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verysium · 5 months

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『01』到着: arrival

ft. rin itoshi, sae itoshi

summary: the forces of nature abide by a single law: all cataclysms are creators of their own collapse. in the wake of such destruction, rin tumbles his way down to earth, and along the staircase of heaven, a new star is born. cw: mild swearing, childhood nostalgia and growing pains, rin being embarrassing, social anxiety, sae being somewhat parental, sibling dynamics, kamakura and japanese culture, spanish lessons, very dense prose (cus i suck ass at dialogue), star analogies, orange peels and other fruit metaphors, fluff but bittersweet.

word count: 6.4k

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The first word Rin learns is star.

It is spoon-fed to him in glittering globules of milk fat, dense and pooling around the gums. Stars are what he senses when rough hands slip around his torso, stuffing the nib of a plastic bottle into his mouth. He is only a week old and can't see yet, but he already knows the set of eyes he is staring into. There are tiny pinpoints of blue-green light, reflective and shiny, a mirror to his own.

The world is blurry but somehow Rin finds his own image. His newborn legs are scrunched inside a wad of cotton blankets, poised and ready to strike. Rin doesn't like being confined, but the four walls of the hospital room offer him no reprieve. He cries and bawls and screams to go back. Only the silence answers.

Rin hates this place. The world out here is a different state of mind: too bright, too loud, too much. Anything and everything has been etched into a single frame, time scorched into untouched skin. It is to the point his senses cannot handle any more.

Every morning the shadows of nurses gorge themselves on daylight, waistlines growing by the minute as they enlarge into his field of vision. They pry at the wires of his crib, brushing off invisible dust as they try so hard to make his heartbeat sync with their incessantly beating machines. His body refuses to obey. They should've known the moment he was born that he'd always be one step behind.

Rin wants to screech his head off again. This time he babbles that the milk tastes like car grease, that he'd rather die free than live in pain, but a firm hand stays the bottle between his lips, insisting on its delicacy. Rin blanches. He isn't hungry. He tries to pull away. But his mother's voice cuts through the silence, a warning.

"Sae-chan, be careful with your brother."

The two-year-old grunts, lips twisted in annoyance as he tries the balancing act of feeding a newborn with one arm. His gaze is ancient, too piercing for a child. Rin's fingers crawl up Sae's face, clumsy and blind as they grope for his nose bridge. There are stars in his older brother's eyes, ones Rin cannot reach no matter how hard he tries.

Rin ends up spilling milk on himself, crying as he drools white rivulets down his chin. If Sae could swear, he most definitely would’ve called Rin an ungrateful little shit. But Rin knows it is an honor to be born where he was. He is a legacy to someone else’s dream, both a spare and a second chance at living. He butters himself up in their nasal tongues, machinating his lips in tandem.

When his brother offers him another drink, his mouth is already open.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It turns out life outside the womb is actually far greater than it was inside. Rin learns that real people walk and talk and grow up to find something called a purpose. He doesn't understand why the adults deem it complicated though. How could something so simple take years to discover? After all, his brother has already figured out his purpose, so why couldn't he?

"Rin-chan, you must find something to do with your life," his grandmother mentions over dinner, smoothing her weathered hands down the locks of his hair. The family is gathered around the table for tea, sitting like a portrait on the zabuton. Rin tries his best to emulate, his three-year-old spine drawn taut with practiced humility.

"Your brother has already paved the way. You can do the same, can’t you Rin-chan?"

Of course he can. Rin's heard these words a thousand times before. Sae isn't called the family's star collector for nothing. His nii-chan has already amassed tens of thousands of these five-pointed shapes, a few of which sit in a glass trophy case Rin isn't allowed to touch. He’s seen this all play out before.

A fortune teller once read their futures, thumbing her way along his brother’s palms as she spilled the very same oracles. Rin still remembers that day clearly: a morning visit to the shrine, the image scattered like water. The torii unfolded like a vermillion tongue, moseying its way down Komachi Street. He had been dressed in his little navy blue hakama, toes tucked politely into his tabi, his round eyes reflecting the world like a fisheye lens. There was much to observe from the hustle and bustle of life. Peculiar squiggly lines danced along the signage of shops. Candied lacquerware displayed themselves behind glass windows. Rin even stopped to point out the goldfish hanging in their crystal bags, giggling when the force of nearby windchimes sent each fish for a tumble. One soba stop and two taiyaki ice creams later, his small feet had grown tired from the hours of excursion, and his mother carried him on her back for the latter half of the trip home.

It was then that he spotted her.

An old lady sat in a booth by the wayside, framed by colorful curtains. His father had told him that she could foresee the future with the mere touch of her hand. Sae had gone first, holding out his palm with assured poise, as if he already knew the outcome. Rin wasn’t surprised when he heard the verdict. The old lady claimed Sae was destined to become the world’s greatest star, to bring glory to the nation of the sun. Rin didn’t doubt it if this was true at the time. His brother’s existence was proof enough. Sae’s certainty was a lesson Rin learned before object permanence, before any preconventional stage of development. Nii-chan is always one way and not the other. He is on track to do something important, and nothing can sway him from it.

That was the first truth Rin learned of this world.

Even now at the family dinner, he doesn't even need to look to know that his brother is sitting with near perfect posture, the precision of still life running through his veins. Sae is an adult before he is a child, a handcrafted figurehead for the Itoshi name. Rin lifts his chin a little higher, his toddler hands raised in firm conviction.

