closing—when Alex saw God in their Fruity Pebble pancakes.  Since then, it's been his favorite place to eat his feelings.

Mom's is just really fucking comforting in general, honestly; whether it's the televisions cycling through episodes of 'Rugrats,' 'Dexter's Laboratory,' and 'Hey, Arnold!' or  the rainbow straws and Lisa-Frank-looking menus, Alex can't be sure. It doesn't hurt that they've made friends with several of the waitstaff, including an eccentric bartender, Pez, whose pink hair and painted nails fit right in with the decor. 

Today, it's the combination of breakfast sausage, bacon, eggs and cheese wrapped up in a syrup-soaked pancake that's really doing something for him. It could also be the margarita the size of his face, which Pez placed in front of him before making himself uncharacteristically scarce. But it's fine. He's probably just busy.

Alex won't admit it out loud, but what really helps is having June and Nora here to talk to… even though Nora is scrolling on her phone.

"I'm sorry," June says. She pokes an ice cube with her straw, and Alex watches as it bobs around her mimosa like a buoy. "That sounds like it sucked, but if he's really that rude… maybe you didn't want to work with him anyway."

Nora doesn't look up as she pops a home fry into her mouth. 

"Several sources say he's difficult to work with," she adds, evidently reading about Henry on the internet. "Though, in his defense, his dad did just die, like, three years ago… and there was that whole thing when he came out after. Remember?"

Alex does remember. Henry's grandmother, Mary Mountchristen, runs a pretty major company that used to own half the theatres on the West End. When Henry came out last year, she tried blacklisting his shows from her properties to punish him—which totally backfired when it got around. At least a dozen other queer writers and producers started talking about how they were also denied the space, and Mary was stoned on the streets of the theatre district. Like, metaphorically. 

Alex, Nora, and June had just moved to New York, but between June's position at Newsday and both Alex and Nora on the audition circuit, it was all anyone in their new circles could talk about. They were some of the first to know when the Mountchristens were bought out of their properties and Henry moved to the States.

This show is the first of Henry's being produced here—and it's autobiographical, which Alex has to admit is pretty fucking baller. So, yeah, Nora's not wrong. He has reason to be standoffish. Still, it doesn't explain why Alex was only halfway through his audition monologue when Henry abruptly stood up and exited stage left as if pursued by a bear.

He shoves another forkful into his mouth. "It's just, like, they're the only people who let me into the room," he says, barely finishing chewing. "Nobody wants to take me seriously, and I really thought this was my shot, you know?"

June and Nora both know Alex is having a hard time landing serious roles after growing up on a sitcom—Nora more than most, as his former co-star. What they don't know is that losing this role, specifically, feels like a kick to the stomach. From the moment Alex saw the script, he wanted to be a part of it. He can't even explain why, and now he'll never figure it out. Henry wouldn't give him a chance.

"It wasn't your only shot, and you know it." Nora fixes him with a look. "Seriously, I get it—I do—but it's just one play, buddy."

June nods. "Something will happen for you, baby brother."

At that, Alex finally groans. "Okay, calling me baby brother doesn't help me feel better about the entertainment industry infantili—"

"—itty bitty, teeny weeny—"

Alex throws a home fry at her face. 

It bounces off her forehead and into the giant gauntlet holding her mimosa with a very unappetizing splash. Just as Alex throws his hands into the air with a victorious whoop, his phone buzzes on the table. 

A glance is all it takes for him to see that it's his agent, Zahra.

"Damn," he says, deflating. There goes that upswing. "You answer it."

June balks. "Me?"

"I don't need to hear how fucking badly it went. Trust me, I got the message." Alex blinks innocently, like he's six years old again, asking her to lie to their mom about that broken vase. "Please, Bug? Besides, Zahra actually likes you."

"Everyone likes me." June rolls her eyes, but she caves—answering the phone with a haughty, "Alex Claremont-Diaz's office," before breaking into a smile. "Yeah, Z. It's me… No, Alex is feeling a little sensitive today."

(He throws another home fry at her. This one misses.)

To her credit, June's face remains totally blank as Zahra no doubt tells her how Alex insulted Henry Fox's name and all of his inbred ancestors just by showing up, or whatever—which is extremely annoying and unhelpful—but, once she says goodbye and sets the phone back down on the table, her face breaks out into a grin.

"Guess you didn't suck too bad," she says. "They want you for the part."

He doesn't know if it's Nora throwing herself at him or the shock that knocks him onto the floor.

Tagging some lovelies. If you haven't been tagged and you want to be, consider this your tag!

@anchoredarchangel, @barbiediaz, @cha-melodius, @cricketnationrise, @guillermosfamiliar, @hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @hippolotamus, @inexplicablymine, @jettestar, @junebugclaremontdiaz, @kiwiana-writes, @lizzie-bennetdarcy, @missgeevious, @mulderscully, @myheartalivewrites, @ninzied, @nontoxic-writes, @notspecialbabe, @priincebutt, @rmd-writes, @rosedavid, @three-drink-amy, @treluna4, @vanillahigh00, @welcometololaland, @orchidscript, @ships-to-sail, @stereopticons

[starsreminisce]

Elucien sex scenes:

I don't believe their book will be as physically intense as Nessian's. Nessian, being a very active couple, both of them serving as generals in their respective armies.

I can think of six major moments:

An angry or intoxicated encounter, where they are caught up in heightened emotions, and control is somewhat fraught. I'm leaning towards angry because these two have a lot to be angry about.

Oral sex, with the added humor of Lucien being offended that Elain has never experienced it before, and Elain asking him for guidance. Their bond can conveniently serve as an excuse to teach each other. The humor arises from both of them momentarily forgetting who they're talking to.

Mutual masturbation through their bond, as their time together naturally leads to shared fantasies. The bond enhances their experience, and the intrigue lies in whether one or both of them are aware of it. The morning after, their blushes could reveal much, leaving me wondering why they didn't they just fucked.

Calanmai sex, using their bond as the last excuse for indulging their basic instincts. This could be reminiscent of that chapter in which Rhys introduced Feyre to the Hewn City Court. The question remains whether Lucien would initiate the Ceremony and Elain would display her territorial nature, or Tamlin might decide to go through with it, leaving Elucien drawn to the magic.

A version of the events in Chapter 54 and Chapter 55, tailored to their unique experiences. This would highlight the depth of Lucien's resilience and Elain's growing feelings for him, as she realizes the extent of his suffering.

The frenzy once they've officially mated, enjoying a honeymoon period before facing impending challenges.

And then, as fans, we may find ourselves deeply emotional for the last 100 pages, wishing that SJM had paced the story differently.

As an Elucien, I hope for a frequency of sex scenes on par with ACOSF. However, considering SJM’s approach of 'less is more' with Elucien, I suspect the level of intimacy in their book may resemble what we saw in ACOMAF, with a few moments at the beginning and the end, while the majority of their character development and relationship-building takes place in the middle.

[idyllic-affections]

i know my kingdom awaits, and they've forgiven my mistakes.

summary. "Baizhu reached out to their shoulder, giving it a tender squeeze. "I just want to know why you left so abruptly. We were so close. There is nothing you could say or do that would make me resent you."" trigger & content warnings for self-hatred, severe blood, major traumatic life events, depictions of trauma, panic attacks & a fuck ton of crying, implications of suicidal ideation but it is never explicitly stated in an obvious way, overall heavy on the themes of mental health, heavy spoilers for baizhu's story quest and childe's character stories, [name] is called pretty once. tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. friends to strangers to friends, hurt/comfort. baizhu & childhood friend!reader, brief hints of childe & reader. 10k words. they/them pronouns for reader. author's thoughts. it is here. the fabled "friends to something significantly worse to friends again" fic is finally here (june if you're reading this, thank you for the idea lmaoo <33). btw! this post runs on the theory that skirk is associated with khaenri'ah. no idea what her personality is like so.... bear with me pls. she gives off "tired, bitter big sister" vibes in this fic. at one point, nightmare by set it off started playing while i was writing this and i think thats so fucking funny, that is so childhood friend![name]core. a LOT of ironic songs played while i was writing this actually! maybe ill make a post about it?

       "What's the last thing on our list?"

       Surely the sky had been painted by the Celestial Gods above—how else could one even hope to explain the otherworldly beauty it held? Pinks blended smoothly in with hues of golden orange and baby blue as the sun crept lower and lower towards the horizon. A few stars already dotted the evening sky, twinkling and sparkling against their background.

       In the reflection of their eyes, the light danced.

��      Their friend hummed thoughtfully, brushing some of his hair away from his face, before scanning the words written in practically illegible handwriting inside the little journal the two's shared master had given them. "Violetgrass... I think."

       "You think?" they echoed, amused, peering over his shoulder into the notebook. He shrugged.

       "Master's handwriting isn't exactly... er, legible."

       They giggled at that. "No doctor's is. I think it has something to do with how many prescriptions they have to write on a daily basis. Like... they have to write fast, so they have some kind of language of their own to be as efficient as possible."

       "Is that so?"

       "...Honestly, I don't know. Something like that, I guess."

       He smiled at them, teasing, "Shouldn't you know better than anyone, [Name]?"

       "Shut up, Baizhu, I'm still learning!" they huffed with faux annoyance, snatching the book from his hands. "Yeah, that says Violetgrass. Hm... you should probably go back, then. It's getting kind of late," they mused, meeting the boy's gentle burgundy gaze. "I've got it from here."

       "Are you sure?" he asked. "I don't mind going with you."

       "I'm sure. I get Violetgrass on my own all the time. It gets cold at night, and with everything going on, it's probably better that only one of us goes out. Less of a chance of the sickness spreading further, you know?"

       "I can't really argue with that," he admitted. "Alright, but don't stay out too late."

       "Don't worry," they reassured, "I don't intend to."

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       Darkness had fallen by the time they reached their normal spot for gathering Violetgrass. Specks of glittery stars dotted the night sky; it took all of their mental strength to not sit and admire it. They would never get their task done if they did.

