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chocoenvy · 2 years

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Happy Birthday to you...

Sagau!Diluc x Reader

what if reader and an acolyte shared a birthday?

10000% self indulgent. I've had the thought of sharing a birthday with an acolyte for a hot minute now due to the fact that Diluc and I share a birthday. And now that our birthday has finally come around I decided to write about it! Happy birthday Diluc and to anyone else out there that shares our birthday!!!!!

Warnings: Cult behaviors, fluffy, Diluc isn't exactly fond of reader but doesn't hate them either

The festival left a bitter taste in his mouth. It had ever since he was a kid. Sugary snacks and the creator's favorite cakes out on display did nothing to him, in fact it merely made him scrunch his nose in distaste.

It was the same thought every year, nobody cared to celebrate his birthday because of you. Because the all-creator was born this day. It should be an honor to be blessed with creation, to be so closely intertwined and favored by the creator to share a birthday with them. He was chosen is what everybody would tell him.

Except this day was never his special day. Not like he needed it anymore, birthdays stopped having meaning when he was quite young, however he still had bitter memories of it from when he was young.

His eyes caught onto kids blowing dandelions, making birthday wishes to the All-Creator. His maroon eyes held distaste, briskly walking back into his house. He was seen around the festival, he bought a little cake for himself, and now he could say he did the bare minimum. He could go home now without Kaeya and whoever else on his back about worshipping the creator.

Before he even realized it, he sat at his desk in Dawn Winery. With a quill in his dominant hand, he hesitated for a moment before beginning to write a letter to the traveler - your first vessel - as it had become customary.

The letter had derailed quickly, filling up the entire page in slightly messy handwriting. Honestly, the whole thing was unbecoming of him. Being so affected by this and then writing his feelings out in a letter. It all felt so... wrong. With a grim glare, he held the letter he had wrote, and it erupted into flames.

Midnight struck and in your cozy home, you smiled as your device showed the date April 30th. A message popped up at the top of your screen, and you immediately knew what it was.

You eagerly went to see the letter sent by Diluc but was shocked to see how long it was.

With furrowed brows and eagerness in your stomach, you started reading:

Dear Traveler,

Today is not only my birthday, but yours as well. I have no doubt it is a joyous day considering all you have done for Teyvat. However... today is also the day the All-Creator blessed the Earth. The day their human vessel took form for the first time. It's a common legend, perhaps you've heard of it?

Well, either way, festivals are held on this day. Grand and full of splendor and things the All-Creator adores. I've always been seen as blessed to share this day with them but... it doesn't feel like I'm sharing. Ever since I was a child they overshadowed my birthday, and then so much happened as a kid. It made me ponder, if there was truly a merciful god, why would they allow such things to happen? If there were such thing as a god, why would they not grace us with their presence? Why not celebrate their birthday with us? Why not allow me to have this day as well?

Perhaps my ramblings sound like that of a madman, and perhaps they are. I doubt you could understand my plight as the hero of Teyvat. I'm sure everyone celebrates your existence no matter the circumstances.

Perhaps if my father were still around he would celebrate with me. Perhaps if I had done things differently.

It's all in the past now. This day is no longer my joyous day, but even still, I hope you have a good day. May all your wishes come true. If you wish to celebrate with me, I'll be at Dawn WInery as usual. I can get you some sparkling grape juice and we can have a meal we'd both enjoy for our birthday. If you so wish though it's fine if you don't show up. I've sent along a special ticket for Dawn Winery. Just give it to anyone at the Winery and they'll give you the food and gift I've prepared. Even if you don't want it, I merely ask you make use of it. Give it away or hold onto it if you so wish.

May your birthday be one to remember until our next.

Sincerely, Diluc.

For a moment, you merely stared at the screen, your jaw slack from shock. What the hell was his man going on about?

Lore-wise, had Kaeya managed to get him drunk on his birthday? Was that Hoyoverse's explanation for the bullshit he was spewing. But even then, none of this had been explained before hand. Who was this All-Creator? Why was Diluc acting so odd in the letter?

What was happening?

You mulled the thoughts over in your head as you pulled up the character screen, staring at Diluc. Whether he was important to your or not was irrelevant at the moment, he was your birthday buddy and he had just sent you a very odd letter. Did Hoyoverse put in the effort to have exclusive letters for if you and another character shared a birthday? Surely not. They can barely give you some scraps of food for their birthdays, much less exclusive gifts and letters.

Then you remembered the gift Diluc had mentioned. You checked your backpack for it and, sure enough, there was a special ticket.

"Dawn Winery VIP Ticket." You muttered, "A gift from Diluc on his and yours birthday. Turn it in at Dawn Winery and maybe you'll get something special. Diluc mentioned a meal and a gift in his letter."

You hummed, your brows furrowed, staring intently at the screen. As though if you scrunched up your nose and stared suspiciously at the ticket for long enough it'd give you the answers you were looking for.

After a minute of this, you roughly sighed and shrugged, exiting out of the backpack and going to your party set up. It was Diluc's birthday, so you might as well go to Dawn Winery with him.

A chuckle bubbled up in the back of your throat at the thought of Hoyoverse actually implementing a birthday activity with one of the characters. Now that was wishful thinking. But still, you could pretend. Plus, at the very least, maybe the ticket could get you some cool item or recipe.

So, with Diluc as the leader of your party, you made your way to Dawn Winery.

He felt your presence within him, urging him to run run run to the winery. Jumping down cliffs with agility and speed he never knew a mortal such as him could posses until your hand graced him.

It's the same thing each and every acolyte experiences. But he was surprised to see you so eagerly posses his body and use him to sprint as fast as possible to the winery. Were you really that excited to see what he had prepared? He didn't think you'd even care. You had never cared all of his other birthdays, where he had to celebrate alone. Where you overshadowed any and all birthday wishes he could have ever received.

So why now were you so interested in his little gift? Was it selfishness? Curiosity? Surely such a noble and supreme god such as yourself couldn't care for such trivial mortal matters. That's why all of he others whom had sent letters with offers to spend their precious time with you never got anything. You'd never shown up, too busy with godly duties or whatever their excuse was to save face. It had become standard practice by now to offer it up and for you to not show up.

So why now? Why his birthday were you rushing to turn in the ticket, with him as well?

Self-centeredness perhaps? The fact that it was your birthday and perhaps that's why you're rushing to celebrate his birthday. Nothing else mattered unless it's centered around you. At least that's the conclusion he came to. It's the only one that made sense to him.

You made it to the Winery with a pep in your step. It was then that you realized that there wasn't a specific person you were told to hand it to.

You roughly sighed, realizing that it was indeed another null note that meant nothing.

"Curse you Hoyoverse." You frowned, comically shaking your fist.

You shrugged and headed in anyways. Might as well pay a visit it Elzer and the ugly ass model the poor man got cursed with, and also a teeny tiny part of you was just a tad hopeful.

You cringed back when you saw his model, remembering how the manga had depicted him and now... he just had an ugly npc model.

You clicked on the speak option and the screen went black.

"Hello there your grace!" Text popped up where it usually would, under the name of Elzer, "Is there something you'd like to give me perhaps...?" He trailed off as though he already knew why you had came here, and your inventory popped up.

For a minute, you sat there in stunned silence. Staring at the black screen, your backpack, and then the words. Your grace. He'd said.

For a moment, fear struck your heart. Then realization hit you, "Oh!" You laughed it off, "Right, Elzer calls Diluc his grace." You shook your head at how you'd freaked out. The black screen was probably another glitch.

Still, it was a bit odd that he was referring to Diluc in particular. What if you had been a different character? What if you didn't even have Diluc?

"Hoyoverse? Putting effort into their game? Aha-" You chuckled, shaking your head and clicking on the only lit up item in your inventory. The ticket from Diluc's letter.

"Ah! The ticket from the master!" Elzer said, "Thank you for this, I'm sure the master will be delighted. Please, come this way, your grace."

Something was off... was Elzer... speaking directly to you? He was mentioning Diluc so that meant he wasn't talking to him... why was he calling you your grace?

Your head spun, the loading screen popped up and your body went slack. The only thing you could hear was the Dawn Winery music and then slowly... the smell of alcohol.

#the first thing reader does when they get to teyvat is put diluc's hair in a high ponytail #sagau #genshin self aware #genshin cult au #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin #genshin sagau #diluc #diluc x reader #happy birthday diluc!!!!!!!!!!!!#surprisingly i did not lose the 50/50 to him #i lost it to keking....#well either way im still waiting for jean to come home #i have klee AND albedo miss ma'am pls come home the kids miss you :(#lowkey tempted to make a part two to this though... just a tad...#okay i want to make a part two just so i can include diluc singing happy birthday to the reader woopsies

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chnets · 4 months

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A hidden despair (Richard Papen fic)

This story is inspired by chapter 3 of the secret history, which is one of my favourites of the entire book.

I just want to give a little warning before this begins that there are multiple mentions of suicide in this story. So if that might upset you keep scrolling

(Word count: 1126)

I felt as if I was fading away, like a plastic bag discarded on the ground, no longer serving any purpose other than floating aimlessly; the wind carrying it so far away it is forgotten about entirely. Any notice of its existence is minute and uncaring.

I was being carried away by this wind myself. With each passing moment the hurricane enveloping me would grow in size, massive gusts of wind causing any recollection of any memory that ever brought me joy to vanish; and it was as if this perpetual misery is the only feeling I have ever known or ever will know.

The sun began to set at around four o’clock, so in the weeks leading up to Christmas I spent the majority of my time in darkness as I would wake up at the crack of dawn to walk to Dr Roland’s office and I would lock myself away like a recluse and work until dusk. On my exhausting and desolate walks to Hampden each day, I couldn’t help but reminisce over the peacefulness of Autumn; and how I would go about my days without this staggering amount of unhappiness clouding my mind.

Previously my life had been quite miserable. Miserable but bearable. Recently it had transitioned from disconsolable to utterly unbearable. I began to frequently fantasize about my death. At first they were quite distressing thoughts and would be rather upsetting. But soon they became my sole source of comfort on freezing nights in the warehouse, as depressing as that might sound.

As the weeks progressed and the temperature steadily dropped, the idea of throwing myself off the footbridge overlooking the river that I walked across on my way to work became increasingly more appealing. It was quite a thrilling thought to know I wouldn’t have to endure the rest of Winter and my mind would quiet; I would be still and silent until I was found in the Spring.

I thought about my friends, who were enjoying spending this Christmas in a warmer climate, likely not giving me much of a passing thought, and wondered if they would even acknowledge my absence when they returned to school; or if they would miss me at all when they found out what had happened to me. I tried to guess how long it would take for the people in my life to get over my death and return to their normal lives, to stop dwelling on the things they could have done differently and accept that I’m gone, if they would do that at all. The only remaining proof to passers-by that I ever lived at all being my name scrawled on a piece of stone; the person I once was and the life I lived long discarded in my half-hearted eulogy.

I decided that evening, sitting in Dr Roland’s office, that I would write a few letters to my friends. They were more letters of confession than apology. I ended up writing much more to Henry than I previously thought I’d be able to; and it made me think more about my relationship with him. Although the amount of words we exchanged were minimal, I always felt comfortable in his presence. Would Henry miss me?

I remember at the end of one of my last classes with Julian before Winter break, he told me that Henry is a much more emotionally complex person than he allows others to see. Thinking about this made me realize our friendship wasn’t one sided at all, Henry just found it terrifically difficult to let people see him in any other light than a cold-hearted and stoic individual who spoke infrequently.

This discovery made me think about the implications of my plan in a greater depth, and if it was worth all the trouble. The warmth of the office seemed to permeate through the solid ice my body seemed to have become; and the ice melted for a moment. That feeling was enough for me to second guess myself, until I looked out the window and was reminded of the harsh cold that had sunk deep into my bones, fixating me in this endless winter and subsequent incessant melancholy. This presentiment caused my heart to sink to my feet at the reminder of the merciless January wind awaiting me, and the fact that I wasn’t sure I could bear another night in that warehouse.

As I was packing my books, I sealed the letters and tucked them away in my jacket. I said a goodbye to the office that had treated me so well the last few weeks and locked the door a final time. I replaced my brisk walk for a slow stroll, trying my best to admire the bare trees and the crunch of the snow under me that dampened my socks with each step despite my boots. Tonight being a particularly grim and miserable night did not do much in aiding me find a good reason to wait until morning to call Henry.

I reached the phone box and stepped in, the wind slamming the door against its frame with a jarring crash. I fished in my pockets for quarters and punched in Henry’s number. As I let the line ring, I shuddered as the unrelenting gusts of wind blew in through the gap in the door of the phone box. I leaned against the wall and slumped to the floor, hearing the line ring for what must’ve been the thirtieth time. I looked at my watch under the dim light of the streetlamp and saw it was half past two in the morning. Henry wouldn’t be awake. I went to replace the receiver to begin my walk to the bridge.

