tulpacest

[tulpacest]

Perspective

A short fic exploring Korekiyo & Sister’s relationship towards the end of her life.  My writing is a little rusty, but I am so glad that I am able to do something for these two again. AO3 cross-post: here 

Any feedback is much appreciated! Thank you for so much for reading! 

The night air hummed sweetly with the sound of crickets chirping. A hazy white-noise that awoke the evening, the swift vibrating of their wings marking the cusp of summer. It would not be long until they would have to slide the doors that opened onto the engawa veranda shut, when the honeyed heat slowly melted away into autumnal frost. A chill already hung in the air, one that pricked goosebumps on her skin. He wondered if he should have already shut the door, but to deprive her of that beautiful vista… to deprive her of the moon and the stars that overlooked her at night… he could not bring himself to do it. And so the hum of crickets continued to fill her room, and so too did the slightly smoky scent of sweet osmanthus. “Sister… Did you know?”

She did not respond. That was alright - after all, she could not. Not while a machine pumped rhythmically into her lungs. Not while she remained artificially sedated. Not while her mouth lay open, red and angry and raw. It was alright.

She was resting so that she could heal. “The singing of crickets in Brazil is said to be a sign of impending rains.” ‘Ah! Korekiyo, and why do you think that is?’ “Perhaps when the conditions are most suited for the crickets to mate and die is just prior to the rainy season.” ‘Hm-hm ~, the mating song does sound a little like the pitter-patter of rain, do you agree?’ “I would never have considered that, but of course! Yes… to examine every angle of a symbol, environmental, textural, sensual… Only then do we have a chance of finding the truth.” Her mouth stayed open, her endotracheal tube sitting pertly between her teeth. The only noise she made was a faint gargling sound. Could the tube have been fitted improperly? Or was it her body’s natural reaction, them muscles in her throat tightening and relaxing against this foreign invasion. He brushed her lips with his finger, leaning forwards as he examined her mouth, hair falling over her chest. ‘Do you think we can ever find the truth? Even with all our thick descriptions, our deep thoughts, our probing questions… most things will be forever shrouded in the mists of the unknown. Does that frustrate you, Korekiyo?’

“Not at all, Sister. I think… that is what makes it so fun.”   Her throat looked so dry… Salvia weakly bubbled, yellow-green mucus forming around the edges of her mouth. Does it hurt? No, he chides himself. She’s dreaming, in a world of ecstasy. Nothing can hurt her in there. Nothing. “To be unable to understand everything, to frustrate ourselves with even the simplest of things; such as why a Brazilian hears a cricket and thinks rain but a pilgrim in Kyoto hears the voice of Buddha… The infinite possibilities one humble insect possesses over the human mind. That is what I find so intriguing.” Standing, he quickly searched the room, returning after a brief moment with a bag of toiletries. It would be some time, now, before a nurse would visit. But, she needn’t worry. This was no chore to him. To help her, in any small way, that was his honour. Kneeling into the tatami, the sound of crickets still thrumming in his ear, he gently dipped a cotton bud into her throat. “In parts of China, they believed that the cricket would bring good fortune. In Barbados, they say the same thing. Fourteen thousand kilometres between those distant shores - and yet, still, the whirring of an insect’s wings inspired the same thought in them.” Carefully swabbing away her mucus, he continued to stare deep into her throat. The ridges of her mouth. Her flaccid tongue. Her teeth… they would need brushing, too. And her hair… her whole body, really, was begging for attention. He put down the swab. First, he would change her catheter bag.

To do that, she would have to be undressed. Gently running his hands over her hair, he gazed quietly at her face. Her expressionless sleep. Her folded eyes. “Sister. Please, you desire the feeling of cleanliness, yes?” She always seemed her happiest after a bath, cheeks a sensational red, her smile full and genuine. Come feel my skin. It’s so soft. Laughing as she squeezed her own arm. It feels like I’ve gained weight. I’ll have to bathe before they weigh me, next time. What do you think?

“I am sorry. I will have to undress you. Is that alright?”