       'The last time I did this with my bag on, I fell.'

       With that thought in mind, they hummed and carefully took the cross-body bag filled to the brim with medicinal herbs off. They set it neatly to the side. Before beginning, they stretched, hoping to somehow make themselves more flexible and limber by doing so. A series of satisfying pops were released from their bones.

       It was then that they began gingerly scaling the cliffside—it wasn't impossibly steep, and they'd done it an abundance of times in the past, so it didn't present too big of a challenge. It wasn't anything they weren't used to.

       The ground then unexpectedly trembled beneath their feet. They huffed as their foot slipped, sending them sliding down a few feet and back onto solid ground. The single piece of Violetgrass that they needed seemed to mock their failure from its place several feet above them.

       "Aw, come on..." they murmured, slightly frustrated. "Maybe I should have had Baizhu stay and help..."

       Then, again without warning, just as they were about to make another attempt, the ground split open.

       A scream was torn from their throat as they fell. It was as if Teyvat itself had swallowed them into its core. They made a a desperate attempt to reach for the surface, but as soon as they were in, the crack snapped shut once again. No matter how fast they fell, no kind of ground ever seemed to get any closer. Briefly through their terror, they wondered if this was how they'd die—falling into nothingness for eternity until they starved, mortal body eventually decaying into nothing and becoming one with the never-ending emptiness.

       This was never meant to be how they'd die. Their death was supposed to be fated through Changsheng's contract, not through... this.

       A sob ripped through their throat as their body unexpectedly slammed into the ground. Upon impact, they knew at least a handful of bones in their wrists had broken. Perhaps it was unwise to brace their fall with their wrists, but then again... it would have been far worse if they landed on their back. Breaking their back may very well have been a death sentence in the scenario they were in. Honestly, they were just thankful that their shoulders and forearms seemed to be okay, aside from a rhythmic throbbing coursing through both arms. Their body trembled pathetically like a leaf in the wind, ready to be blown away at any second. At least a leaf would see daylight or even moonlight.

       It was pitch black for them, as if the darkness actively sought out and destroyed any source of light it was capable of finding. It seemed to sap any will they might've had to resist, to find a way out. Their will was gone. It was like it was never there in the first place. The ominous dark took all that determination, all that light, and consumed it like a starved beast until there was nothing but a shell left behind.

       A deep pit settled in their gut as they whimpered, curling up into a ball. Surely, this was just a dream. An awful, terrible dream. They'd wake up and everything would be normal—they'd still be on the surface, gathering the last of their master's requested herbs before heading back and resuming their life as normal.

       Regardless of whether or not this was a horrifying nightmare, sleeping was far more appealing than staying awake.

       It was with tears rolling down their cheeks that they tucked their head into their arms, wincing at the shooting pain that ascended the length of their arms when too much pressure was applied to their wrists, and succumbed to the boundless darkness.

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       Time was an illusion.

       That's how they felt, at least, because they had no idea how long they had been underneath Teyvat for. It could've been hours or it could've been days—they wouldn't know the difference either way. Everything was fuzzy. Their sleep was restless and interrupted; no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't truly sleep. Even if they managed to fall asleep, they'd wake up again after a few minutes with a jolt and a wave of paranoia. What frustrated them so deeply about it was that they knew very well that their body would never heal if they didn't sleep well. They'd never have the strength to escape if that were the case. It was infuriating.

       The distant echo of footsteps made their muscles tense. The sound ceased a few feet away from where they laid.

       "You'll never survive down here like this."

       A nervous whine threatened to leave their throat. They swallowed it down, hands trembling slightly.

       "Get up. I can tell that you're awake."

       Fuck.

       With what minimal strength they did still have, they pushed themselves up using their elbows. Using their hands would only hurt them more. It was difficult to see, but nonetheless, they could see her eyes clearly. Empty, star-shaped irises stared down at them, piercing the very depths of their soul, picking them apart like some kind of subject of a dissection. The utter bite of her gaze caused them to suck in a sharp breath, posture straightening slightly.

       "I've no idea why the Abyss would want someone so... pathetic," she scoffed. "Look at you, resigning to your fate like some kind of lost puppy with its tail between its legs."

       "No, I... That's not..." they stammered, trailing off, hoarse voice quick to die out in the face of her frigid sternness. "I'm not..."

       "Oh? Am I wrong?"

       "No— Yes, I mean, yes, I was... My wrists, they broke when I fell, so... They broke and I don't have anything to fix them with, so I thought resting would be a better idea than running or fighting, and—"

       "Alright, alright, stop. Get up. Follow me."

       She began to walk away.

       "H— huh?"

       "You want to survive, don't you?"

       They scurried after her before they could have any kind of second doubts.

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       The woman introduced herself as Skirk, a seasoned swodswoman with extensive knowledge about the Abyss and how to survive in it. She had been kind enough (well... it was debatable whether her gesture was out of kindness or due to ulterior motives, but they had no other choice but to trust her) to treat their injuries, stiffly wrapping their wrists so that they could heal properly.

       It took about six weeks for them to heal adequately. Within that time, they were surprised to find that they had begun to be able to see through the darkness, as though their eyes had finally adjusted.

       They had hoped she would help them get out when they were fully healed, but...

       No.

       When she asked if they wanted to survive, she sure as hell intended to teach them how to do just that.

       "Slow, uncoordinated, weak," she criticized venomously, swinging her blade down at them with great force. She would undoubtedly kill them if they gave her any chance to. If they made one mistake... "Just how do you think you'll get by in this realm when you can hardly defend yourself?"

       "I— I didn't have to in Teyvat!" they sobbed, tears streaking down their cheeks from both the pain of the several open cuts and bruises blooming on their skin and the pain of being away from home for so long. How long had it been? They had no clue. Their wrists throbbed as they parried her blade with one of their own. "I was the apprentice of a doctor! I was safe there!"

       "Well, you're not safe here. Get used to it," she sneered. "It's kill or be killed down here."

       "I don't want to kill!"

       "Then you'll be killed."

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       "Stop hesitating. Kill it."

       The Abyssal creature at their feet seemed to whimper, trying its best to crawl away from them. It's body was already terribly mangled, limbs broken and twisted in ways they never should have been. Archons know what the eldritch creature even was—they sure as hell had no clue. All they knew was that they felt sorry for it. It looked so small and weak beneath them. 'Pathetic,' a malevolent whisper drifted through their mind, 'it looks pathetic.' With a shake of their head, perhaps in an attempt to rid their mind of such cruel thoughts, cries escaped their throat. Their chest rose and fell in sobbing, labored breaths. All they could hear in their ears was the distinct sound of blood rushing. Their chest ached. Their body ached.

       They wanted to go home.

       "I can't, Skirk, I can't..."

       "You can," she hissed, "and you will."

       "No," they cried harder, "look at it! I can't..."

       "You can," she repeated, though this time with strange serenity, as she stepped behind them; with her hands, she forced their dagger down into the creature's chest, "and you will."

       Blood splattered across their figure as they let out an utterly visceral wail.

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       Soft sobs wracked their figure. The more they tried to suppress their cries, the worse they got.

       Many nights were spent in this manner. It wouldn't be the first night they spent crying themselves to sleep, and it was unlikely to be the last. Was it from the pain? The stress, perhaps? They truly didn't know. The only thing they knew was that they could only fall asleep if they exhausted themselves by crying first.

       They just wanted to go home.

       Then again...

       Would they be accepted back? There was blood on their hands now. Fresh blood of a life that had value just like any other before they so cruelly took it away because in Skirk's words, it was 'kill or be killed.'

       Would they still be viable for Changsheng's contract?

       What if their master was dead by the time they returned?

       What if they never returned?

       Maybe that would be for the better.

       But they wanted to go home regardless.

       Then, the first light they saw in what seemed to be ages graced their empty irises. The light was treasured. Without thinking, they trapped it between their palms like one would to a firefly in the night so that it could not escape them.

       A cool, smooth stone that most definitely wasn't there before now sat between their cupped hands. The rush of cold against their feverish skin prompted them to peer inside the little cage created by their rough hands.

       Inside sat a Cryo vision, still-wet blood smearing over its chilling surface.

       That night, they cried harder than they ever had before, clutching the Cryo Archon's blessing like it was some kind of lifeline.

       Contrary to what they may have believed at the time, the night they got their vision marked the final night they would ever spend crying themselves to sleep in the Abyss.

       That "morning," Skirk would note an evident change in their demeanor.

       That "morning" would mark the point at which the Abyss officially reached the depths of their soul, sucking the last of the light from them and changing them fundamentally.

       That "morning" would mark the point at which they were no longer Changsheng's next contractee.

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       Skirk taught them much in the first seven months of their time in the Abyss.

       The longer they stayed, the warmer she became in her behavior towards them. She vaguely reminded them of their medicinal Master, though she was certainly much tougher than he was. She was not unkind, they had concluded. She was simply hardened. Archons know what she must have been through to be so cold.

       Despite all that, she even did them the kindness of celebrating their birthday.

       "When you do finally get out," she had said to them that day, "you will find that very little time has passed in Teyvat. Don't be surprised. You'll be a year older mentally, but your bodily age will be about the same as it was when you fell."

       "How long has it been since I fell, then?"

       Her reply sent chills up their spine, stomach twisting in sheer disbelief:

       "Seven days."

       Of course, "celebrating" just meant that they got to sleep the day off rather than be relentlessly beat up by the swordswoman. Nonetheless, they appreciated the break.

       Ultimately, they had come to the conclusion that she was much different than what they'd initially assumed.

       They'd taken it upon themselves to patrol around what Skirk considered to be her "territory." They'd chuckled a bit to themselves when she described it in such a way, but said nothing, only offering to patrol in her place for the day as a favor. Allegedly, that was how she encountered them all those months ago.

       They were surprised to find that they, too, encountered a poor victim of the Abyss. It was a boy; if they had to guess, they would say he was somewhere around their age, maybe slightly younger.