‘Hello?’

My eyebrows shot up in equal parts surprise and relief.

‘Hi Henry.’

‘Richard? What’s the matter? Are you okay?’

Tears immediately pricked at my eyes as I heard somebody else’s voice for the first time in five weeks. A greater comfort that it was Henry’s.

‘Sorry for calling so late. I hope I didn’t wake you.’ Was all I could manage.

‘You didn’t.’ He reassured me. ‘What’s happened?’ His tone alone caused an audible sob to wrack my body.

I felt a little bit of that weight being lifted off my shoulders at the sound of his voice. God, I missed him.

‘I need your help.’

‘Stay where you are Richard, I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ He hung up the phone.

And I did what he said. I sat down in that phone box and waited for him. Hearing his concern through the phone put all my other thoughts to rest. I ripped up my letter to him, leaned my head against the cold glass and waited.

#the secret history #richard papen #henry winter #the secret history fanfic #writing #donna tartt

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lumine-no-hikari · 3 months

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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #41

Somehow, today I managed to mostly successfully chill.

Though I had intended to play Terraria with my new friend from Germany, due to the flow of our respective lives in different parts of the world, I played by myself instead. And this was also very good!

I think, more than I realized previously, I needed a bit of time to do things without socializing, anyhow. As much as I love to interact with the people I care about, for me, being around others comes with a vague sort of… heaviness…??? that I don't really know how to articulate. It's not something that others impose upon me; I know that this thing is internal to me; it is leftover from my past, so at this point, the fact that this "heaviness" still exists is no one's fault but mine.

I think it might have to do with the fact that when I'm around others, I put a lot of pressure on myself to exist in ways that are consistent with the other person's needs, wishes, and comfort. Though, whether I can do that well is an entirely different matter altogether; I feel very clumsy in this regard almost all the time, and when I am around other people, I can never really shake the sense that I'm falling short of being good company. I never feel as though I do a very good job of being a person around other people. So although I try really hard to be a safe and comfortable space for others in which they can be nurtured and at ease, I feel like I'm constantly failing at it.

Being by myself doesn't come with the vague dread of "what if I say or do the wrong thing and I end up hurting the other person and then they hate me forever, oh no." But it does often come with the vague guilt of, "maybe I'm being selfish by not trying to be helpful somehow to someone else in this immediate moment." Either way, I'm not quite relaxed no matter what I do, so the only thing I know to do is to switch up my various states of "not-quite-relaxed" once in a while so that my brain doesn't explode or something.

I wonder if any of this sounds at all familiar to you? Are these things that you must struggle with? I know you can't answer me, but still I wonder.

Today I gathered materials and made various quality-of-life changes to the structure of the Underworld biome. Really, I was trying to gather up gems so that I could make stained glass, but my brain would not settle down, and I kept bouncing from one task to the next without actually finishing much of anything. My friend from Germany worked really hard to create a tunnel to the Underworld biome, so I wanted to complement her tunnel with a house made of obsidian, but then I realized that I don't remember the dimensions of the kinds of houses I used to build.

So I looked in old worlds on different computers. I remember having built various themed houses; one was cactus-themed, another was pumpkin-themed, and another was sandstone-themed… I remember that they were all lovely, and I was very pleased with what I had done. But none of the working computers had the world I was looking for. I think it must still be on my laptop that no longer works, but I'm not entirely sure.

In any case, I did find older examples of my general style of building. I'll show you a few pictures; it's mostly shops that I built (an inn, a bar, a tailor and costume shop, a weapons and armor shop…). I'm especially proud of my marble owl coliseum; I'll save that one for last.

Here is a very old build, back before amber was added as a gemstone:

Here is an armor shop (left) and a weapons shop (right).

Here is a make-pretend costume shop:

Here is a make-pretend hospital. You can tell it's a later build because there are bits of orange stained glass, which are made with the amber gemstone:

This is where the general goods merchant is supposed to live. I'm not sure why the dryad is in there... hm. Oh well.

This is where the barkeep lives. I built it to look like a tavern:

This is where the guide lives. I built it to look like an inn.

This is the crafting area, which also leads to the tunnel to the Underworld biome. Yes, it's a very, VERY long way down, and yes, the whole way down is rainbow-colored with this pattern. I'm autistic; one of my superpowers is my unreasonable levels of persistence for repetitive tasks that are absolutely meaningless! Hahaha!!

This is the lower half of the coliseum I built. It's very big. We go there to fight bosses, or to take care of goblin raids, or pirate raids, or Blood Moons, or Solar Eclipses, or...

And finally, here is the upper half. It serves no real practical purpose, but I drew an owl and various other geometric designs with the different kinds of marble walls. Because why not? Parts of it are unfinished, but that's okay.

I think that if I experiment with building something like this again, I might see how having foreground blocks recessed into the background via actuators might look; who knows, it might turn out to be kinda cool!

If I ever find the world with the various themed houses I built, I'll be sure to snap a few pictures so I can show them to you.

I wonder if you'd like Terraria. I wonder what sorts of things you would build in it. It's a shame that we'll likely never get to find out. I feel more than a little sad about this, actually…

Anywhozits… whatever it is that you're doing at the Edge of Creation, please stay safe. Make good choices. Remember that you are loved and cared for, and let that knowledge give you enough courage to remain kind and gentle. Build amazing things. Build yourself up into someone even more wonderful than you are already. If anyone has what it takes, it's you.

I will write again very soon.

Your friend, Lumine

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materassassino · 2 years

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Alpas

Alpas (verb): Tagalog. To become free or break loose.

-------

“It isn’t the done thing.”

“It certainly isn’t,” Luke says.

“Against the Code, it is.”

“I know,” Luke says.

“I’m not sure I approve of this at all.”

“You tell me that a lot,” Luke says.

“Call yourself a Jedi, you should no longer.”

“Probably not,” Luke says.

He hasn’t stopped grinning this entire exchange. He doesn’t appear particularly contrite, despite what his masters say. No, he merely sits there cross-legged, hands clasped in his lap, wearing a smile that carries just a hint of mischief. Both Obi-Wan and Master Yoda look deeply displeased.

“The teachings state–”

It seems that Luke has had enough, because he raises a hand to silence Obi-Wan. “I know what the teachings state,” he says. “You’ve both told me them. Multiple times. Ahsoka has as well. So I think it’s time to tell you that I’m not going to follow them all to the letter, because I honestly think some of them were detrimental to the Order. Furthermore… can either of you truly stop me from calling myself a Jedi?”

Both Obi-Wan and Yoda exchange twin looks of frustration.

“You cannot just call yourself something!” Obi-Wan grumbles, folding his hands into his sleeves.

“Would you rather the Order die out for good?” Luke murmurs.

There is a brief but poignant silence.

Yoda sighs. “Important for balance, the Order is. Do without it, the galaxy cannot.” He looks up at Luke with a deep frown. “Approve of this decision, I also do not.”

“Nothing else will change,” Luke says. “I’m the only Jedi in the galaxy. What difference does it make, truly? Besides, I’m good at multitasking,” he adds, trying for humour.

It works on Obi-Wan, who muffles a snort, earning himself a glower from Yoda.

“And the child?” he asks.

“My padawan and my son,” Luke answers, as if everything is unbearably simple and Obi-Wan and Yoda are utter fools for not considering it.

As if on cue, a head pops around the doorjamb, ears twitching curiously. Luke turns with a smile.

“Grogu, come see your foremasters,” he says, holding out a hand. Grogu wanders over, happily settling in Luke’s lap, peering up at them with enormous eyes. The two old men visibly soften at the sight of him – it’s hard to stay stern in front of Grogu, which makes disciplining him very difficult indeed.

“Hello there, little one,” Obi-Wan says warmly.

Even Yoda smiles fondly. “Remember you from the creche, I do. Smaller, you were, you have grown much.”

Grogu giggles. Masters! he coos in the Force, clapping his hands.

“And what say you to this, hm?” Yoda asks. “Approve of your master’s decision, do you?”

Luke chuckles. “This wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for him.” He strokes one of the child’s oversized ears gently, and Grogu leans into the touch.

“Well, if Grogu says it’s alright…” Obi-Wan says with a wry tilt of the head, to which Luke responds by rolling his eyes.

“It’s not that,” Luke says, and he finally sounds serious. “It’s that… while I acknowledge that they have sometimes blinded me in the past, I won’t forsake the people I love. I spent nineteen years without my sister–” Obi-Wan has the basic decency to look somewhat ashamed, at that. “–I won’t let her go again. Or my nephew, or my friends. Or Grogu and Din. I’m human, I’m sentient, I… feel. I love. I’m not pretending it doesn’t exist.” He allows himself a small huff of amusement, as if it’s all very ironic. “This is the Way.”

Obi-Wan sighs. “It would be cruel now, I suppose, to make you forsake them,” he says. Yoda frowns at him, but Obi-Wan merely shrugs, and the vision of him ripples, looks younger then, less weary. “Would it not be cruel to remove an ad from one of his buire?”

Yoda groans. “Far too sentimental, you are, young Kenobi.”

“No,” Obi-Wan says primly, “that’s Anakin.”

Luke watches them banter with fond exasperation, until he can sense a familiar presence step into the room.

“Meditating?” Din asks.

“No, just entertaining guests,” Luke replies. Grogu squirms and he lets the child go, lets him hurry over to Din, eager to be picked up.

“Oh, well, I can certainly see why you’d marry him…” Obi-Wan mutters, twirling his moustache appraisingly. Yoda whacks him in the knee with his cane as Luke splutters.

“Ben!” he exclaims, face turning red.

Din, helmetless, raises an eyebrow as he settles Grogu in the crook of his elbow. “I’d ask, but the answer would only confuse me,” he says wearily.

“You don’t want to know,” Luke grumbles, getting to his feet and heading over to plant a kiss on his cheek. Grogu waves as the Force flows, and two presences that Din will never know were there take their leave.

#star wars #dinluke #luke skywalker #yoda #obi-wan kenobi #grogu #baby yoda #din djarin #pixie writes #playing fast and loose with the meaning of jedi #obi-wan kenobi is a man who knows a hot mandalorian when he sees one

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multiplicity-positivity · 1 year

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Hey, I think I sent an ask a few days ago about headmates you're afraid of, not sure if it got eaten or you just didn't have enough time / info to respond, but I'm feeling a little more stable now so I'd like to elaborate if that's okay?

So. I'm a fictive of a character from an anime/manga, and the host of my system. This past weekend, we had a very traumatic incident happen. I don't want to put too many details that might trigger people, but the short version is that an event we were attending got swatted. It was all a false alarm, no one was hurt, and we were back to usual activities within an hour or so.

We knew.. Pretty much immediately that we were splitting over it. The symptoms we have for traumatic splits usually line up to a pretty consistent order for us so we were just braced for it. What I wasn't expecting was that we would split.. My grandmother.

We never met properly, in source. She died before I was born, and I grew up being told by my father and then my.. caretaker, for lack of a better word, that she had abandoned us, didn't care about her family, didn't care that we were hurting, and put the lives of strangers above her family. I only ever saw her.. Spirit? I suppose? In a few instances, and it obviously wasn't a happy reunion because I was so full of hate that I didn't care what she said.

I know from an objective sense that she was doing what she thought was best. I read our source and the longer it's gone on, the more I've realized just how much of my life was lies and fabrications from the people around me who wanted me to be hateful. I can see as an outside viewer that she wasn't pure evil like I thought. But that doesn't change the immediate gut feeling that I'm dealing with now that she's right in front of me again.

I panicked really badly when she first showed up in headspace. I'm usually a frontstuck host, but I fully switched out and hid in a corner of headspace for a few hours until our gatekeepers were able to pull her back into a different corner of the world that I don't have access too. She.. Looks a lot like I did when I was a kid. I wasn't expecting that.

I'm still not entirely sure how to react to all this or how to get comfortable with her being here. I don't want to panic and run every time she needs to front, but I also have no idea how to even approach her without all the heaviness from source crushing me completely. Sorry if this is really heavy. I'm just hoping you guys or someone else has some advice on coping with this.

Hi! We genuinely think your first ask got eaten, we’ve never seen an ask like this in our inbox… I’m so sorry!

It sounds like you’re dealing with a really tough situation. I guess we’d like to remind you that what you’ve heard from others may not align to what’s actually happened in your source’s past. Sometimes emotions can get the best of people, and situations can be misinterpreted, especially when tensions are high and family is involved.

Have you spoken to your grandmother in the system directly to hear from her what happened before you were born in your source? Maybe she had a good reason to leave, or thought she was acting in your family’s best interests at the time.

Additionally, she may not come with source memories, and not feel attached to her source at all. We firmly believe that introjects are their own people and cannot and should not be held accountable for events that happened in their source, even if they feel extremely connected to their source.

