#i want to know whether or not I actually have a very dulled sense of smell and taste or if I’m making it up

[bookwyrminspiration]

MAN I wish I could be studied in a lab. just like to empirically analyze all my quirks and see what’s up. I think it’d be great

[dyaz-stories]

a house, not a home || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings & tags: canon typical violence, hurt/comfort, hyun-su needs a hug, unresolved tension, mentions of blood

a/n: okay so, for context, this takes place during season 2. reader and hyun-su know each other from high school and reader runs into hyun-su after the events of the first three episodes. reader also doesn't know that he is a monster/neohuman though if people are interested i could definitely write that 👀 I hope you'll like it! Please let me know your thoughts and if you'd like me to write more, and consider reblogging!

next part

The hardest thing to get used to, after what others called the Monsterization Outbreak but you labelled, more simply, the Apocalypse, was the silence. You were the type of person to always have music playing, back when you were a high schooler studying hard to get into your college of choice. Now, music was wasted electricity and, worse, could be a death sentence if anyone — anything — heard it play, or if it dulled your senses and got you killed.

At the beginning, there had been lots of sounds. Screams. Cars colliding. Stores’ alarms, blaring when the looters broke in. Sobs. In your house, for a while, there had been your father, humming quietly as he worked.

Then he’d gotten a nosebleed, left the house, and never returned.

Now it was just you, and you’d learned not to make a sound. So when there’s a knock on your door, it echoes through the rooms and rattles you to your core. For a second, you clench your trusty baseball bat. You took hours and cut your fingers planting nails into it, but it’s worth it, if only for the feeling of confidence it gives you. Truth is, you rarely had to use it. Your strategy relies on avoiding confrontation at all costs.

You release it when you realize that there are very few people who can come knocking at your door.

After all, monsters don’t knock.

You rush to the door without letting go of the bat. Your habits are ingrained in you well enough that you still check the peephole — and when you do, your heart somersaults in your chest.

You keep the hinges well-oiled and the door doesn’t make a sound when you open it.

“Come in,” you whisper, not daring to break the silence with actual words.

Cha Hyun-Su stares at you, looks like he hesitates. He always does, looks like he wants to give you a chance to slam the door back in his face. He’s covered in blood now — ‘not mine’, you know he’d say if you asked —, clutching his wrist, lips chapped, eyes hollow.

“Come on,” you say again, and this time he does, walking by you without a word. Then he goes still once more, there in your entrance, while you close the door behind him. He always does that, until you give him explicit permission.

“Are you okay?” you ask when you turn around, hands reaching for his arms, his torso, trying to check on him, though you cannot see whether or not he is hurt.

“I’m fine,” he replies with that deep voice of his, catching your wrists before you can feel for yourself. “It’s not my blood.”

It never is.

“But are you hurt?” you press, still.

He frowns, and confusion sparks in his eyes.

“I told you. I’m fine.”

You shake your head.

“No, I mean— Does it hurt? Does anything hurt?”

Hyun-Su’s lips part. He closes his eyes. His body sways towards yours, and you freeze. You feel his breath against your cheek, and his grip on your wrist becomes lighter— a caress, at most. You just stay there, not wanting to scare him away, but not wanting to leave him to himself either. You feel a pull towards him, the urge to wrap your arms around him, and you resist it, knowing that he’d flee.

Finally, he snaps out of it, lets go of you, takes a step back.

“I’m fine,” he repeats for a third time.

You don’t push it.

“Do you want to take a bath?”

Clean water isn’t easy to come by these days. Fortunately for you, you have a complex system designed to retain rain water as well as morning dew, put in place by your father, when he was still around. It’s rained recently, and with the help of solar panels you’d stolen with him what feels like a lifetime ago, you’ll be able to have hot water. Showers, you haven’t mastered — though you’re sure your dad would have figured it out by now — but you can at least offer him a warm bath.

Hyun-Su’s eyes are on you, wide and focused.

They’re ever so slightly warmer than they were when he came in.

“I would like that.”

Hyun-Su comes out of the bathroom some thirty minutes later, clean and looking more like himself. He’s wearing clothes he’d left there on one of his other visits, which you’d washed by hand among some of your stuff.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice firmer than it had been earlier.

“It’s not a problem,” you reply, and you have to stop yourself from grimacing at how fake your nonchalance sounds to your ears.

If he notices, he doesn’t comment on it.

“Have you been okay here?” he asks instead.

You bite the inside of your cheek. The answer is complicated. You’ve been safe, physically that is. You have barely caught sight of a monster since he’s last been here — nine days ago. You can’t say you’re bored, either. There’s always things to do, to fix, to figure out around here.

What you are, is alone.

And, though you don’t want to admit it, lonely.

It might be the kind of answer he’s looking for, yet you can’t bring yourself to say it out loud. It’s not even that you don’t want him to know.

It’s that you’re scared that if you did, if you asked him to stay or to take you with him, he would still leave you behind.

“I make do,” you reply, which at least isn’t a lie. “I keep myself busy.”

It’s your turn to freeze when Hyun-Su leans forward, trying to meet your eyes.

“Are you hurt?”

A smile escapes you at his cautious tone as he repeats your words at you. You look up, and there he is, inches away from your face, checking on you in the very same way you’d checked on him when he’d arrived — now that he’s had the time and space to collect himself. For half a second, the corner of his lips lifts clumsily to form a smile in response to yours, and then it’s gone, as he, too, realizes how close he is.

You see him sucking in a breath, then swallowing, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Your heart beats so loud in your ears, you can’t even hear the silence anymore.

“I’m not hurt,” you say, and it is true for now, at least.

Hyun-Su nods without moving away. There’s an intensity in his eyes that you’re not used to, a spark, a craving.

His eyes drop to your lips.

Your whole body is tingling with anticipation, yet you don’t move, no matter how badly you want to close the gap between you. You can’t rush him. You’d never forgive yourself, if he didn’t come back.

He leans forward, just by an inch, then closer again, so close and—

He turns his head at the last moment, late enough that his cheek brushes against yours, before he pulls himself back.

That hurts. It makes your heart ache more than you’ve let yourself hurt in forever.

“Sorry,” Hyun-Su mumbles, stumbling back. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You’re not sure if he’s apologizing for trying to kiss you, or for not doing it.

“I’ve brought you food,” he says in a rush, picking up his backpack by the entrance door.

You watch him as he does, and you can’t help but note the many wounds on his body. Most of them are half-closed, and you know that they’ll be gone by the next time he comes back, but that new ones will have had the time to open and heal halfway.

He hands you his offering of food, without meeting your eyes this time, and you take it from him. Your fingers brush against him, and he moves his hand away like you’ve just burned him.

“It’s late,” you say, your voice quiet even to your own ears, even now that you’re so accustomed to the lack of noise. You don’t want him to go, not just yet. “You should sleep here.”

But, just like you expected, Hyun-Su shakes his head and closes his backpack with shaky hands.

“I need to go,” he says. Then, when you don’t answer — can he tell you’re fighting back tears? —, he adds “I’ll come back. I promise.”

You nod. It’s your turn to avoid his eyes.

“I’ll be waiting,” you say.

You open the door for him, and you force yourself to look at him as he steps back outside, into the unknown, into the danger, and away from you.

He looks back, right before disappearing in the night.

“Stay safe,” you say, though you know he won’t.

“You too,” he says, knowing you will.

And then he’s gone, and you’re alone with the silence again.

next part

[dragonfly0808]

How the Squad Found Out About that One Time Riven and Flora Kissed

First part of the chapter takes place during s4, second part is back in s2 ch28, right after the end of the chapter.

I’d originally planned to have Flo and Riv kiss in that chapter but decided against it last minute cause I just wasn’t sure how to make it clear that, while there could’ve been something there, and they both feel that, there are no actual romantic feelings between the two.

The possibility of them? Yes. the reality of them? No.

I feel like Riven and Flora have the most distinct platonic soulmate relationship, mainly because they’re the main ones I really could see falling for each other if things had been different and if they hadn’t meet Musa and Helia and I wanted to get that across in a poetic way but not a tragic way ya know? They didn’t lose anything for not falling for each other in this universe and they are still a huge part of each other’s lives if that makes sense?

Whatever, I’ll stop rambling, hope u enjoy this little drabble! I will be posting it on AO3 probably later on

***

It’d been a slow week, no activity from the Wizards and Roxy’s classes progressing nicely.

The squad had decided to have a quiet game night, with some alcohol coming into the mixture at some point.

At the moment, they were playing Truth or Dare.

In all honesty, there was very little they didn’t know about each other, but even after so long, there were still a few things that could surprise them from time to time.

Stella considered her turn, the bottle on the ground dictating that she’d gotten Riven.

The coward had chosen truth.

There were few things she could ask him that could result in anything majorly interesting.

Unless… Stella glanced towards Flora, who was leaning against Helia, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

Anyone who had eyes could tell Flora and Riven had adored each other since their first year. That was obvious. At this point it was also obvious that, while they didn’t see each other as siblings, they didn’t see each other in any kind of romantic light either.

…but she would be lying if she said that she wasn’t curious about whether or not they ever had, even for a fleeting moment. Especially since she did remember one particular evening during their second year in which they’d both seemed… almost bashful with each other.

Should she?

Stella slowly leaned back against Brandon’s chest, meeting Riven’s challenging look, “Okay, I know what I want to ask.”

Riven spread his hands, “Go on then buttercup.”

“Have you ever… kissed someone in this room-” she ignored the snorts, continuing, “who wasn’t Musa?”

Riven froze for a split second, clearly flabbergasted before casting a single quick glance towards Flora, who had sunk into Helia’s arms, covering her face as she flushed.

“Listen-”

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Stella shouted, slamming a hand against the ground.

Musa broke down into giggles as she turned to Riven, “What?”

“No- it- it was before we were dating obviously. It was dumb we just…”

“We were fucking up a lot with you two so we got a little drunk and we kissed to seal our depressing marriage pact.” Flora explained.

Helia chuckled under his breath before turning to Riven with mock anger, “You got a marriage pact with my girl? What happened to the bro code?”

“We were drunk, depressed and hating on love. She was obsessed with you, I was obsessed with Musa but we were fully convinced we’d just fucked everything up for good- cut us some slack man!”

They all burst out laughing, clinging to each other as they Flora somehow sunk further into the floor and Riven hid his face in Musa’s neck.

***

Flora was thinking, unable to focus on the book in her hand. She could feel the alcohol at the base of her skull, a dull thump, barely there but just present enough to make her think.

She’d freaked out on Helia.

Riven loved her. He was her person.

Did that mean something? Or did she just want a connection that her baggage didn’t impede?

She turned to him, watching him as he tinkered on one of his projects, trying to think objectively.

He noticed after a moment, meeting her gaze, “Something wrong?”

“No, I was just… thinking.”

“About?”

He’d freaked out on Musa.

Flora loved him. She was his person.

But how did she love him? Was her mind playing tricks on her?

“Have you ever thought… that maybe… you and I should try?”

One of his eyebrows slowly rose up as he set down his tools and fully turned to face her, crossing his arms and leaning back, “I won’t lie… the thought did cross my mind once or twice… before I really started catching feelings for Musa. You?”

“Same. Before I fell for Helia… I don’t know, maybe I thought about it in passing.” But she would’ve never acted on it even back then because she knew Musa had a crush.

“It’s weird isn’t it… if not just sad. That we’ve had so little love in our lives that now we’re doubting what we have.” Riven muttered under his breath, letting his head fall back as he sighed.

“Yeah… should we… do something about it?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

Riven raised his head, inspecting her before going to join her on the small couch, sitting besides her.

“Should we kiss?” He asked, it sounded like he was asking himself just as much as he was asking her.

Flora considered, “I mean… could be like… sealing the marriage pact?” She took a deep breath, shaking off her nerves, this was her person, worst case scenario, it might be a bit gross, “Okay. I’m in if you’re in.”

Riven nodded along, “Okay.”

He leaned down to meet her halfway. It was a hesitant, yet gentle kiss, soft and slow as they both tried to figure out how they felt about it.

Seconds passed and they pulled apart, both leaning against the couch, staring at the wall before them.

“I mean… it didn’t feel… wrong.” She started hesitantly.

“But it didn’t feel right either.”

“Exactly.”

They glanced at each other before laughing light-heartily. Blushing out of embarrassment and awkwardness.

“If things were different… maybe then.” He said after a long minute.

She shrugged, bumping her shoulder against his, “Maybe in another life.”

He snorted, “Yeah, maybe in another life.”

[undiscovered-horizon]

[Apparently, all it takes for a doomed man to feel hope again is bad flirting and corny jokes. Or maybe it's about the comforting presence of someone he loves?]