       'Is this what Skirk saw when she looked at me? Archons, no wonder she looked like she was going to tear my throat out,' they mused absently, unblinking void eyes staring down at the ginger boy on the floor in front of them. He looked like he wanted to say something but simply couldn't force the words out. 'He really does look like a lost puppy... is that what I looked like?'

       His blue eyes were wide with shock and terror, glossed over with unshed tears. The Abyss was slowly beginning to dim the light in those eyes of his, but hadn't gotten very far yet—they still shone with an innocence they hadn't seen in quite a while, an innocence that didn't belong in a place such as the Abyss. His shaking hands clasped weakly at his foot; that's when they noticed that it was broken.

       Some kind of forgotten instinct suddenly sparked again in their chest at the sight of his wounded ankle. Life... it was a thing they were supposed to protect. That was something they had been taught for as long as they could recall. It was only after falling into the Abyss that they began to stray from those teachings.

       They needed to protect him. He was so fragile, the poor thing.

       Briefly, they wondered what Baizhu, Jiangli, and their Master were doing right about now. Were they worried? They had no way of knowing. They did their best to brush those thoughts off before the homesickness could set in.

       "You're hurt..." they observed, breaking the uneasy silence. "Broke it when you fell, huh? Can you walk, or will I have to carry you?"

       "H— huh? Um..."

       "Right. Got it. Hurry up and get on my back," they instructed, kneeling down with their back facing him so he could climb on with ease.

       "How—" he gasped, withdrawing from them. "How can I trust you?"

       "You'll die if you don't," they stated plainly, glaring back at him. Their gaze sent chills up his spine. It was so... empty. He was sure that not even the most seasoned warrior in his home nation looked so blank. It seemed as if all the light had been sucked from their soul, leaving a hardened shell of what they once were. Even Fatui officials had some kind of light in their face, but they simply did not. It unsettled him. "Get on. Now. You wouldn't last a day out here."

       Though hesitant and utterly terrified, he yielded, reaching up to wrap his arms securely around their neck. They hooked their arms under his thighs and hoisted him up. Then, with a huff, they stood up.

       The silence weighed a little too heavy for the boy's liking. Once the initial terror had worn off, he felt something much warmer bloom in his chest—awe. Absolute, unfettered awe.

       Surely someone as tough as them could help him become more courageous.

       "What's your name?"

       "What, you trying to make conversation? Build rapport? I'm not planning on killing you. Relax," they scoffed. Then, after a brief, awkward silence, they went on, "...It's [Name]."

       "I'm Ajax," he greeted with surprising grit for someone who just fell into the Abyss. "Hey, you're brave, right?"

       "I... I guess?"

       They dared to peek back at him. His eyes shone with light and determination foreign to anything or anyone in the Abyss. It did not belong here. He did not belong here.

       "Teach me how to be brave like that."

       Little did he know that light would disappear soon enough. They simply chose to look away, rather than mourn the loss that was inevitably going to occur.

       "...You'll want to meet my teacher, then. She'll toughen you up."

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       "What is that?"

       Ajax squeaked slightly, to which their lips twitched upwards into the ghost of a vaguely amused smile. Skirk must have unsettled him even more than they did.

       "A boy."

       Skirk's cold eyes narrowed at them. "No shit, [Name]."

       "He fell and broke his ankle, so I brought him here," they elaborated, kneeling down again so he could easily get off their back without hurting himself even more. He gingerly slid off of them. Once he was off, they stood back up, walking over to her. "Anyway, I see why you wanted to rip my head off when you met me. You're totally right. He looked fucking pathetic."

       "Oh, you get it now, hm?" She smirked, placing a firm hand on their shoulder. "Never thought I'd see the day you called someone pathetic."

       They shrugged. "This place changes you, but I suppose I don't have to tell you of all people that." Then, they beckoned her to lean down slightly. When she obliged them, they whispered something inaudible into her ear, occasionally glancing over at Ajax. They eventually withdrew, turning to face him.

       "If it's courage you seek," Skirk said, scrutinizing the boy; he seemed to shrink under her gaze, "you'll indeed find it down here."

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       Ajax’s time in the Abyss was short. They had briefly wondered if they would ever one day run into him on the surface when they did eventually get out. The thought was oddly nice.

       He changed very fast, they recalled. What was once a timid and easily frightened boy had become a hardened weapon of war that sought out bloodshed just for the thrill of it. It fascinated them, really. Why weren’t they like that? They were but a fraction of the beast that he had become. The sensation of being alive certainly gave them a rush, but they hardly reveled in it the way he did.

       Then again, maybe that’s why they could at least hold their own against Skirk.

       That was something he could never truly manage to achieve. Once in a blue moon, the Snezhnayan boy could hold his own against them, but never Skirk. She was on a different level entirely. Now that they really thought about it, however, it seemed very likely that it was because he just wasn’t level-headed in the way they were.

       That brought another question to mind, however: why wasn’t he level-headed like them? Why did he relish in the bloodshed more than they did?

       The only possible explanation was their origins. Being from Chenyu Vale, it was hardly any surprise that one particular ideology was stamped irremovably into their brain.

       Even so…

       It would be unrealistic to expect that they wouldn’t change during their stay in the Abyss. Their exposure to Abyssal energy was insanely long—the fact that they still cared at all about saving lives was shocking.

       Fourteen months into their time in the Abyss, something in their mind snapped.

       They could recall nothing about their episode. All they remembered was that Skirk had them training, as usual, against hordes of Abyssal monsters. It wasn’t something all too challenging for them; they were quite used to her highly demanding training sessions. Just when they started getting slightly overwhelmed, an unfamiliar rage boiled in their chest, and they blacked out.

       When they came to, all they could see was death.

       Blood soaked their clothes and fingertips. They were quick to come to the horrifying realization that it was not theirs. None of the blood was theirs. Not a single drop was theirs. The shallow scratch on their cheek wasn't even deep enough to bleed. They dared not turn around. Their gaze remained locked into the darkness ahead of them, hands trembling and eyes watering.

       Before they could say or do anything, before Skirk could say or do anything, the Abyss spit them out. It simply... decided it was done. As if it had grown bored, or as if it were finally satisfied with the level of corruption in their mind and soul. They lost consciousness briefly, only to awaken exactly where they had gone missing over a year ago.

       …

       Well, over two weeks ago, they guessed. Time dilation was a difficult thing to get used to.

        “Bright… Archons above…” they groaned, pressing their hands over their eyes in an attempt to gradually adjust to the sheer brightness of the surface. It made them a little sick, if they were to be quite honest; they had grown used to the pitch blackness of the other realm. “Gods, it’s bright…”

        “…[Name]?”

       They peeked through their fingers, squinting in the hopes of being able to make out the figure standing a few feet from them. When it finally hit them just who it was, their heart throbbed. The soft green hair they had grown so accustomed to braiding throughout their childhood, now wild and untamed as a terrible consequence of stress and panic, the tender eyes filled with perhaps a little too much wisdom for a child that age…

       They were really back on the surface. It wasn’t just some sick trick of the mind, no.

       They were home.

        “Bai— Baizhu?”

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       He was quick to call for help, leading them back to their shared Master. Jiangli seemed to almost cry when she saw them again—tears of relief or tears of worry, they didn't know. She reminded them of a concerned mother.

       However, something they dreaded terribly had come to pass.

       Their Master discovered that they were in no need of his healing. They were uninjured. All that blood was not theirs. It was never theirs. They were completely unharmed.

       "There isn't a single scratch on you."

       They intentionally avoided his gaze, instead focusing on their hands rested in their lap. Absentmindedly, they noted how calloused and scarred their hands were compared to how soft they had once been. The hands of a healer had become something far more sinister. Changsheng was eerily quiet.

       "...[Name]?"

       "No"—they sniffled, finally meeting their Master’s golden irises filled with tender concern, concern they did not deserve after what they had done—"there isn't."

       The conversation died right then and there.

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       Their departure from Chenyu Vale was sudden and unexpected. Many did not know why they left. All they left behind that could explain why they left was a small envelope for Baizhu, but they honestly didn't know if he would even open it. Leaving him without a single word... it made them want to cry every time they thought about it.

       The goodbyes they said to Jiangli and their Master were tearful, but neither of the two could stop them from leaving after learning that they had suffered so much. After all, what place did a killer have in Chenyu Vale?

        ‘You’re not a killer,’ Jiangli had insisted. ‘You’re not. You belong here, with us.’

       They disagreed with her sentiment. How could she still look at them with such kindness, even after knowing what awful things they had done? Maybe that’s why they left without speaking to Baizhu. Maybe they knew he would have pleaded with them to stay. Maybe they knew they would have stayed if it were he who asked.

       Many of their years were spent wandering Teyvat, but every now and then...

       They'd settle in Snezhnaya to catch up with an old acquaintance of theirs after tracking down his whereabouts.

       "The Fatui, hm? Looks like you really aren't some scared little kid anymore. Shame. You were quite a cute scared little kid."

       They hopped from nation to nation on a whim, picking up knowledge and still studying medicine on the side, though they wouldn't dare call themselves a doctor of any kind. It was Liyue that they often avoided, and if they really couldn't help it, they'd sneak along the border like some kind of internationally wanted criminal. The idea of running into Baizhu would always send their stomach into knots. What would they even say to him? He owed them nothing. He owed them no kind of forgiveness.

       'And yet, despite all that...' they mused, staring vacantly at the sleeping Jiangli at their side, 'here I am. I won't let anything hurt you, even if it means putting myself at risk.'

       Their fingers gently ran through her tangled locks.

       The constant pulsating glow of their Cryo vision was indication enough that, through their own means, they were keeping those terrible god remains at bay. Between the gorgeous icy energy that generated from them, a magenta glow was woven in like some kind of skilled artist's tapestry. It was as beautiful as it was unsettling.

       The Abyss would always be a part of them. They might as well put Skirk's teachings to use.