If it’s difficult to interact with her directly, perhaps try writing her a letter, or asking another headmate to pass a message along. Beginning to communicate, even if it’s hard, is the first step towards building trust. I know it won’t be easy, but unfortunately, it’s probably necessary in order for the two of you to come to an understanding and exist happily in the same mind.

We’re so sorry you’re going through something like this. If it’s easier for you, please remember that the grandmother in your headspace is an introject, just like you. She can’t help being formed and did not choose this - sometimes the brain makes internal choices that can’t be helped. We hope y’all can grow together and learn to coexist, and we’re wishing you the very best!

🌸 Margo and 💫 Parker

#fictives #introjects #splitting

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emojiglyphics · 1 year

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Should English throw out our alphabet and use Emojiglyphics instead?

It’s a bit of a silly question to begin with because it’s not going to happen. When English spelling is eventually reformed, it will be with a new system using the existing Latin alphabet. But since I’ve been spending so much of my time on this lately, I thought I’d explore the question inside the realm of fantasy.

First, we have to talk about the advantages and disadvantages of some types of writing systems, and their viability for English. These explanations will be SIMPLIFIED but for all you language heads who know what I’m skipping, know that I love you and I’m pulling for you.

Phonetic Alphabets

Phonetic Alphabets are the kind used in English, Greek, and Ukrainian. They have separate characters representing vowels and consonants. The major advantages are that the character set tends to be pretty small (20-30) which makes them quick to memorize. After memorizing a small character set and learning some rules, you are (hopefully) equipped to handle the entire dictionary of words. One small disadvantage is that since most languages have more sounds than letters, spelling rules can get complicated. But the major disadvantage is that as the spoken language undergoes natural and inevitable change, it diverges further and further from the written language until the two bear almost no resemblance. In some languages, there isn’t much to worry about. You can be accurately reading German or French after a week. But you can study English for a lifetime and not know all of its trap doors. And phonetic alphabets leave you on your own if two words are spelled or pronounced the same (or both).

Logographic Writing Systems

The most famous Logographic writing system is Han Chinese. (It’s technically a semanto-phonetic system, but that’s like... very technically.) In Logographic writing systems, you learn a new character for each word. The big disadvantage is obvious; you learn a lot of characters. They’re complex and often abstract, and there are thousands of them. But there are serious advantages. For instance, two people who speak different languages can actually read the same text and understand it. They are immune to pronunciation changes in the spoken language, which means that text remains comprehensible for a lot longer. What’s more, they could theoretically be much easier to learn than they are. Han characters didn’t start out as abstract as they are, they were once much more recognizable representations of the objects they stood for. The transformation into the characters we know today took millennia. But if you were to start a logographic system today, you could very well decide to make the word for “cat” a literal drawing of a cat.

Syllabic Alphabets

Syllabic alphabets encode an entire syllable in a single character. Typically, you start with a character that stands for a given consonant, and then tweak it indicate what vowel should follow. These are systems like Tibetan and Katakana. These have the same disadvantages and advantages as similar phonetic systems, but they have the added constraint that they assume certain qualities about the spoken language. Syllabic alphabets work well for Japanese because Japanese tends not to allow so-called “consonant clusters”, you usually find at least one vowel between all consonants in a word.

Abjads

Abjads are another system based on phonetics, except that they lack vowels and only use consonants. As you can imagine, this can lead to ambiguity, which I will wager is why they are associated with languages with a limited vowel inventory. It works great for languages like Arabic, Hebrew, and Persian. But they would not work well for, say, Danish which has 20 distinct vowels.

Egyptian Hieroglyphs

Egyptian Hieroglyphs could be described as a combination of an Abjad and a Logographic system. Egyptian had a limited vowel inventory, so it wasn’t too impractical to leave them out. But because of the way it mixes phonetic symbols with a logographic determinative, it doesn’t need to have as large an inventory as Han Chinese. Moreover, these characters are often pretty easy to figure out because for thousands of years, they remained fairly literal. A drawing of a man pointing to his mouth-- oh, this must be a word about the mouth. Learning unfamiliar glyphs is often a matter of learning more about the ancient world, far easier than memorizing a thatch of brush strokes, beautiful though they are.

What this means is that while Hieroglyphs certainly take a lot of work to learn, they’re pretty readable, especially for such ancient texts. In a way, hieroglyphs combine the strengths of both phonetic and logographic systems. The large number of phonetic symbols makes it easier to approach unfamiliar words. The character set is certainly not small, but it’s very much doable, and you can get surprisingly far from a limited set. The determinative clears up ambiguity between homonyms, and the literalness of the designs makes them easier to learn.

Unfortunately, it also combines some of their disadvantages. The phonetic components of the words will still eventually fall out of sync with the spoken language. Within the lifetime of Egyptian, the word “hand” when from sounding like “ka-raht” to “to-ra”, but the spelling stayed the same. And while the determinatives do look like the objects and concepts they represent much of the time, it often does it with objects that no longer exist or which we have little contact with in the modern world. And there’s still... many of them to learn.

So would Hieroglyphics be good for writing English? Kind of. I mean, we’d muddle through, right? It would be tough because English cries out for vowel representation. We just have so many of them. You don’t know how tempting it has been for me to incorporate a vowel system into Emojiglyphics. But I’ve been continually surprised at how readable it is, once the determinative is added.

Emojiglyphics

Emojiglyphics is basically hieroglyphics for English using a subset of currently available Emojis as its character set. The advantage, for me at least, is that they’ve already been created and there are tons of devices out there capable of stringing them together quickly. The other big advantage is that they represent things that people recognize. By necessity they are relevant to our current lives. They are also designed not just to be a collection of clip art, but to aid in communication. They are filled with hand gestures and facial expressions.

What this adds up to is that Constructing Emojiglyphics has been surprisingly easy to do. At least when it comes to the design part of it. Much tougher is actually using and documenting it. Which leads to the first disadvantage:

Emojis were not meant to be used this way. The web browser or text file can’t tell you’re making a word. The spacing is terrible. Emojiglyphics has been a joy to create but not to use. Also disadvantageous is that it’s been hard for people to understand which characters are phonetic and which are determinatives. All emojis seem to have equal status. Egyptian phonetic characters tend to actually look simpler, which helps set them apart. They’re also the first ones you learn, you spend a lot of time with them. By the time you’re dealing with determinatives in your study, you’re pretty confident you’ll never mix them up. One way I’ve tried to combat this is to use as many animals for phonetics as possible. But it may not be enough.

So should English be written this way?

Maybe by some people. If they feel like it. I don’t think it should replace the Latin alphabet mostly because of our incredibly deep vowel inventory, the number of people who learn it as a second language and already know the Latin alphabet, and the fact that it’s much easier to write by hand than Emojiglyphics would be. We’d have to make some kind of Emojimotic, making all the characters abstractions of the emojis and stripping them of their recognizability. Which is what tends to happen, I suppose.

But I find it very satisfying, and I think that if it ever got realized enough to be practical, it could be a fun way for people to communicate. If it ever got adopted by any significant number of people (and I’m not holding my breath) it would be bittersweet for me. It would mean that I had invented something people played with. But it would also be the beginning of the end for me. It would no longer be my project, it would be a living written language with a will of its own. People would invent new rules, new spellings. Things I never expected. Some would be delightful to me, others irritating. And my job at that point would be to shut the hell up about it because no one person can tame a language. .

#conlang #emojiglyphics.

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mitchellmorrison · 2 years

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002: the aftermath.

(follow up from: 001: initial sitdowns.) 🎼: soundtrack.

Mitchell Morrison, they’re here.

There were few times the younger Morrison had ever been scared in his life - the day he crashed his father’s mustang at an intersection, the first time he’d told a girl about his pathetic boyish crush and now. A sequence which would warrant some outer-body experience. As if he was viewing his life on tape and he lacked all ability to shepherd it back into his control. Press pause, press play. He’d still walk this same narrow hallway, share a passing glance between the same peers, make a home out of this same dejection. His heart’s feeling like a fist within his chest and it thrums against the bone. A hairline fracture straight through the marrow. Too quick of a move and his sternum would cave in. He waits for it to steady, a tide levelling out beneath a swaying boat, as his hand fumbles across the cool metal of the door handle.

Mitchell Morrison, nineteen, sibling of missing Greer Morrison - is that correct?

Mitch settles into the scene with a forced bravado, paving over the turbulence which exists within him. “Nothing gets past you,” he responds, lips curled in a sneer. When he hears laughter, he notes how false it sounds to the ears. As if they’re implementing breathing room before they tear right through the seam.

We have reason to believe you still have your letter in possession. Do you have it to hand?

“I do, yeah.” He tries to curb the way his hands shake as he slides it across the table, a hint of his own reluctance - white-knuckles, fingers digging into the flat surface - as they lean inwards to take it. Mitch too cautious in the handover. He’s observant, still. But he overthinks the exchange. Watches as their observation lingers a little too long on the letter before them.

Can we ask why you didn’t submit your letter prior to now?

His thumb scratches against the cuticle on his opposing hand. There’s a patch where the top layer of his epidermis is missing. He’s lost track of how frequently he’s picked and picked and picked. “I- I meant to,” he stammers. “I just lost track of time.” They offer a displeased thanks and move on. It’s a decision fixed in their memory. Another mark against his character.

We need to know more about your relationship with Greer Morrison.

“I already told you.” He looks confused now, like he’d just seen something otherworldly and had yet to scavenge the words to explain. “We have our differences. Doesn’t mean I’m some evil mastermind.” He jokes when he’s nervous, he shreds himself in half too.

We recall. However, we have reason to believe you may be withholding something from us. Your father-

“-My father doesn’t know shit.” The rage builds up within him; each block falling at a different rate, one building on top of the other. At the mention of his father, he slips too far to the right and watches as they pre-emptively flash before crumbling. He’d never been particularly good at Tetris. “I bet you didn’t ask him about his relationship with me, did you?” Now that would be a sight to bear witness.

Mr. Morrison, regardless of your relationship with your father, this letter appears to indicate some truth to what he told us. We would appreciate it if you could elaborate further.

“He must be getting real good use out of his cheque book. Christmas is coming up, after all.” It had been a theory, of course. One which Mitch had harboured ever since he’d begun at Ogden, coinciding with some belief that his sister was out there somewhere; mocking the lot of them. Their father/son conversations rarely outstayed their welcome. Each phone call decreasing in length the longer Greer’s disappearance continued. As if a permanent absence from Greer would prompt his father to abandon him entirely. “Whatever I tell you won’t work in my favour,” his line of sight shifts uncomfortably downwards. His tongue pressing against the hollow in his cheek as if the answers were stuck beneath the flesh. Mitch had assumed he’d be nearing the pinnacle of this list overtime. As other suspects grew more innocent and he less so. “We weren’t always like this. It didn’t just happen overnight. She grew ashamed of me and I think I was ashamed of her too. But I always felt like my reason was a little more valid.” They both had grounds, though this wasn’t a venture he’d be quick to divulge. “The thing is,” he pauses, his fingers drum a beat against the table leg. “She knew this place would make sure I never forgot about her. I mean, it doesn’t take a fucking genius to decipher the last paragraph. Sounds a little orchestrated, don’t y’think?”

We understand. However, the letter also indicates Greer Morrison covering something up for you. Do you know what this could be referring to?

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he responds, shoulders rolling at the enquiry. Boredom prickles at the latent temper simmering just beneath his skin, which looks markedly more pale and ailing beneath these lights. “Wouldn’t be surprised if she put that in just to fuck with me.”

And can you expand on what happened during Christmas?

Mitch considers the question - it’s a fair one. In another life he’d think to answer honestly. In this one he does anything but. “We opened presents?” He remembers it still, an uncomfortable stir beneath the surface. Something old still attached to the memory, dragging behind it like a corroded can on a string - but it vanishes, clattering away down the road.

Would you have any reason to make your sister disappear?

He scoffs; a short, haughty sound. “No.”

We would like to ask you again: would there be any reason, at all, for you to cause the disappearance of your sister?

The question had shifted discretely but Mitch had recognised it all the same. ‘Cause’ was much more open-ended. It didn’t require a full stop. “Would you sleep better at night if I said yes?” His expression is deadpan. Exhausted. The bags beneath his eyes even more evident under scrutiny. “Look, Officer. Making my sister disappear would be a form of self-harm. So, I’d like to stick with my first answer, thanks.” There’s a silence which ebbs and flows between them and Mitch sees the shared glimpse between the officers. It’s followed by a nod, some unspoken understanding.

Unfortunately, Mr. Morrison.

The room stands still. He feels the sweat bead at the base of his neck.

Due to your lack of co-operation, failure to submit the letter and testimony made by a relative of the missing student, we feel it is in our best interest to pursue this further.

This changes his tune. He’d slipped into a state of comfort as the questions had continued, burying the anxious swell between his bones. But now it had grown legs and started running. Slipped out between the flexing of idle fingers. “What-” a crease formed between his brow- “what do you mean?”