“I’ll follow Nii-chan! Follow him to the end of the world!”

His grandmother nods, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Rin doesn't say anything else, quiet for the rest of the night. He doesn't understand the words she exchanges with his parents, nor does he try to. Adult talk still isn't his strong suit, especially not when it concerns the future. But his mother's eyes shine wet and proud, and his father chuckles more than usual. Rin decides his purpose right then and there.

He wants to be a star too.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The day after starting kindergarten, Rin shows off his first masterpiece, cradling two sheets of rice paper as he runs up to the front door. By the time the fusuma slides open, he has already uncrumpled his work, dramatically revealing a bold shock of color. It appeared to be some sort of assemblage, painstakingly inked in blue crayon and pieced together with painter's tape.

"That's a pentagon, Rin."

"No, it’s a star! See? 1…2…3…4…5 points! Star!"

Sae isn't amused. Rin does not know why. His brother’s eyes are hardened slats of light, the still water of an abandoned lake. There are no mouths to swallow the light, no twinkling ripples at the surface, not even the gasps of glimmering excitement. There is only the mirrored slate of the sky: one shade of blue bleeding into the next. Rin feels his stomach plummet into its depths. This isn’t the soft look of pride he wanted to see. Not in the slightest.

At first he thinks about crying, his bottom lip already curled with the onslaught of a pathetic sob. But spite unfurls in his lungs, so instead he turns his nose up with huff, trying to seem unaffected. He would be very proud of his star. And it most certainly was not called a pentagon or whatever stupid name Sae learned in his stupid math class. But apparently his older brother always had something else to say.

"Just come here and erase it. I'll show you how to make a proper star."

"But I don't want to! It's my star. It's perfect!"

Rin can hardly utter another word before Sae's glare nearly freezes the living daylights out of him. Nii-chan is scary, especially when angry. He doesn't even have a choice when he sits down at the chabudai, pouting in reluctance. Sae works out his magic on paper, crafting ley lines within the grain of paper. Rin does his best to follow, licking his lips as he guides his crayon through the dotted lines. It gets increasingly difficult though when Sae's hand echoes warmly around his own, gentle but firm in its direction. Rin tries to avoid his brother's eyes, but Sae's kindness is as disarming as his gaze. Had Nii-chan always had that crease between his eyebrows? The slight upturn of his lips when he bit his tongue in concentration?

Rin tries to trace the lines, but he ends up tracing Sae's face instead. His focus isn't even on the paper when he scribbles out a mess of incomplete pentagons, some geometric concatenation he cannot translate into real-time. Sae would have pinched his cheek, scolding him in disappointment.

Sae never did.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The next time Rin traces a pentagon, it is on the surface of a black-and-white ball, shot like a meteorite through a football goal. His brother becomes a comet, light on his feet as he thunders down the field, weaving seamlessly between defenders. Rin can only stand on the sidelines, drowned out in his second-hand hoodie, face smushed up against the fence as he tries to get a good view. The team's been at it for hours, and Rin's pretty sure he now has the diamond imprint of chain links burnt into his cheeks.

"Somebody stop him!"

"Get after him!"

"Mark Sae Itoshi!"

There will always be someone up to the challenge of his brother's prowess, but no one ever comes close to toppling him. Rin doesn't think Sae would ever miss a single step, not when he's so far ahead. His brother is strong and calculated, absolutely unwavering in his ascent to the top. The only way Sae Itoshi could ever fall is if he buckled under his own weight, caving into himself.

Rin's eyes follow the reporters as they trail after Sae, and his nose wrinkles in disgust. They were no better than a pack of bloodhounds, desperate for a small taste of his brother's victory. How dare they? His Nii-chan outshined everyone at everything. Rin wasn't the smartest boy, but even he knew that a star could never be caught. They didn't even belong on Earth in the first place.

"Let's go, Rin."

Rin doesn't complain when his brother calls him to return home, oblivious to the media's chagrin. Like Sae, Rin is utterly indifferent to their plight, side-stepping one of the reporters who dry-heaves on his shoes in exhaustion. It was definitely their fault for failing to outrun both an eight-year-old child and his kid brother, let alone try to feast on their glittering remains. If they couldn't catch a star, they ought to eat the dust left behind. After all, that was how the world worked according to Nii-chan.

Only the best could succeed. All the rest would implode with the universe.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It is the summer before his tenth birthday when Rin takes back every single one of those words. He is that reporter now, completely humiliated and exhausted as he collapses on the sidelines. The afternoon workout had just entirely rearranged his guts, so much so that he's foaming at the mouth, the remnants of his hasty breakfast speckled all over his cleats.

Out of every star in existence, the sun has to be the worst one. A pool of sweat trickles down his back, melting into a sticky discomfort along his nape. It’s too far up his jersey for him to do anything about, and he might just die from the sweltering heat.

Perhaps it was true that sports stars had to suffer in order to burn bright, but Rin would never wish this fate upon anybody. Sae is shouting at him from somewhere outside his periphery, insisting that the sun has never stopped revolving, that Rin has to never stop practicing if he ever plans on keeping up. But at this point, he could care less about a goddamn metaphor, let alone rub two brain cells together to interpret it.