       "Why do you do such insane things?" they wondered aloud, head tilting back to shift their empty gaze towards the roof of the cavern. "You know that if I destroy those remains, your husband will die, and yet... I followed you nonetheless, knowing I would be at an impasse until someone came to rescue us, knowing I would inevitably cross paths with the one I have fought so hard to avoid. Why are you like this? So irresponsible, but then again... I am no better. I wouldn't be here if I was."

       "Jiangli!"

       "Well... it doesn't matter now," they murmured quietly, gently shaking her shoulder. "Jiangli, wake up. Baizhu and your husband are here. Some others too… I don’t know them though."

       "We found her!... but who's that beside her?"

       Baizhu was oddly silent, watching how they treated her with such tenderness, helping her sit up when she groggily rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Jialiang did not so much as flinch, however—he rushed up to them.

       "[Name]! How is she?! Is she okay?!"

       "Gods, Jialiang—" they hissed, pinching his arm in a soft attempt at scolding him. They vaguely resembled a parent chiding their child, despite the fact that he was older than them. "Don't run like that. You'll keel over dead if you keep that up. She's fine. She was just sleeping, I promise. I ensured her safety."

       "Your ability to stave off the effects of the god remains is rather impressive, [Name]."

       "...It's really not, Baizhu," they opposed quietly, rising to their feet. They dared not meet his eyes, looking anywhere but at him—they would feel an overwhelming sense of guilt if they were to see the evidence of his and Changsheng's contract, the contract that was always meant to be theirs. On top of that… they were certain he could see right through them, see the way they huffed out their breaths in a labored attempt at getting enough oxygen. "Don't try to make conversation. I'm not planning on running away this time. Jiangli probably did this on purpose... she forced my hand. It— look, it doesn’t matter. We'll talk about this, about everything, later."

       He seemed content with that answer—for the time being, at least.

       "Well, that's a first," Changsheng hissed from around the doctor's neck, "now isn't it?"

       "You're getting sassy in your old age, Changsheng," they commented. "Haven't changed a single bit since the last time I saw you, hmm? Sassy old lady~"

       "Hey!"

       "Sorry, wait— Paimon's confused," the floating fairy interrupted. ‘Oh,’ they thought, ‘so that’s who Ajax was talking about.’ "Knowing Baizhu is one thing, but knowing Changsheng is waaaay different! Who are you?"

       "My name is [Name]," they introduced with deceptive calmness that masked the pure, unadulterated panic they were experiencing on the inside. "You may have heard of me through a certain Fatui Harbinger. ‘Codename Childe, but I also go by Tartaglia,’ you know. The ginger with a bunch of cute siblings. Have you met them? They’re the cutest. Anyway, the harbinger has quite the collection of good things to say about you, traveler."

       Aether tensed slightly, shooting Baizhu an odd look, almost as if to ask who he was associating with in his spare time.

       "Relax. I'm not a part of the Fatui," they dismissed with a wave of their hand. "Those people are a bit insane, if you ask me, supporting a deity who hardly seems to care for them or the general population of her nation... Erm. Anyway. I only happen to know Ajax because we were both victims of the same circumstance a while back."

       "What..." Aether trailed off, blinking. Something in the way he looked at them, looked at the blankness in their eyes, said that he already understood. "...What does that mean?"

       "Ask him yourself. Do me a favor, though, and tell me what he says. I'm genuinely curious."

       "Hey!" Paimon cut in with an annoyed huff, stomping her foot like an aggravated toddler. The thought made them smile slightly. "Stop ignoring Paimon! You still didn't answer her question!"

       "[Name] was another one of my Master's disciples, like Jiangli," Baizhu explained on their behalf, briefly glancing in their direction. "Although... I haven't seen them in several years. Like Jiangli, they too ran away."

       "Oh, Gods, Baizhu," they groaned, turning to face him properly for the first time in years. Their breath almost dared to hitch at the golden irises that stared back at them. "Don't be dramatic. Are you telling people I ran away? I didn't run away. I told our Master why I was leaving and when I planned on doing so. It's Jiangli who really didn't tell anyone why she left. I wasn't that secretive about why I left, you know."

       "Nuance."

       They then softened up slightly, running their hand through their hair. A deep sigh left through their nose. "...You really haven't changed at all."

       He seemed to smile a bit at their exasperation. It was only fair, they supposed. They had left him in the dark for years. He deserved to find some amusement in the uncomfortable situation they were both forced into.

       "Well... whatever. We have bigger issues than my past friendships right now," they said, crossing their arms over their chest. "What are we doing about these remains? I have protected Jiangli's body and mind, but only to an extent. She is infected and it will continue to worsen if we do nothing. However, if we destroy these remains..."

       "Indeed..." Baizhu murmured, turning to the man in question. "If we destroy these remains, your life will come to an end."

       "If you knew what she was doing," Aether cut in, "why didn't you stop her?"

       "You cannot stop a woman like that once she has her heart set on something. All I could do was watch from the background until she put herself in too much danger, to the point where I'd have to defend her," they sighed, "such as what she did here."

       Jialiang looked between them and Baizhu. "...I had wondered when this day might come."

       Jiangli was silent.

       "We've been working our butts off to save Jialiang's life!" Paimon shouted. "We can't just give up on him now! Baizhu, you're a great doctor. Surely you've gotta know of some other way we can save him, right? Or— [Name]! If you studied with Baizhu, you should know a few things too, right?"

       "Sure. I still remember some things from that time," they replied, tilting their head back a bit so they could gaze at Jiangli's husband. "Jialiang could continue taking the poison. Jiangli is... in decent condition overall, so it wouldn't be the end of the world to delay the destruction of the remains, but she will fall more ill as time goes on. Either way, someone will die if we don't do something."

       "[Name], you've been watching Jiangli," Jialiang stated, standing up to meet their eyes. "How long does she have?"

       "If she completely stopped coming here..." they mused thoughtfully, "a few weeks at most would be my guess. You'd probably get a more precise answer from Baizhu, though."

       "I would say that is accurate," Baizhu agreed, nodding. "I could... extend that time, however, if I were to treat her using a secret art."

       "You..." They wanted to scold him, chide him for even suggesting such a thing, but in the end, they did not. It would make them a hypocrite. They simply bit their tongue. Jiangli watched closely with a gentle gaze comparable to that of an aunt or a mother as the various emotions flickered across their expression.

       "...But what would be the point of that?" Jialiang lamented. "Dr. Baizhu, I am all too aware of the dangers of god remains. You are not the first to mention it to me. [Name] often warned me, but... I did not listen. If I continue to sustain my own life using this wretched substance, then not only would Jiangli have to keep risking her life to make my medicine for me, but I would have to live with the looming threat of these remains breaking out and wreaking havoc not just upon me, but my entire family. I know for a fact that I should have died over a decade ago. The fact that I've been around to see Ayu grow up is already a great blessing from Rex Lapis. If my choice can keep Jiangli alive, then... even if I die..."

       "Jialiang..." Paimon trailed off.

       The man chuckled sadly. "After cheating death for so long, it seems I've grown somewhat addicted to life."

       "Life is a terrible drug for those of us who often come face-to-face with death," they admitted, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Take a minute to talk with Jiangli. We'll wait."

       "Thank you..." he said, kneeling down at his tired wife's side, "I'm sorry that I won't be able to repay your kindness in this life."

       "Jialiang...” Paimon cried, wiping her face with her little balled up hands. “Baizhu, Changsheng, [Name], is there really nothing else any of you can do?"

       "Cheating death is beyond my ability," they answered apologetically. "I know much of arts that are... beyond this world, but they are not used for preserving nor extending life. I wish I could do more, but I can’t. My apologies."

       "I am sure that over the years, Jiangli will have tried all the conventional methods known to humankind. As for the less conventional methods, I have little expertise besides Changsheng's secret art..."

       Aether's gaze flickered between them and Baizhu as he said that, before settling back on the Liyuean doctor. "...They're aware of it?"

       "Try to avoid treating me like an outsider," they half-scolded. "Believe it or not, I was meant to be bound to Changsheng. Fate had different plans, however, so yes. I am very much aware. Even through the medium, that being Changsheng, none of Baizhu's predecessors could manage to cheat death."

       "Mortals are fated to grow old and pass on when their natural lifespan runs out," the snake mused. "If it were so easy to combat the natural processes of aging and death, Jiangli would not have had to resort to unnatural methods."

       Paimon sniffled. "What a crazy situation... Jiangli risked it all to save Jialiang's life, and now, Jialiang has to sacrifice himself to save Jiangli. What's the point of it all..?"

       "Love, I have heard, tends to make people do insane things," they stated. "It's quite tragic, really."

       The traveler nodded. "All we can do now is honor Jialiang's decision and bear witness."

       "...I've seen many final farewells in my time," Baizhu commented softly, quietly, "but I can never get used to it."

       "In the human realm, all things must come to an end. Is it not a fitting end to die for a worthy cause? At least... that's what generations of Masters before you always believed."

       They wondered if Changsheng was somehow trying to be reassuring.

       "The path they chose was indeed a heroic one," Baizhu agreed, "but when I think of those who would willingly sacrifice themselves for others... I cannot help but think that theirs are the lives least deserving of death."

       The quiet whispers shared between the couple gradually died down. It was then that Jialiang stood up.

       "I've said my goodbyes. My time has come. Do what you must."

       "As you wish."

       "We have not been in contact for years," they spoke up, stepping forward and raising their hand, "but I know you well enough to know that a man dying indirectly by your own hand will weigh on your mind. I will take care of this. Stand down, Baizhu."

       The doctor seemed momentarily stunned, but he nodded nonetheless, backing off. "...Very well, [Name]."

       With a chilling wind and a flick of their wrist, the god remains dissipated with a hiss.

       It wasn't very long until Jialiang collapsed.

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       "Jialiang..! Jialiang!"

       The man shot up with a gasp, instinctively clutching at his chest.

       "Dad! Are you awake?!"