We’re done for now.

“For now? What the hell does that mean?” He spits, a characteristic yell in the face of anger giving way to a raw rumbling at the back of his throat.

Please escort Mr. Morrison to his next class.

No, no, no. Not this. Anything but this. Mitch feels himself move before he can stop; standing up with all the swiftness of a raging bull within a china shop, chair skirting far across the floor until it lands with a heavy ‘thud’. It matches a hefty, internal beat. An organ lodged at the notch of this throat. Strap a wireless monitor against his chest and they’d assume it was some myocardial infarction. An instant before he’d keel over and be pronounced dead. Fear etched straight across his features. He finds himself entirely unable to step back, as if he was staring into the gaping mouth of some beast and his mind was cornered somewhere between fight or flight. “I didn’t do anything,” the words feel more like a plea, like he’s leaning over the edge of some imposing cliff and he’s begging for a rope before he falls. A hand curls around his bicep to usher him out of the room and he turns to face them, eyes wide. A deer-in-headlights look. “Please, you have to believe me. You have to believe me.”

#ogdentask #car crash tw #self harm tw #anxiety tw #daddy issues tw #forgive me for this mess

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yessadirichards · 2 months

Text

Songs by Taylor Swift, Drake and more starting to disappear from TikTok

NEW YORK

TikTok may look (or sound) a little different when you scroll through the app going forward.

Earlier this week, Universal Music Group — which represents big-name artists like Taylor Swift, Bad Bunny and Drake — said that it would no longer allow its music on TikTok following the Wednesday expiration of a licensing deal between the two companies.

Now, the takedown of UMG-related music has begun, ByteDance-owned TikTok confirmed to The Associated Press. As of early Thursday, a vast roster of popular songs had disappeared from the social media platform's library.

The complete removal of UMG-licensed music might not be immediate — but chances are, avid TikTokers are already seeing the effects. Here's a rundown of where things stand.

The songs getting pulled from TikTok are those that are licensed by UMG — which carries an enormous reach across the music industry and, consequently, our digital diet today.

“Universal Music Group is literally the largest record label... in the history of the music industry,” said Andrew Mall, an associate professor of music at Northeastern University. An “uncountable number of tracks and sounds” would be impacted on TikTok, he added, significantly limiting options for creators.

TikTok users signing on Thursday will see that they are no longer able to search for many popular songs — including music from Ariana Grande, Justin Bieber, Olivia Rodrigo and more — under the “sounds” tab.

In addition to users no longer having the option of adding these songs to next dance craze and other trending content, past videos featuring UMG-licensed music will also be scrubbed. According to a UMG spokesperson, whether these existing videos are muted or taken down entirely will be up to TikTok.

Artists will also not be able to post the audio of their UMG-licensed songs on TikTok. If the music has a UMG license, it should be muted, the spokesperson said — noting the company will protect its copyrights.

Tour clips of artists could also be affected, if those songs are represented by UMG, a person familiar with the matter told The Associated Press. This can become tricky if there are multiple songwriters, as recordings from other labels could also be affected, the person added.

Complete removal will likely be a process, so it may take a few days for TikTokers see the full effects. It's also important to note that music licensing is a complicated business and artists often have different songs that move through different labels. While a singer's UGM tracks will be removed, songs licensed exclusively with other music giants (like Warner and Sony-owned labels, for example) shouldn't be impacted.

The expiration of licensing between UMG and TikTok arrived after the two companies were unable to reach a new agreement — and soon shared heated exchanges.

In a Tuesday letter addressed to artists and songwriters, UMG said that it had been pressing TikTok on three issues: “appropriate compensation for our artists and songwriters, protecting human artists from the harmful effects of AI, and online safety for TikTok’s users.”

UMG said that TikTok proposed paying its artists and songwriters at a rate that’s a fraction of the rate that other major social platforms pay, adding that TikTok makes up only about 1% of its total revenue. The music giant also took issue with TikTok's promotion of AI music creation — which UMG says poses risks to human artists — and the platform's record with what it says is hate speech, bigotry, bullying and harassment.

TikTok pushed back against claims by UMG, saying that it has reached “artist-first” agreements with every other label and publisher.

“It is sad and disappointing that Universal Music Group has put their own greed above the interests of their artists and songwriters,” TikTok said.

Despite the licensing deal's expiration, experts note that we're still a moment of negotiation between UMG and TikTok — and it probably won't last forever.

“We’ve seen this movie before. It’s a wonderful, theatrical stand-off between two very major corporations... who are wanting to assert their authority on the landscape,” said former president of UMG's Virgin EMI Records Ted Cockle, who now runs music advisory company called Mussel Music Management.

Users will likely find ways to adjust in the meantime, Cockle added, but he and others doubt that such a standoff will last long — noting that a partnership between UMG and TikTok is significantly beneficial to both parties. Historically speaking, Mall said, gaps for other licensing agreements in the 21st century's digital era have typically lasted just a day to up to a few months.

There will also likely be added pressure from TikTok creators, artists and their fans.

“This is a platform that’s really important for artists,” said Alexandra J. Roberts, a professor of law and media at Northeastern University. “It might not affect established artists as much, but some of them are going to lose revenue streams. And I think we’re going to see frustrated fans, right? Users who don’t understand or are angry about the fact that they can’t use or access or engage with some artists' work.”

Representatives for several artists with UMG-licensed music — including Taylor Swift, Bad Bunny, SZA, Drake, Ariana Grande and Billie Eilish — did not immediately respond to The Associated Press’ requests for comment.

Mall stressed the overall consequences of pulling music from social media platforms like TikTok — particularly for younger developing artists. In this situation, UMG’s revenue mostly comes from well-known artists who will probably be “just fine” if their music is no longer on TikTok, he said, but “smaller labels, smaller artists (couldn’t) afford to do something like this.”

Content creators and marketing experts are already preparing to pivot as needed. Jessica Henig, founder and CEO of music marketing firm Unlocked Branding who is works on campaigns involving UMG-licensed music, said it's not ideal, but that her team has grown accustom to working through delays across the social media landscape.

Still, Henig, who previously headed influencer marketing at Virgin EMI, said time will tell.

“If this is going to be a longevity thing, then we might have a different conversation," she said.

TikTok’s standoff with Universal isn’t the first time a recording label has gone head-to-head with a social media company over licensing terms. In late 2008, Warner Music Group pulled all of its music from YouTube, saying the payments it received from the video-sharing site did not fairly compensate the label, its artists or songwriters. Warner agreed to return songs and music videos months later after reaching a new deal with YouTube.

#yessadirichards

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scary-senpai · 1 year

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They say 'write for yourself,' and so here's Genos and Garou arguing about the mathematics of Christmas.

...I don't know, I just think they're neat. :D In any case, I am glad to be getting into the spirit of @wanpanmas 2022 and also finally my fic from Wanpanmas 2021.

Not yet beta read, there may be science errors because I usually have my boyfriend fact-check my jokes.

“Alright,” Garou sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tell me exactly what I’m looking at.”

The whiteboard was literally painful to look at. Shining more brightly than fresh-fallen snow (and with a nasty glare to match), it was as large as a wide-screen television. Scrawled across the surface in tiny, meticulous strokes of blue ink were countless symbols, numbers, and letters—calculations, Garou guessed. Not that he could make heads or tales of it.

As far as Garou was concerned, the whole mess may as well be ancient hieroglyphs—overwhelming, incomprehensible remnants from an entirely different world. And that’s how he felt, standing beside Genos in the kitchen—as if they were from two entirely different civilizations, separated by time, possibly even space.

“These are the comprehensive mathematics of your so-called ‘Santa,’” Genos explained. “Figure two billion adolescents currently in existence, and roughly 15% observe Christmas. For simplicity’s sake, we will ignore the complexities of mixed-faith households, as well as the existence of Orthodox Christmas.”

“Uh-huh.”

Garou rubbed his eyes, dizzy with all the facts and figures swirling behind them.

“On average, one can expect to find roughly 3.5 children in every home—wait, Garou, why are you laughing?”

“I’m not.”

Garou was, actually, although he sensed he shouldn’t be… snickering as he envisioned a family of three full children and one half child standing side by side.

“Alright,” Genos continued. “Postulating 3.5 children per home, let’s assume that at least one child can expect gifts from Santa. In the interest of time, we will sidestep any philosophical discourse regarding the nature of ‘good,’ of which there are many—“

“Yeah, ‘moral dessert’ and whatnot,” Garou muttered. “The hell’s that?”

“A reindeer.”

Garou eyed the four-legged stick figure with what seemed like antennae (or possibly horns). A jumble of shapes—mostly squares and circles—appeared linked to the thing.

It almost, almost looked like a reindeer.

“Does Santa have eight of those?”

“Taking into account the gifts and the sleigh, Santa has a payload of 321,300 tons, not including Santa,” Genos said plainly, as if this were common knowledge and Garou already understood what these numbers meant.

“…and?”

“Presupposing the existence of exceptionally gifted reindeer, Santa would require no less than 214,200 to support the weight of his payload. In order to conserve resources, I have augmented my sketches with scientific notation.”

Genos pulled a napkin from his front pocket and snapped it with all the flourish of a picador.

“‘Back-of-the-napkin calculations’,” Garou grumbled. “Of course.”

“In order to frequent all 91.8 million qualified dwellings within the requisite 31-hour timeframe, Santa must accelerate to 650 miles per second—roughly 3,000 times the speed of sound. Moving at this unthinkable speed, with this inconceivable payload would generate enormous air resistance,” Genos continued, pausing for a breath he did not need to take. “Not unlike a spaceship re-entering the atmosphere, for example.”

“Uh-huh.”

“As I am sure you’re aware, hundreds of meteors breach our planet’s atmosphere and fall towards the earth itself,” Genos continued, “yet only a handful will actually complete their journey. The remainder burn up upon re-entry, which means—“

Genos snapped the napkin again, showing off the drawing on the other side: a rotund stick figure with a strange, triangular hat, that was (painfully, unfortunately) on fire.

“In conclusion,” Genos declared, “if Santa once existed, he does no longer—due to rampant population growth and the spread of Christianity.”

(the primary source of the santa calculations is here: http://www.comedycorner.org/5.html)

here's a silly drawing of Genos' reindeer. when it comes to illustrations, Garou thinks he can do it better, but he also understands now is not the time to try.

#opm fanfic #one punch man fanfic #genos #garou #genos opm #garou opm #my writing #wilf #(work i'd like to finish)#holiday hi jinks #garou x genos #gearou #genos had good intentions he really did #he is just so very Extra #sorry tareo #it will get better i promise #everything is actually saitama's fault #ca-chan can't science

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sineala · 3 years

Note

How would you say fandom culture has changed over the years? What are some differences you notice between older and younger fandom folks?

I’ve been thinking for a while about how to answer this, and I’m not sure I have a really good answer, but I’m going to try.

I’ve been in fandom since approximately 1995. Maybe 1994. At that point, the world wide web was a relatively new part of the internet, and the fandoms I was in had most of their activity on privately-hosted mailing lists (predating eGroups/OneList/Yahoo Groups) and on Usenet newsgroups, with fiction beginning to be available on websites as part of either fandom-specific or pairing-specific archives as well as authors’ individual pages. Fanfiction.net did not yet exist. LiveJournal did not exist. AO3 definitely did not exist. If you wanted real-time chat, there was IRC. I was coming in basically at the tail end of zine fandom; zines were no longer the only way of distributing fanfiction, as fandom started to move online. So I have a selection of zines from 90s-era Western media fandoms but even by then zines weren’t where I was doing most of my reading.

I think in terms of generally “what it was like to be in fandom,” the big-picture stuff hasn’t changed. Fandom still produces creative fanwork and likes to, y’know, get together and talk about fandom. Also, almost every fight or complaint that fandom has about something is a thing that has been going on for actual years. People complain that, say, the kudos button is ruining comment culture because back in the LJ days the only way you could comment on a story was, well, by leaving an actual comment, or sending an email on a mailing list, and this might mean that people who would have otherwise commented have left a kudos instead. But back in the LJ and mailing list days, people were complaining that commenting was going downhill since the days of zines, when in order to comment on a story you had to write a real paper letter and mail it and because you had to do that, the quality of feedback was so much better than you got nowadays because people could just dash off a quick email or comment. You get the idea. Top/bottom wars are not new either. Pairing wars are not new. If you’ve been in fandom a while, you will pretty much have seen all the fights already. I think one thing that is new, though, is the fandom awareness of things like privilege and intersectionality and various -isms, as well as things like “providing warnings might be nice” (do you know how much unwarned deathfic I have read? a lot!) and I sure won’t say we’re perfect at any of this now, but I think fandom is trying way way more about all that stuff than it used to.

There are some fights we actually don’t have anymore, as far as I can tell. I feel like it’s been years since I’ve seen the “real person fiction is wrong” battle, but also I don’t hang out in a whole lot of RPF fandoms, so it’s possible that’s still going and I just don’t see it.