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Whether Gale wants it or not, he's a quite predictable person. His reliability seems to extend far enough for you to always be able to correctly guess where he might be when the wizard is not near his tent. Although his tendency for routines might be mistaken for something dull, you've always thought of it as somewhat comforting - that among all the chaos that your life has become, there's a sense of regularity; the comfort of knowing how to navigate certain situations.

Just as you knew he would, Gale is sitting by the riverside. His back is slouched as he mindlessly reaches to grab a blade of grass, tear it off, and let his fingers play with it. Brown eyes would be intently staring at the flowing stream if their owner wasn't so lost in thought.

He hears you coming, dry leaves crumble under your feet but he makes no effort to look over his shoulder. Maybe you're actually a wild raccoon that will finally put him out of his misery... On second thought, that is a rather pathetic end for a wizard as great as him. To die by a raccoon. Ha!

"Hey handsome, come here often?" you ask as you sit down next to him.

Gale's robes once smelled of musty books and seawater but during your travels, they have lost their original fragrance in favour of a fresh aroma of pine needles, campfire smoke and herbal medicine. It gave him an "edge", if such a word could coexist with the wizard's homebody way of life.

"Only when I wish to wallow in pity," he answers. Although it's fleeting, almost secretive, you do notice the glance he gives you.

You raise an eyebrow at his response. "And that's often?"

A sad chuckle rumbles in his chest. Gale looks down at his fingers, for the very first time studying what his hands do with the long blades of grass. "A lot more than I'd like to admit." He actually bothers to make himself sound light-hearted but the dread eating him up has already soaked into his words.

You put your elbow on your knee and rest your chin on top of your hand. The new angle allows you to see more of his face, not that it changes your impression. Something's eating him up. "Is this what pretty wizards frequently engage in? I think I ought to update my schedule."

He looks almost like a painting, you think. The one a cleric would put up at the temple, a depiction of martyrhood in the name of something greater. Normally, you'd shrug at the thought of some poor sod thinking that making themself suffer will somehow please their god. It sounds like a questionable freedom of choice at best. But in Gale's case, you can't just shrug. Not anymore. Not since the two of you made it very obvious there's nothing platonic going on.

"I think you'll find that a moping wizard is hardly treasured company."

"Then maybe I should help him stop moping." Playfully, you bump your shoulder into his.

A sad smile graces his face. His brown eyes give you a quick glance again. Gale just can't help his longing. "As much as I appreciate the thought and the effort," he tries to sound unbothered, "my troubles already take up enough of your time. The others might want to have a word with you too."

Not a thing about Gale's statement surprises you. He's always wearing a facade of "Don't worry about little old me" but having gotten closer to the man, you know he's far from that - he wants someone to worry, only doesn't have the pride to ask for that. Part of him probably thinks he ought to earn the right to take up the space in someone's mind. How silly.

Gale's eyes return to you when he sees your fingers sneaking between his hands and a blade of grass he was playing with. No matter what he might say and how laid back he attempts to appear, all of his half-hearted bluffs dissipate when he forms a tight grip around your fingers.

"And I want to have a few words with you," you tell him in round terms. "Well, I want to have many things with you but I guess I can settle for a good old-fashioned conversation."

"I, erm..." he hangs his voice at your allusion. The blush on his cheeks is barely visible in the darkness of the night but you can tell it's there - his whole body is suddenly on fire. Gale clears his throat. "Enlighten me, then! What sort of lexicon do you wish to bestow upon me?"

You can't help the whole-hearted chuckle that leaves your lips. "You're really adorable when you talk all sophisticated." Gale laughs nervously at the compliment and he's just about to say something back but before he gets the chance, you reveal the truth about your arrival. "On a more serious note, I didn't have any endgame plan. I just thought that I'm going to ask you what's on your mind and no matter what you answer, I'm going to bless you with my presence until one of us falls asleep."

For the first time this evening, Gale's eyes linger on you for a long while. Although his initial embarrassment at your boldness is now gone, a sense of nervousness lingers. But do not misunderstand - it's a welcome kind of tension; the anxiety of holding something dear and fearing breaking it. "I'd very much like that," he answers. A small smile of genuine happiness curves his lips.

Gale momentarily tenses up when you lay your head on his shoulder. Then, as though paradoxically a weight has been lifted from his back, he finds himself sighing.

Strangely enough, he feels... calm. Too caught up in his thoughts of impending doom and past failures, Gale has been oblivious to the good things in his life. Especially in the present. He tries to grasp at the fleeting thoughts he had been pitifully entertaining for the past hour or so but they escape his focus. Now that each of his breathes is filled with the smell of campfire smoke and fragrant oils that stuck to your skin, the doom that had been haunting him before dissipates like storm clouds blown away by the wind. Part of him wants to laugh - the morbid scenarios that once rendered him sleepless seem so trivial now. Gale was dealt a bloody difficult hand, yes, but that doesn't mean it's impossible to play it, does it?

He's known hope for a long time but only now does he see her. And what a wonder it is that she's wearing your face.

[tigergirltail]

TIGER HRT CHAPTER 5 - MONTH 4 - COMMUNITY

FIRST - PREV - NEXT

It took another month after my check-in, after starting the correct dosage, for my transformation to stabilize and stop hurting all the time. My bones have settled down, my tail is getting long enough to get in the way which is honestly more exciting than annoying, and I've even got little bitty claws pushing out of my fingers! The mechanisms for retracting and extending them haven't grown yet, though, so I just… am sharp now.

It's actually become kind of a bloody inconvenience, and I use the term 'bloody' very literally. The first few times I went to go scratch an itch, I'd end up drawing blood, and having to go clean myself up and put on a bandage. I thought about clipping my claws, but I have no idea if that's going to stunt their development or have consequences when I can finally retract them, and it's not something that seems worth bothering Dr. Erian about. The biggest problem is that sometimes I'll move my arms in my sleep, and there's no way of telling what'll be in the way. I've already had to conduct emergency repairs on three plushies, and my bedsheets are kind of a write-off.

I was a little afraid of the pain subsiding, if I'm being honest, because it means going back to work, which means existing in a public space with my half-human half-something-else face. It's still cold enough that I can wear a scarf and toque over the more off-putting features, but that won't last much longer and it's not something I can do indoors. I'm just going to have to face the truth…

I don't pass as human anymore.

My first day working in-person again, my supervisor walks into my office with the intention of welcoming me back, but what actually happens is he stands in the doorway dumbfounded before asking, "Now what in the world happened to your face??"

For all the time I had, I never actually managed to think of a clever lie, so I just tell him it's a side effect of some new meds I'm taking. Technically not a lie, if you ignore the word 'side'. Fortunately, he doesn't ask what's wrong with me. I'm not looking forward to having to tell someone who doesn't get it that Being Human counts as Something Wrong.

Work has been alright, though, if a bit dull. My coworkers mostly leave me to my own devices to get things done.

It's doing anything else that becomes an issue.

I get lots of stares in the grocery store or the mall. I'm not sure whether it's the inhuman face that does it, or the fact that I nearly always wear t-shirts and my fur is now growing up to my wrists. I think it's growing faster now that it's run up against peak arm hair territory. Either way, I basically don't dare set foot outside without my partner in tow. Nobody's tried anything yet, but I see them shying away from me, and just the other day a little kid called me a 'monster'. It's… still eating at me.

I never could take being the centre of attention.

It's not all doom and gloom, though. I don't know whether the tactile senses of my hands have changed or it's something psychological, but that thing cats do where they knead something with their claws? "Making biscuits" I've heard it called?

It feels soooo niiiice.

Last weekend I went to take an afternoon nap, and ended up spending a solid half hour just squishing my blahaj with my hands (or would that be 'paws' now?) All the stress from the previous week just… melted away. It was like an ASMR video for my sense of touch.

Is it bad that I'm really enjoying being a little more cat-brained?

I've also become RAVENOUSLY hungry. As in, "destroy an entire rotisserie chicken in one sitting" hungry. The meat cravings have kicked in, HARD, and I've basically lost my appetite for bread and pasta. You really don't realize how much human food is grain-based until you stop wanting to eat it…

All the big changes hitting at once are getting hard to withstand sometimes. There are nights when I go to bed absolutely euphoric about how it's finally happening, I'm finally embodying everything I'm supposed to be! But there are also nights when I cry myself to sleep because oh gods, what was I thinking, why am I doing this to myself, I look and feel like a godsdamned circus freak, and it really doesn't help to remember that white tigers are pretty much universally victims of inbreeding and abuse.

In a moment of weakness, I catch myself eyeing the remaining contents of the HRT bottle. I ran some numbers a little while back and figured out that at the recommended dose, this bottle is an entire 18-month treatment, give or take. Well, 12 months now, I guess, since I was accidentally taking a triple dose for the first three months. The fact that it's a diluted Fifteen Minute formula means that if I just brace myself and chug the entire rest of the bottle, that would finish out the treatment in one go, wouldn't it? It… probably wouldn't even hurt as much as doing Fifteen-Minute from the start, right?

My partner walks in on me holding it and staring at it, and asks what I'm doing, so I explain my thought process. They just silently put one hand on mine and use the other to gently remove the bottle from my grasp.

"But I -", I begin to protest.

"No."

"I keep getting stared at and -"

"No."

"That one little girl called me a monster!"

"No."

I start crying, and I can't help raising my voice. "If I just finish it all NOW then maybe -"

"NO."

They set the bottle down and pull me into a tight hug, pinning my upper arms to my sides. "I love you very much, and I don't want to see you hurt yourself. You went into this knowing it was gonna suck for a while, and right now it sucks, but it's not worth risking your life over."

I don't have a counter-argument. I just lower my face onto their shoulder and sob. "I just… I don't want to keep doing this alone anymore! I need… I need help! Support, guidance, SOMETHING!!" I cling to them, digging my fingers, my claws, into their back. "I don't want to be the only one…"

"You aren't.", they reassure me quietly. "Didn't you tell me yourself that there's a bunch of people doing this? We even saw a whole crowd of them at that seafood place."

"Y-yeah, but I don't know anybody local!"

"Then find them online. It's better than nothing, isn't it?"

"It's… It's just not the same…"

They pat me on the back. "Just… try. For me."

They let me cry into their shoulder for another several minutes before I let them go.

Back at my computer, I sit down and start searching for a humanity removal therapy support group. A Discord server, a Facebook group, a Tumblr sideblog, ANYTHING. Gods help me, I'm even looking to TWITTER for help. Even as a human I was a solitary creature, and tigers are about as solitary a creature as they come, so it takes a lot of effort to bring myself to reach out. I end up doing it right before I go to bed, just firing off a few quick messages to some figures in the community, then forcing myself not to look at social media the rest of the night. For all my growth, I'm still a bit terrified of being noticed.

By the time I wake up, some of them have gotten back to me. I… wasn't expecting it to be so fast.

It turns out there's a private group chat where a bunch of them hang out on the regular to talk about what they're going through. They sound open to the idea of bringing me in, but want to get to know me a little better first. I don't blame them for wanting to keep to themselves. I get to talking with one of them, a lamia-to-be, and through our conversations I get the distinct impression that, well, I'm not alone in feeling alone. Somehow I manage to convince her I'm worth knowing and having around, and she sends me an invite to the group chat server.

Time to face the mortifying ordeal of being known.

I go through all the typical new-to-the-server motions. I read the rules page - it's the usual "don't be a dick" type stuff, with some bonus content applicable to our unique situation, like not stereotyping based on species, and a reminder to not present your own experiences with humanity removal as universal fact. Then into the welcome channel to type up a quick introduction:

"Hey all, I'm Alexis, transfem (she/her), 38, 4 months white tiger HRT. Interests include gaming, tabletop RPGs, costuming, and witchcraft. Looking forward to getting to know everyone!"

A few people react with heart emojis and tiger emojis. Discord only has the standard orange tiger as an emoji, but, you know, close enough. One person reacts with a witch emoji, and it gives me a laugh.

There's a channel for serious questions about the transformation process, so I decide to hop in and fire off a quick one:

"Not that I mind this, but why am I so hungry for meat now? It hit around the 3 month mark and now I can eat an entire roast chicken in one go"

Over the course of the next hour or so, a few people weigh in. The consensus is that my body is entering a 'bulking up' phase, and needs a ton of protein to generate muscle. Just out of curiosity I go to do an online search to confirm something, and yeah, tigers are a lot more proportionally muscular than humans are. Someone else suggests taking calcium supplements to help with bone growth, unless I'm prepared to drink a LOT of milk. I am in fact prepared for that, but it couldn't hurt to drop by the pharmacy.

It also turns out that the server isn't just for people who have started their HRT, but for aspiring humanity-removers as well. There's even a channel specifically for advice navigating the whole process, including how to convince your medical provider that you're for real and you won't immediately regret it when the itching/soreness/bleeding kicks in.