"That shot was shoddy, Rin. Redo it."

"But it's so hot, I can't—”

"It's not hot. It's lukewarm. Redo it."

Sometimes Rin regrets ever thrusting himself into the orbit of his brother’s football dream. Playing on the world stage sounded so much easier in his head back then, but now it might as well have been an impossible fantasy. He most definitely wasn’t cut out for this line of work because his legs feel like shit, his arms feel like shit, and his whole body can’t even breathe under the thick, grimy layer of sweat. Blinking his eyes against the burning salt, Rin curses to himself. He should’ve taken that energy drink from earlier. At least the caffeine would have kept him sane. Sae snaps Rin out of his reverie, his thin voice seeping into Rin’s bones. There’s something softer in his tone this time.

“Suck it up and redo it. I’ll buy you ice cream after practice.”

There is silence. Rin stands back up, wiping his forehead as he stares his brother dead in the eye. The field has never been larger, and the goal has never been closer. And just like that, he is off, powering down the turf.

Under the supermassive gravity of his brother's ambitions, Rin becomes a supernova, his body charged with enough energy to last through entire lifetimes.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

In the oppressive sunlight, Sae's cold stare becomes a welcome sight. Augusts in Kamakura are the products of heat waves, the sun so scorching Rin can see a visible mirage above the asphalt. The heat spares no one, and Rin feels his cargo pants stick to the crease of his thighs. Even Sae’s bangs are plastered to his forehead, unusually slick behind the ears. They had just met Sae’s agent that morning, taking the Yokosuka line back from Tokyo. Sae had even left early, planning to evade the weekend’s tourists. But neither of them ever anticipated the harshness of the afternoon heat. After nearly an hour of searching, their only refuge was this 7-Eleven, some tiny microcosm practically stowed away between two utility poles.

The oba-chan at the konbini greets them with a seasoned smile, chirping with polite bubbliness as she rings up Sae’s Garigari-kun popsicles, a total of 70 yen for the original soda flavor. Rin waits demurely in a corner, eyes drawn to his brother’s silhouette. Some oji-san sits himself down nearby, fanning himself with a newspaper as he twirls a toothpick between his gums.

“Trying to avoid the heat, eh? You and your brother come here often?”

The man looks middle-aged, crowned with an artificial toupée and a cracked tooth. His eyes dart between Rin and Sae, a knowing smile plastered on his lips.

“Nii-chan and I just found this place. We don’t come here a lot.”

“Ah. Is that so? You seem awfully young to be shopping without parents. What’s your name?”

Rin doesn’t want to answer. He hates this man already, even more so his strangeness. There’s a disarming nature to his beady eyes, like he knows something Rin doesn’t. Rin looks down at the floor, his sneakers toeing a shy line across the linoleum tiles.

“R-rin.”

“Rin-kun, eh? You must look up to your Nii-chan a lot, huh? Your gaze hasn’t left him since.”

Rin feels his throat close up, cheeks flushing with heat of embarrassment. On second thought, he hates everything about this oji-san now, even down to his obnoxious friendliness. The old man winks, bending down in a conspiratorial whisper. Rin wrinkles his nose at the stale smell of beer, feeling embarrassed for even bothering to converse. This man was clearly drunk out of his mind, and Rin secretly hopes no one else is watching him. But unfortunately, the whispers are loud enough to travel across the entire convenience store, right into Sae’s ears.

“Oh-ho? Are you blushing?”

Rin vehemently shakes his head.

“Don’t worry, Rin-kun. Your secret is safe for me. You must be your brother’s little shadow, right?” The man pumps his fist out, his voice distorted in a childish imitation. “Nii-chan's number one supporter!”

Rin’s hands ball into fists at the oji-san’s teasing, his ears red to their tips. Sae is looking at him from over the cash register now, a confused look etched onto his face. Rin clenches his teeth in annoyance. Stripped bare of all defenses, he is now analyzed for what he is. Was his admiration that obvious? Did Sae know about his feelings? He didn’t want to be taken for some stupid, awestruck fool. The old man’s question is barely answered before Rin makes a break for it, the bell on the door ringing with his sudden departure.

The road outside swirls in holographic patterns, a dizzying blend of feet and socks and concrete. Rin has to take a moment to steady himself before Sae comes up behind him, armed with a plastic bag of wrappers and blue ice between his teeth. Rin licks his popsicle with caution, burning away his shame as his tongue freeze dries itself to the candied surface. Sae crunches his ice cream in two bites, an amused lilt to his voice.

“What was that back there?”

“N-nothing! I didn’t know him.”

“You’re too shy to talk to strangers?”

“N-no…H-he was just talking to himself.”

Sae gives Rin a weird look, but he doesn’t question further. Instead, his hand reaches down to slap Rin on the back of the head, ruffling the hair there until it somehow resembles a bird’s nest.

“Next time someone asks you something, just answer. Stop acting like a damn coward.”

Rin’s entire face burns with humiliation at that comment. He wishes the ground could just open up and swallow him whole. The last thing he wants to be is the laughingstock of his brother’s dry humor, but the fact that Sae rarely even cracks a joke makes this entire situation much worse. Instead of replying, Rin follows what he does best and rapidly changes the subject. His voice trembles as he stares at his popsicle handle, noting the hiragana carved into plywood. Atari.

“Ah, look. I won a prize.”