       "Jiangli..? Ayu? Didn't I..." Jialiang trailed off, gaze drifting to the seals stuck on his skin. "Huh? What are these?"

       Changsheng’s voice drew his attention. "How does it feel to come back to life?"

       "Do you feel strange or different in any way?" Baizhu questioned, walking to his bediside. "If so, could you describe it to me in detail?"

       "Dr. Baizhu! I thought I was going to..."

       "Die? You did, actually," they stated, gently holding his arm, carefully inspecting the sigils as to not disrupt the delicate imitation of immortality that the doctor had created. "To think this is what Baizhu's been doing in my absence... absolutely fascinating. Sorry, Jialiang, do you mind? I'll back off if it's uncomfortable. Don’t be afraid to tell me.”

       Jiangli giggled at her husband's look of sheer confusion.

       "Uh... no, you're— you're okay..? Go ahead."

       Baizhu's lips quirked up at the sight of their enthusiasm. He said nothing of it, though. "As things stand now, you're more akin to a zombie than a human."

       "...I'm a zombie?!"

       "That's right. Before we set off, I asked Qiqi to prepare and Elixir of Immortality. With its help, you have been suspended in the space between life and death. Of course, this is but a crude imitation of an adeptus art. I don't expect it to extend your life indefinitely. Whether it will keep you alive for a few days, a few months, or a few years...” Baizhu mused, “I am as interested as you to find out, but however long you have left, I believe it should be more than sufficient time for you to say your final goodbyes before departing the world in peace. ...I hope Director Hu finds this arrangement to be a satisfactory one?"

       "An Elixir of Immortality? How'd you cook that up? Ugh," the girl in question groaned, "leave it to you to work on something like that behind my back..."

       "It's a work in progress that hardly lives up to its name, and it would've had no effect if not for Jialiang's iron will." Baizhu shifted, crossing his arms over his chest. "In the end, I am merely a doctor. I understand very little about the great principles governing life and death, and the perpetual cycle of yin and yang. All I know is that if I am presented with a life that deserves to be saved, I will do everything within my power to save it. Even this would have counted for nothing if not for Director Hu's assistance... after all, did you not tell Jialiang to show us the way before we set off for Qingce Village?"

       "Oops! Aaaand, I'm busted..."

       "Without Director Hu nudging things in the right direction, we may not have found Jiangli and [Name] in time. They could only hold those remains off for so long."

       "It wouldn't have meant anything if not for your friend over there," she pointed out. "They nudged me first."

       "I did," they conceded, finally backing away from Jialiang after finishing their investigation of his sigils. "What of it? I was worried about Jialiang and Jiangli. I told Director Hu who I was and where I was headed after eavesdropping, and then she nudged Jialiang in that direction. It's not that serious."

       "Eavesdropping is kind of serious!" Paimon exclaimed, shooting them an odd look.

       "Fair point, but it's not like I was eavesdropping on someone I've never met. What could Baizhu have said to you that I wouldn't have already known? Absolutely nothing.”

       "I knew there were people listening in on our conversation back then," Aether murmured. "To think it was you two..."

       "No wonder he didn't mention the Elixir back then," Director Hu muttered to herself. "I thought he was being frank and transparent with me for once, but apparently not."

       Jialiang cleared his throat, laughing a bit. "Director Hu told me to keep her suggestion a secret, and [Name] had told Jiangli and I a while ago to keep it a secret that they were in Liyue, but it seems nothing escapes Dr. Baizhu's attention..."

       "Never underestimate a serpent's sense of smell!" Changsheng hissed, almost seeming to be proud.

       "All I wanted was to help Jialiang find his missing wife as soon as possible, so that he could be on his way to the afterlife without any unfulfilled wishes making the journey more difficult than it needs to be..." Hu Tao sighed. "Leave it to Bubu Pharmacy to snatch the perfect opportunity right outta my hands at the last hurdle! Never mind, I'll just have to put it down in the books as a deferred consideration... one Qiqi was enough of a conundrum; the last thing I need's another one. If I'd known this was coming, I would have whisked him off to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor the moment I found him."

       "Y— you stay away from my dad! When I grow up, I'm gonna become a better doctor than Mom and Baizhu, and cure Dad for good!" Ayu declared, making them chuckle into their hand. They ruffled his brown hair fondly. "A— and [Name]! Better than [Name] too!"

       "I don't really practice medicine anymore, honey. I definitely don't count as a doctor. You'd outdo me within a week."

       Jiangli grinned at them, teasing, "I don't know, [Name]. For someone who 'doesn't practice medicine anymore,' you still act as if you do. You seem very fascinated with Baizhu's imitation of immortality on a very deep level.”

       "Old habits die hard," they simply answered. "What can I say?”

       "Oh? Is that so?" Hu Tao chimed, turning to Ayu. "Well, you wouldn't be the first person who's tried to put Wangsheng Funeral Parlor out of business. If you're serious about it, you'll have your work cut out for you."

       Just like that, she turned on her heel and left.

       "Phew... is she finally gone?" Qiqi peeked out from her hiding spot. Upon seeing them, and noting that Hu Tao was gone, she ran over to them, presenting them with a silk flower. "I meant to give it to you earlier... because it's pretty, like you... but I forgot..."

       Their face turned serious as they faced the Liyuean doctor. "Baizhu."

       "Hm?"

       "I'm keeping her. She's mine now. This is my child now."

       Both Baizhu and Jiangli chuckled at how purely enamored they were with her, kneeling down so Qiqi could tuck the flower behind their ear. They cooed over her sweetness, patting her head lovingly. Ayu almost seemed a little jealous of the attention they showered her in.

       "All's well that ends well!" Paimon chimed, turning to Aether. "If you ask Paimon, we should probably go do something to celebrate this heard-earned family reunion..."

       "Paimon's idea of a celebration can only mean one thing..."

       "Hehe! At times like this, a grand celebratory feast is in order!"

       Jialiang chuckled, "It feels like it was a whole lifetime ago when I last talked with Jiangli and Ayu around the dinner table."

       "Rightfully so," they said, "you've been through a lot."

       Aether nodded. "This was a hard-earned meal."

       "Yaaay~! Paimon can't wait! Alright, first thing's first—off to the market for some fresh ingredients! Let's go~!"

       "Wait up!" Ayu shouted, running after them. "I'll come too!"

       "Baizhu, thank you so, so much for everything you've done for us..." Jiangli thanked, then turning to place a hand on their shoulder as many had done before her. "And [Name], I would not be as well as I am now if not for you. You've been standoffish for the past decade, but I know you still care. For all of us."

       "Ah... I wasn't trying to come off as cold. Things just got tough for me after that incident. I never want you guys to feel like I don't care, you know..."

       "Don't mention it, Jiangli," Baizhu reassured. "I was just doing my duty."

       "Just your duty, huh..." she mused wistfully. "Baizhu, Changsheng, [Name], would you mind if we took this conversation outside?"

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       "Time flies. It's been so long since we've been together like this... Changsheng, you're the same as ever," Jiangli laughed. "You haven't changed one bit!"

       "That's literally what I said to her, too," they exclaimed. "See, I knew I was right! Some things just don't change, hm?"

       "...You two, on the other hand, have changed a lot," Changsheng replied, a thoughtful lilt to her tone. She certainly knew more than what she was letting on.

       "You're right," Jiangli admitted. "My younger self would have never imagined that things would one day turn out this way."

       "I doubt that any of us imagined our lives would turn out this way," they added. "I mean, really... our time in Chenyu Vale seems so far gone now, doesn’t it?”

       “It really does,” the woman agreed.

       The evening light bathed their face in yellow-orange light; it wasn't quite late enough yet for the light to take on a more golden hue, but it was beautiful nonetheless. Even after all the horrors they had witnessed, they still had the capacity to recognize beauty.

       "Liyue's so pretty at this time, isn't it?" they wondered aloud.

       "You always did think so," Baizhu replied. "That much hasn't changed."

       An oddly comfortable silence settled for but a few short moments as the small group descended the last of the stairs that led to Bubu Pharmacy. Jiangli was the first to break it:

        “I’ve taken a look at your Elixir of Immortality, Baizhu, as has [Name]. It isn’t altogether dissimilar from the poison I concocted in terms of the way it functions.”

        “I have to say, Jiangli, it was a stroke of genius to use poison to maintain life. I hope you’re not too upset at me for… copying your methods?”

        “No, not at all. With your intellect, even if you’d never seen my poison, I believe you would have eventually arrived at the same approach, but I’m still impressed by how quickly you gained such a thorough understanding of it. Jialiang’s still only been in your care for a few days. Not just that—you even managed to improve upon the original formula. That cannot be explained by intellect alone…”

        “Ten mora says he tried it out on himself.”

        “Ha!” Changsheng laughed. “Told you the truth would come out sooner or later.”

        “Knew it,” they hummed. “Life force has never been the only thing Changsheng’s contract allows her contractees to transfer. I know simply because I used to catch our master doing things like that all the time.”

        “Baizhu…” Jiangli trailed off.

        “…Nothing gets past you two. Yes, Changsheng’s secret art also allows for the transfer of toxins and diseases. When I treated Jialiang for the second time, I transferred some of the poison from his body onto my own. Not only did this allow me to alleviate the burden on him, but it also gave me an opportunity to study its properties. There is no need to worry about any long-term consequences to my health, however. Now that the source has been destroyed, any remaining poison in me will have already dissipated.”

        “But you took such a huge risk,” Jiangli opposed. “If we hadn’t destroyed the gods’ remains back there, then even you might have…” She then sighed. “What am I saying? I’m in no position to criticize you for this, and if [Name] knew… it’s no wonder why they were adamant on destroying the remains themselves.”

       They nodded. “I had to be sure they would be gone. Believe me, whatever was there before… it is not there now and will never be there again.”

        “Leave it to you to see through us all, even from such a distance,” she said with a fond, wistful smile. She turned back to Baizhu. “The reason I left our Master and went into hiding all those years ago was that he was getting old, and I didn’t want him using up any more of his own life force to treat my husband, but in the end… how were my methods any different than his? I risked one life to save another, and then you tried the poison on yourself, too… It looks like both of us have ended up going the same way as out master before us. As for [Name]… heh, they’re hardly any better.”