One of the regular posters is a teenage girl with a corvid avatar who asks a lot of questions about what it's like to become nonhuman. Surprisingly, she's not trans like most of us are, but she is queer. It sounds like she's not in a stable situation, though - she asks at one point if anyone can think of a way to get the meds without her parents noticing.

The problem is, even if that's a possibility, someone would notice when she starts sprouting black feathers and a beak.

---

(guest cameo from @ariathelamia!)

[kengan-daddies]

What if Raian, Cosmo, Saw Paing and Wakatsuki (separately) do if they accidentally hurt their s/o? For example he bumps into reader and they fall over or reader accidentally gets in the middle of his training, what would he do? Fluff please <3 also you can do other characters if you want to or if you just want to do one that's fine to I mainly was interested in Wakatsuki, also I love your work

Ooooh!~~ I like this one!! Whenever I get an ask like this, it feels like a discussion on how the characters would be if we actually go to meet them as themselves and not as fighters.

Also, thank you.

How I say 'I'm Sorry.' Cosmo Imai Raian Kure Saw Paing Yoroizuka Wakatsuki Takeshi

Anime : Kengan Ashura

Characters : Cosmo Imai, Raian Kure, Saw Paing Yoroizuka, Wakatsuki Takeshi

Warning : None, all Fluff

How I say 'I'm Sorry.' Cosmo Imai Raian Kure Saw Paing Yoroizuka Wakatsuki Takeshi

How I say 'I'm Sorry.' Cosmo Imai Raian Kure Saw Paing Yoroizuka Wakatsuki Takeshi

Cosmo Imai

Cosmo is a very hyperactive lover, he's always ready to play, to be on the go, or to hang out. He's childish but he's also very sweet, extremely affectionate. He loves hugs and cuddles, he likes to always have a piece of his body touching yours. Whether it's the hips, your knees, shoulders, hands, arms, or even backs, he could care less he just wants to have you close. He's a bit of a handful to take care of but he's enduring at the same time, he gave you a sense of chaotic balance. He gave excitement, he gave laughter, he gave thriller... However, he was usually very careful around you. He's never run into you, he's never dropped anything on you, he's never hit you, and he never did any of it he was always cautious and aware of your presence, so it came as a shock when he accidentally rammed his elbow into your side, very hard.

Your pained cry pulled him from his thoughts as he quickly tended to you, his chest to your back as he hugged you from behind his lips pressing kisses into your shoulder and neck as he repeatedly expressed how sorry he was and that he didn't mean it while he rubbed your side. You cringed, your face twisted in pain as you felt the throbbing pain slowly dull, your hand came up, reaching back as you ran your fingers through his hair, reassuring him that you weren't mad and that accidents happen.

You just wanted him to be more careful in the future, and he promised that he would.

Raian Kure

He's the literal definition of 'A headache.' He keeps you busy, literally too. He's everywhere he shouldn't be, he's a literal gremlin, and he's evil. He bullies you, teases you, gives you playful punches to your arms, random bodyslams on the bed and couch, smashes you against the wall with his body, calming 'Not enough space to walk by.', he'll pull your hair, steal your clothes when they're too cute, he was the devil. He was loveable at times however, he could be slightly sweet at times. He can be kind, give you restaurant food, help with the laundry, even though he doesn't fold them... He'll help with the dishes, even though he doesn't put them away... He'll vacuum, he'll try and make the bed, help you with mundane tasks when you didn't ask him too.

He was a distant lover, he wasn't affectionate but he did express love through his body language and actions. Giving you his full attention, he always remembers the most important things you say, he'll buy you things you want even when you didn't ask him to, give you rough shoulder bumps or even knee brushes. He's a rough lover, he played rough, but he'd never actually intentionally hurt you. So when he accidentally pushed you a little harder than expected, you stumbled from the heavier-than-usual push as you fell and hit the floor hard on your hip. You hissed as you grabbed your hip. He was stunned, he didn't know what to say or do, he stood there, his eyes wide as he stared down at you flabbergasted. He didn't say anything as he watched you get up, your hand rubbing your hip as you leaned aginst the wall for support.

He was distant after that, but he kept his eyes on you, whenever you'd look around he'd duck away from your view... it was cute, he was like a dog in trouble, or maybe even a child who was feeling bad about hurting someone but they didn't mean it. He would watch you intensely, leaving small little gifts around for you to find. A favorite snack, a beat-up flower, washed and dried dishes, your favorite movie on and a blanket on the couch, small chores already done. He'd do this for about a week before he'd approach you normally. You'd be on the couch, relaxing while watching whatever on TV, and he'd randomly walk by, going into the kitchen. He'd grab a drink taking a few gulps before he'd come back to the couch, flopping down as he's gradually ease his head down into your lap. You'd smile, your hands running through his hair and he'd get comfortable.

It'll be some time before he moves, laying on his stomach, head still firmly placed on your lap as his hands come up, and you'd smile as you feel them rubbing your hips, giving you a silent apology.

Saw Paing Yoroizuka

(My husband ❤)... He's a handful, extremely loud, wild flamboyant, excitable... he's everything anyone could love but he's the overdose version of it, however he isn't always loud and wild. He can tone it down if you ask him to, he can be on your level if that's what you want, but if he's excited then you can forget it. He's extremely affectionate, he'll give you random deep kisses, hugs from behind, and cuddles, and he'll help you cook and clean. He loves to spend quality time with you, no matter what it is. He wants to do the most domestic tasks with you no matter how small or how mundane they could be.

He'd sometimes play box with you, throws a soft punch into your cheek, chin, back, stomach, and legs, and then he'd give you a random tickle attack to your sides while he'd liter your cheek and neck with kisses. He was a bit of a cuddle bug too, he loved giving hugs, holding your hand, intertwining your legs, any form of cuddle that he could fine he'd do it. He's usually very gentle with you as well, accidents were common with Saw, unfortunately, it wouldn't be the first time he's run into you, stepped on your toes, smashed your finger, pulled your hair, bit your tongue or lip while kissing, he was just accident prone and that unfortunately added you into the mix. But never once has he not apologized. He'd always get so dramatic with his apologies, damn near ready to break his back just because he accidentally scratched you.

So when he accidentally bumped his forehead into your nose, simply because you both were cuddling on the bed, his head tucked under your chin as he hugged you around your waist. You asked him a question and he lifted his head to address you when he ran his forehead into your nose. Your head reeled back as you scrunched your face up, your hand coming up to cradle your nose but his hand reached up quicker. He'd apologize over and over and over again, rubbing your nose gently to ease the pain. He'll kiss your nose, eyelids, and cheeks over and over until you respond. You'd let him know that it's okay but he'd still feel bad, he's supposed to protect you not hurt you.

But all would be forgiven when you'd give him a sweet kiss, making him hush up as you'd hug him close to you, silently cuddling on the bed as you'd both doze off.

Wakatsuki Takeshi

He's extremely cautious, getting hurt by him on accident would be nonexistent with him, he's an older man so he isn't too wild nor too hyper, he's a very calm soul, always quite and tamed, relaxed and slow-paced. He takes severe caution when he moves around the house. Never moving fast, always aware of his surroundings never swinging his arms around, nothing. He was a slow yet sweet person. He was affectionate but through body language and actions. He wasn't a touchy person, he in facts barely touches you but he gives you attention. He listens to you, spends time with you, helps you carry things, buys you things, and drives you wherever you want no matter the time of day.

If you did get hurt, it wouldn't be because of him, it'll be because you're clumsy or just didn't know that he was coming around the corner. You're usually the faster mover of the relationship, you walk faster, talk faster, move faster. You did everything faster than he did, so it was common for you to trip, drop things, cut yourself, step on things, slip, run into counters, stub your toes, swing your arm into random shit, and even run into him, but he'd always catch you before you'd fall, but the impact always felt like you ran into a damn wall. He'd always ask if you were okay, keeping a firm hold on you until you'd pull back and he'd slowly release you, letting you stand on your own.

He'd give you a small light-hearted lecture after you confirmed that you're fine, about moving slower and not being in such a rush, he was sure that wherever you were trying to get to would still be there, even though you'd sometimes argue him down that the quicker you get it over with the quicker you can get on with life. He'd roll his eyes as he gave an amused chuckle but he wouldn't stop you from zooming and dashing through the house, waiting until the next time you'd crash into him, he'll always be ready to catch you.

[helloescapist]

The Hashiras in a Relationship| Kyojuro Rengoku

Word Count: 4800?

Setting: Kyojuro Rengoku x gn!reader (there is one mention of kids in the future, but it's not implied how they will enter the family).

Content Warnings: none 🔥

Summary: headcanons Kyojuro Rengoku as a relationship partner, what it would entail. Dating to commitment.

[image is not mine]

To be loved by the Flame Hashirais to know comfort and warmth. To be loved by Kyojuro is falling nights, evening hours beneath stars that twinkle in the sky. The soft glow of cinder illuminating silhouettes, soft touches that at a moment’s notice deepen. Its security, an embrace beneath a blanket, two bodies coiled within another. It’s his breath against the back of your neck, snuggled close together. Savoring the tender notes of Japanese Red Cedar, tender as the embers cool. The fragrance of smoke, delicate and hazy. Dulling the senses as the warmth threatens to drift you off to sleep. The touches of smoke, destined to dance across your flesh. Lingering in the warmth, savoring one another, and perfuming your pores. To be loved by Kyojuro, is to stand next to a bonfire. Dance beneath the stars, warm and playful, to twirl in smoke, to bask in the crisp scent of leaves, and embrace comfort. The sweet caress of Orange Osmanthus. To know that regardless of where you may go, the scent of smolder shall remain, just as his love.

To be loved by Rengoku is to understand that you will need to embrace him. To accept the warmth of his smile, to respond to his laughter, to bask in the soul-piercing questions.

It’s to bare your deepest desires, and return his own. To welcome his confessions, to caress his tears, to cradle his insecurities.

To be loved by Rengoku is to be loved in every sense of the word. It’s to know the reliability of the rising sun; to know that regardless of the darkness that may claim the night, the dawn will always come. The warmth of embers upon your flesh, plush blankets, and the tender brush of his nose against yours.

It’s to know sacrifice, to know the honor of a Hashira, of a partner, and of a good man. Whether it is the haori off his back, relinquishing his bento to a hungry stranger, derailing a date to help a little granny carry a parcel home, to more extremes such as defending a child who impeded upon a nobleman’s honor, to staring death in the eye to protect mizunoto.

To be with Rengoku means accepting filling his empty tummy; it’s for the best his cooking is… questionable. It’s not he’s actually a bad cook, it’s more like he’s overzealous in the kitchen. Bare in mind the era, alongside his rank amongst the Demon Corps, Kyojuro likely wouldn’t have many opportunities to interact with the kitchen outside of amusement.

While he can follow the recipe well enough, I mean he is no stranger to scavenging the forests of Japan. Ultimately, his own excitement coupled with so many options—what is mitsuba? He’s confident he has seen [YN] use it in the kitchen. It MUST be tasty!

In it goes. He’s never been properly been given the opportunity to interact with a vast variety of spices and seasonings, and so, Rengoku is quick to deviate from the recipe.

To be with Rengoku means that, colds are in your future. His over generous heart very well will have him giving up his bed for a stranger while out on a mission, donating his haori for a passerby, so I recommend brushing up on caring for a patient.

Especially one as unintentionally stubborn as Kyojuro. It’s not that the Flame Hashira aspires to bring home a cold, or he means to be a burden while he’s ill. It’s rather that, it’s because he doesn’t want to burden you with his condition that he will attempt to hide it.

He will struggle against being cared for, insure you that he will manage. Please, don’t mind him. You will have to be firm, remind him that you WANT to care for him, and even resort to some under handed tactics to ensure he remains in bed.

I suggest reaching out to Shinobu for wellness supplements, vitamins, and rations for him to carry on his missions if he doesn’t give them away. You may have to resort to simply adding it to his daily routine, he certainly won’t reject the idea if you reassure that it’s because you care.

Despite his fuss, he loves that you’re taking care of him.

Regardless of what route you take in ensuring his physical wellbeing, the day will come. The day you pray will never cross your paths, when a kakushi delivers the news no one wishes to utter to a lover.

To be with the Flame Pillar is to accept that he will offer up his life for the sake of others. It is, after all his duty. Bestowed upon him by birth, gifted from the gods, and gently instilled with the pride of his mother, the day will come, and to be with Rengoku means to accept that one day, he will not return.

That your bed, will be empty, devoid of laughter. His curiosity and jovial smile will be absent from the kitchens, and your nights will be robbed of his enigmatic gaze.

This is the duty of his lover. One that pains him to impart on you, but one of which, he cannot avoid.

Just know, that every moment he dedicated to you were the happiest of his life.

[YN], I’m so sorry I won’t be home for dinner.