Her mouth tightening, a red smile blossoming. She’d lift up her bathrobe - sudden and unexpectedly, the laughter reaching its peak. Anasyrma. A softening of her expression as she swayed side to side, her lewdness still exposed. It is a ritual gesture recognised in cultures all across the world. Pliny the Elder thought a woman could lull the storm out of the sea with this gesture alone, the Chinese and Irish both marvelling in its ability to ward off enemies. It can chase off demons, scare the gods, end the rains. Are you scared of it, Korekiyo? He began to undo the ties of the hospital gown around her neck, untucking the robe from her sides,  pulling it from her body like wind rippling over sand. Her chest stared up at him, breasts limp and her stretched brown nipples arousing absolutely nothing in him. Her body was speckled with familiar markings - her scars that cleaved her like white kintsugi rivulets, her freckled hips, the mole just by her stomach. It was still her body, but… how different it looked. Swallowing air, veins flush to the surface, new sores forming. She was still laughing, completely disrobed now. Deep summer, the veranda still in full view. No one will notice, she insisted - and besides, the moon illuminated her body in a way that was far too flattering to dismiss. How alive she had looked, then. Drinking in the light, her breasts kissed by that white-blue air that seemed to soften everything. Are you frightened, Korekiyo? Or do you think this gesture represents something else entirely? She’d opened her legs, her mouth brighter than her eyes. To me, I think, it evokes surprise and laughter. To me, I think that it can be used for emotional healing.

He spread her legs so that he might access her catheter more easily. Standing, he went to wash his hands. Returning, he carefully removed the catheter tubing that connected to the bag. He re-connected the tubing to another bag. The soiled bag was taken to the bathroom. He opened the valve and let the contents drain into the toilet. He repeated the washing of his hands. He filled the bag with warm, soapy water. He drained it of soap. He refilled it with a disinfectant. Shaking the solution, he placed the bag on the bathroom counter - leaving it to rest. He washed his hands again.

To me, I think it represents letting go of sadness.

Filling a basin, he returned to her side. With a washcloth, he softly wiped away the sweat and oils that had come to her skin’s surface. She remained motionless as he scrubbed under her armpit, lifting her breast so that he might clean beneath it, watching as soap bubbles gathered between her ribs and in the depression where her stomach lay and her hips jutted from. She was so thin, but not as thin, he reminded himself, as last year. “You’ve not been eating. I have observed it, the way you slip food from your plate. Mother may not be able to see it, but I do.” Her face had soured, then. Her cheeks sucked in, her teeth rubbing against her lips. She hadn’t said anything, but he knew it was because she had lost the ability to taste. How all foods must have been reduced to textures, like chewing through bark. Perhaps it was ritualistic fasting, but they both knew there was no curative powers to that.

“So, allow me to eat for you.” With a dry washcloth, he dabbed all of the places the water had flowed over. It was not the same ritual, he knew, that she used to take. All of her lotions and oils and pretty-smelling things. Mother complained if he applied them, because then, of course, she’d know he had been doing this. Then she’d be reminded of her negligence. Failing to love unselfishly must be a torturous thing.

And she had watched, with disbelieving eyes - as he scraped the hospital food from her plate. Slipped the overcooked noodles into his mouth, cold and flavourless - and instead, described to her their exquisite ecstasy. No longer was it noodles he was eating, but living Unagi. “Ah, this eel! How excellently she has been prepared Split from the stomach, Osakan style, encouraging one to literally ‘spill their guts’ during a night of socialising. The way she still writhes in my mouth, tickling my gums, bringing sensations to places I nary knew existed - isn’t it wonderful? Should I swallow her whole, Sister - or do you think she deserves mercy for this sacrifice?”   This sight, of a noodle transformed into an eel - a strand still hanging through the zip of the meal-time mask she had made… It made her laugh. The shock of the question, the horror and beauty and ecstasy that he was describing - it made her laugh even harder. The idea that this hospital would serve a delicacy like live unagi! She had taken his chopsticks then, brought the eel to her own mouth - quivered as it slipped between her lips. Let’s study how both methods affect the culinary experience. Crunch her between your teeth, savour her flavouring, relax in knowing that you have delivered a sweet mercy. But I will swallow her, and I will delight in her agony as she travels through my digestive system, and I will remember how she did not give up trying to escape until the very last moment.