There also used to be a recurring debate about whether gay relationships that were canonical were slash or not. When slash started, obviously this wasn’t a question because there weren’t canonical gay relationships in fandoms, period. But as gay characters began to appear in media, people started to wonder “does slash mean all same-sex relationships, or does slash mean only non-canonical same-sex relationships?” Now, you may be reading this and think that sounds like an incredibly weird thing to get hung up on, but that’s because what appears to have happened is that the term “ship” (originally from X-Files Mulder/Scully fandom) has, as far as I can tell, come up and eaten most of the rest of the terminology. Now people will just say, “oh, I ship that.” For any pairing, gay or not, canonical or not. Fandom seems to have decided that for the most part it no longer actually needs a term specific to same-sex relationships as a genre.

Similarly, there are a few genres of fic that we used to have also pretty much don’t exist anymore. There are also plenty of genres that are well-entrenched now that are also extremely recent -- A/B/O comes to mind. But there are some kinds of fic we don’t write a lot of now. Like, I haven’t seen smarm in years! I also haven’t seen We’re Not Gay We Just Love Each Other in a while. There was also a particular style of slash writing where you’d basically have to explain, in detail, what made you think that these particular characters could be anything other than straight. You’d have to motivate this decision. You’d have to look at their canonical heterosexual relationships and come up with a way to explain why all those had happened in order to reconcile how this one guy could have romantic feelings for another guy. When had he figured out he wasn’t straight? Who might he have been with before? How does he interact with people in ways that make you think he’s not straight? That kind of thing. You had to, essentially, show your work. And these days a lot of fanfic is just like, “Okay, Captain America is bisexual, let’s go!” It’s... different.

Fandom also used to skew older, is my sense. A lot older. I don’t know, actually, if it really was older, but I get the sense now that there are some younger people who are surprised that adults are still in fandom. I have seen people saying these days that they think they’re too old for fanfiction because they are not in middle school anymore. And I think a lot of this has to do with the fact that the barriers to access fandom are a lot lower than they used to be. You used to basically have to be an adult with disposable income (or know an adult with disposable income who was willing to help you out; but even then if you were reading explicit fiction you also had to swear you were 18+, usually by sending in an age statement to whoever you were buying the zine from or to the mods of the list you wanted to join, so a lot of fandom was very much age-gated). Internet access was not widely available. Even if you had internet access, you maybe didn’t have your own email address, so you couldn’t sign up for mailing lists; free email providers didn’t exist. If you wanted to buy zines, you had to have money to buy them. If you wanted to go to cons, you had to be able to afford the cost of the con, travel to the con, et cetera. If you wanted to have a website you had to know HTML. Social media did not exist. You want to draw art? Guess what, you’re probably drawing it on paper! You might be able to upload a picture to your website if you have a digital camera or a scanner, but both of those things are expensive, and also a lot of people don’t have the capability or the money to download pictures from the internet (some people have data caps with overage charges, and some people have text-only connections!), so they won’t get to see it. Maybe you can sell your piece at a con! You want to make a fanvid? We called them songvids, but, anyway, you know how you’re doing that? You’re going to hook two VCRs together and smash the play and record buttons very fast! If you want anyone else to watch them, you are either making them a tape personally and mailing it to them or bringing your vids to a convention. Maybe you can digitize them and upload them, but it’s going to take people hours to download them!

(Every three hours my ISP would kick me off the internet and I’d have to dial in again. If it was a busy time of day, it might take me 20 or 30 minutes to get a connection again. And that was assuming no one else in the house needed to use the phone line. Imagine if your modem went out every three hours now.)

And now, for the cost of my internet connection, I can read pretty much whatever fanfiction I want, whenever I want it. I can see all the fanart I want! I can watch vids! Podfic exists now! Fanmixes exist! Gifsets and moodboards exist! If I want to write fic I can write it with programs that are completely free, and as soon as I post it everyone in the entire world can read it. If I want to draw or make vids that may require some additional investment, but I may also be able to do it with things I already have. Do you have any idea how good we all have it?

There are a couple of kinds of fan activity that don’t seem to exist anymore, though, and I miss them. I know that roleplaying still goes on, but I feel like these days most people who do real-time text roleplay have switched to things like Discord. I know that in the LJ days, RP communities were popular. But I really miss MU*s (MUDs, MUSHes, MOOs, MUXes..), which were servers for real-time text-based RP with a bunch of... hmm... features to aid RP. There were virtual rooms with text descriptions, and objects in virtual rooms with descriptions, and your character had a description, and they could interact with the objects as well as with other characters, and you could program things to change descriptions or emit various kinds of text or take you to different rooms, and so on. Just to, y’know, enhance the atmosphere. It was fun and it was where I learned to RP and I’m sad they’re pretty much gone now.

I also don’t think I see a lot of fanfiction awards in fandoms. Wonder where they went.

Going back to the previous point, the barriers to actually consuming the canon you are fannish about are way, way, way lower now. You can pretty much take it for granted that if right now someone tells you about a shiny new fandom, there will be a way to read that book or watch that show or movie right now. Possibly for free! Of course you can watch it! Why wouldn’t you be able to?

This was absolutely, absolutely not the case before. I’m currently in Marvel Comics fandom. If there is a comic I want to read, I can read it right now on the internet. I have subscribed to Marvel Unlimited and I can read pretty much every comic that is older than three months old; the newer ones cost extra money. But I can do it all from the comfort of my own home right now. I was also, actually, in Marvel Comics fandom in the nineties. If I wanted to read a comic, I had to go to a comic book store and hope they had it in stock; if they didn’t, I had to try another store. Not a lot of comics were available in trade paperback and they definitely weren’t readable on the internet. I used to read a lot of Gambit h/c fic set after Uncanny X-Men #350. I never found a copy of UXM #350. I still haven’t! But I did eventually read it on Unlimited.

Being in TV show fandoms also had similar challenges. Was the show you were watching still on the air? No? Then you’d better hope you could find it in reruns, or know someone who had tapes of it that they could copy for you, otherwise you weren’t watching that show. It was, I think, pretty common for people to be in fandoms for shows they hadn’t seen, because they had no way to see the show, but they loved all the fanfic. The Sentinel had a whole lot of fans like that, both because I think it took a while for it to end up in reruns and because overseas distribution was probably poor. So you’d get people who read the fic and wrote fic based on the other fic they’d read, which meant that you got massive, massive amounts of fanon appearing that people just assumed was in the show because it was a weirdly specific detail that appeared in someone’s fic once. Like “Jim and Blair’s apartment has a small water heater” (not actually canonical) or “Blair is a vegetarian” (there’s an episode where his mother visits and IIRC cooks him one of his favorite meals, which is beef tongue).

Like, I was in The Professionals fandom for years. I read all the fic. I hadn’t seen the show. As far as I know, it never aired in the US, and it certainly never had any kind of US VHS or DVD release. I’d seen a couple songvids. I eventually saw a couple episodes in maybe 2003, and that was because my dad special-ordered a commercial VHS tape from the UK and paid someone to convert it from PAL to NTSC. I didn’t get to see the whole show until several years later when I got a region-free DVD player someone in fandom sent me burned copies of the UK DVD releases and then I special-ordered the commercial release of the DVDs from the UK myself. But if I were a new fan and wanted to watch Pros right now? It is on YouTube! For free!

I think also one of the things about fandom that’s not immediately evident to new fans is the way in which it is permanent and/or impermanent. There are probably people whose first fannish experience is on Tumblr or who only read fanfic on FFN and who have no idea what they would do if either site, say, just shut down. But if you’ve been in fandom a while, you’ve been through, say, Discord, Tumblr, Twitter, Pillowfort, Imzy, DW, JournalFen, LJ, GeoCities, IRC, mailing lists. And sure, if Tumblr closed, it would be inconvenient. But fandom would pack up and move somewhere else. You would find it again. It would, eventually, be okay. Similarly, if you’ve been in a lot of fandoms, if you’ve made a lot of friends, drifting through fandoms is like that. You’ll make a friend in 1998 because you were in the same fandom, and then you might go your own ways, and ten years later you might be in another fandom with them again! It happens.

But the flip side of that is that I think a lot of older fans have learned not to trust in the permanence of any particular site. If you like a story, you save it as soon as you read it. If you like a piece of art, you save it. If you like a vid, you save it. Because you don’t know when the site it’s on will be gone for good. I have, like, twenty years of lovingly-curated fanfic. And I feel like people who have only been in fandom since AO3 existed might not understand how much AO3 is a game-changer compared to what we had before. It’s a site where you can put your fic up and you don’t have to worry that the webhost is going out of business, or that the site might delete your work because they don’t allow gay fiction or explicit fiction or fiction written in second person or fiction for fandoms where the creator doesn’t like fanfiction, or whatever. Because all of those things have absolutely happened. But, I mean, I still save pretty much everything I like, even on AO3, just in case.

So, basically, yeah, fandom is a whole lot more accessible than it used to be. I think fandom is pretty much still fandom, but it’s a lot easier to get into, and that has made it way more open to people who wouldn’t have been able to be in fandom before. There is so, so much more now than there ever was before, and I think that’s great.

#Anonymous #replies

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husbandohunter · 3 years

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What they love about you (part 2)[Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: It was as if the universe had changed when they saw you.

Characters: Zhongli, Childe, Albedo, Kazuha. Part 1 here

Genre: fluff

"Poetry for my hopeless romantic heart 🥺 and Kazuha, he was the perfect candidate for this. I decided to put Zhongli first of course, he deserves it after saving my ass in Baal's fight."

=================================

Spirit flows through the Immovable rock (Zhongli)

Nations fall, truths be told, iron rusts and earth erode

Through six centuries these were stories he watched unfold.

He sees you and the archon knew that you shall too grow old

But despite it all, he loves you for your existence, as nothing can compare to your intransient soul.

The purpose of contracts were made to ensure there had been a fair trade between two parties. Like merchants striking business deals for a favourable outcome, like mother nature maintaing the balance between life and death, like how you and your beloved said your vows and whispered promises to one another as evening bids farewell by the warm welcome of the moon's gentle glow. Those days were the most treasured that you couldn't help remisicing them-- when Zhongli appeared in your life. Your mortal life. How time can fly so fast.

Perhaps this had been a common notion among human standards. That to be connected, both sides must share the same factors in order to proceed the contract. Clearly your placement proved to be mismatched. Unlike Zhongli there could be a day when your legs gave up and you can no longer walk. He will go on without you, continuing to drift in places where you cannot reach, where time was out of the question, further and further away until the mist begins to seize your field of vision and soon your eyes were too old to see.

The difference in age can truly make someone feel alone and Zhongli knew it well. Thus he smiled softly like he always does and held you close, speaking with so much kindness:

My dearest.

Your soul existed like an evergreen tree blooming through all four seasons, unwithered and everlasting, even against the cold storm of white. And it could be as soft as the sunbeam cascading through the mountain peaks while they dust the land with their ethereal hues and emitting the warmth that breaths absolute serenity. If artifacts were a piece of what someone left behind then maybe everything you made was considered an artifact-- a treasure. A piece of you in those handwritten letters, the beauty in your fingertips after knitting him a scarf which caused scars to mar them, and because of how heavy your spirit weighs through everything you did, it became evident that the one he had fallen for was not your skin nor your body but the person who resides in it.

And sometimes he wonders if he had met you once upon a dream. What else could explain the mysterious feeling that made you seem so familiar, even when he only saw you for the first time? Or perhaps you were an old friend from the long long past, someone he stargazed with upon the infinite mounds of grass and glaze lilies, someone whom he shared the taste of osmanthus wine, someone he came to cherished just like how he cherished his own nation. Regardless, whether you were that someone or not, he wouldn't hesitate to relive those times all over again.

If there was a day when the world around you decided to cave in, where time inevitably caught up and you succumbed to change, he would still be yours. After all, the immovable stone was meant to be the symbol of constancy. He already sworn to you that his devotion and affection will never waver, they were solely held towards your essence for you had touched him through the things he could not touch, and left a mark that would last longer than his ancient self can last. Zhongli may have lived through many lifetimes but meeting you was the beginning of everything. You were a mortal immortalized in the world his heart, etched so deep that it stirs him apart, there was no room for anyone else.

~xx~

Drowning in the ocean flames (Tartaglia)

There was a man who fell deeply in love with war

They raged inside of him like the spontaneous battlefields he came to adore.

Consumed by desire, pain became an addiciton

And he eventually surrenders to the heat of your passion.

While many fear death, Childe learned to dance with it.

He revels in the way his heart pounds endlessly, as if new life had been born from the inside and then bursted like thunder, sending trembling sensations through his veins, bringing him to the peak of euphoria. The feeling was a drug in which Childe hesitates no more when he confronts it, rather he deliberately seeks it. He seeks thrill in the most dangerous situations since they were the moments that made him feel so alive.