Reminiscing of the first bento you had ever made, the pride in which you had presented to him, the brightest smile touched to his face as he passes from this world.

Your first meeting, would be an everyday event. One where you went about your duties.

Whether it was to report for duty, under Oyakata-sama’s watchful gaze. The tilt of your head, eyes well trained to avert from another’s gaze. The polite bend of your back to even the kakushi that rushed through the halls, to the depth of your bow as you greeted superiors, well-practiced and mannered. The soft, humble smile tucked at your lips as he passed you by.

It could be on an average serving day, employed at a local tea house. Disbursing tea and treats with a dutiful bow, and gratitude upon purchase. Welcoming all those who passed the business. The deep bow from those that frequented your shop regardless of station. The way you had tended tend to an elderly man, who had struggled with his meal. His later years betraying his body, making him jumpy and unstable. How you had quickly preserved his honor without so much as a second thought. Willing to take the blame for offering him such cold food that it had sent a chill down his spine, both of you knowing that the meal before him was well prepared, all while maintaining the bend of your back.

Truthfully, the first day you would encounter one another, would be an ordinary day. It would be your average day. One born of duty, of survival, of tasks to be accomplished, and yet, the way you had conducted yourself.

Respectful, dutiful, kind. Not a day in which you would expect attraction to ember. The touch of cinders had ensnared him, drawn his attention.

The days to weeks to follow, you find yourself caught under his gaze. The touch of embers drawing your curious attention, embarrassed to be appraised. Bashfully averted, prioritizing manners whether of station or employment.

The warmth of crisp fall leaves, captivating the ambers of autumn, engrossed in the warmth of fiery red enough to draw the heat to your cheeks.

Unlike some of the Hashiras, Rengoku does not require as much time to pursue you. While he’s not as intentionally flirty as some of the Hashira, he is also not as hesitating either. I would say, he’s a fair middle ground.

He craves a deep connection, and a genuine partner. His approach to ensuring he has glimpsed at the truest version of you, would be similar to Shinobu.

The Flame Pillar will take some time to observe you. Nothing as in depth as the Insect Hashira’s approach no one will be as thorough as Kocho. It will be small drop-ins, interactions made in passing.

Never intending to snoop, but he could not resist the way his eyes followed you, the way you had pulled from an onigiri from your pocket, offering it to a small child who’s stomach knew of hunger. Could not ignore the gentle way you had consoled them.

Nor the time when he was out securing bentos for his journey, ensnared by the way you had placed yourself between an innocent bystander, and a fowl temper drunker.

He would have intercepted the interaction, but it was evident that the lecture you had elicited had more than sobered the man up, and shamed him more than any smack Kyojuro could have provided.

No, he really wouldn’t need that much time before he approached you with the intentions of taking you on a date, or seeing you more casually. He certainly has no qualms about making the first move.

Should you decide to reject him, it will be met with a sincere smile, and apology for disrupting your day. However, in the event you have elected to turn him down, you will have to make the first move if you’ve changed your mind.

Kyojuro is a tolerant man, and he will take you up on your offer despite his bruised ego, but he will not ask you a second time.

It’s not that he’s no longer interested, rather, your reject was clear—he is not one to force himself on you, or anyone else for that matter. He does not enjoy playing games.

That being said, his willingness to approach you first is a breath of fresh air amongst the Hashiras, not many of them will approach you first, or willingly announce their attraction in the way that the Flame Pillar, nor as openly.

The positive is that your relationship, is not expected to progress slowly. The first date will be set as soon as Rengoku has determined that he is in fact interested. This stage can move as quickly as his interactions with you.

If you happen to work together under the Demon Corps command, you can expect things develop fairly quickly.

However, if you are not a member of the slayers, then your opportunities are limited to the interludes between his missions.

To be clear, Rengoku is not averse to a more casual relationship. Although he approaches them with trepidation. While he is flirtacious intentionally or not, he has very little desire for a fleeting attraction.

He wants a spark, a flame that bursts upon impacts. The rumble of hearts, merged to one, singing of more than simple cravings of the flesh, but rather the desperate plead of souls pledged to one another.

The steady flames of true love, he is looking for a partner one in which will satisfy his desire for a deep connection, not a passing fling.

For this reason, Kyojuro is not likely to engage in a casual fling. That being said, while such fleeting interludes are rare, they do happen. If this is the arrangement you desire, your best bet is to be forthcoming with your expectations.

If you are insincere about your relationship expectations, you will likely be met with a critical reaction before the bond is without a doubt, severed.

To be loved by Rengoku is to engage in deep, intimate conversations. His desire to connect with you will not be satisfied without such interactions.

He wants craves to know the truest you. To delve into the depths of your soul, to know the warmth of your smile. He yearns to dance upon midnight with you, to play in the snow as though you were children, and to witness to your tears.

To comfort your fears, to quiet the depths of your mind, and the doubts that fester there. He desires nothing more than to understand you. To care for you, to know the you, you would only dare share with him. Him alone. Rengoku is more than willing to exert all of his time to unfolding the layers you bare.

Discussions of your future, and the possibilities that accompany them will be common place. While he savors the present, the warmth of your smile, how lovely your eyes are alight in the daylight, and your scent as delicate and earthy as sweet potatoes, the Flame Hashira’s heart is towards the future.

Even on your first tryst, Kyojuro’s core is considering the life ahead of you. Whether you will marry, or engage in a promise of souls. If you would want children, or rather, how many children would you be willing to care for.

How you might turn the Rengoku estate into your own, would the home smell of tea and yaki imo? Would you great him with daigaku imo on harder days? How do you prefer to express your affections? How would he achieve this? How would you ensure in all the years to come, that you will always know his affections are for you, and you alone?

the man is already considering names for the fur ball he would bring home for you.

Kabocha for a rabbit. Kaki for a dog. No, wait. [YN] may a cuter name like Mochi, or Chibi.

Prepare yourself, he will not hesitate to approach a heavy topic. He wants to know the profundity of your dreams. Savor the taste of your aspiration.

There is a chance you may be blindsided by his abrasive approach, rare is the man who would impede on these topics on the first date, but I suspect that the natural warmth and acceptance that Rengoku radiates, will have your lips moving in no time. Whether you are shy or not, I imagine that he will find a way to have you talking. He’s so good nature, that I doubt it would be a forced situation.

He may have offered too man alcoholic drinks, unaware of your low tolerance. The spew of confessions to follow enough to shame him for not cutting you off sooner—he should have been more thoughtful.

Or perhaps he noticed the way your eyes sparkled when you passed by an artwork, inquiring if you yourself, are a crafter. Your excitement to share your passions betraying your attempt to maintain intrigue. I

t’s okay, he finds the way you overshare the intricate details of your passion adorable even if he doesn’t understand the terminology.

For this reason, your first date may last far longer than you ever suspected.

Truthfully, you’ll notice fairly early on that Rengoku supports these pursuits. The Flame Hashira would not shy away from bringing back tokens of affection on his journeys.

If perhaps you were interested in seamstress work, he would bring back interesting hand-dyed patterns he had passed in the different regions. Eager to share them with you.

If perhaps you had a pension for reading, he would bring back any oddity transcript he had happened to pass along the journey home.

Ironically, while the Flame Pillar is able to elicit the smallest of details from you between honeyed words, and lending an ear, you will find that Rengoku will require some time to open up. Although this will not be as lengthy of a transgression as most of the other hashiras, it’s difficult for Kyojuro to share his vulnerabilities.

It will come, and such topics will be approached in time and naturally. Such as the first time you visit his home, and inquire of his mother, he will express with a distant gaze of her passing. You’ll know when the time to delve deeper will come, but until then, know that it’s not that he is attempting to conceal his past from you rather, he’s worried that it may change your opinion of him.

Dates with Kyojuro would be as diverse as the man himself. Some activities, will be energetic and playful. Implicative of childhood memories, challenging you to catching fireflies in the summer. Playfully daring you to a sparring match, maybe even sumo if the mood strikes him.

Other times, the dates will be intimate. As deep and connected as the conversations he elicits from you. Fingers interlocked, blazing glances. The touch of your footprints etched along the sand as you stroll through the beach with one another. Nights gazing upon the stars, laid along his haori. Snuggled on the veranda as the day wanes, worn out from the hiking expedition he had spirited you away on.

In time, you’ll discover that Rengoku considers your happiness as though it were his own. He will do anything he can to bring the smile to your face, to light up your world whether in small gestures, or grand it does not matter. Whatever crosses his mind, he’s like a puppy eager to please.

Determined to stay at your side when work allows him to do so. Whether this means simply basking in your company while you pursue your passion, or attempting to assist you as you do so if sewing is your joy, you will have to place him in charge of simply handing you needles, he is not adept with thread.

He is so very, eager to please. At times, you may even feel that you are not meeting his expectations. In his over enthusiasm, you may feel rather than the gentle nudge he intended, that you are being shoved down the pursuit. Taking it at an expedited pace than you may prefer.

As with any relationship, this can lead to resentment, or inadequacy between the two of you, and really, he never intended for you to feel negatively. He genuinely wants to support all of your desires and pursuits, so much so, his over eagerness inflicted harm. If you choose to leave it to fester, you are both likely to end up battered and bruised, but should you choose to approach it rather than shy away from it, Rengoku will immediately apologize.

Again, all he ever wanted to do was support you—tell him how you view support that way you desire. A hug after a long day? Will do. A cup of tea while you work, he’s got the pot boiling, hands off, oh gods he will dutifully fight remind himself.

Just be sure to verbally praise his efforts, while he does these acts out of the goodness of his being, he still loves to be praised appreciated.

In fact, Rengoku is so eager to please, that you will discover rather quickly that his over generosity will lead to exhaustion, illness, or burnout. Whichever may come first.

To love the Flame Hashira, is to accept that there will be times in which you will need to fast guard his health, mental, emotional, and physical.

As I’ve already mentioned—he will neglect to do so himself, so this will be a long-term source of frustration for the both of you. One which you will likely have to repeat for years to come. but, it’s why you love him.

Along with the herbal treatments Shinobu will gift you, you will also have to make sure that he has regular interactions with his friends, and reassure him that you will enjoy your night at home, or with your own friends while he does so. He is so prone to prioritizing you, that his other relationships often fall to the waste side.

The gentle reminder, and encouragement to pursue these connections will be greatly appreciated, and do his heart some good. He is after all, a social butterfly. With the verbal reassurance, he will greatly appreciate your attention to his needs.

Don’t worry, he’ll behave regardless of where Tengen’s antics lead him.

When he falls, he falls hard. Like a meteor crashing to earth, embedding the earth’s surface. Permanently carved across the exterior, Rengoku is a goner.

For all that he is willing to give to you, every ounce of his time, his energy, his affections, his very heart, Kyojuro expects the same commitment from you as well.

In love, Rengoku is highly in tune with his partner. He’s able to sense the shifting of moods, of growing needs. He is the ultimate cheerleader, and will always be your side.

Rengoku, as you already know is a family man, and friends are at the center of his universe. Regardless of how dedicated he is to these relationships; he will always ensure that he has time to spend with you.

Just be sure to remind him to engage with others from time to time, he is at risk of getting lost in you. don’t let him lose himself in you.

As a partner, Kyojuro is understanding, and when it comes to understanding your needs, he is quick to adapt. Rather, he has a natural ability to care for those around him, and read the room. Should you have an off day from time to time, he is quick to overlook it as he retains the best version of yourself that he has grown to know.

Eager to please, quick to assist you whether it’s washing dishes, chopping vegetables, hanging the laundry, or even more intensive tasks such as hauling water from the mountains. He thrives with a happy and supportive partner, and as long as he is cared for in the same regards. He will not blink regardless of the requests you make of him.

Rather, one of the most difficult obstacles you are likely to encounter is the Flame Hashira’s inability to relinquish his burdens. While he understands that any part of a healthy relationship is carrying one another’s loads, he struggles with the concept of burdening you with his own.

Far too willing to accept yours as his own, but stubborn to accept your aide. Nor confess his desires for you to offer. Yet, the moment you break through his façade, he will crumble.

Tears that roll through a smile, joyful to have been accepted. To be supported. The child who had to accept the loss of his mother, to care for a small child well beyond his age, and capabilities. The very child who had met nothing but disapproval and rejection, embraced in your support.

Hold him.

You are a source of true joy, and meaning in his life.

It goes without much saying that Rengoku is a very, very protective lover. Alongside his natural desire to shield others, you have garnished a special place in his heart, and he will rise to any threat that pursues you.

A demon, he will stand between you and death. If someone has infringed upon your honor, he will safe guard your reputation without a moment’s notice. Should the situation require it, blows will be traded. He will always, protect you.

Where a lot of the other Hashiras have their difficulties with communication, you will not find this is the case for Rengoku. In fact, it’s rather the opposite.