Sae’s eyes widen momentarily, pausing in his step as he looks down to check his own stick. Less than a minute later, he grimaces, tossing it away.

“Tch, don’t waste your luck on something so meaningless.”

Rin knows what Sae means. Only becoming the best matters, and with the sparse amount of luck to go around, he might as well spend it on a real victory. The Itoshis can’t afford loss, not that they’d ever know what it was. A foreign emotion flickers through Sae’s eyes, something akin to uncertainty. Rin brushes it off as a trick of the light.

The trek back home is tinged with a golden hue, the sun milder as it cascades rays down both their faces. Sae's appearance has always been unsettling, even in the mellow glow of summer. Rin recalls his mother used to say that Sae inherited all the sharpness in the family. His mother was definitely right. Sae’s nose is too straight, the slant of his brows too unnatural. If Rin took a ruler to his face, every measurement would come back scientifically accurate. Nothing about Sae is soft. Nothing about him should be comforting. But when his brother looks at him, Rin feels someone’s breath brush across his forehead, the skin still warm from the imprint of their lips.

He grips Sae’s hand tighter, knuckles looped between calloused digits. They tread silently, all thoughts of victory forgotten, the coastal breeze whispering their names into air. Rin can’t take his eyes off his brother, and, despite his lack of situational awareness, Sae notices it too.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing… It’s just… Back at the store… If it were you, you’d never be afraid to speak up, right?”

“Of course. There’s nothing that I fear.”

Sae’s tone is stiff when he says this, his face tilted towards the horizon. Rin almost misses the slight waver in his voice. His brother does everything to keep his word. At least that much holds true. Rin silently wishes that too would never change.

Sae always looks forward, always stares towards the skyline, always plans for the future. Not once has Rin seen his older brother look fully back at him, let alone pivot toward the direction he once came from. One side of Sae’s face is always hidden, not too dissimilar to the far side of the moon. His Nii-chan might as well be some celestial body, cast under the penumbra of his own eclipse. No one could ever know him in his entirety.

Sae’s eyes must be lonely, Rin ponders. They’re trapped on opposite ends of his face, two stars that could align but never cross. He swears to always remember the constellations in his brother’s eyes.

He'd follow them wherever they took him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Sae has his eyes set on Spain: a land of gold, guts, and glory. The streets are somehow more burnt than its people, and the nation itself flickers with twisting tongues. It is also the only place where Rin cannot follow, and he is inconsolable.

Sae hadn’t even given a week’s notice before he broke the news on a Sunday, stating his plans factually over a family dinner. Rin nearly spit out his ochazuke right then and there, choking pitifully on his tea-steeped rice grains. Who in their right mind would willingly travel to a country that sees the sun for nearly three thousand hours a year? Perhaps Sae was immune to all natural phenomena, but Rin would rather die than train in that hellish heat. And most importantly, what was with the sudden announcement? Did his brother not even care about the people he was leaving behind?

He thought about it hard during dinner and even harder when Sae blow-dried his hair that night. They had both stepped out from the tub at the same time, arguing after their shared bath. Rin complained his brother turned the water temperature up too high every time, and Sae pointed out he was dripping water everywhere, the suds still stuck deep in his scalp. Their fingers had been at each other’s hair, clawing and tugging until their mother finally intervened, wrapping Rin up in the family towel as she knelt down to dry him. Rin stood there, an angry flush on his cheeks and his features pulled into a petulant sulk as he observed Sae clean himself with elegant precision, a quiet look on his face. Life at ten and a half was simply unfair. Rin couldn’t wait until he was his brother’s age. Apparently being a teenager meant Nii-chan could have his own towel, a custom gift embroidered with seagulls on the hem. Nii-chan could dry himself without any help from others, no longer needing his mother’s guidance. He could even leave the house if he truly wanted, and no one would come after him. Rin’s scowl deepens, glowering at Sae as his mother forces his little arms up, tugging the pyjamas over his head. In another life, he would’ve admitted that he was envious of Sae’s independence, the sheer effortless grace with which he carried himself. But Rin was too prideful to do that. A confession of his own failures was equivalent to suicide in his book.

The best he can do is bite his tongue, forcing back the angry vitriol that would have otherwise spilled from his lips. His brother stands on a stool behind him, blow-dryer in hand as he ruffles through Rin’s tresses, the nozzle spewing warm air across his forehead. Sae’s fingers are rough and heavy, riddled with calluses underneath, likely from the months of weightlifting and grip training. But as solid as they are, they are also nimble, delicate as bird wings as they gently comb through strands of hair. The hot air massages around his temples, and Rin feels the tender brush of something against his nape. He cannot tell if it was the blow-dryer or the warmth of Sae’s body behind him.

In the end, he decides he does not want to know.

By now, the water droplets have cleared from his skin, his locks rusted from a dark olive to a coarse black. Sae turns the blow-dryer to his own head, tousling his hair as he shakes out the excess moisture. Rin watches silently through the mirror, squeezing a fine line of mint paste down the center of his toothbrush. He chews on the plastic bristles as he contemplates, moving his arm back and forth in a repetitive scrubbing motion. Sae had inherited their mother’s hair and their father’s countenance, his visage a perfect combination of both genetic features. His obaa-san once remarked that the kami had accidentally spilled wine on Sae’s birthday, anointing his head in a rich maroon. In Japan, red is the color of all things joyous, a shade Rin identifies with the uchikake at weddings and the rope decorations his parents pin onto doors for good luck. But to be associated with joy, Rin finds that fact highly ironic. He has never seen Sae express any semblance of happiness before, except maybe the occasional grimace he tries to pass off as a smile.