Henceforth the Harbinger sought you out. He inches closer and ever so close, those deep cerulean eyes trapped in your hypnotizing ones. Childe loves how you look at him like you were about to devour him, consume him as the flames in hell would, perhaps destroy him completely to the point there was no turning back and yet...he would not mind.

Childe had been so drawn to you like a moth to a light. No. Rather, Adam and the devil, tempting him to sin because the things he would do for you were undeniably impetuous. It was too late. It was too late when you told him you wanted to stay. Too late when you pulled him down, with arms around his neck, stealing away his breath in one swift manner as well as a kiss. Curse you for having so much power over him, from then and there he was no longer the mighty harbinger everyone knew but a man foolish in love. Take him higher. Higher. Take him far. To say you were alluring would be an understatement. The scent of you brings all his senses to disarray and the taste of you-- by the archons-- had never made him feel so starved. All he thought of was mindlessly running his hands over your small back, reveling in the shape of you, exploring every inch and curve in attempt to make you completely his.

This was the reason why he grew accustomed to dancing with death. Because it was you. You were going to be the cause of his downfall and you were the cause of this insanity. Even though you constantly reminded him how risky the situation was due to being a wanted criminal in his homeland's eyes, Childe pays no mind. Didn't he already tell you to trust him? Anyone who threatens you would be an enemy of his, much to their misfortune. Whether it'd be conquering the world and laying it beneath your feet or walking through the depths of the abyss all over again, he'll make sure to have it all and no one can say otherwise.

~xx~

Shelter (Albedo)

Your warmth was his hearth

Like stars falling onto the earth

Gracing the plains in an empereal bliss

As they trembled under the touch of heaven's kiss

Closing his eyes, you are the first person he sees.

The sound of snow chasing the wind fills the silent night once again while it's whispered blows continued to echo just by the cave's entrance. Albedo had planned to take you back to Monstadt that day but Dragonspine was not the place to be merciful with the weather. No one else except the two of you occupied the abandoned space and a singular camp fire to serve as a source of warmth. You place your hand on your lover's forehead, brushing away his ash coloured strands while he seeps into slumber. Albedo sighs contentedly. Despite the world being engulfed in sheer cold, here he felt safe and sound.

Before meeting you Albedo never really had that. People regularly held him on a high regard and had a hard time matching his pace. He was a born genius to the point that he practically stood out like a swan out of the ducklings' crowd as they admired his brilliance. Truly Albedo was a perfect human being. But when turns around to see the rest he noticed how distant everything seemed. He was so focused on his pursuit towards the universal truth that he hadn't given the time to consider; where is he going with this? And what for? Everyone else looked so happy living in their mundane routines and Albedo soon grew curious about such thoughts. Out of all the places in Monstadt, exactly where does he belong?

Opening his eyes, you are the first person he looks for.

"Welcome home, Albedo!"

The answer was obvious. Home was the sound of his name on your lips. When you were side by side with him while he sketched the landscape from the far distance. In places where the lights were on as he entered the room, knowing you were inside. This feeling couldn't be describe with just a word. Home was not a nation nor was it a destination. Home was in your touch where he felt the most protected.

I'm home.

A sky filled with stars and he only saw one; his Starlight. Your warmth held the emotion similar to the kind where there had only been one cande lit amidst an infinite stretch of darkness. But it also brought the joy of flowers blossoming into the vivid future of new spring. There was no place he'd rather be than the shelter of your arms because with you, Albedo believed he truly found where he belonged.

~xx~

Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves (Kazuha)

Silencing the world

My heart begins to find peace

Soothed by your presence

- For my beloved, (Y/n)

I remember how the first petal of spring drifted by as it had flown into the crossroads of our path. Subconciously my entire being began to still. This particular flower... it must have come far and wide for the wind to carry such a pleasant scent. Although I had intended to continue my venture onwards but the air ceased to sound and I knew that this way was true. And so nature beckons me to the shore where the waves lulled back and forth under the moonlight's entrance, only then I began to sharpen my vision to see what was before me. You stood there on a rock with your face looking into the sparkling sky, singing a tune that drew me near. Just the mere sight was enough to stir my heart alone.

My beloved, do you know why I named this poem 'Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves?'

Watching you was like witnessing the ephmereal birth of a flower sprouting amongst the slums of an abandoned nation. A fleeting miracle where snow falls from the summer sky. I am compelled to capture these feelings in this poem yet there are moments where my thoughts scatter as if the autumn wind had whisked them away and out of my grasp until a singular leaf is only what was left. Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary for me to keep a notebook of ways I can describe your presence, instead a few simple sentences would suffice. Nevertheless, I only wish to express my feelings for you.

When you're with me it seems I have nothing to think about. The aura around you can silence the world alone, speaking louder than thunder cries, weighing heavily to those around you in ways it would feel empty if you're not here. Yet I could breath as if alleviated from the burdens of my past. This had me realize that this must have been the will of the wind. You were the greatest gift to have ever bestowed upon me and I confess, sometimes my chest aches because of how much I cherish you, it pierces me like a sharp blade but even if my heart bleeds it will continue to bleed only for your sake.

So wherever you are, wherever you may be, I can feel you in the breeze. Return soon my beloved, I'll be here, waiting.

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boytouya · 3 years

Text

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘖𝘧 𝘈 𝘚𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦

words:2.3k

WARNING: graphic depictions of violence, blood, angst, open ended/ambiguous ending, descriptions of death.

request: “Can i request sukuna x male reader. Where reader keeps reincarnating with each lifetime for a curse and every time he remembers sukuna, he dies after gaining memories back. You can choose if theres a good ending or angst. Thank you king! I fell in love with him especially after reading that one shot i had to watch jjk and hes hot! Thank you for turning me into a sukuna simp! Much love”

a/n: i went,,,overboard with this request 🗿 BUT IT'S ONE OF MY FAVORITESSIJEHSHE i’m honored to have introduced you to such a foine man

When you were five, only then had you understood the curse deemed ‘Ryoumen Sukuna.’ A rather tall man with two heads, one of which had splattered blood onto your sneakers. You understood the concept of death, of course, but could never truly comprehend the feeling of nothingness after watching your life flash before your eyes until nineteen. But there you stood, clutching the loop of your shorts when you witnessed the murder of your entire village. You didn’t know evil could have a moral compass, but the tall curse seemed to exclude half of the women and children. After the widening of youthful eyes and curdling screams you learned the monster took likings to things too. Women, with shaking forms and broken spirits. He’d stop before them, stare at them with eyes that could- in fact- kill, if they truly wanted to. But then he stopped in front of you.

“Close your eyes, Brat.” Death's hands were just as large as your family painted them out to be, if not larger. Calloused and riddled with blood as they are placed over your ears. You do as he- it says, squeezing your eyes shut and enclosing your eyes behind the meat of your palms just to be extra careful. You can see stars behind your eyelids, just as you can feel the sickening twang of death lingering in the air. You were aware it would happen at some point, Death would find its place for you over and over and over again, you’d been told since the day you were born.

There’s another sound, only muted under large palms. You don’t need your sense of sight or hearing to know what it was, the warm chunks splattering onto your skin was enough. Immediately, you flinched. When you opened your eyes, there were piercing eyes staring straight into your own. It looked so human, but something was off. Uncanny, as if it took years to manipulate its flesh and bone to emulate humans to a T. But there was nothing human behind those eyes, instead a void of nothingness. Death itself. If Death could express interest, you’d have thought that was the expression it was imitating. It offers a hand, one of four. Larger than your face, with sharp claws that could almost be described as talons. Darkened by dirt and remains of your loved ones, if it truly wanted to kill you, it could. It could tear you limb from limb with the wave of a finger. And it knew that.

So you took the hand, and he became your second home.

When you were ten, you learned about the red string of fate. It could never be broken, and those connected by it would always reunite, no matter the circumstances. You often had nightmares, those of which filled with blurred faces and sharp pain that reached you in your lucid state. Dreams of talons, piercing eyes, and double headed monsters. You dreamt under the stars, tasted metal on your tongue, and choked on smoke that wasn’t actually there. You dreamt of facial markings, details that you couldn’t exactly place, a name that you couldn’t quite remember. It left your tongue feeling thick in your mouth, racked tremors through your body, and caused premature dark circles to accumulate under your eyes.

When you were nineteen, you experienced your last breath. The air was stolen from your lungs, crushed under years of heartbreak and terror, and snatched from you in the dead of night. Your eyes glazed over, and nothingness overtook you. It left you for someone else to find, cold and lifeless. A void, similar to the eyes you had finally placed. But that didn’t matter much then, you had already drifted away from your body.

And that was that.

Thus, the cycle repeated. Under different names, different ages, different genders. There was always something gnawing away at your conscience, you felt as though you were forgetting something. But when you finally remembered, it was too late. And there was nothing you could do about it.

It was almost like deja vu, stepping outside your home to find blood splattered on the concrete floor. It made your blood run cold, sent a tremor through your body and made you feel like you were five again. Small and defenseless. You take it as your best interest to go back inside before you pass out, but the second you whip your body around you meet something- someone?- large and sturdy.

“Sukuna.” That was it, the sour taste at the tip of your tongue, the lingering sensation at the back of your brain. Him. He didn’t look the same, no, much smaller with tufts of pink hair. There’s something behind his eyes this time, something almost irrevocably human. For some reason that’s much scarier than what you remember. What you think you remember. He’s much more human, but the way he looks at you is everything but humane. He looks frustrated, angry at something, as if he’ll implode any second and go on a rampage. Dread bubbles up in your stomach, nearly erupting through your mouth as bile. It felt as though something should be happening, like something usually happened when the itch went away. He chuckles, low in his throat as he cranes his neck to put his face uncomfortably close to your own. His hands, still large, find their way to your wrist, gripping your right hand uncomfortably tight. For a moment, you consider how long a trip to the hospital would be if he shattered the bone beneath his fingers. But instead there’s a jolt of electricity that would’ve had you yanking your hand back if he weren’t holding it.

“What? You look different.” He all but purrs, inspecting your palm with long nails. Not long enough to be talons, but longer than those of a claw. It was true, you did look different. He wondered if you spent your lifetimes looking exactly the same. That couldn’t have been possible, he would’ve found you much easier, then. Still quite boyish, as if the body you were in didn’t originally belong to you. Clearly grown out of cargo shorts and polos, much taller than you were before. There was no way he could have forgotten you, the way you jumped when the remains of your loved one splattered across your legs. The way you stared back at him with a look of acceptance, the way you grabbed his hand and allowed him to lead you out of the village. It explained the body memories perfectly, the feeling of large palms on your head and remnants of a brain splattering onto your knees.

“Last time I saw you,” He let’s go of your wrist with a bored expression, then replaces its spot with the top of your head. He shoves you down, and you make an effort to ignore the crack your knees make when they smack against the concrete. Then, he crouches down to stare you directly in the eye, just like he had the first time you met. His eyes were no longer dark, instead a deep shade of red that caught light from the moon. They reminded you of vials of blood. “You were this tall. Much cuter in this century.”

“And you were bigger.” Sukuna laughs as if hearing that was the funniest thing in the world. He leans his weight into you and uses you as a support beam, laughing until his ribs burn and beg for a break. But how could he laugh at a time like this? He didn’t think it was weird? He’s existed for centuries, murdered for millennias and only now has he seen you. That wasn’t how it worked, when you died, you died. But Sukuna was a walking oxymoron to that statement. When he died, if he died, he would return. He’d return through you, the last fragments of his soul would stay bound to yours until the end of time. Perhaps that’s how he knew, how he remembered. Perhaps that’s why he still took the time to find you, even after countless years of failure. It was peculiar, but not as much as being bound to Death himself. It was a sick game of turning the phrase ‘Til’ death do you part,’ because in your case it was literal.

“You’re still a brat.” His voice is closest to something fond, as if he’s reminiscing sweet memories. It was much different on your account, and part of you wondered if Sukuna understood that. He makes no effort to help you up (he explains that you’re “a big boy now”) as he invites himself into your apartment. Nothing special, he doesn’t care much for family photos or if you have them, but the stacks of letters and books on your table peak his interest. He tears apart envelopes as if he owns them, reads through the contents and discards them to the floor if he deems them useless. The way he sits nearly breaks your chair, and, honestly, you weren’t sure what to do with yourself.

So you sit beside him.

“You were so scared,” He says, almost as if he were bragging. But he was known to be arrogant and cocky, that was just his nature. He didn’t truly mean it like that, in fact, he looked quite reverent after letting the thought drift into the air. It was kind of funny, such a powerful thing fawning over past memories. But that wasn’t how this should go, you had your memory back, so why hasn’t anything happened? “When you grabbed my hand you stopped shaking.”

“...”

“It’s a shame I couldn’t keep you long,” He visibly frowns, the skin around his lips worry, but you can't tell if it’s genuine or not. He looks at you with something knowing the second the thought enters your head. “I looked for you, at first. You died young, for a human.”