In the event you yourself struggle with communication; he is quick to adapt. He’s open, and engaging, and if you find your struggling, don’t worry yourself too much. Kyojuro will adapt to suit your communication needs. If you are the type to need space, he’s more than okay with this.

Openly express that you need a moment he still needs the reassurance that your love is his own, and he will happily give you the time you need. If you are a fast talker, well, he is more than capable of matching your speed.

Truly, the only difficulty that you will meet in conveying yourself to one another, is in the event you are jump with loud noises. Remember, he doesn’t necessarily for his voice to boom. It’s his enthusiasm, but with his damaged ear drum, you will find that he’s naturally… loud.

After succumbing to hearing damage with his encounter with the flute demon, he struggles to hear soft voices. Patience, and adaptive communication, you’ll have this sorted out in no time—and your relationship will be better for it.

The first time you utilize this communication (signing), he will gush. To do something such as learn another language for him. he’s melting.

The embrace he will trap you in upon realization of your fingers moving, the words falling between your gestures. It’s going to hurt, snap your spine, and force the air from your lungs, hurt. Mitsuri warned you. He doesn’t mean for it to; he’s just so happy.

The playful, bashful laugh as he runs his fingers through his hair upon realizing how he openly grasped you in public.

While the swordsman is communicative, there will also be points in your relationship where you will notice he has a slight passive aggressive side to him.

His intentions are never to hurt you, but the reality is that Rengoku was not given a lot of opportunities to appropriately navigate tension in relationships. In these moments, you will have to re-center yourself.

Remember your boundaries, and your worth, remember that you love him. Compassion will go a long way with him, and give him space to work through what little thing has set this agitation into play. He really is sorry. He didn’t intend for his jealousy to ebb him that way, and what was such a little thing—he told himself that your attention to the grocer was nothing to concern himself with, and yet, that small piece of him nagged.

Succumbed to his own low self-esteem, and thought, perhaps, maybe you were interested.

While the Flame Hashira is not one to back down from a physical challenge he loves the opportunity to prove his growth as a swordsman, Kyojuro is quick to avoid confrontation in his relationships.

He favors harmony between the two of you, and a majority of the time, will avoid it at all costs. You mean so much to him, he really doesn’t want to fight. He just wants to snuggle.

Yet, disagreements are a natural part of any relationship, and when they rear their ugly heads, he is willing to do just about anything to disperse them as fast as he can. His haste actually puts even the smallest of disagreements at risk of maturing, and infecting, left unresolved over time.

However, as long as he is given the appropriate space, and by which, I mean, you reassure him that he is as valued to you as you are to him, he will rise to the challenge, and face the spat head on.

In reality, Rengoku is one of the Hashira at risk of jealousy. There may be moments where jealousy and low self-esteem fuel tension between the two of you.  

While at times he appears to be the most confident member of the Demon Slayers Corps, the reality is that from time to time, distant whispers of his life will surface. Hushed reminders of doubt, of worthlessness. In these times, he is sensitive to things around him.

Such as another person openly attempting to engage you in flirting. He is mature enough to know that it is not your fault, nor does he intend to burden you with his past but it’s still a part of him.

It’s rare, far and few between that these moments surface, but there will be times in which they are dredged from the depths. At these times, jealousy may follow.

Because of this, it’s important to note that Kyojuro is a loyal partner, and as long as his self-esteem is intended to appropriately, you will find no more a devote partner. Through thick and thin, he will always stand at your side, but should his needs be ignored, he is not validated, and trust break down in the relationship...

I would say that he is at risk of straying outside of your relationship parameters. and he is horribly ashamed for the betrayal

One thing that you will have to understand in moving forward in a relationship with the Flame Hashira, is that Kyojuro places a large importance of continuing on his blood line, and duties.

While it’s true that he is accepting of Senjuro’s rejection of the responsibilities of being a demon slayer, he still feels a source of pride that his brother lives on. Because of this, I believe that Rengoku would want a few children of his own—not that he would ever force them to undertake his position.

Rather, I suspect much like he embraced Senjuro’s break from tradition, he would support the childrens deviation. If in the event one of them did decide to accept  the obligation, I don’t feel that Rengoku would draw special attention to this from the other children.

I suspect that he would boast about ALL of his children’s accomplishments regardless if it were slaying a difficult demon, tending to children of their own, or embarking on their studies. Really, he would just want them to pursue their dreams regardless of what route they may follow, but this does mean, children are in your future.

For Kyojuro, he thrives on words of affirmation. To be openly praised, shamelessly bragged on whether it’s his attention to details, his dutiful physical tasks, or even adoration for him having picked up dinner, he thrives on this attention. It’s the fastest way to ensure that he feels important in your relationship, and treasured.

For the Flame breather, words of affirmation come just as easily as breathing. In fact, he’s quick to disburse his praise, and it takes absolutely no effort on his part.

He will shower you in applaud. Shamelessly declare you the best partner of all, regardless of your surroundings. If this is your love language, you are in luck because he will satisfy every flattery you could ever hope for.

In fact, at times he may go overboard and risk it falling on meaningless applause.

If in the event that it’s not, it’s okay that you’re shy from the private eye. He’ll learn to whisper it in private moments rather than so openly, but it will take some adjusting.

In terms of gift giving, I also see this being a strong suit of his. He has no aversions to physical intimacy, nor shies away from displaying it in public. I suspect that he would be more than content to lay his head in your lap, stare lovingly into your eyes, brush the strands of hair that fall before your eyes behind your ears.

The fire of his desire is not one to stray, but I imagine that he would comfortably the role of physical affections. Fingers interlocked during strolls, and allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder when you are tired.

Although his over enthusiasm for your touch may result in a few moments turning heated. are you really mad though?

The Flame Hashira would also be fairly forth taking with gift giving; his travels for missions have him sprouted all throughout the region, and his overly thoughtfulness will result in him bringing you a wide variety of tokens of affections.

This little kappa reminded him of how you loved to soak in the bath, this flower it’s dead, but it was as beautiful as you in its prime, this bento has your favorite snack in it—you get it.

Where ever he travels, you are always on his mind, and as long as you express your appreciation, he will never hesitate to bring home present after present, after offering of devotion.

He’s giving, overly so. Prepare yourself.

Acts of service is without a doubt, going to be met. As it’s already been expressed, whatever you ask of him, he will more than deliver.

Asked him to bring water down from the mountains? Oh, he did, he also utilized it to wash the laundry, hang it to dry, and utilized the leftover to prepare a warm bath for you.

He is literally a man of service.

Ultimately, I believe the area in which Rengoku would struggle to express his affections is actually in the quality time together department.

It’s not that he doesn’t savor moments with you, he adores the opportunity to have you at his side. However, the Flame Hashira’s determination to serve, leads him to feel that any, ANY small moment can result in restlessness.

He should be doing something. He should fold laundry. He should run you through self-defense drills to ensure you are safe while he is away, he should—his mind struggles to rest. He really and truly, is eager to serve.

SO much so that if your needs rely on quality time spent together, you will have to quiet the doubt of his mind. Reassure him that the extra time in bed together in the late morning, is all you need to be happy.

The reality is, to be in love with Rengoku is to know support. It’s to know devotion, and unwavering loyalty. To have someone always in your corner, always on your side regardless if you are in fact, wrong. It’s to know dedication, and warm smiles. To savor sweet words, as sincere as the heart they blaze from. It’s to know that despite the distances you may face, you are always on his mind. In his heart. To be loved by the Fire Hashira is to know the passion of the heart, of devotion, of the flesh. It’s to know that you are everything to him, your bond as close as destiny itself. To be loved by Kyojuro is to know love, the depths of a flame so smoldered and that the ardor will never be snubbed out. It is to be truly embraced as you are for who you are. A romance secured by soft touches, endless praise, unwavering support in pursuits of joy. To know that you are his joy. To know that he will love you.

Even in death.

In this life.

And the next

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

The ‘Rook is cute’ post reminded me!!! Rook has two surprised faces; one ‘not too surprised,’ which is the one we know, and one ‘oh no’ face, which is VERY similar, but his brow’s furrowed and his lips are pursed! You can see when Deuce and Sebek ask about his family in Halloween or in Book 6 throughout the Last Part. He shows it some other times too!!!

[Referencing this post!]

You’re right!! 👀 *yoinks this ask as an excuse to talk more about R00k and J word*

Rook’s usual surprised expression is on the left (I’ll call this A), and his alternate surprised expression is on the right (I’ll call this B):

Notice that his brows are not visible in A, his mouth is more subtle, and his head appears to be tilted up and slightly back. Of course, he also has his hands up in an exaggerated move; it’s a very playful demonstration of his emotion.

In B, Rook’s brows are pinched mouth is slightly more severe (pursed, as the Anon says), and his head is tilted more down. These are very small differences that you wouldn’t notice unless you were really thinking hard about it or comparing them side-by-side.

Now, here’s my take 🤔 A is the “fake” expression and B is the “real” expression. I wouldn’t say that Rook is a fake person in the traditional sense. By “fake” I mean that he sometimes purposefully exaggerates his displays to control how others perceive him. It’s by no means malicious; Rook most likely just wants to create a certain narrative around himself (similar to how he manipulated his heartbeat to speed up in order to gain Sebek’s trust when Sebek accused him of being a traitor). Likewise, I believe Rook intentionally acts silly so people don’t take him seriously. This would naturally give him an advantage against them, since people would lower their guards around him and more easily play into his hand. Others would be too focused on his ridiculous demeanor to think about how he’s outwitting them (think about the skincare delivery of episode 6 and how Idia reacted to Rook showing up).

I do think, in part, that expression A can also be genuine and heartfelt! Rook’s just a very loving and theatric person; this is just how he expresses himself, whether it’s a front or just natural to him. In the same vein, I also think that expression B is real—and a better look into what actually rattles Rook to his core. He can play off his surprise fine with A, but B is much more uncomfortable and difficult even for him to hide. B most notably appears when Deuce and Sebek start prying about Rook’s family. He gives a very evasive and generalized response, but they keep pressing about it until Trey lies about having seen a ghost nearby. It’s clear that Rook is secretive and doesn’t want to divulge details about what his family does. There is real distress in his face, a violation of his privacy made apparent. It’s times like these when Rook’s truest emotions shine through the happy-go-lucky facade he wears on a daily basis.

We also see a similar (albeit MUCH more subtle) facial change in Jade! On the left is his normal neutral expression, and on the right is his so-called “angry” expression.

The only differences here, as far as I can tell, are the eyes and mouth! Neutral Jade has light reflected in his eyes and a straight mouth whereas angry Jade has dull eyes with no light, as well as a slightly more noticeable frown. Angry Jade’s eyes may also be slightly more narrow. It’s even harder to read Jade because of how well he controls the emotions he portrays to onlookers! He’s cool as ice and probably plotting revenge in the second picture!

dhkswbu;tqfau:-5ae) I really love small character details like this!! It’s like a “spot the difference” game 😂 It really makes sense for their characters while still working within the limitations of the game.

[irena-dubrovnaa]

do you have any ghostbat hcs that you can grace me with <3??