Still, the connotation of their contrasting hair colors does little to ease the ache in his tiny chest. If Sae is the blood of an early sunrise, then Rin is the death before night. Black is not a marriage but a funeral, the makings of an era filled with fear, violence, and misfortune. In a way, Rin is the end to Sae’s beginning, both the antithesis and the complement.

A soft touch against his chin interrupts his thoughts, and Rin looks up just in time to see Sae retracting his hand, wiping the excess toothpaste off Rin’s chin. And in that moment, he wants to scream. How dare Sae try to leave him? To act like everything was alright. He said the end was another beginning when really it was just the end. There wasn’t any coming back from it. Sae would disappear off to Spain, and he would never come back. At least the version of Sae he was seeing now.

In the dim lights, Rin’s hair is darker than ever, the inky tendrils plastered around his ears like a vacuum devoid of light. He brings a death omen, a curse wherever he goes. In between the liminal space of bathroom mirror and tile, he divorces memory from mind, separating the flesh until it can last no longer. He’ll kill this memory of his brother if he has to, suffocating it in the most gruesome of ways. He doesn’t want to admit this might be the last time he’ll ever see Sae.

And most importantly, he doesn’t want to admit that he just might miss him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Rin resolved to give Sae the silent treatment after that night, avoiding him throughout the house and acting like he was repelled by some nameless force. But his plans sadly never seem to work. The more he turns away, the more he is reeled back in, as if cast on some invisible fishing line. Now he’s here in Sae's bedroom, forty-eight hours before D-day, trying to mouth out words that aren't his own.

His brother has somehow convinced him to adopt a new language, something about how he needs to be bilingual to play in different countries. Rin didn’t understand most of it before he complied, letting himself be dragged onto his brother’s bedspread. His English flashcards sit opposite to Sae’s Spanish ones as he crosses his legs, mouthing the shapes on his brother’s lips.

Manzana. Banana. Naranja.

Translation: I am undoing everything that has ever made me whole.

In the middle of their lesson, Sae hands his brother said fruit, as if to accentuate his point. He peels the orange in a perfect spiral, thumb under the calyx as the spongy white fiber separates from ochre flesh, the pulp inlaid like jewels beneath skin. He cracks the segments hexagonally and tosses Rin the larger half.

“Naranja.”

“Naranja.” Rin repeats, curling his tongue around the foreign vowels. He catches the fruit with ease, shoving the flesh into his mouth until juice pools between teeth and his mouth is bursting with flavor. The language trickles down his throat, settling into the hollow of his larynx.

Naranja.

He looks down at his own orange, a half-imitation at best. His fingers are still stuck inside the skin, the liquid squirting into his right eye. It is sour, acrid even. The flesh has gone bad, wrinkled like soft cherries. A tangerine blooms saffron yellow beneath his nails, zest building up under the cuticle. He makes a mental note to wash his hands later.

Mi media naranja.

Unlearning, Rin decides, is a very difficult process. It makes him feel like a child again, an estrangement from his old self. Sometimes two halves aren’t enough to make him whole, and other times it is a section too much. There are many things in this world that elude his grasp. One day perhaps he will know them all. In another life, he would have been able to tell the difference between an apple and an orange, to draw the line between his half and Sae’s half. But for now, he is still discovering, still plucking and choosing, still floundering in a body he has come to hate. Rin picks up another flashcard, right next to the yellow one labeled starfruit, named estrella for each of its five points.

“What’s this one?”

“Desastre. Spanish for disaster.”

"Dis…as…star?"

"It's disaster. You have to enunciate the r."

"Dis…as…ster? What the hell even is that? Another star?"

Sae deadpans, and Rin mentally braces himself for another harsh remark, probably a brutally honest insult about his own stupidity. But this conversation has long evolved past fruits and colors and my half and your half. His brother’s eyes soften with shadows, as if bruised by something far deeper. A contusion forms beneath the surface, purpled and pained. Rin’s mind fills with confusion when Sae suddenly stares out the curtains again, his gaze strangely wistful. The room is so quiet he almost misses Sae’s answer.

"Yeah...it's a star.”

Disaster is a bad star.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The day before Sae leaves, Rin wishes on a bad star. He wakes up at an unlucky hour of dawn, slinking past a sleeping town as he goes to find his brother on the embankment near the sea. The streets bend around this corner of the peninsula, gaping like a mouth, lips pried apart at the seams. Located between a rock and a hard place, the coast of Koshigoe Beach oscillates between two types of constant turmoil, battling the erosion of natural forces from the east while facing the gentrification of construction in the west. During early mornings, the tide is sometimes low enough to expose the rocks up to the seawall, the desiccated seaweed forming fishing nets along its edge. Occasionally, the imprints of a stranger's footsteps leave behind small pockets of water, each one a home to an assorted array of abalone and oyster shells. Rin remembers the family vacations he spent here, the storm-cloaked skies. He had been so excited to go clamming after watching every episode of Chibi Maruko-Chan. In his red bucket hat and plastic shovel, he raced to the water’s edge, his little cheeks puffed out in exertion. He had anticipated sunny weather and clear skies, the glitter of rainbow sea glass, maybe even the golden sands he had seen in many of Sae’s travel brochures. But his first impression had been one of utter disappointment.