       Baizhu seemed intrigued by her statement. “How so?”

        “[Name], why don’t you tell Baizhu how you absorbed the majority of that gods’ remains to keep them from getting to me?”

        “It’s different,” they insisted, gaze shifting towards the golden sky. "I mean, I did do that, yes—that’s not what I’m denying. You two do it because if there is a life in front of you deserving of being saved, you save it, and… ten years ago, I would have done it solely for the same reasons. Now, though… It’s different. That incident changed me, Jiangli. I do it because I get a rush from surviving things like that.”

        “Nonetheless, your intentions towards others are still good,” Jiangli said, gently squeezing their upper arm. “Would you have done it if you didn’t care? If you weren’t scared for my life? You said it yourself. You were worried about my husband and I. You put yourself in a situation you knew would inevitably lead to you and Baizhu meeting again. You put yourself at risk, and that is what really makes me wonder: are all disciples of Chenyu Vale destined to turn out this way? To live a short life, having given away our own for the sake of others? To fight relentlessly against the natural course of life and death, whatever the cost? …Maybe our fate is sealed the moment we decide to study medicine.”

        “We are doctors, Jiangli. We ought never say that anyone’s fate is sealed.”

        “Baizhu, I can tell that over the years, you’ve used the contract with Changsheng to transfer many diseases and toxins onto yourself. There are so many, that some of them I don’t even recognize… can you still stop it before it’s too late?”

        “Don’t fool yourself. We all know the answer to that question, Jiangli,” they interrupted, “and we all know it’s a very honest no. All disciples of Chneyu Vale believe in the same core principle. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

        “Heey~!” Paimon shouted, waving the group over. “Food’s ready!”

        “Mom!” Ayu exclaimed excitedly, running up to the woman. “Come and join us! Aether taught me a load of new recipes and said even Dad’ll be able to taste them! Come and try them out!”

        “Yes, darling, mom’ll be there in just a minute… Hey, slow down!” she exclaimed, chasing after her child. She stopped briefly, turning back to face them and Baizhu. “Baizhu, I know I won’t be able to convince you, but… please don’t forget that, if one day, you’re not around anymore… Qiqi, Gui, and all the friends that have grown fond of you, they will all miss you dearly.”

        “There’s no need to worry, Jiangli. I know what I’m doing.”

        “…I can only hope so,” she sighed, “and [Name]? I believe you know where this conversation needs to go. I was honest about why I left. It’s your turn now.”

       She walked off after her son.

       A silence settled in her absence. This time, however, it was tense.

       Then, Baizhu seemed to search his pockets for something. His face brightened slightly when he found it: a small envelope yellowed with age. He handed it over to them.

       "You... never opened it?" they wondered softly, holding the letter they'd written all those years ago with such delicacy that they weren't even aware they were capable of anymore.

       "I wanted to hear the explanation from you."

       "This was from me," they tried to counter.

       "[Name]."

       "Yeah, yeah... I get it. You wanted to hear it from me directly. I know," they sighed, leaning back against the railing, fidgeting with the paper envelope help in their hands. "It really isn't a pretty story, but if anyone deserves to know... I suppose it's you. I’m surprised Changsheng didn’t tell you already, given how inclined she is to gossiping—”

        “Hey!”

        “—Just... please. Do me a favor and try not to look at me too differently after you hear it."

       Baizhu reached out to their shoulder, giving it a tender squeeze. "I just want to know why you left so abruptly. We were so close. There is nothing you could say or do that would make me resent you."

       They smiled bitterly. "We'll see about that."

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       For the first time in a very long time, they spoke to Baizhu.

       Not superficially, not as distant professionals, but as friends. It was a moment of honest vulnerability that truly frightened them. They hadn't been that vulnerable since before their fall.

       The silence weighed heavily on their chest as they gazed anywhere but at their former friend. Somehow, the anticipation for his response was far more suffocating than any other in the past—even the anticipation for their Master's response was never this heavy.

       Then, the Liyuean doctor reached out, gingerly tugging them towards his figure. His arms settled comfortably around their waist.

       The weak beating of his heart and the wheezing breaths he took prompted them to sob. The sound they let out was overwhelmingly heartbreaking; it was somehow even worse than the cry they had let out upon taking that first life all those years ago in the Abyss. All the pain they suppressed for all the years they hid from their home, their friends... it all came flooding out at once.

       "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

       "You went through all of that," Baizhu whispered, his voice meant only for them (and Changsheng by default…) to hear as a hand ran soothingly through their hair, "and you truly believed we would hold that against you?"

       "Yes!" they wept. Archons... they hadn't felt this pathetic since their initial descent into the Abyss. "Gods, Baizhu, of course I thought you all would hold it against me! I was supposed to be Changsheng's next contractee! It was never supposed to be you! I didn't want it to be you!"

       "I know."

       "It's not fair! You— you're here giving away your life force, and you're going to die young, and it's going to be my fault! I should have done something differently! Maybe then we wouldn't be in this situation!"

       "It's not your fault."

       "It is!"

       "It's not."

       "You're suffering because of me!"

       "[Name]."

       "I only ever do bad things to you," they sobbed. "Why do you still want to forgive me? Why are you wasting your time comforting me? You should just move on. You're better off without me."

       "Stay in Liyue."

       "H— huh?" they sniffled. "What? No, I... No!”

        “Stay, [Name]. Please.”

        “No! Why do you even want me to stay here?! You should hate me! You should—”

        “You’re reckless with your own life. Do you really think I don’t see it? You claim to get a rush from being alive, but… I do not believe that is the only thing you seek out by putting yourself at risk. Mentally well people don’t behave this way. Let me help you. Please."

        ‘No shit,’ they wanted to say, ‘I haven’t been well since that day.’

        “Are you saying you don’t trust me to be on my own?”

        “I am.”

       Their throat closed. They squeezed their eyes shut.

       He was right, much as they hated it.

        “…Fucking hypocrite.”

       "That may be so.” He smiled ruefully. “If that isn’t good enough of a reason, then… I’m asking you to stay because I want you to stay, [Name]. Stay with me for a little while." His eyes were filled with a gentleness that they wholeheartedly believed should not have been directed at them. "We still get along, don't we? Though you may have changed, I genuinely find it hard to believe anything about us has changed, so stay. Let's get to know each other again, hm?"

       They blinked. Once, twice. Tears pricked at their eyelashes.

       "...Okay."

       They still failed to part from Baizhu, but he didn't seem to mind, only resuming his motions of brushing his fingers through their hair.

       "Qiqi quite likes your company, too."

       "Yes..." they murmured. "Um, a lot of kids seem to, you know... Ayu, my other friend's siblings... I don't really get it, but they, um, they all seem to like me."

       For what was the first time in decades, they felt truly at peace. They'd often engage in meaningless conversation under the sunset's light with Baizhu in their youth, gathering herbs and the like for their shared Master. To do something so similar once again...

       It soothed the beast their soul had become. 

       The sunset's light, however, did not dance in their eyes as it once had.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot! taglist: @zeldadou, @ophelium-flowers, @aikitsuki.

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Ao3 Authors: Broke_Traveler, Callsignsmax, KatofKanals, Orphan_account, Nightwrite24, ReformedTsundere, Sreshaw, Tearsricochets.

College/University

Ao3 Authors: BlankPapyrus, Chase_acow, Cryinginthebronco, Glowpink, Hangmanbradshaw, Haridwar, Hypnagogicpunisher, Imafriendlydalek, Miraculousmultifan, Monkiedude, Nighttimedawn, Nightwrite24, Orphan_account, Pocketsizedsatan, ReformedTsundere, Renai_chan, Soisserieux, SunMonTue, Tearsricochets, Trinipedia.

> Educational Occupations > Childhood Friends-Sweethearts

You Make Me Live by Renai_chan {E} (C/U)

Once upon a time, Jake met Rooster. Eight years later, he's a freshman at the US Naval Academy, and Bradley Bradshaw comes back into his life. Except, they've both grown up, and with growth, paths diverge.

I think I could use some more (of you) by nighttimedawn {T} (C/U)

“I feel like y’all have been having a secret affair behind my back,” Jake said from behind them. “I take back my earlier worry that you wouldn’t get along.” Letting go of Bradley, Nat said, “Awww, Jakey. Are you feeling left out?” “He’s worried because he knows we’d make a hot couple,” Bradley joked, picking up his bag from where it had fallen on the floor. Without looking at Nat, he hit the high five she held out her hand for. Jake groaned and began to walk towards the exit. “How the fuck am I third-wheeling in my own relationships?” Or how Jake and Bradley meet on a college tour and spend the next five years figuring it out (and fucking it up).

Draw Me Verse by BlankPapyrus {E} (C/U)

Draw Me

As an engineering major, Bradley Bradshaw had no idea why he needed an art credit, but Professor Bates' Introduction to Life Drawing course had been the only one with slots available that fit into his schedule. He also didn't expect Jake Seresin to be this week's model.

Athletes and Mathletes

Jake hasn't seen Bradley since they hooked up. He's used to getting what he wants, and Bradshaw is not good for his ego or his temper. Luckily, they're both at Reuben's birthday party.

Study Buddy

At their regular study session, Bradley and Jake wind up being the only ones left. Naturally, they wind up in bed together.