OH BOY DO I!!! some these are brutaliakhoa but most are ghostbat ☝

khoa isn't a huge cuddler in general but he knows when bruce gets overstimulated he just likes to be squeezed bc it helps him self regulate, autistic bruce ftw 💪

bruce doesn't introduce khoa to the kids. khoa just runs into them on patrol or around town and can tell bc they all act like him whether it's very obvious or not

khoa immediately clocks damian as talia's kid bc he looks just like her but acts mostly like bruce, he finds it endearing

damian cass and dick are khoa's favorite kids

khoa isn't the "step dad" or even weird uncle, he's just "dad's bf" to everybody. except damian and jason, they always refer to him as "mom and dad's bf"

khoa is really big on presents. he finds them kinda redundant bc anything he can buy bruce, bruce can already buy for himself but he knows that he and bruce are both very terrible with words to express things, and khoa already lacking certain emotions has an especially hard time, so he buys little things like bruce's favorite take out or a lil chocolate bar every now and again as a token of appreciation

they play wrestle literally all the time. they say its "training" but everybody calls bullshit

duke was actually one of the first bat kids to meet khoa and it was by complete accident

on the rare occasion that talia, bruce, and khoa are all together khoa and talia take it upon themselves to embarrass the fuck out of bruce by telling the kids stories about him when he was younger

khoa will sometimes just attack him with swords to test brucs's reflexes, it's especially funny when bruce Also has swords on hand

khoa likes to drag bruce to the archery range every now and again because bruce always forgets he's a trained archer and khoa won't let those skills become dull

khoa likes to steal the batmobile when bruce leaves it unattended, one time a little 12 y/o damian was in the backseat and simply didn't question it

in return bruce vandalizes khoa's dinosaur

khoa will sometimes leave little gifts for the kids in the cave like damian with some extra treats for his pets or a gift card to a skate shop for tim and bruce loves it because he can tell the little gestures mean a lot to the kids

ra's initially thought khoa and bruce were a thing when they were with the league of assassins and was always confused as to why his daughter was going on dates with 2 clearly gay men 💀 bi4bi4bi brutaliakhoa my loves

khoa gets along pretty well with selina and even when selina and bruce inevitably break up again khoa keeps seeing her because he enjoys her sense of humor

THATS ALL OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD BUT LMK IF YOU WANT MORE

[bookishfeylin]

Tamlin and Lucien noticed my mood and kept conversation between themselves... [Tamlin's] mask was bronze in the darkness, and the emeralds glittered. “You seem … upset.” ... My fingers stung and ached, but I still held on to the rose as I said, “I don’t know why I feel so tremendously ashamed of myself for leaving them. Why it feels so selfish and horrible to paint. I shouldn’t—shouldn’t feel that way, should I? I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it.” The rose hung limply from my fingers. “All those years, what I did for them … And they didn’t try to stop you from taking me.” There it was, the giant pain that cracked me in two if I thought about it too long. “I don’t know why I expected them to—why I believed that the puca’s illusion was real that night. I don’t know why I bother still thinking about it. Or still caring.” He was silent long enough that I added, “Compared to you—to your borders and magic being weakened—I suppose my self-pity is absurd.” “If it grieves you,” he said, the words caressing my bones, “then I don’t think it’s absurd at all.” ... He took a step closer to me, the laughter still dancing on his face. “Feeling better today?” I mumbled some noncommittal response. “Good,” he said, either ignoring or hiding his amusement. “But just in case, I wanted to give you this,” he added, pulling some papers from his tunic and extending them to me. I bit the inside of my cheek as I stared down at the three pieces of paper. It was a series of five-lined … poems. (ACOTAR Chapter 19)

So here we have Tamlin noticing Feyre's emotional distress and responding to it, something he is somehow incapable of doing in ACOMAF, despite having no issues reading Feyre and comforting her prior. A very subtle detail of Tamlin's characterization in ACOTAR is that he's actually really observant, especially pertaining to Feyre. He realizes that her mother is dead from being in her house all of (1) time:

After a rather stilted pause, Tamlin asked, “How did she die?” When I lifted my brows, he added a bit more softly, “I didn’t see signs of an older woman in your house.” (ACOTAR Chapter 8)

He also picks up on the fact that Feyre is a huntress by simply looking at her hands:

Tamlin broke the silence. “Feyre likes to hunt.” “I don’t like to hunt.” I should have probably used a more polite tone, but I went on. “I hunted out of necessity. And how did you know that?” Tamlin’s stare was bald, assessing. “Why else were you in the woods that day? You had a bow and arrows in your … house.” I wondered whether he’d almost said hovel. “When I saw your father’s hands, I knew he wasn’t the one using them.” He gestured to my scarred, callused hands. “You told him about the rations and money from pelts." (ACOTAR Chapter 8)

Realizes that Feyre was not born into poverty by her language:

He went under again, and when he emerged, he ran a hand through his golden hair. “How did your father lose his fortune?” “How’d you know about that?” Tamlin snorted. “I don’t think born peasants have your kind of diction.” Some part of me wanted to come up with a comment about snobbery, but … well, he was right, and I couldn’t blame him for being a skilled observer. (ACOTAR Chapter 18)

And he notices Feyre stealing a knife from the dinner table, remarking that he was trained to be observant:

“I’m curious,” he said casually. The amber in his green eyes was glowing. Perhaps not all traces of that beast-warrior were gone. “Are you ever going to use that knife you stole from my table?” I stiffened. “How did you know?” Beneath the mask, I could have sworn his brows were raised. “I was trained to notice those things. But I could smell the fear on you, more than anything.” (ACOTAR Chapter 12)

So Tamlin has always been very observant, very aware of what Feyre is thinking and feeling, and very in tune with her emotions, even when she tries to hide things. And unlike Rhysand, he's not a mind reader, so no privacy is violated! Tamlin is literally just... observant. His sudden inability to notice her suffering in ACOMAF or know how to properly comfort her screams of a retcon. And lest anyone say that it's because hIs TrAuMa UnDeR tHe MoUnTaIn ChAnGeD hIm:

On and on, until every newly heightened sense was chafing and raw, and Tamlin at last noticed my dull eyes, my silence, and took my arm. He escorted me through the labyrinth of tunnels and hallways until we found a quiet bedroom in a distant wing of the court. (ACOTAR Chapter 46)

So even *after* being traumatized, after the events of UTM, Tamlin noticed Feyre was not doing well(TM) and that she was getting overwhelmed by new sensations--despite the chaos that was occurring Under the Mountain following Amarantha's death that could have kept him distracted--and he took Feyre away from everyone else and led her to a quiet bedroom where they could sit alone and where he could heal her.

So yes, even after Tamlin was traumatized he also noted her feelings and demeanor. His inability to see Feyre's spiraling mental health and inability to properly respond and know how to truly comfort and support her in ACOMAF is, of course, a retcon.

[shysublimecoffee]

This represents my personal perspective on the matter, so please don't interpret it as a factual statement. It's an opinion, and there may be exceptions if you explore thoroughly. However, I find the otome isekai genre quite monotonous. The recurring theme of recycling concepts, reusing character designs with a prevalent "same face syndrome," and the prevalence of protagonists resembling each other, particularly the Duke of the North archetype with that clichéd Idol haircut, contribute to a sense of staleness. The majority of flawless female leads with 99% being blonde, with a few exceptions, adds to the predictability.

For me, the transmigration or reincarnation concept caught my attention around 2018, starting with works like "Who Made Me a Princess" and the infamous "They Say I Was Born a King's Daughter," even though I admit my taste was not the best back then.

The idea of taking over someone's body and living their life fascinated me. What made it unique was the perspective shift, allowing us to see many previously despised villains from other stories in a new light, experiencing the narrative from their point of view.

But, this is when it started getting old real quick. My god, how many fucking times am I going to see a good heroine turned evil and the villainous be taking the leftover men from the heroine side and forming a harem. The villainous unfortunately can't be nuanced because all these stories do is just make shit black and white. Our MC can't be held accountable for what they did but sob hard enough and we get an ally to ride behind her.

You know what's incredibly frustrating? These Korean women from the 21st century keep transmigrating into these villainous roles, and it's just downright irritating. They either come off as overly naive or stick to the tired narrative of being an office worker who suddenly becomes wealthy and tramples over others. It lacks uniqueness, and seriously, what do we really know about the female lead (FL) beyond the prologue? Who is she? What's her home life like? Does she want to return? These are questions I want answers to, but we're not given the chance because the focus remains on the villainous character. Even that aspect isn't executed well; they end up softening her character and making her more compliant than she was in the original story just to avoid a bad ending. I'm more intrigued by understanding the backstory of the actual original villainous character.

The male lead (ML) seriously disappoints. I get it, this genre revolves around romance, but let's get real for a moment—do we genuinely care about this so-called "romance"? What truly matters is the chemistry between characters that makes us feel, cry, and get infuriated, and that's what a story should evoke. Worse than a bad boy ML is a downright boring male lead. Whether it's the Duke of the North or any other generic character, they all feel like mere props catering to the female lead, and that's painfully dull.

I couldn't care less because these MLs exist solely to assist her in everything, whether it's for revenge, to play the savior, or to be the healer. Nothing feels genuine; there's no emotional investment in the romance for me. I'm not overjoyed by the idea of them being together. Many readers seem more fixated on their aesthetics and how well he serves her, but let's be honest—their designs are unimaginative, resembling countless other MLs and MCs. Frankly, I wish more effort were put into creating distinct and captivating characters.

No matter how much one might criticize the toxicity of old-school Shojou romances and the portrayal of male leads, I absolutely loved it. Sure, the romance might not be ideal, but that's precisely what makes it fun and enjoyable to read. The characters have their quirks and distinct personalities, creating their own unique dynamics that add to the charm of the story unlike the former.

Transmigration/Reincarnation is so barley touched in a genre surrounding that very concept. It's like they dip into a puddle but don't expand on the horrors or intrigue of anything really and they be explaining everything from the prologue instead of letting us breathe. We don't settle or sit with the characters and writers are far more interested in miscommunication. It's why I like manga because you get beautiful scenes of just peace or character introspection than you would in colored format.

If there's one story that truly captivated me and made me fall in love with this particular brand of Otome Isekai, it's "A Stepmother's Märchen." It may not be a masterpiece, but the deliberate and slow-paced narrative, reminiscent of a novel, along with the meticulous attention to depicting a semi-realistic high society, drew me in. The story offers complex and conflicted characters, and the stunning art, which interestingly mirrors European illustration outside of the main cast, adds to its appeal. Of course, it's not without its flaws, but the beauty of the narrative has made it stand out to me even years later. It's not a one-note copy it did it own thing that I wish OI did more.

Kill the Villanous,

Death is the ending the villanous

I appreciate how these stories took the isekai concept and added their unique twists. It's refreshing, and I wish more writers would follow suit. While I understand that Otome Isekai is primarily about wish fulfillment, I also crave narratives that offer more than just that. A well-crafted story with thoughtful character development would be a welcome addition to the genre because it sticks out to me more. I don't remember OI titles but for me to remember those is because the concept were different from the usual OH no I woke up in the villain body.

[gojoest]

I have so many thoughts about creep! bf gojo. Mainly bc he probably didn't get a lot of normal interactions as a kid, either he was being praised for being 'the chosen one' or left completely to his own devices. and so his sense of decency and normalcy are skewed so far off. He does what he wants and can't see the reason why that would be seen negatively, he loves you and he's clingy n e way, creep! bf gojo steals your underwear 100% -🦅

oh god….you really know your way to get to me, don’t you………..bc yes. yes, you are so correct . oh my god. i’ve talked about this before here and there but yes. i think satoru was very neglected growing up despite being born as a boy with a spark incomparable to any other, a special boy. the first descendant in the gojo clan in 400 years to inherit both limitless & six eyes.

and i think, even when he was little, a lot of people feared him bc of that. and naturally, the care and affection people usually show to a child provoked by the internal need to protect such a small being, that very sense to love and shield what needs to be loved and shielded, dulled before the eyes of fear. this, and the envy of prying eyes and all who wanted him gone before he fully blossomed into something bigger, sow the seeds of loneliness in him. he was an outcast, and not because he was looked down on but because he was looked up on, too much at that.

i don’t think he was ever truly loved, even by his parents actually. maybe they loved him to some extent. but not because he was their blood and a beloved symbol of their love. what made their chest swell was rather pride than love. and they were not proud of him, they were proud of themselves for bringing such a special boy to existence.

i don’t believe he was ever genuinely looked after and cared for. what people around him looked after was the shell of a boy that carried the innate techniques derived from the gojo clan. nobody knew what his favorite color was, what his favorite food was, what he loved doing outside of training sessions. i don’t think he knew himself tbf bc it’s hard to shape your own understanding of the world and what’s precious while growing up when you’ve never witnessed it with your own eyes, when no one has ever shown it to you what it means to love and favor something. bc children take inspiration from those around them. and i don’t think he had anyone around him to look up to and be inspired from.

i remember reading a post connecting the lack of presence in the sense of support and source of inspiration in satoru’s life to how it affected the way he carries himself later in life in the sense of, let’s say, fashion. i don’t remember the url of the op i am so sorry but god damn, they were so right. bc if you look closely you will notice that most characters in jjk have their own style, a specific physical trait unique only to them, whether a hairstyle or a fashion sense or whatever. but saotur? except for the blindfold, he’s got nothing. right? and the blindfold he wears is not for the sake of being eccentric or unique, it’s not for the sake of creating a trademark on his end. it once again comes down to his technique. 

so yea for someone like satoru, who’s never had a normal human connection in his life before, love is very likely to border with obsession. and like, i don’t think he is completely unaware of the feeling “love” but it’s one thing to know of it through books, movies or whatsoever and another to live and actually experience it firsthand. so when he loves, it’s raw, it’s inexperienced, it’s limitless (hehe see what i did there). there is no moral compass, there is no stop sign for him—he’s going to be weird. he’s going to cross certain boundaries. he’s going to disregard your personal space. but it’s not because he’s an actual sick freak just for the sake of it, it’s because he loves you with all the pent up loneliness in him and now that he’s tasted love and knows how good it feels, he doesn’t want to lose it.

p.s.: yes, he’s a pathological panty stealer

[mariana-oconnor]

The Bruce Partington Plans pt 1

I feel like I get this one mixed up with The Naval Treaty…

I don't hold out much hope for the police in this story as last time the entirety of Scotland Yard seemed to be experiencing the same mass delusion.