The sand was a dull, drab grey: a single expanse of color that stretched on forever across the horizon. There were no clouds, only the stinging brittle of salt stuck inside his lungs and nestled between his toes. And to make matters worse, there weren’t even any clams in the first place, no sparkling bits of the golden treasure he had been so desperate to bring home. He felt his spirits dampen with ocean spray, his little feet coming to a sudden halt as he stared crestfallen at the waters.

Rin learned two major lessons that day. One, Maruko-chan was a big fat liar. And two, he should never believe anything that he sees on screen. Unfortunately, his folly cost him a hefty price: one tantrum on the car ride home and zero pretty seashells to add to his collection. Looking back on it now, Rin feels a strange sense of comfort in his disillusionment. In all four directions, his home is still the same greyish wash of color, unchanging as the sea and as unforgiving as its waters. At least that is something he can rely on. Nowadays, the constants in his life can be counted on a single hand, and the number of childhood remnants dwindles down to even fewer.

Still, he can recall one memory clearer than the rest.

While Rin had been busy lamenting the lack of clams, Sae had tugged him by the back of his shirt, pulling him to the wayside as he stuck his fingers into the earth. Obviously, Rin was too caught up in his misery to notice, but his sniffles soon died down when he saw the faintest of bubbles lurk beneath the sandy surface. Sae taught him how to dig, how to plant feet into the ground, how to scavenge for survival. And Rin followed without question.

Soon, a cast of translucent crabs spilled forth from the pits, scuttling in massive red tides. Rin scooped some out with bare hands, sectioning them into segments: the ruby shells of a pomegranate, dividing and dividing again. He held a hermit up to the light, a look of gleeful amazement on his features. Was it their shells that determined their shape or the tender bodies inside them? Rin could never tell. All he knew was that these crabs were a different sort of treasure, ones that he cradled gently with bare hands and shielded from the foraging gulls. They were creatures meant to be loved.

The waves now break across concrete fortifications, crashing upon cubic breakwaters. By the time Rin reaches the paved promenade near the shores, Sae is already there, feet drowned in the freezing Pacific, the shirasu swimming between his toes. He doesn’t even turn when the sand crunches with footsteps, and Rin silently curses his brother’s superior senses.

“I thought I told you not to come, Rin.”

“I know....But I still wanted to.”

In Rin’s mind, it doesn’t matter if Sae didn’t want him to be there. It doesn’t matter that he should’ve never come. He’d always keep chasing this dream if it meant he could stay. In fact, any ill omen would be better than this sinking pit in his stomach, this feeling that something was about to change forever.

The twinkles of light in the sky ripple across the sea, and Rin can’t help but see the view reflected in his brother’s visage. Sae’s eyes are like the ports of Sagami Bay, hardened with the carapace of cold comfort. Absence, Rin believes, would be his brother’s ultimate paradox. Sae could do everything and nothing all at once, and he would still be both the empty hole and the overflowing home. If eyes could be waves and faces could be stars, Sae would be the coldest, but he would also burn the brightest. Right now Rin just wants some of that warmth.

“So...you’re really leaving?”

“Yeah. I’m going ahead of you now. You better catch up.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll do my best to become scouted like you.”

“Right. And then onto the world. The two of us will become the best there is.”

A silence hangs between them, loose as a thread. The wind whistles across the boardwalk, stirring up small spirals of volcanic sand. Sae notices Rin’s contemplative expression, following his gaze until he finds the moon still in the sky, lit up by the fading light of Polaris. Rin prays silently, knees tucked into his chest as he clasps his hands tightly together. His soft whispers are frequently interspersed by distant murmurs of the sea.

Please let Nii-chan be safe. Please don’t let him forget me.

The sunrise is about to start, one more hour until the day fully begins. Sae has to put an end to this, or else he'll never leave.

“Stop praying, Rin. They’re just stars. They'll die before your wish can come true.”

Rin peeks an eye open, unfurling from his tucked position. He looks to the stars then back at Sae, a familiar prickling in his eyes. Sae doesn’t even need to check to know that he’s crying.

“I just...” Rin’s voice wavers, “I think I’lll miss you, Nii-chan. At least send a message home?”

“Maybe. When I have the time.”

“Oh...okay.” Rin looks down awkwardly, staring at his feet before perking up again, “Do you think our dream can be achieved in a few years? I’ll come visit you in Spain! Maybe we’ll even play for Royale together.”

“You better. Don’t slack off just because I’m not here.”

“I know. I won’t.”

Rin had never been particularly good at farewells, let alone his first one. His voice is watery now, as if liquid and unable to be contained.

“Hey...Sae?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really think we’ll make it big?”

There’s a pause in the conversation, the length of it too long for Sae’s liking. For once, certainty does not come to him as easily. But Rin already knows there is a fundamental difference to the depths of his brother’s greed. Sae’s eyes harden into flints, his voice crashing across the sandy beaches, unrelenting in its harshness but still shapelessly soft.

“We have to.”

Rin doesn’t have anything to say to that. Neither of them do. If killing himself meant living forever, then Sae Itoshi would have died a long time ago.