Ninteen. ‘I should have been there,” he wants to add.

“Why aren’t I dying now?” You interrupt and let the panic sink in, the thought of impending doom sits on your shoulders because, really, it could happen at any moment. But this time, you don’t want it to. You remember accepting death when it came to your door at the young age of five, nineteen, countless times over and over. You had only ever gotten this far, you weren’t ready yet. You couldn’t start over, not now. “Sukuna?”

The question sours his mood in the blink of an eye, and instead of looking through your things, he raises himself from his seat to rest his palms on the table. It seemed he had a thing for staring down at people, making them cower under his stone cold gaze. You note the way his jaw clenches. You open your mouth to speak again, but he seems to have other plans. He squeezes your cheeks, making your lips purse together under the pressure of his large fingers. The movement feels familiar, like he’s done it before. The five years you spent with him were still a bit of a blur, but you remembered holding his hand quite often. He’d tell you to close your eyes if there was something he didn’t want you to see, he’d ruffle your hair a bit too hard, let you sleep on his back if he was out in the town. But that was all you remembered. He remembered it all.

“Respect your elders,” He lets go and sits back down as if he hadn’t just thrown a tantrum over you interrupting him. Sukuna was centuries old, but even then, he’d exhibit immature behavior sometimes. Living for so long had to get boring (and lonely) at some point, perhaps that was why he looked for you. He did consider you something close to family, after all. In truth, there were some lifetimes where you met. Some when you were friends, something more than that, and something inseparable. And that’s why you hadn’t died yet, you didn’t remember it all. “It’s rude to interrupt someone when they’re talking.”

“You’re much more handsome in this life.” His smile is much more intimidating than sweet, the sinister curl to his lips would only ever be associated with bloodshed in your eyes. But it was much more than that. Nights of sleeping together, days of laughter and flirtatious comments, soft moments that only you had seen. And it was bittersweet, because he knew the second he’d jog your memory you’d be gone. It wasn’t just a curse for you, but for him. Maybe it was his punishment for hurting so many people, dragging an innocent soul down with him and hanging them by the red string of fate. The comment makes your skin prickle with heat. Sukuna was quite the charmer when he wanted to be, easily picking at your weak spots with whatever you wanted to hear. But the comment was much more for the sake of his own, instead of yours.

Sukuna stands, hot on his heels as he holds out his hand one last time. If something were to happen to you tonight he’d make the most out of it, just as he did countless times over and over. So many years of starting over, getting to know you in various different bodies, realizing that being trapped away was the only way you’d get to live a full life, it was always on his mind. You were always on his mind.

So you take his hand. And for the millionth time, he’d become your second home.

taglist:

@ryoukuna @indigowren21 @cannedfoodisbestfood @junkwhoore @kissesdenji @sanderssidesangsttrash @i-d0g @kaito-asmr @jream-23 @princejasno @mel-bigia04 @mhasimp666 @onehellofasimp @corporeal-terrestrial @angelaturservice @shadows-of-nightmares @rinkindaugly

#💕.sukuna #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #anime x you #anime x reader #anime x male reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x male reader #jjk x reader #sukuna imagine #sukuna angst #sukuna au #sukuna oneshot

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witch-hazels-musings · 3 years

Note

“Don’t tell me you waited this long for me.” / “I’d wait up longer if I had to.” for Zhongli? Romantic. Congrats on 8k! -cryo

oooh oh ohoh - i have a great idea Cryo!! Thanks for celebrating with me today heheh!

You pushed your way through the door of your house. It was quiet and dark, which told you immediately that Zhongli was not here at the moment. Even if you were to call out to him, you’d only be left to hear the silent creaking of the wood as it settled in place.

Instead, you made your way through the house and toward the study which he normally occupied. The open door let you right in and as soon as you took a step inside you were filled with the essence of him. The scent of incense still lingered in the air, old books and rolled parchment mixed with the richness of the smoke. The light near the desk was humming away, the soft orange glow a reminder of its owner and when you walked toward the organized items that littered the surface, you immediately found a letter with your name on it.

My dear, on a night such as this, it seems proper to embark on a leisurely stroll about the city. When you find the time, your company would be well received. You may find me waiting near Yujing Terrace.

Zhongli

“As expected.” You laughed, the parchment that he filled with his words sounded just like him and as you let the thin paper fall against your chest, you quickly prepared yourself for a lengthy evening in the city streets.

The bustling life at night was nothing like those in the day. It was like the city came alive, but in an entirely different way. While contracts and duties were fulfilled in the daytime, at night the citizens relaxed without expectations - they too were there to enjoy the company they may meet.

It took you some time, but finally you were able to catch sight of him when you passed through the archway. It was almost like you were staring at an image, the scene was so incredible it was like a master wordsmith crafted it all to be just, well, perfect.

The light from above mingled with the soft glow below, Zhongli stood proud and proper as he observed the city that moved on beneath him. His hair gently blowing in the wind and as you grew near to him, the sounds of Liyue transformed into a symphony you’d never hear twice.

“It’s beautiful, is it not.” He expressed as you came to his side. There was no surprising him was there.

“It is. I always forget how lovely it looks from up here.”

“Every action taken by others leads us to where we stand today; the Liyue that stretches before you has found colors I could never have imagined.”

Slipping your arm around his, you rested your head on his shoulder. Zhongli was right again, this was indeed a lovely evening. “You must be very proud.”

“Of many things, yes.” He looked over the city and the both of you became distracted by a star falling into the sea before he continued his thought. “I have existed for thousands of years so to see where one small hope has grown into a grandness such as this ... it is incredible. Though it wasn’t I who brought this city to this moment; I am merely allowed to witness it.”

“That may be true,” You commented, slipping from his arms to reposition yourself where he could better see you. “but you’ve also waited so long to see what it could be, and I’d say that’s an accomplishment.” The light in his eyes made your heart flutter but your smile did not falter.

“It would seem I have waited a long time to witness many things.” He reached for your hand and pulled it to his lips, his gentle and rich eyes made you giddy, but he did that often.

“What, are you going to say you waited this long for me, too?” You looked at him, his face reflecting the brightness of the stars and as held your gaze and the expression on his face held more than the words ever could.

“To be at your side, I’d wait countless eons if I had too.” He let go of your hand and extended his arm so you could take up the space against his chest and, as the stars streaked across the sky to fall where they would forever rest, you smiled at the fact that, in this lifetime, you had found your home too.

Dreamland Event

#hazels dreamland #our dreamland #8k milestone!#8k even #genshin impact #genshin impact X reader #genshin impact musings #Zhongli X reader #genshin zhongli #zhongli #cryo anon #thank you for the submission #ooh zhongli

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remuswriting · 3 years

Text

online friend; m. atsumu

Summary: Create a Twitter thread about Naruto and volleyball, and Miya Atsumu is now your best friend.

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x Male! Reader

Warnings: Slight angst, but it’s like incredibly faint

Word Count: 2,150 words

Notes: This was meant to be a short hc, but here we are at lots of words. It’s not the best, but Miya Atsumu is the loml at the moment.

Being online friends with Atsumu is different.

You guys met during your third years on Twitter when you made a thread of what positions Naruto characters would play in volleyball and immediately became friends once he messaged you. He texts his accent and it makes you laugh every time you read it. He says it’s so you can hear his accent, even though you beg for him to stop letting you ‘hear his accent.’

Neither of you know what the other looks like nor do you know each other’s names. He told you to call him ‘Tsumu’ while he calls you ‘Captain’ since you’re the captain of your team. He doesn’t believe you’re a guy until you send a video of you saying “Tsumu, shut the fuck up” (without your face in it) and he’s immediately asking if your high school is going to nationals.

You guys get close fast though and are talking to each other all the time. Osamu tries to take Atsumu’s phone away from him all the time to get him to concentrate, and your friends do the same to you. Atsumu has told Osamu about you, since he sucks at keeping secrets from him, but you haven’t told anyone about him. You don’t think it’s any of their business. He cries about it and you tell him to suck it up.

He’s the first person to learn about your school going to nationals. It’s a bunch of incoherent all caps texts until one clear one that says, “GOING TO NATIONALS” and he starts freaking out with you. Atsumu has no chill and immediately starts planning how you guys are going to meet. He has meeting times and places while you’re just wanting him to calm down. It’s just that he doesn’t know how to be calm when he’s so excited.

After a couple of days, you exchange phone numbers to make it easier for later. Atsumu believes this is perfect because now you guys can call and know each other’s voices better. You’ve never even heard his voice and he keeps wondering if you want to, because he wants to hear your voice again. You tell him you don’t do phone calls and you’re not as active via text as you are Twitter DMs. He gets sad, but you do explain it’ll be better to text at nationals because you’re not going to be getting on social media much.

Osamu doesn’t believe you exist. He thinks Atsumu is texting himself from a burner phone or something, because who would actually want to be friends with his brother. When he learns that you don’t know that Tsumu is actually Miya Atsumu, Osamu knows he has to watch you guys meet. (He was going to join anyways for safety reasons, but now it’s interesting.)

Somehow Atsumu finds out your prefecture before you find his and he’s already online looking for videos of Shirahama, Chiba Prefecture Qualifiers. It’s easy to figure out who you are with that #1 on your jersey. Your entire team is pretty solid, but you’re the best there. You’re really good and it has Atsumu slightly worried, but he’d never say that. You’re also really attractive and Atsumu will push away all these gay thoughts when you stop using the bottom of your jersey to wipe the sweat off your forehead.

He knows nothing about Chiba prefecture, so he starts googling all about it. There’s a beach there, which also means there’s beach volleyball. Atsumu had heard of people training on sand to get better on the court, but he didn’t believe in that shit. You either get good on the court or you don’t at all. If other people were right though, then maybe your team did a lot of beach volleyball?

You call him one night and sound like you’re on top of the world. You just got your acceptance letter to the school of your dreams. It’s overseas. Atsumu can’t hear you anymore after you it’s overseas, in the United States.

It feels just like his brother all over again and he hasn’t even met you in person yet.

So, he hangs up and ignores your texts and calls. He’s not sure if he can meet you now, because you’re going to leave eventually anyways. Osamu finds out and hits him upside the head before telling him to stop being an overdramatic scrub and just talk to you. Osamu lies and says it’s because Atsumu isn’t on top of his game and Osamu plans to win nationals, not lose because Atsumu is heartbroken for no reason. Well, it’s not a big lie because that’s true but he also just cares about his brother.

In Atsumu fashion, he messages you “congrats” and then doesn’t answer your messages. For some strange reason, he feels better, and Osamu takes it.

You don’t though.

You keep texting him and asking him what’s wrong with him. Eventually you start calling and resort to calling him and Atsumu finally answers once you’ve blown up his phone. You’re not normally like this, but you don’t tend to receive weird reactions like he had given you.

He tries to pretend you have the wrong number, and you think about murdering him when you guys meet. You’ll definitely have the wrong number then.

“You don’t have to tell me why you’re upset with me, but you better tell me we’re still meeting at Nationals,” you said, and he makes a squeak on the other end. “You said you’ve been there before, so I expect a text about where and when we’re meeting the day before Nationals, which is in six days.”

“Okay,” Atsumu squeaked, and you laughed slightly.

“See you then Tsumu.”

You’re not really panicked about meeting him because it’s just Tsumu. You guys have been talking for months and he just doesn’t freak you out. Him randomly ghosting you was weird and concerned you more because you were worried about him. You do have worries that maybe you’re not what he expects, but this may be more because you don’t have expectations outside of him being an absolute goof.

Atsumu on the other hand is freaking out. He’s worried you’re going to hate him and think he’s ugly. Osamu just watches, because there is no way to stop the train wreck of his brother’s anxiety. When Atsumu is over practicing one day, clearly trying not to think about everything, Osamu doesn’t spike the next set.

“What’re ya doin’?” Atsumu yelled, and Osamu squinted at him.

“You’re in love with this guy aren’t ya?” Osamu asked, and Atsumu turned bright red.

“No! Don’t be ridiculous ‘Samu! Y/N is just a friend!” Atsumu yelled, and Osamu bit his lip.

“You know his real name, but he doesn’t know yours.” Osamu walks over to his water bottle. “You’re either in love with him or just really fuckin’ creepy to stalk him like that.”

Atsumu chucked the volleyball at Osamu, who easily dodged it. The conversation ended with Osamu laughing and Atsumu panicking about another thing; was he in love with you?

He texts you to meet him during the lull in matches when everyone gets lunch. It’s about a 30-minute break and he doubts Inarizaki will have a match after that time, and he hopes you don’t either. He wants to eat and watch matches with you, so hopefully everything will work out for him.

Thankfully, they do. You’ve gotten through the first round by then and so has he. He even got to watch your team in action, and holy shit were you guys good. You were a strong ass spiker, probably as strong as that guy from Karasuno last year with the bun. Or maybe like Aran. All Atsumu knew was that he wanted to block your spikes, his fingertips buzzing for it.