Maybe this time they'll show a little more knowledge of basic human anatomy.

In the third week of November, in the year 1895, a dense yellow fog settled down upon London. From the Monday to the Thursday I doubt whether it was ever possible from our windows in Baker Street to see the loom of the opposite houses. [...] the greasy, heavy brown swirl still drifting past us and condensing in oily drops upon the window-panes...

Victorian London sounds like such a great place to live. Honestly, the chain-smoking in the earlier story was probably still better for your lungs than the 'fresh' air on the streets. Air should, as a rule, never be 'greasy'. Unless you are actively deep-fat frying something, in which case I guess it has to be, but that doesn't mean we should like it.

Meanwhile, Holmes:

Was it Holmes who was desperate for the outside world, or Watson? One must imagine a certain amount of authorial leeway on his behalf. I can imagine being stuck inside with Sherlock Holmes on his newest 24 hour a day obession with 'the music of the Middle Ages' - bearing in mind this man does not understand circadian rhythms - Watson must have wanted to risk breathing in the grease himself.

“The London criminal is certainly a dull fellow,” said he in the querulous voice of the sportsman whose game has failed him.

I'm sensing a theme to all of these beginnings.

"The thief or the murderer could roam London on such a day as the tiger does the jungle, unseen until he pounces, and then evident only to his victim.”

I feel like his relentless coughing would give him away a bit. And his victim is as likely to have already keeled over from oxygen deprivation as be alive.

“Well, well! What next?” said he. “Brother Mycroft is coming round.”

Mycroft!

Actually... Mycroft, not a good idea. I doubt you have a particularly good lung capacity at this point. You spend most of your day sedentary in silence. Don't go outside Mycroft. Don't go outside!

"By the way, do you know what Mycroft is?”

So far he has been described as a train, a planet and a seal...

"You would also be right in a sense if you said that occasionally he is the British government.”

This is where that line is from. Ha. I knew it was around here somewhere. Also, even more reason for him not to venture forth into the greasy air.

"All other men are specialists, but his specialism is omniscience."

Mycroft is god, confirmed.

This does feel very much like a 'don't put all your eggs in one basket' kind of thing. Also the man has the most set routine in the whole of London. That's terrible security. The fact he hasn't been kidnapped and tortured is quite frankly madness to me.

"But Jupiter is descending to-day."

I can't decide if these are just our usual frilly narrative or if Sherlock is indeed making fat jokes this whole time. Selecting Jupiter specifically seems like a fat joke.

"The case was featureless as I remember it. The young man had apparently fallen out of the train and killed himself."

These days you would have to work pretty damn hard to fall off a train on the Tube. I know it was different back then, but imagining him trying to shimmy through the gap in one of those tube train windows is highly amusing to me. Although the purpose is not amusing, so maybe not.

“He left Woolwich suddenly on Monday night. Was last seen by his fiancee, Miss Violet Westbury..."

Another Violet to add to our ever growing collection. I've found some lists of the most popular baby names in 1870 and 1880 and apparently Violet was #100 in 1870 and #68 in 1880, then #43 in 1890, (this story is set in 1895, assuming that she's going to be somewhere around 20-25, so it is a top 100 name for the period and would have been even more common among women of that age at the time he was writing. It's still quite a high number of Violets to be knocking around. I guess ACD liked the name. It doesn't appear to be a family name, looking at his family tree I can't see a single Violet.

This is unimportant, we've just had three of them now.

"The body could only have come on the line in that way. Had it been carried down from any neighbouring street, it must have passed the station barriers, where a collector is always standing. This point seems absolutely certain.”

Were there no access tunnels in those days? I feel like I always see access tunnels to underground lines in films and TV shows. And it makes sense to have shortcuts to parts of the line that are more remote. But I don't know if they actually exist. I guess I just assumed that there would be midway access points for maintenance. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe the maintenance people have to walk along the long dark tunnel to wherever they need to get to... that does see dumb, though. You'd think there would at least be something near the points. Whatever, I am probably thinking about this too much.

“The trains which traverse the lines of rail beside which the body was found are those which run from west to east, some being purely Metropolitan, and some from Willesden and outlying junctions."

Willesden Junction is now on the Bakerloo line, btw, which is one of the lines Baker Street is on. Just saying. Although the Bakerloo line wouldn't open until 1905. At this point I think it was on an overground line? idk. The Metropolitan Line was definitely open at this time, though, and Baker Street is on that one, too. Baker Street is on a lot of lines.

"...at what point he entered the train it is impossible to state.” “His ticket, of course, would show that.” “There was no ticket in his pockets.” “No ticket! Dear me, Watson, this is really very singular."

The surprise is probably due to something else entirely, but the idea that Holmes is shocked by the idea of a fare jumper amuses me.

"According to my experience it is not possible to reach the platform of a Metropolitan train without exhibiting one's ticket."

Willing to bet that was not true at all. I bet people managed it. But for the sake of the story, let us say it would be impossible for him to get on a train without a ticket. These days, of course, dropping your ticket would be a bad idea because you have to use it to get out again at the other end (if you don't just tap in and out) But then he was thrown out of a moving train, apparently, it makes sense he might lose a ticket in those circumstances. Particularly if he was holding it rather than having it in a pocket.

"He had also a check-book on the Woolwich branch of the Capital and Counties Bank. Through this his identity was established."

Once more the tried and true method of identifying someone through the name written on something in their pocket. With a cheque book I guess it's more likely that it's actually him. But there's another version of this where he's a conman who avoids paying ticket fares and has stolen someone's cheque book.

A moment later the tall and portly form of Mycroft Holmes was ushered into the room. Heavily built and massive, there was a suggestion of uncouth physical inertia in the figure, but above this unwieldy frame there was perched a head so masterful in its brow, so alert in its steel-gray, deep-set eyes, so firm in its lips, and so subtle in its play of expression, that after the first glance one forgot the gross body and remembered only the dominant mind.

Oh hai Mycroft!

Just in case you have forgotten since last time Watson described Mycroft. Or since all those comments of Sherlock's earlier, Mycroft is fat. Did you know that he's fat? But you'll immediately forget after a moment, except for how Watson will never let you forget.

At his heels came our old friend Lestrade, of Scotland Yard—thin and austere. The gravity of both their faces foretold some weighty quest.

Oh hai Lestrade.

Love you two working together. Beautiful moment. Perfect. No notes. It's the team-up I've been waiting for.

Impressed that you both seem to be breathing properly as well.

“Surely you have heard of it? I thought everyone had heard of it.” [...] "It has been the most jealously guarded of all government secrets."

I feel like maybe they haven't heard of it because it's a jealously guarded government secret, Mycroft. Just an idea. If everyone has heard of it, it's a bloody terrible secret.

"The plans [...] are kept in an elaborate safe in a confidential office adjoining the arsenal, with burglar-proof doors and windows."

What exactly constitutes a 'burglar-proof' door or window? That sounds more like a challenge than a fact. Genuinely, don't think there is such a thing, particularly at Victorian technology levels.

Also, we know from previous stories that all anyone needs to do is wait for some clerk to take them out to make a copy, then wait a little longer for them to need a coffee break and the plans will no doubt be left unattended on a desk somewhere for you to walk in and grab.

Who wants to bet that Cadogan West was just a bit of an idiot, really? That seems to be the standard level of junior clerks in the civil service in this series.

"If you have a fancy to see your name in the next honours list—”

I find it odd that Mycroft would even suggest this when, on the whole, he knows his little brother pretty well. There's no way Sherlock would want to be on the honours list.

"The actual official guardian of the papers is the famous government expert, Sir James Walter, whose decorations and sub-titles fill two lines of a book of reference. He has grown gray in the service, is a gentleman, a favoured guest in the most exalted houses, and, above all, a man whose patriotism is beyond suspicion."

I automatically hate and suspect him.

But no vibes only facts.

“Yes; his brother, Colonel Valentine Walter, has testified to his departure from Woolwich, and Admiral Sinclair to his arrival in London; so Sir James is no longer a direct factor in the problem.”

Because we know from these stories that Colonels are the most upstanding of gentlemen.

“The senior clerk and draughtsman, Mr. Sidney Johnson. He is a man of forty, married, with five children. He is a silent, morose man, but he has, on the whole, an excellent record in the public service. He is unpopular with his colleagues, but a hard worker."

Now him, I like. 😄

No, seriously though, why do his colleagues dislike him? I feel like that is crucial information. Is it because he's a stickler for the rules, or is it because he's a creep? Or is it because he once ate someone else's lunch?

“Many circumstances could be imagined under which he would pass London Bridge. There was someone in the carriage, for example, with whom he was having an absorbing interview."

Talking to a stranger? On the Tube? No, sorry. Too unbelievable. I can accept rabbits being mistaken for humans, but this is too far.

I guess he doesn't specify that it's a stranger.

"He would naturally have made an appointment with the foreign agent and kept his evening clear. Instead of that he took two tickets for the theatre, escorted his fiancee halfway there, and then suddenly disappeared.”

Has no one in this room ever heard of spycraft? A trip to the theatre would be the perfect cover for a handover. You drop your program, someone else picks it up and hands it back to you with a few extra pages folded up inside it. Easy. Taking the fiancee makes it less suspicious. Sure, she might get caught up in things, but that's a risk you have to take. They then have the entire course of the play to sneak away and make copies/take photographs of the papers before returning them to you, perhaps in the pocket of your coat at the coat check, with a little bit of extra money tucked into your hat?

Also, it's a public place with witnesses, so the bad guy is less likely to just straight up kill you so they don't have to pay. Admittedly, if they don't pay you don't get the opportunity to directly threaten them... I don't know, I'm not a spy, but I'm sure the theatre would be a great handover spot.

“It seems to me perfectly clear,” said Lestrade. “I have no doubt at all as to what occurred. He took the papers to sell them. He saw the agent. They could not agree as to price. He started home again, but the agent went with him. In the train the agent murdered him, took the more essential papers, and threw his body from the carriage. That would account for everything, would it not?”

But why not take all the papers, Lestrade? Why bother taking the time to go through them to see which are the most important? Why leave any behind at all?

“The ticket would have shown which station was nearest the agent's house. Therefore he took it from the murdered man's pocket.”

And that would just be poor work on the foreign agent's part. Never do anything near where you live.

I was going to say 'if Mycroft could make it to Baker Street, why not just go to the scene of the crime himself?' but then I remembered that this is the London train system and therefore it is wholly inaccessible to anyone who can't or doesn't want to climb up and down fifty million steps (in 1895, especially, and still at least partially today). The sudden shock to Mycroft's system of that increase in activity, coupled with the fact he's already committed chemical warfare against his lungs by going out in the smog, would definitely shuffle him off the mortal coil. Far better if Sherlock goes, considering that apparently the entirety of Britain relies on Mycroft not dying.

[ay-chuu]

By-The-By a/n: I hate dumxlr and his dumb problems with writing ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Dazai likes you.

Sometimes he may not understand you and your strange thoughts, (he understands) he may remain unusually silent next to you because you are different from everyone else (because he likes the feeling of momentary peace inside,so he dont talks) and the strangest thing is that he cannot put the mask that he puts even next to Odasaku when he is with you.

But he likes you.

He was here. He was at Bar Lupin, sitting with you and having a drink. Because you talk in such a way that he wants to live a little so that he can listen to you. You make him feel that everything is so for that moment that he loves it.

But sometimes, you annoy him. Because he can NEVER lie to you without getting caught, even worse, you even catches the lies he tells himself and you tell them directly to his face. (This actually makes him happy. )

You looked Dazai in the eye. You spoke indifferently while sipping your tea.

"You're lying."

Dazai feels shocked as his heartbeat quickens.

"Hm?"

"You said you were happy to feel that people didn't trust you, that's a lie. You're trying not to feel trusted, because that way no one will get attached to you and suffer, so that no one can see inside you, and so that no one can guess you when you make sudden movements. Because sometimes even you can't guess yourself. That's your nature, I guess…"

Dazai gulped, and even though he can act amazing, he felt weird again because he couldn't fool you.

“Ah! You always talk like that! It makes me want to flirt with you more!! You should commit double suicide with me! A suicide tale with your mystical aura and my wonderful charm! How beautiful-"

"No, keep it. I'm happy to live, as long as I can question it."

"As long as you can question it?"

"As long as I can question every moment I live, and I can reach an answer that will satisfy myself."

"Hm! So how is that beautiful brain of yours questioning this moment right now! I'd love to swap bodies with you… How nice it would be to live with a brain that never shuts up!"

"None of our brains shut up. It's just like your brain right now, on the one hand, questioning what I'm saying and on the other hand, questioning how not to show me this, making you talk. And because our souls are changing, the brain automatically begins to think about your logic and feelings. So changing the body is unnecessary."