He would have died and become a star.

author's note: to whoever made it down here, thank you for reading the words i’ve curated at the cost of my sleep schedule. this chapter was supposed to be a purely self-indulgent one-shot about rin’s character, but it quickly devolved into a multi-chapter fic (oops.) majority of the content is pulled from the official manga, the spin-off novel translations, and occasionally my own personal interpretation. the extended star metaphor is inspired by @hanyjar (my lovely moot) and franny choi's poetry in the atlantic. while the plot follows the original canon chronologically, you can theoretically read the scenes in any order, and the vignettes are meant to vacillate between different scenes and interactions. regardless, rin seeks the same path of self-destruction throughout all scenarios, even if it means losing himself. (atp he needs to go to therapy, and i need to go touch grass.) anyways, thank you for reading, and it genuinely means a lot to see people interact with my works!

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hallows-evening · 5 months

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hehe I love them, this idea has been on my mind for DAYS and now I am finally sharing it

Fic based off the image below the cut! ^^ Here is part two!

NSFW/ FETISH/ PROSHIP DNI

🍂 Ler!Poob (they/them), Lee!Pest (he/they) 🧡

(no japanese and no poob tq because I'm writing this on mobile and I might break something lol)

Pest grumbled softly to themself, staring at the door with a disgrunted look, waiting for the elevator to drop them off. The last rando finally stopped off at a floor called Splitsville and never returned, and Gnarpy, who, the moment the elevator stopped at a convienence store, left instantly in search for catnip. Which left Pest with.... them.

The "them" in question was no other than Party Noob, nicknamed by many others as simply "Poob". Pest was aware of Poob snatching quick glances at them, just waiting to start an annoying conversation on the only thing they ever talk about: parties. They particulary hated them because of their extroverted personality, clashing with Pest's more anti-social one. They wanted to be left alone, Poob would not let that slide.

They continued glaring at the elevator door, watching the numbers go by and the doors opening to every other place BUT the one they wanted to go. Pest, zoned out, did not notice Poob getting ever so closer to him until they were almost touching, and Poob decided to blow their party horn right next to Pest's ear, causing them to jump and let out an angry snarl.

"POOB."

"....Yes? Hi!" Poob waved their hand. "Welcome back! You are zonin' out and I wanted to-" Pest slapped their hand away, glaring at them. Poob shut up instantly, still smiling despite Pest's tall and (frankly) scary demeanor he suddenly put on.

"Do not do that again or I will throw you OUT at the next floor that shows up." They growled, not noticing the sudden holes appearing on the ceiling. Poob, having lost interest in what they told them, noticed the holes and jumped at Pest right before a spike shot out right where they were just standing.

Both were thrown to the ground, slightly against the wall, and Pest looked up at Poob in surprise and a little bit of anger that they had pushed them that hard.

"AH SORRY!!! I didn't want that spike to hit you!!!!" Poob exclaimed nervously, struggling to get up and out of Pest's grip, squeezing their side accidentally. Pest let out a small gasp, quickly and nervously pushing at Poob and struggling to get up themselves. Poob stopped for a second, wondering why they let out that small sound, staring at him. There was a small hint of a blush on Pest's cheeks. Then it dawned on them.

"Awwwhh Pesty I didn't know you were ticklish!" Pest's blush deepened at the observation, and then he instantly tried to scramble away from Poob, to no avail. Oh god no.

"NO I AM NOT." They growled, a hint of a shake in their voice. "No? Then why'd you make that noise? Can you do it again? Or am I gonna have to get it out of ya?" Poob smiled, a mischevious one.

Pest started fighting off Poob's hands advancing towards him. "DO- DO NO-OHOT!!" They yelped, losing their grip on one of their hands and it instantly going to his side. Poob giggled at them. "Ya know you've been reeeeally grumpy lately! You keep stealing from people, too. I think you need a little cheer up, and a little bit of punishment!" They watched as Pest struggled against them, squirming and flailing his arms, trying so hard not to let out all the laughter bubbling inside of them.

Pest used one hand to cover up his face as a grin managed to creep it's way onto their face. They tried to grab Poob's hand, but Poob just grabbed their arm and pushed it against the elevator wall. "Nuh uh." They scratched and scribbled their fingers underneath Pest's arm, making them throw their head back and kick their legs. They released their arm, using that hand to tickle Pest's other side.

Pest squirmed and flailed and kicked their legs, a tear forming at the edge of their eye. God this can not be happening! He was started to lose his breath from how long they've been trying to keep their laughter in, refusing to let Poob win. Poob, on the other hand, decided to switch one hand to his neck and that broke them.

"POHOHOHOOB NOOHOHOHO pFTTAHAHAAAAHHAHA-" Pest laughed hysterically, scrunching up their neck from Poob's prying fingers. Poob looked at them in surprise, not expecting this much of a reaction, but smiled and used the hand that was under Pest's arm to tickle his neck with the other hand. "Looks like I've found your weaaak spoott!" They sang the last words, enjoying the sight before him. Big scary guy that looks like he could rip you in half being tickled to bits? Absolutely adorable to them.