And it didn’t matter, then, that the lack of taste made her throat clamp up. That noodle, transformed, the memories of grilled eel with rice and pickles, the realisation that she could not give in because of this - not yet, no. Not yet. She had to keep eating, she had to keep dreaming, she had to - because this laughter, those gentle eyes, this moment alone was worth any pain. And now, she doesn’t feel pain at all - do you, Sister? Isn’t it beautiful? She was dry, now. His fingers slipping through her hair as he combed it. He would wash it later. Clip her nails. Give her a massage. Speak to her until Mother came back from wherever she was, wherever it was that she went every night instead of being here with her.

“But, Sister. Did you know? Crickets do not only symbolise positive things. Human beings as fickle things. No matter how hard social structures try, there will always be those who see one thing and think another. Yes. The cricket,” he breathed, “Is said to have been the first being who wished death into the world.” “In Alagoas, it is said that the cricket announces death when it enters the house.” Carefully combing out a tangle, he stared out into the veranda. Golden light pierced the sky, pink clouds on a background of stripped blue. The sound of crickets still drowned out everything, louder than her ventilator, far louder than his whispered voice, louder still than the sweeping of the brush through her hair.

‘I wonder,’ He said to himself in a falsetto, knowing that if he could eat for her, he may as well speak for her, too. ‘I wonder which it will be for us. A harbinger of good fortune, the crackling laughter of god, or a messenger of death?’

Placing her comb beside the futon - he leaned across her body, resting his head on her shoulder.

‘Don’t cry.’

Don’t cry, she’d croaked, leaning limply on him, golden eyes barely open. There’s no time for weeping. You have to be strong. If you cry, I will cry. And that would be a rotten thing, wouldn’t it?

‘Don’t cry,’ she repeated, now, in his voice. He remembered her embrace, how easily she once squeezed resolve, joy, warmth into him. Lifting one of her heavy, lifeless arms, he drew it over his back. The other, he draped across his waist.

Held like this, in the cusp of summer, her voice a pleasant memory leaking from his lips - he felt…

Wonderful.

Their two bodies entwined like this, the flickering of life in her like a candle easing in and out of the wind. Is it frightening? Is it deserving of mercy? Is it representative of the letting go of sadness, or is it wishing death into the world?

Are we all of these things? Are we any of them?

[tulpacest]

Also! As part of this whole-getting-over-my-shame thing - my moniker is Shamu! You can find my AO3 here , if you’re interested. I enjoyed being Keiko for a while, but Shamu is what I’m known as most places, so please call me that from now on ~! 

[tulpacest]

Right lads - hello!

I just wanted to say... I’ve been having a lot of thoughts about life and Korekiyo and myself, and I want to express that... I’m tired of hiding who I am and what I enjoy exploring in this character and in my writing in general.  Many things have give me pause for reflection - meeting a good friend who I truly felt I could be myself around and not feel any shame, thinking about why I feel so much shame in the first place and the toxic circumstances those roots grew from, and finally getting a full-time Adult® job that revealed to me that my hobbies and other people’s opinions should not ware away the essence of who I am (they’re not the ones who pay my bills).

 Anyway, I want to come back to this blog, and I want to come back to it soon. I am still going through a bit of a settling in period with work + scheduling, but Korekiyo is so important to me. I still read anthropology books on my commute and I think of his delightful worldview that seems to wrap everything in gold. He’s such a unique wee lad and... I miss writing him constantly.   

 But, if/when I do come back - please understand that I will be doing this for myself, and that means I/Korekiyo will be frankly discussing topics that some may find uncomfortable. I do not want to hurt anyone, of course, but I can no longer go on hurting myself.    In essence, if you find depictions/discussions of Korekiyo/Sister repellent, repugnant or revulsive, I would advise unfollowing me. I do not want to sugar coat this part of Korekiyo’s character (though I will be tagging it), and I find it essential in understanding just what makes him so interesting to me. 