Dazai feels that he is getting angry, (he feels like a little kid that caught) and quite quickly his demeanor changes.

"You don't know what I'm thinking."

"You're right, I don't know, but I can sense it and by telling you this, I can tell from your reaction whether it's true or not."

"Oh~ You're a naughty person."

"Hm.."

And then you smiled. He still feels frustrated, but he's more nervous, just because you're being truthful…

And although Dazai does not like this feeling he loves it. he wants to listen to you even more. He wants to understand you and your personality because...

because you two are similar. He wants to listen to you because, like you, he wants to question everything so that he can help himself, his inner self. He wants to listen to you because, like you, he wants to learn to love living without a reason, just by questioning.

"For the question,"

Coming out of his dull gaze, he turned to you. You smiled at him.

"My brain and my heart finds this moment very peaceful. Because it's a moment with real feelings."

"Maybe its not real?"

"Who says that? Your feelings or thoughts (of trying to fool me)?"

Dazai returned your smile. You were like a secret philosophy that he couldn't make sense of. And he was trying to solve your mystery.

Oh, he definitely likes you.

[abigailnussbaum]

Good Omens 2, Some Thoughts

Look, it's just not a good season of television. I'm seeing a lot of bargaining on my tumblr feed, and some galaxy brain takes about how the badness is the point, see, because it's a clue that all is not as it seems. And yeah, all is probably not as it seems, and in 2-3 years, when (if) we get a third season it will probably turn out that at least some of the weirdness in this season was deliberate (I've seen some very plausible theories already). But that won't change the fact that this season was not good. I have some thoughts on why below.

I wasn't blown away by the first season of Good Omens. I thought it had a lot of the same problems as the book, which Gaiman, presumably out of loyalty to Pratchett, chose not to address. But Tennant and Sheen were so good, and like a lot of people I had the reaction of "who needs plot, just have Crowley and Aziraphale hang out for six hours". Good Omens 2 feels like a finger on the monkey's paw curling in response to that. What it most resembles is fanfic, in that it's light on plot and has a bit of a hangout quality, but without the things that make fanfic fun - the emotional intensity and willingness to be silly and weird. It's all curiously flat and, honestly, not a little boring.

The most obvious example of this, clearly, are the flashbacks (or, as they're referred to, "minisodes", though all told they probably make up about half the season). It feels as if the thinking was "everyone loved 'Hard Times' in season 1, so what if we did a lot more of that?" And yeah, everyone loved "Hard Times", but that's because it told a complete and concluded story. It was done. All the things we needed to know about Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship over the millennia had been established. The flashbacks in season 2 add almost nothing to that (it does seem very likely that they are pointing towards a Big Thing about the duo that will be revealed in a future season, but again, that doesn't solve the problem with this season). What's worse, they're not very affecting in themselves. There's no "you go too fast for me, Crowley" moment. And meanwhile, in the present, the duo feel curiously inert. We have no idea how their relationship has (or hasn't) changed since the events of the first season, or whether either of them are trying to change that. They spend most of the season in a holding pattern until the sudden, catastrophic upheaval of the status quo in the last fifteen minutes, which feels like it came out of nowhere.

(I want to be clear what I'm saying with that last point. I am not saying that the season's ending doesn't make sense for the characters - on the contrary, I think it absolutely does. I'm saying that there's no lead-up to it. We think we're watching one kind of (rather dull) story, and then suddenly, total swerve into a very different one with no emotional groundwork laid. You can backfill in an explanation (and I've seen a bunch of posts that have tried to do this) but in the show as written, it's just not satisfying or cathartic. Instead of feeling wrung out, you're mostly just confused.)

I think what really annoys me is that most of the plot elements in the season are actually quite promising. The framing story of Gabriel's disappearance, and how it ends up being about something very small (while still hinting at bigger things to come). Crowley and Aziraphale obsessing over two women in their general vicinity, and trying to push them together even though they're not in a place to be in a relationship, as a displacement activity from dealing with whatever is going on between them. The idea that, quietly and without much fuss, another demon and angel fell in love and just decided to be together while our heroes have spent millennia failing to get their shit together (I don't love that this is a straight couple, but you could certainly take it as a comment on internalized homophobia). The ending, as noted. And there are some genuinely good moments in the season. The Gabriel/Beelzebub flashback is sweet and almost instantly sells you on their relationship (along the way demonstrating that less is more when it comes to flashbacks). The ball and subsequent demon attack are thrilling, and make you wish the season had spent more time with the other merchants. It's just that overall, the execution is so indifferent, and so much energy is being directed towards those pointless flashbacks, that what could have been a strong, small-scale story ends up feeling like a slog.

I've seen some comparisons between this season and Our Flag Means Death (I've even seen the suggestion that the separation at the end of OFMD S1 inspired the separation at the end of this one, but with 16 months between them I'm not sure that works). And, beyond the fact that there's a vast gulf in quality between the two shows, that's a comparison that would make more sense if OFMD had ended after episode 9. Instead, it gave us that shocking, sudden rift between the two leads, and then offered a hint of consolation and a direction for how they might find their way back to each other. Good Omens doesn't do that last part. Which, to be clear, is a perfectly valid creative choice, but it means that the audience walks away from the season in a very different emotional state, and that's something a writer has to take into account.

All of which is to say that it was, how shall I put this, uncool of Neil Gaiman to have written a story like this without being really, really, REALLY sure that he was going to get a third season. And look, it's obviously not his fault that the bottom has suddenly come out of the streaming business, or that we're in the midst of two strikes. But he's been reduced to running around saying things like "if you want a conclusion to this utterly gutting cliffhanger that I left you with, you have to watch and promote my show" (which among other things feels like it skirts very close to strike-breaking). And that just feels like a poor way to treat a fandom that has been so enthusiastic and supportive for so long.

(Finally, it's very possible that the decision to recast Anna Maxwell Martin was completely unrelated to the fact that her character is now Jon Hamm's love interest - it's been four years, there might have been availability issues. But it's hard not to notice that Shelley Conn's styling as Beelzebub veers more towards Sexy Goth than Martin's Grotesque Bug Person. If you must have a straight relationship in this show, why not make it kind of weird?)

[dem0nguy]

I love writing this stuff too much ya’ll.

Anyways here’s the second part <3

(Part one if you missed it :3)

This, is truly where things start to go downhill. Genuinely it doesn’t get any better from here. I sometimes catch myself wondering what a normal teenage experience would be like. Not one that involves supernatural paraphernalia…

I wrote this entry in two parts. One, I believe on my way to school. The second sometime after. I guess it doesn’t matter too much, when I wrote them. But, the more you know, the better.

9/23/19 - Part 1

Ok so, I’m honestly not entirely sure how to start this off. But today was, scary? Odd? Supernatural? I don’t know. To this day, it’s a difficult topic to explain.

I woke up to my alarm; excitement and anxiety buzzing in my chest. It was finally the first day of middle school. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted this day to be over as soon as possible, or start as quickly as possible.

So I got up, then nearly fell back down again. I felt a strange weight on my head and back, as if someone had strapped bricks to me in my sleep. Must be the anxiety. I thought, because really, what else could it be? Hell (literally) if I know.

So sluggishly, I walked to my bathroom. (me and my twin share it, his bedroom is connected through a door on the opposite side.) Opening my door I caught a glimpse of my reflection. Subsequently, I do a double take.

I thought I was dreaming, because I mean, who just wakes up with demon horns, wings, and a tail?? Not any normal person… probably. Unfortunately, we’re not very normal.

I must’ve stood there for a while, confused, panicking. My constant internal monologue was, “this has to be a dream, this has to be a dream, this has to be—“

“Adammm!” Conner called, knocking frantically. “Something is very, very wrong!”

I open the door for him, we both startle.

My brother, blonde haired, brown eyed. Had a halo, angel wings, and a demon tail? I guess it wasn’t really my place to find that specific detail odd, all of this was odd.

“Adam,” his voice became hushed, “are we both having a freaky dream together or is this real?”

I hesitate, “I don’t know… I don’t think we’re dreaming?”

“Then what the hell is going on??”

I shrugged, I mean, how do you even respond to this situation? What do we do? That’s a good question past me…

“Something must have caused this,” I start, “So if we find that maybe we find answers?”

“Right, but WHAT IN THE WORLD COULD’VE CAUSED THIS” He whisper-yells.

“I don’t know!!” I whisper-yell in return. It could’ve been anything really. Maybe we were cursed in our sleep? Maybe we actually were dreaming. Maybe it was—

“The necklaces…” I mumble, barely audible.

“What?” Conner asks.

From my pocket, I pull out the necklace. Instead of the red and blue swirl it had initially, it was gray. And dull. I’d kept it on me for good luck, like my Uncle Sam suggested. But apparently, it did the opposite. Still haven’t forgiven him for that.

Conner, wide eyed, runs back into his room. Holding up the necklace lying on his nightstand, the same gray dull color as mine.

He stares at the necklace with irritation, before throwing it on the ground. “I knew it! I knew there was something up with these things! I have no idea what our Uncle was planning, but it was clearly something!!”

“Maybe he didn’t know this would happen—“

“How can you really say that Adam, we both know how suspicious he was acting.”

I couldn’t argue with him, it made sense. But I didn’t want to believe Uncle Sam would purposefully do this. Sure he was a little suspicious at times, and not the most friendly. But that doesn’t mean he did something like this! Oh Angels I was so fucking naïve…

“Listen, whether he did this intentionally or not he probably has answers.” Conner says, as if he read my mind. “So let’s go find him.”

I slowly nodded, “Ok, yeah. But is he even still here?”

Conner scoffs, as if I should know the answer to that. “Of course he’s still here, do you really think Dad would let him leave this early?”

I hesitate, “No, I guess not…”

“Great let’s go.” Conner grabs my arm, dragging me towards the door.

“Conner! Wait—“ I jerk my arm free from his grasp, “What if someone sees us?”

Conner rolls his eyes, “Adam, it’s early in the morning, who would see us?”

Before I can respond Conner grabs my arm again, “Exactly, let’s go.”

He managed to drag me out the door. It was dark in the hallway, so even if someone had been there, they wouldn’t have seen us. So I guess Conner was right…

We hastily made our way to the guest room, where Uncle Sam was staying. Conner threw open the door, slamming it behind him. Our Uncle jolts awake.

“What… who’s in here?” He mumbles, before turning on the lamp beside his bed. He squints at us for a moment, before putting on his glasses. “Oh, you two.”

“What did you do to us?!” Conner shouts, too loudly for how early it was.

“Calm down kiddo.” Uncle Sam hops off his bed, cracking his back. “It wasn’t entirely my fault.”

Oh, so this was intentional. What’s that… three points for Conner?

“Change us back!!” Conner shouts again, stomping up to Uncle Sam in a poor attempt to intimidate him.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. But,” he picks up two black bracelets from his nightstand. “These should help you for now.” He holds them out to Conner, who scoffs.

“I don’t trust you.”

Uncle Sam shrugs, “If you’d rather go out looking how you do, I won’t stop you. It isn’t my job to look after you.”

Me and Conner share a glance, one of concern. But it seems we agree on the same thing, as Conner speaks, “Never mind, give us the bracelets.”

Our Uncle hands them over. Conner walks back to me, handing me one. I study the bracelet for a moment, it’s black, and uneven. It looks as though it’s made of a kind of rock, like obsidian. I slide the bracelet over my wrist, on my end, it doesn’t feel like anything happened. But Conner looks at me with surprise.

“Adam, you’re… normal again?”

I raised an eyebrow, but as he slid the bracelet over his wrist, I realized what he was saying. The bracelets, some way or another, hid our supernatural appearances.

“Just keep the bracelets on and you’ll be fine.” Uncle Sam says, sitting back on his bed. “Now get out, please.”

“Aren’t you gonna give us answers?” I get the courage to ask.

Uncle Sam chuckles, “Nope, again, not my job.”

“You can’t just leave us with this! We need answers.” Conner backs me up. (I will forever be grateful for my twin.) Spoiler, forever didn’t last very long.

“I can just leave you with this, actually.”

Conner huffs, becoming visibly annoyed.

“But I can point you in the right direction.” Our Uncle continues, “Mr. G, you know him. Family friend?”

Me and Conner both nod.

“Yeah, he works at West-East Middle. You might even have him as your teacher. Go ask him about it. He’ll give you answers.”

“You sure?” I ask hesitantly. I didn’t interact with Mr. G often, but he came over for holidays and dinner. Uncle Sam seemed to have an aversion to him. But he seemed like a nice person otherwise.

“Yeah, now leave.”

I think me and my brother both realized we weren’t getting any more out of him. So we did as he said and left the room.

Boy, was today going to be interesting…

(Next part :3)