Megaphone Serenade by ReformedTsundere {G} (HS)

Jake knew about Bradley Bradshaw. Bob was friends with him; they shared a choir class, and Bradley helped with some jazz performances if they were down a keys player. But he’d never really noticed the other boy before. The second Bradley ran his fingers over the ivories with an easy grin, leaning back and relaxed, Jake was transfixed.

no one quite like you (you push all my buttons down) by glowpink {T} (C/U)

Bradley’s first day of law school is a wash out in more ways than one. First, he gets soaked on the way to class. Then, he's late. And finally (quite literally) runs into his ex-something in the middle of the law building.

come hell or high water by orphan_account {G} (HS) (C/U)

Bradley Bradshaw, determined to live up to his father's legacy, enlists in the Navy right out of high school, leaving his best friend, who is also probably the love of his life, home with his godfather to finish out high school. He definitely isn't worried about Jake at all. Jake is definitely fine. He definitely isn't worried about that thing that happened at the airport that they never actually spoke about. And he definitely isn't worried about these feelings in his chest that keep threatening to spill out of him. Everything will be fine, right? Or, how Bradley falls in love, finds a home, and remembers how to be happy again.

number neighborhood by miraculousmultifan {T} (C/U)

754-XXX-2324 created a group chat 754-XXX-2324 added 754-XXX-2323, 754-XXX-2325, 754-XXX-2326, and 9 more 754-XXX-2324 named the group number neighborhood [12:36 p.m.] number neighborhood 754-XXX-2324: howdy neighbors! 754-XXX-2327: who the fuck are you *** Jake, bored out of his mind one day, decides to add a bunch of numbers into a group chat and see what happens. It went about as well as he expected.

Baby You Look Good by soisserieux {_} (C/U)

He finds his name and desk number and heads in the direction of his seat, only to stop short when he sees the guy in the other chair.  The guy is sitting there comfortably, with all of his shit unpacked, like he’s been there for a while. He’s got this old-looking Hawaiian print shirt on, and this mustache that looks like it came straight out of a trashy porno. And the worst part is, Jake can’t tear his eyes away. It’s like everything else happening in the lab suddenly came to a screeching halt, and he can’t do anything but stare at this guy.  The spell is finally broken when the guy looks up at him. “Do you need something? Or…” Jake regains his composure and plasters a well-practiced cocky smile on his face. “Well, if you don’t mind, I need you to help me pass this damn class… Partner.” It’s kind of dumb and Jake almost wishes he didn’t say it, but it’s too late to take it back now. He’s stuck with it, just like he’s stuck with this guy as his lab partner. Fate has spoken.  One of the guy’s eyebrows shoots up. “You’re my lab partner?” Jake sets his stuff down and sits down in the open chair, sidling up next to his new partner. “Lucky for you.”

Springsteen by sreshaw {M} (HS)

Bradley Bradshaw has to pick up and move from San Diego, California, with his not-dad Pete "Maverick" Mitchell to Corpus Christi, Texas. He's not upset about it, but he doesn't expect to fall hard for a boy he meets there.

hey wouldn't you know (i'd get hooked on a guy with green diamond eyes) by tearsricochets {T}

I was cool with hangin around (now i got plans bigger than this town) (HS)

He doesn't mean to just stop mid-sentence, but really he doesn’t have any control of it. The one player he hadn’t caught the name of, Han, has just turned around. He’s mid laugh as he walks towards a huge blue cooler set up next to someone’s truck, and he’s probably the most beautiful person Bradley’s ever seen.   He’s got blonde hair that looks like it was styled when he’d first got here, but a few too many runs of the hand through it have knocked a few pieces onto his forehead. He’s wearing a simple gray colored henley under the letterman, paired with jeans that fit perfectly in all the right places and an honest-to-God pair of worn looking cowboy boots.  The smile that’s still on his face is only spurring on Bradley’s struggle. It lights up his entire face, the light of the fire making his already tan skin even more of a perfect golden.  He watches as the angel incarnate walks back to the others. Then, almost in slow motion, uses his now free hand to pick up the black cowboy hat that is hanging on the back of his chair.  Good god, that should be illegal. OR: the summer they meet, fall in love, and have to figure out what to do with it.

let the moonshine through (kissing you like yesterday) (C/U)

Fuck. His heart stops. His dreams, because he’s here. He’s here in Bradley’s immediate eyeline and reach. He’s positively radiant. Glowing. The golden sun spills in through the window and washes him in hues not unlike those of a fire ages ago. His hair is still the same golden blond Bradley remembers it as, once again a halo on his perfect head. He’s filled out much more than he was when they were teenagers. His short sleeve shirt, that reads Langwood Fire, looks sinfully tight on his biceps. His nightmares, because he looks happy. Happy like he doesn't regret for one second leaving Bradley behind. Bradley wants to laugh. Bradley wants to cry. More than anything, he wants to hug him. Wants to call him Angel and have Jake smile that little smile he only does when Bradley calls him that. Wants him to kiss him like it’s nothing and they’re still who they used to be. But they’re not, and the look on Jake’s face is enough to make him remember that forever. OR: the one in which it's the summer they meet again.

sereshaw student/teacher 'verse by callsignsmax (HS)

a first time for everything {E}

Mr. Seresin is his new physics teacher, he’s twenty six at the most. With how he looks Bradley would be shocked at anything more. He’s from texas, obvious from his accent and the obnoxious Texas Rangers banner he has pinned on the cork board next to his desk.

I see right through you {E}

“Nothing’s fair, Mr. Seresin,” He hiccups, throat sore and scratchy from suppressing his sobs. “Why don’t my friends support me and you being together?”

NSFW alphabet with Mr. Seresin and Bradley {E}

Learn the ins and outs of Mr. Seresin and Bradley's sex life, including the struggles of true love in a teacher/student relationship.

I’d wait forever for you {M}

“Red,” he manages to choke out, even though Mr. Seresin had already stopped. His hands were off of Bradley the second the younger froze up. “Stop, please.”

I'll Be Home for Christmas (And I'll be Making it Your Problem) by ReformedTsundere {T} (C/U)

Javy is scrolling past their local college's "Personals" page, seeing if they can find students they know enough to make harmless jokes at, when an apparent ad stops them both. Rent-A-Boyfriend Need someone to take home for the holidays? Not looking forward to being sat around the table and made to play nice? I'm a 26-year-old Navy brat with more piercings, tattoos, and trauma than sense. Polisci and Engineering double major who is running on caffeine (but can make it seem like I've got a drug problem). I ride a motorcycle for fun, have what can only be described as a "pornstache," and am unapologetically queer. I can and will, without trying, make any conservative parent wish they'd never picked up the phone to make you come home and have a blast doing it.

we met in the winter (and we fell in love) by haridwar {T} (C/U)

Watson Wildhearts by KatofKanals {E} (HS)

16 year old Bradley Bradhsaw is new to Watson, Texas in the summer of 2000 and he is downright miserable—he hates the whole town and all the people in it. That includes Jake Seresin, the star quarterback and rich boy at the top of the social pyramid. Eventually, though, Bradley starts to wonder if maybe there’s more to Watson and Jake Seresin than he saw at first glance. Maybe there’s something special there after all.

Midnight at the Shoreline by monkiedude {T} (C/U)

Jake likes to plan their beach week. Bradley messes it up.

get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down by cryinginthebronco {G} (C/U)

get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down The sun begins its descent towards the horizon, and the day is slowly coming to an end, giving everyone a long-awaited relief from the unrelenting heat. The excited chatter of tourists spending their summer in a small picturesque town died down not long ago, with everyone leaving the beach and making their way to the hotel rooms and oceanside rentals. For a few minutes, the waves of the nearby ocean hum calmly, finally undisturbed by the screaming children and their admonishing parents. But eventually, the lazy swoosh of the ocean is drowned by a different kind of noise. or jake, bradley, and one summer night

Learning to Fly by Broke_Traveler {M} (HS)

Can one phone call or school year change everything?

You're the beginning and the end of every chapter - Sunday by trinipedia {T} (C/U)

Bradley, a rebellious guy from California, is shipped off to a strict Texas military school by his godfather after one too many pranks. He will find more than he expected, and he'll come to realize that leaving might not be as easy as he thought.

Legacy by chase_acow {M} (C/U)

Bradley was a man in a dress, and he looked cute. Pledging the same Fraternity as his dad was his plan since childhood, he just needed to find a big brother who didn't mind having the oldest freshman ever. Anyone would do, but Jake Seresin, the worst lab partner ever, had his own plans.

5 times Rooster lost a bet to Hangman + 1 time they both won. by Pocketsizedsatan {_} (C/U)

5 times Rooster lost a bet to Hangman + 1 time they both won. Fraternity AU

cuz you know I love the players and you love the game by hangmanbradshaw {E} (C/U)

Jake's the star quarterback, Bradley's the star baseball captain. They both like playing games, turns out they want the same prize. Or Bradley dresses as a cheerleader for the team and Jake hates him (except that he totally doesn't)

Oh, but it just may be a lunatic you're looking for by nightwrite24 {G} (C/U)

Five times Bradley and Jake encountered each other under decidedly unusual circumstances, and the one time one of them decided to finally do something about it.

these small towns by nightwrite24 {M} (HS)

Bradley's moved to Texas from California. Jake's got a lot of expectations riding on him that don't leave room for the type of romance he really wants. Bradley has no idea he's such an overthinker. After a great night together, Jake's fallen into a full-blown crush and does his best to panic his way out of it. It does not work.

When September Ends by imafriendlydalek {E} (C/U)

Bradley had only applied to colleges other than the Academy to appease his mom, who insisted that it was important to have safety schools. He never thought he would need a backup. And yet here he is, at Cornell University. His dreams of going to the Academy have been thoroughly dashed, his mother is buried across the country next to his father, and his parking spot has just been stolen by some asshole with Texas license plates.

It's not who you know by SunMonTue {M} (C/U)

Low-angst Nepo!Baby Bradley and his four years at the USNA and his head-in-the-sand approach to the nepotism and the fact that he ends up being known as the guy with the two hot dads instead...

red river rivalry by hypnagogicpunisher {M} (C/U)

He’s heard the buzz about the new 4-star on the Texas team. It piques his interest. Oklahoma had been dominating the last few years of the rivalry, but betting odds were hot against the Sooners going into the game week, partially because of this Seresin kid. A true freshman, with his kind of stats, was a rarity. Bradley wonders just a bit what his passing stats would look like with him, who seemingly has fucking magnets for hands and the ability to stretch for a pass like he’s made of rubber. -- He can feel the frustration snaking through his body, settling with a numbness in his fingertips. At 2nd and 10, his pass is tipped and ruled incomplete. He can hear a jeer from the sideline, and he fucking knows it’s Seresin.