 I do not want to romanticise (though Korekiyo himself most likely will), but I also do not want to over-exaggerate how terrible it was - because there was a lot of terrible things going on in their lives outside of their taboo relationship. There are many, many different lens to view it from - and I do not believe their relationship can be viewed in a black & white manner as the fandom is so want to do, particularly after she is dead and particularly as ‘she’ exists on only as a coping mechanism within himself. I am not claiming their relationship was in any way healthy, but I will be discussing it (in a non-fetishistic manner) nonetheless.  

 Anyway, I have danced around this issue for sometime now (which may sound absurd given my url), but I wanted to just. Put this on the table. 

  Thank you for understanding  - or not! 

[tulpacest]

Very important reminder.

[tulpacest]

“My hair used to be so long, I imagined it was a rope. In dreams I dangled from towers of salt, rising from the sea. Black horses sang to me. God’s favorite girl, dirt and honey, held together with string.”

— Nicola Maye Goldberg, “La Salpêtrière” (via giardinonymphe)

[tulpacest]

// It’s Korekiyo’s birthday tomorrow and I’m so excited holllly shiittttt // 

[tulpacest]

Cognitive Function Test

Introverted Feeling

Your mental life is to a great extent concerned with individual values and living a life in harmony with the inner life of feeling. You are at your best with individual, creative work (such as art, literature, science, or psychology) where you can follow your personal values unhindered by the prejudices and constrictions that others may attempt to set before them. You have deep-seated inner feelings, yet only rarely do you express these directly, often masking your tenderness behind a facade of reserve and repose. You maintain an independence from the judgments of others, remaining faithful and loyal to your own inner dictates, rather than to obligations that others may attempt to force upon you from the outside. As a person you are idealistic, dreamy, sincere, and deeply in touch with your own values. However, you may also have trouble bottom-lining and taking stock of the sometimes ugly realities of the world. Your most likely Jungian type is INFP or ISFP.

Tagged By: @missinnocentscarlet , thank you!! I find Korekiyo being introverted feeling and Scarlet being introverted thinking a really interesting comparison - because they certainly agree in a lot of respects but still have these fundamental differences, and I think comparing these two quiz results really highlight both of those things! 

Tagging: @pressmyluck & anyone else who wants to! ! This was a very interesting quiz imo and really made me pause for thought at some points, so if you enjoy that kind of thing, go for it! 

[tulpacest]

    Do you like boys who are passionate about their hobbies? What about boys who stay up all night hunting ghosts & cryptids? A boy who’s clumsy and awkward but trying his best? Then you might enjoy this boy right here - a talentswapped PARANORMAL INVESTIGATOR ! MAKOTO NAEGI from the DANGANRONPA series! 

    Just give this promo Advertisement post a quick LIKE or REBLOG if you’re interested in interacting and I’ll check ya out!! Thanks for coming to my TED talk!! Written by KAE   (who just took this blog off semi-hiatus!)

[tulpacest]

☯ | Plotting/Starter call

Please like or reply to this post if you would like a starter with Korekiyo Shinguuji (or Sister, just specify). Feel free to ask for any of my verses, throw up AU ideas or just go ahead and leave everything up to me. If you are a multimuse blog, I’d appreciate it if you replied with the muse you’d like to write with!  Don’t be shy in what you ask for - I’m willing and interested in plotting practically anything at this point, hit me up with your ships or your bizarrest (or most mundane) fantasies - I’m here for it!   Thanks for reading! 

[tulpacest]

CLASSICAL ALIGNMENT TEST.

True Neutral 

You put your own beliefs above all else, and they are not evil. In fact, your beliefs might be better than so called "good" beliefs. After all, what is good? Your answer to that is that it is a moral bias, and that being good depends on who is the judge. If you are working for another, it is because you felt like it or because they are paying you and are not insanely zealous.