You show up at the spot he texted you about. It’s outside and he thought it would be nice not to be surrounded by people. There’s someone with you, but he can’t be mad because Osamu and Sun wouldn’t let him go by himself.

“Tsumu?” You asked, and your friend covered his mouth at the sight of Atsumu. “You’re Tsumu?”

Atsumu nervously laughed and nodded. “And yer captain.”

“Miya Atsumu is my online friend?” You asked, and your friend started laughing. “Are you kidding me?”

“Well, no,” Atsumu said, and he didn’t know what to say.

“Now it’s even creepier that you have all the magazine articles he’s been featured in,” your friend said between laughs, and you shoved him.

“Shut up, Akira,” you snapped, and your face turned red.

“Articles?” Atsumu asked, and now Osamu and Suna were laughing.

“Yeah, he’s obsessed with you,” Akira asked, and his laughing was finally starting to die down. “I can’t count the number of times he’s told Koichi to try to set like you do.”

“Akira, shut up,” you said, and you started trying to hide yourself in your jacket.

Atsumu smirked and immediately became cocky. He was no longer panicked. “Is this true, Captain?”

“Maybe it is, Miya,” you said, and you looked over at him. “Or maybe it isn’t.”

Osamu howled laughing and Suna started recording, because everyone on Inarizaki needed to see this.

“No need to deny it. Your friend already ratted ya out,” Atsumu said, and you rolled your eyes. “I know I’m irresistible.”

“I’ll admit, you’re good at volleyball, but whoever said you were irresistible?” You made your face visible now, but your face still felt hot. “I wouldn’t say that with that terrible bleach job you did to your hair.”

Atsumu started to deflate, but he held onto the face you said he was good at volleyball. Maybe because he also thought you were good at volleyball.

“Well, if it’s so terrible, then why save articles with me in them?” Atsumu asked, and he felt like he stumped you. He really showed you.

“Never said I didn’t like it,” you said, and he froze. He could feel his face turning red and he didn’t expect you to be such a flirt. Sure, sometimes you were kind of flirty, but he thought it was a friend thing. Looking back, that mindset probably came from not having many friends.

“Well, yer hair isn’t bad either,” Atsumu retorted, and you chuckled.

“Thank you, I guess. It’s pretty sweaty from that match earlier,” you said, and Atsumu remembered what you looked like when strong arms spiking volleyballs. He suddenly felt hot all over. “I saw you guys play, and you’re good. Hopefully that Karasuno team beats you again. I want to go against Hinata Shoyo.”

“Yeah, he’s insane,” Akira said, and he stood up straight. “I’ve watched some of his matches from Miyagi, and he is something else on the court.”

“He’s crazier in person,” Osamu said, and Atsumu slowly felt like this wasn’t just you and him meeting, but everyone meeting everyone.

“Oh, I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m L/N Y/N and this is Nakaya Akira. We’re from Shirahama in the Chiba Prefecture.”

Osamu nodded and pointed at Atsumu. “Yeah, the scrub figured it out already.”

You looked at Atsumu with a smirk. “Guess I’m not the only one who’s obsessed.” Your watch beeped and you looked down at it before sighing. “Sorry, coach said we had to be back at the front by 13:25. We’re heading back to our hotel to eat.”

Atsumu felt panic rise up in his chest, because he didn’t want this to be the end. He wanted to hang out just a little bit longer.

“Are ya goin’ to come back?” Atsumu asked, and you looked from Osamu to Atsumu.

“Are you going to miss me?” You asked, and Atsumu wasn’t going to answer that. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back to watch some matches and hopefully you and I can have some alone time.”

Gay panic.

This was what Atsumu had been experiencing and it finally clicked when you licked your lips before biting them. His thoughts exploded with wanting to kiss you and maybe have you even do that to his lips.

“He’d love that,” Osamu said, and you nodded while Akira laughed.

“Alright, text me later, Miya,” you said, and Atsumu nodded while trying to hold back a scream.

Once you and Akira were gone, Osamu placed a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder. Sun put up his phone and went to the other side of Atsumu.

“He’s pretty hot,” Suna said, and Osamu hummed in agreement. “I think I might try to get with him.”

“No!” Atsumu screamed, and Suna suppressed a laugh. “I saw him first!”

Osamu laughed and looked at Atsumu. “Good to know ya accepted yer in love with him.”

“How could anyone not be in love with him?” Atsumu asked, and he looked at Osamu with serious eyes. “Did ya not see how good he is at volleyball?”

Atsumu is still 100% a volleyball idiot.

Tag List: @chaoswrites

#haikyuu!!#Miya Atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x male reader #miya osamu #haikyuu x reader hc #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu male reader

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youarejesting · 3 years

Text

Sly like a... ? - Part 1

[Master list] [Sly Master List] Beta: n/a (at the moment) Rating: All Pairing: Hybrid!BTS x FailedHybrid!Reader Genre: Hybrid au, fluff, action, adventure, angst, drama, slice of life. Some marked chapters will contain mature/smut scenes, BUT they will not have plot in those scenes and are 100% skippable without losing your place in the story. Words: 1.6k

Summary: Human’s strive to be better, faster and stronger looking to animal DNA. Thus Hybrids are born. As the rise for designer and Pedigree Hybrids increase, so do the failed attempts. There is one species scientists are unsuccessful in creating, but, folklore says they have been here all along, hiding and blending in with the humans for many millennia. How clever they are.

[First] [Next]

Humans always strived to be better, faster, and stronger. So it was only natural for them to turn to genetic manipulation. Splicing the human DNA with that of animals. Bringing about a new half-human, half-animal race called Hybrids. They were like most things humans deemed different, scary, and an abomination. They were not allowed to be independent in fear of rebellion against the elite pure humans. These Hybrids were soon seen as lesser compared to the pure humans and were quick to be sold as servants to the rich and shady, and pets to the common families. The only problem was when the families no longer wanted their designer pedigree hybrid they were either abandoned, sold, or worse.

Hybrids didn’t have a voice. They were not allowed to live on their own unless they were fully educated with a bachelor’s degree. Due to these standards, many were sent back to the adoption agencies to be rehomed again and again until they reached a certain age. Then they were put down to make room for more returned hybrids.

You were working with the government on a program that could fix the hybrid rehoming issue. Having presented your idea to the board they seemed interested and were willing to grant you a small fund if you could give them the results they needed. They gave you a handful of Hybrids, one being Jimin the poster boy for the government. He was genetically modified to create a male calico with the classic calico print which was only found on females.

They succeeded and though Jimin was a male his features were more on the feminine side making him seem too androgynous but not what the market wanted. He was left to be used as a model on new billboards and television advertisements for government services and legislations regarding Hybrids.

Another participant was your neighbor’s hybrid, Taehyung. He was a golden retriever and was volunteered by his owner, an older gentleman who recently lost his wife. He was worried for the young hybrid that one day when he shall pass he will be alone and scared. You were quick to guarantee him a place in the program to help him become more self-sufficient in case anything should happen.

You were currently packing your things, not that there was much, living in such a tiny apartment. However, you were preparing for a call within the week regarding moving into a larger government-funded home where you could comfortably house the number of new participants of your trial program. The place was fully furnished with everything a large family of hybrids would need, all you had to bring was your clothes. Everything else was paid for to create the perfect environment for the hybrids. Rent, utilities, food, and anything the hybrids needed were all reimbursed by the government.

Since it would be a few days before you would hear anything, you thought it was best to start thinking of activities for the hybrids to get to know one another. Whilst also basking in your last moments of freedom before devoting yourself to the program.

On that note, you had finally finished packing and decided to spend your hybrid-free moments treating yourself to some food. Pulled from your thoughts of a delicious omelet by a loud ping from your jean pocket. A reminder on your phone in bold letters.

H-week!

Today marked the first day of your heat, this explained the nagging twinge in your back you had been ignoring, you thought it was from hunching over to pack. Searching your top draw you saw the empty blister packet of heat suppressants, great another thing to add to your ever-growing to-do list. The pharmacy was a little further than the restaurant you wished to visit but not too far out of the way. So you set off hoping to get back in time before it gets too dark, your eyes did funny things at night.

See you weren’t exactly human yourself, you were an experiment. The world was creating new hybrids and well, you were genetically modified within the same year as Jimin. Supposed to be the new designer breed the ‘Fox-Hybrid’. The problem was it didn’t work, you were born entirely human. Sure you were a bit more agile, and your ability to hear and smell things was better than normal. You were still essentially human.

Once a month since you were thirteen, you would get a strange feeling in your lower abdomen. When you discussed it with the scientists for your check-up, they had explained it was a heat. Whilst foxes usually had a heat once a year lasting three days, yours would happen once a month lasting three days but a lot milder.

Since that day you have taken a low dose heat suppressant to nullify any pheromones. You were grateful because it wasn’t as painful or as long as a human period, but it wasn’t as debilitating or humiliating as a real heat.

You had grown up seeing Jimin on occasion and were familiar with how debilitating hybrid heats and ruts were. Even so, the two of you became friends, both failed attempts at modification.

Though you never understood why they said fox hybrids didn’t exist, you had seen them. Sometimes in grocery stores, restaurants, or nightclubs. They would be there, they would wink at you or wave, give you a smirk with a twitch of their ears or a swish of their tail. Were they mocking you for being a defect?

The only good thing accompanying your long journey was the music humming softly in your headphones. Used to drown out the loud sounds of the city, as your ears were sensitive. It also helped you ignore the side-eyes from Hybrids who would not so subtly sniff the air as you passed.

You caught a flash of orange and looked across the street. A simple fruit shop that had a colorful awning flapping in the gentle breeze.

Moving around the store was a shopkeeper in a green apron, shirt, with his bronze hair sticking out underneath a matching cap. He was putting down a tray of banana’s and as he stood, a pair of ears and a bottle brush-like tail were visible, he turned as if sensing your presence and locked eyes with you, tipping his cap. He dusted his hands on his apron, leaving you shocked. A Fox hybrid in public! No one else seemed amazed or even spared him a glance. How could no one see this?

It was like a scene from a movie, as a truck drove past leaving the man looking completely innocent and human talking to a few ladies. He was quite good-looking and charming, but there was no sign of a tail. The women were quick to fall for him, purchasing an oddly large selection of fruits and vegetables. You turned back to the path ahead of you shaking your head in disbelief, before continuing on your way to the pharmacy.

The pharmacy catered for humans and hybrids alike and was never too busy. Which made it your favorite store to collect your script from, as there was little to no waiting time. Handing over the script, you strolled around the store wondering what you would need for these Hybrids. Toothbrushes? Combs? If they had a lot of body hair would they need the silky coat shampoo formula or the soft fur body wash? Placing the hybrid shampoo and body wash back on the shelf you shook your head honestly this was overwhelming.

Rubbing your aching stomach, you were too uncomfortable to really get into hybrid care right now. You wouldn’t have to worry about any other heats apart from your own as it was decided with the board they would all be male hybrid participants. This stemmed from Taehyung being already a willing participant from the start, they thought it best not to mix male and female hybrids.

You would however have to deal with their ruts, albeit once or twice a year. You chewed your lip in thought pausing in the makeup section of the store. You caught your reflection in the small mirror and preened thoughtfully, your eyes were expressive and angular, your hair due to the modification was a brilliant copper.

You were quite beautiful, eerily so, like the man at the fruit shop. Your features were so similar. Even though you were a defect and he was the real deal. “Ma’am your order is ready.”

Turning surprised you grew hot in embarrassment, stammering to make an excuse, “Sorry, I was just thinking about a really strange fox hybrid at the fruit shop.”

Many occupants in the store turned confused and you heard an old man say, “Fox hybrids don’t exist, they are sinister creatures and not to be meddled with”

“She must be a conspiracy theorist,” one woman whispered to her hybrid snake who was donating venom for anti-venom.

Paying for the medication you left quickly and took one of the small pills as you stepped out of the store. Why didn’t anyone else see them?

You headed back towards your home, not forgetting the reason for your trip. You were excited about an omelet at your favorite restaurant when two apples came rolling across the pavement.

They rolled towards you, quickly picking them up you carried them inside the store, “excuse me, sir you dropped some of your apples,” You saw his shadow in the darkened store, two pointed ears, and the flick of a tail.

“Are you a fox hybrid?” You asked curiously and he laughed. It was strange like snickering but at a pitch that was not fit for a grown man, like a child’s giggle sharper with a few squeals, or like a bird chittering. You know the sound. He was Gekkering like a fox.

“Thank you,” he took the apples gesturing you over to the side, “let me get you some blueberries, they are my favorite.”

“Oh thank you, sir, how much do I owe you?”

He shook his head, thrusting a black plastic bag into your hands, “It’s okay, we have to look out for one another.”

What a strange man…

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