[littleeggrock]

Dirty Little Animals by Bones UK (from the Arcane soundtrack) is so first couple days feral BOLAS?! To me. Explanation under the cut for anyone interested lol

Like the first verse? "Taste what fell from grace"? They weren't exactly high and mighty on the first island, but they sure had it better there than in literal purgatory.

"You wanna mess around they're gonna take you down down down" - The other teams took this somewhat seriously, but by the end of the first day Bolas was completely broke and decided to go with the rp route, go completely insane, and somehow are still winning, despite all the hangups and deaths they had.

"such a lovely way to burn burn burn" - at the end of the first day there was a solid five minutes of people throwing themselves into the campfire to amass a large pile of bodies

"I've never felt like this before, think I might just want some more" - the amount of all the trauma and just general vibes given off by these specific people was enough to allow bolas to go over the edge and go crazy, alone they've all got their respective RP things going but together the energy bounces off each other as they constantly enable the ones around them, allowing for them to go well and truly insane after Bad provided a catalyst

"the kind of wrong that make you feel right" - so many of the characters on this team are considered morally grey, really none besides Phil and maybe carre have any sort of moral standing, and even then it's debatable, Jaidens close but she's also very easily manipulated as we see with cucurucho, she has good intentions most of the time but she doesn't have them because they are good, she has them because she doesn't want the people close to her getting hurt

"the little death that makes you feel alive" -jaidens complete disregard for her life on day four, willing to die upwards of 30 times (she died ninety four times total but also died from the gas a lot so im not sure how much was spawn camping, figured id play it safe) to cheat and manipulate the other teams for the benefit of BOLAS. Also again the campfire. And the stick fights. They just really like to beat eachother to the death.

"it makes your blood run hot, it makes your spit taste sweet, it makes you feel more alive than you have ever been" - literally just the insanity that's swamped the team, it's been dialed down some since day 4 but it's definitely still there, they are not ok and I love them. Some analogy could be made with the gas masks and the toxic gas, knowing you are immune to something that has killed many, the high of the adrenaline as they run through this fatal fog with little regards for their own safety.

"dirty little animals, beautiful cannibals" - they've brought up cannibalism multiple times and the majority of them (characters, to clarify) say they would be fine with it if given consent first, cellbit's canonically already done it too lmao. You can't tell be that they aren't just a buncha dirty little guys. Have you seen Charlie's skin, have you heard jaiden and foolish barking, all of them screeching muffled at the enemies, or howling in joy

Also for those of you who haven't seen, arcane season 2 got a release date for sometime in November 2024, which is so fucking exciting and it's a lot sooner than I expected

Sorry for the long post the brainrot got to me and I had to write this down somewhere lmao, figured id share with the class

[canonmisogynyvictimstournament]

PRELIMINARY ROUND - BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER/ANGEL THE SERIES

PROPAGANDA

Kendra Young

1.) Kendra was shafted due to a combination of misogyny and racism. She is a Jamaican young woman who enters the narrative to serve as a foil for Buffy, the main character. Her backstory is one-dimensional and her personality is one-note. (Rather than exploring what it might be like to be a teenager growing up in Jamaica, facing the same Chosen One fate as Buffy in a different setting, they just made her robotically devoted to the idea of being a slayer with no other traits.) She exists purely as a comparison for one issue that Buffy is encountering during this time in the story. As soon as Buffy worked through this issue to the writer's satisfaction, Kendra was removed from the story (i.e., was killed by being outsmarted, hypnotized, and then executed by a villain). During her brief life, she was subjected to the trope that when two women are in the same story they have to hate each other and see each other as rivals, despite the fact that this makes so sense with either of their characterization. She is MUCH less fleshed out than the vast majority of other characters in the story and her narrative role is eventually replaced with a far more complexly written white woman (proving that they could have done all this interesting stuff with Kendra in the first place??? but chose to kill her off instead.)

2.) She was introduced as a foil to the protagonist and set up as being an important new addition to the cast whose very existence in the show completely altered the status quo and she had a really interesting dynamic with the protagonist and a compelling backstory and a lot of potential for some great character development and to provide a new point of view and there was just generally so much potential there AND THEN THEY KILLED HER OFF AFTER LIKE THREE EPISODES AND NEVER MENTIONED HER AGAIN. FUMING. (also she was like. the only major woman of colour on the show at least for the majority of the show's run. so y'know that fucking sucks)

anyway I think this post really sums up how badly she got screwed over:

3.) Okay, so I had more been considering her a victim of racism, but let's call it misogynoir. Aside from the sexist origin she shares with all the slayers - some men got together to imbue Woman with power against her will which they would then oversee and manage for their own purposes and according to their own interests- she has been trained for slaying from childhood and yet she is killed pretty quickly after entering the story for the purposes of a white girl's angst and character development (and in fact her character only exists for this purpose)… by a fingernail. A powerful, well-trained, competent and bad-ass girl is killed because she didn't lean back one inch further fast enough. IIRC there's also sexism and racism in the way she is portrayed as kind of naive about the normal world and Buffy has to show her how to be a normal teenager.

Illyria

1.) illyria was an all powerful demon whose literal introduction to the show was her taking over the body of one of the main characters and killing her in the process. given such an introduction, i think it would be reasonable to assume that she'd be a really major character and would play an important role in the show's plot. WRONG SHE BASICALLY CONTRIBUTES NOTHING TO THE PLOT AFTER LIKE HER FIRST TWO EPISODES. she also gets depowered and then in the last couple episodes of the show she gets incapacitated so she's not even there when all the other main characters (who, by the way, are all men at this point) make their Big Important Decision to fight back against the evil company they've been working for. apparently in the angel writers' world women can't have agency even when they're literal god like demon lords

[gavinom123]

RIGHT HI HELLO i'm going to make a quick post discussing what's been happening over on twitter these past few days, but it's going to be very long as I'm including as much context as possible!

Before the majority of the post begins, for context: IZ-san does not allow any edits of their artwork, including video fancams, meme edits, and even color filters. Nothing of the sort regarding their artwork is permitted. Full guidelines regarding their work can be found here, so please give it a read if you haven't already! I've been seeing more and more people across various socials disrespect their boundaries, and it's only basic manners to respect them.

It started with a peing ask (similar to curiouscat or retrospring for non-en twitter users) regarding Noel's status as a transgender character

To briefly summarize, it this ask explains that since Noel was Patricia, many people mistake him for a transgender character. It goes on to ask about IZ-san's opinions on trans and LGBT headcanons for their characters, and apologizes if their questions don't make sense as they are using a translator.

They included a translated version of their response in english, so I'll be sharing that below as well.

To put it simply, none of the characters in Witch's Heart are written as members of the LGBT community. While these headcanons are allowed, they should not pretend that these are official and should not use IZ-san's illustrations to share them.

They quietly added onto this after posting their response

They build onto this the next day, first tweeting in japanese, and then in english. I'm sharing the english screenshots below.

Again, they are nothing but respectful about the situation. They've chalked it up to cultural differences, but in my opinion it's not even a cultural difference. It's others pushing their interpretations of the characters onto the fucking developer of the game. The characters of Witch's Heart aren't those made by some big company, they're literally IZ-san's OCs that they've been kind enough to share with us. They do build onto the cultural differences interpretation here, again showing nothing but their attempt to understand why people are time and time again horrible to them.

After this, they received another very very long peing ask, which I'll include the MTL of below.

Their response isn't translated this time, so I'm including the MTL below.

They explain their perspective, as well as the japanese perspective on LGBT+ representation-- specifically that many people in Japan consider it disrespectful to include LGBT+ characters in works that are not themed around the subject.

They build onto this in their tweets after answering this question, some of which are screenshotted below. I won't be screenshotting everything as this post is long enough as it is, but if you're interested please go check out the rest!

After this point, IZ-san hasn't tweeted anything new outside of replies to those offering their support.

To summarize all of this succinctly: you're allowed to have your own personal headcanons! However, they aren't allowed in the official tag (#witchsheart), and should be kept to the non-official-content tags if mentioned (#whnoc + #whnos). Additionally you cannot pretend that your headcanons are canon, and use that argument to harass others over them. You are also not permitted to use official art in sharing these headcanons. Please be respectful of IZ-san's boundaries as they've had to explain this way too many fucking times.

From here on it's just going to be my opinion on everything, so feel free to stop reading from here if that's not something that interests you. In my opinion, main problem here doesn't have anything to do with headcanoning or editing IZ-san's art: it's a simple matter of respect. Witch's Heart is an indie game made by a single person in their attempt to share their characters and their story with people worldwide. Why do people treat it as if it's some big game made by a corporation? Why the fuck are you so entitled to someone else's artwork and characters that you'd go out of your way to disrespect their very clear boundaries? This isn't unique to IZ-san, there have been so many other creators having similar issues. Segawa-san disallowed english translations of their work entirely because so many people were reposting and editing their artwork. Even EN artists are having similar struggles-- just look at Welcome Home and all the fan merch people made against partycoffin's wishes. The commodification of someone else's OCs has got to fucking stop, you can't claim them just because they got popular!! It's not even limited to just gamedevs and content creators-- people feel entitled to doing what they please with even just fanart. Many of my friends and I have had our work reposted without permission, even when "DO NOT REPOST" is written all over it in clearly visible and bold letters. Literally last fucking week I saw a group of like 14-year olds harassing a kr artist because they asked them not to repost their art, and these fucking kids responded by maliciously editing and tracing and reposting it even more. There's a level of basic human decency that isn't being met in fandom overall nowadays, but especially rpgmaker circles and it makes me so fucking sad. It's not that hard to be a decent human being so just fucking stop.