Tagged by: no-one! I stole it...   Tagging: Anyone who hasn’t done this yet! :D 

[tulpacest]

Hi everyone! So I know I’ve been on hiatus for like a million-billion years but! I’m back! Well. Almost.  Before I want to jump into things again, I want to announce that I’m going to go ahead and drop all the threads I currently have. I feel most comfortable with a fresh start, and going back and trying to pick up muse for old threads is going to be a wibbily-wobbly process. However! If anyone is particularly attached to a thread (I can think of a couple...) I would not mind in the slightest if you messaged me and we talked about picking it up again! I may renege on this and message some people myself, especially now that I’m writing this and I feel kind of bad, haha!! Soon enough, I’ll start another plotting/starter call and we can get something else going. I feel! Reinvigorated! Excited! Refreshed! And I have a much clearer idea in my head about what makes me happy about writing Korekiyo, and in knowing that, I feel like I can (hopefully...) be more productive in writing him   During my hiatus, I had to think hard about whether I wanted to quit or not. This made me feel really bad, and it made me realise how important running this blog is - independent from anyone else, and born from my own passion. It made me realise that this is absolutely something I want to do, and tbh have been neglecting. I know this is just a silly little thing on the internet dedicated to a ridiculous character from a ridiculous game, but I truly enjoy the connections I’ve been able to forge here - and I’m looking forwards to reconnecting with you all, too!  Anyway! This is long enough. I’m going to give a further update soon on changes to my portrayal of Korekiyo, which I hope won’t prove to be too controversial. To give a very quick overview: I’ve been thinking a lot about what it is I enjoy about writing this skelly lad, and tbh it’s... nothing to do with the serial killing. Anyone who has gotten to know me knows that I feel that twist was a disservice to the value I perceive in his character, and I have finally decided to take the plunge and go canon-divergent in this regard. It’s just not fun for me to have to consider that aspect of his character when it doesn’t vibe with... everything else I enjoy about him! I’ll explain my reasoning further in another post for anyone who happens to be curious - but I will say I am happy to RP this aspect of him in specific AUs or on request, just that it won’t be my default.  Thank you all for being patient with me! Thank you for still being interested in my portrayal/analysis/writing - I’m looking forwards to chatting with all of you again soon. For now, I hope you have a great night! 

[tulpacest]

“Thinking like an anthropologist is a great way to question your taken-for-granted assumptions. We all have ‘common sense,’ of course, but what anthropology teaches you is how varied this can be, in different places and times. Anthropology is about 'the other,’ but it’s also about 'the self.’”

[tulpacest]

Don’t ask.

[tulpacest]

Do you ever doodle while in a call?

[tulpacest]

                                                AKANAME

 It means “ filth licker” and it’s a sort of small goblin creatures which inhabits the dirtiest homes and public toilets and bathrooms. They have a mop of slimy hair on the tops of their heads and a greasy skin. Their most peculiar feature is they have a long tongue. They use it to lap up the slime and grease and dirt found in bath houses or behind toilets. They appear when the owner of a house doesn’t keep the house clean. They hate the sunlight and they are known to spread disease. Toriyama Sekien was the first one to talk about this creature in his work “ Gazu Hyakki Yagyō”.

Source:  Matthew Meyer -  The Night Parade of One Hundred Demons: A Field Guide to Japanese Yokai

Image:  Utagawa Yoshikazu - Sokokuradani no Akaname (Akaname of the Deep Dark Valley) from the Hyakushu Kaibutsu Yōkai Sugoroku 

[tulpacest]

[tulpacest]

Kukeri is a traditional Bulgarian ritual to scare away evil spirits, with costumed men performing the ritual. The costumes cover most of the body and include decorated wooden masks of animals (sometimes double-faced) and large bells attached to the belt. Around New Years and before Lent, the kukeri walk and dance through the village to scare evil spirits away with the costumes and the sound of the bells, as well as to provide a good harvest, health, and happiness to the village during the year.