Pest continued to laugh, twisting and turning his body sporadically, trying to buck Poob off of him but with no luck. Poob took mental note of how they haven't told them to stop yet, and by the way his tail's wagging, they assumed they were enjoying this. They looked at Pest absolutely melted against the wall, halfway on the floor now, their hat slightly off their head and hair all messed up; Poob could be here for hours. They adored the way Pest was smiling and laughing, they hadn't ever seen him this.. happy. Poob was resisting the urge to snuggle up against him. They know if he did Pest would give him a few scars to take to his next party.

Poob was so focused on Pest's face that they didn't notice them getting weaker, until Pest clawed gently at their hoodie and they were brought back to attention. Poob stopped, moving their hands away from their neck and scooting away from them nervously. Pest, still giggling, rubbed at their face with a small growl, bringing their now-free legs up to his chest. They refused to acknowledge the feelings that moment left him, of Poob staring at him with a happy and caring look, making them melt into laughter that felt so unlike him.

They opened one eye, staring straight at Poob in the corner of the elevator with an unreadable expression. Right as they did that, a ding played and the door opened to the subway, their stop. Pest quickly got up, slipping a little on the floor, ignoring Poob's offer at help, and bolted straight out the door, not looking back. Poob watched them go, a little disappointed, but not like that was out of character for Pest to do... however, Poob didn't miss the blush still on their face as they ran out of the elevator.

#AHHHH I LOVE THEM SO!#The sillies!!!!!#Maybe.. I will make a part two..... ^_^#tickle art #tickle fic #sfw #sfw tickle art #sfw tickle fic #tickle content #tickling #sfw tickling

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spadesolace · 5 months

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the idea of yoo - 1.1. alone with yoo (half-written)

previous | next

words: 1.5k

warnings: a bit of homophobia, discussion about religion, implied cheating

the sun shining through a small window, your eyes twitch as the sunlight hits you perfectly. in your line of sight, sight adjusting through the bright yet also dim room. it smells a bit rugged, similar to yeonjun’s perfume he had made you and rei smell before his date, bed is a bit harder than your usual one at home, and you’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes. in the corner of your eye, was the table tennis - you’re at the choi household.

slowly sitting up, looking for your phone that yeonjun had placed on his bedside table, along with some medicine, water, and hangover drink. underneath was a note with messy handwriting.

hey, when you wake up i would be at rehearsals for tomorrow’s dance battle. left some medicine so drink it right away. yeonie

as you hastily drank the medicine and pick up the hangover drink, ready to leave and get some proper meal. the sound of footsteps and chatter was making its way towards your destination. vaguely, you could make up yeonjun’s mom’s voice and yoo jimin.

“yeonjun is at rehearsal, but you can leave that here on his-” his mom sees you by the bed, wearing your coat and getting your stuff, along with hiding some of the letters that you’ve written for yeonjun’s recipe to food critics to try, and letters from jimin.

“yeonjun’s japanese friend, didn’t hear you come in.”

“just dropping off some notes.”

“jimin is also drop-” the faint breaking of glass was heard upstairs, making yeonjun’s mom rush back upstairs.

the last time you were alone with jimin was when you bumped into her in the hallway, the start of it all. it’s a bit awkward, looking like you spent the night - in which you did - but also it seemed like you’re dating yeonjun. deep inside, you’re thinking how pretty jimin is despite it being so early in the morning.

“hi.” she breaks the tension, a small smile plastered on her face.

“hi.” your breath is taken away; standing in front of a girl who you considered could have been sculpted by aphrodite.

“are you and paul-” then you remember, she’s not here for you.

“OH GOSH NO! he is totally 100 percent into you.”

“you know about… us?”

“that’s what the notes and books are for, he wanted to do some extra reading.” jimin seemed amused by it, partially because no one has been that thoughtful to learn more about their interests and hobbies.

the awkward silence slowly crept back, part of you wanted to leave, no longer wishing to take part in this. the girl you developed feelings for is talking to a guy who you helped in writing the letters for, making an image of him in her mind.

you deceived jimin.

you deceived yeonjun.

they fell in love with the image you had made to deceive both of them.

all you could hear coming out of jimin’s mouth was self-deprecating words regarding her first impression during their first date. nothing made sense anymore, nothing held you back.

“you could never be an idiot. yeonjun wouldn’t think of you that way.” you still held back, not wanting to expose yourself. there is the desire to leave and run away, forget this entire thing happened.

“i should probably get back home.” picking your bag up, noticing jimin was holding onto a piece of paper.

“this- its- its nothing really, something i made during the trip.” still she handed it over to you, lyrics; you assume it to be lyrics of a new song she wrote.

“i like one of the lines from the second verse… lonely yet hopeful.” giving it back to jimin, smiling shyly about to leave her in this man cave that is yeonjun’s room.

“he’ll love it.” i love it.

“yeah…”

“i should get going.”

“can i come with?”

you don’t know how it happened, how you’re walking in the middle of an abandoned train track kicking a stone as you pass by the abandoned cart, no longer filled with writings. there’s another one, not that far off that you and rei go to when you need a change in your routine.

“you’re not scared?” stopping in your tracks, slight confusion evident in your face.

“no, i’m used to this route. a change in scenery.” jimin hummed as the stone you were kicking seemed to have merged with the rest of the pebbles.

“you wanna get out of here?”

it feels surreal, you’re in jimin’s car, listening to the radio mostly 90’s music playing, windows down and the wind blowing your hair. months ago, you couldn’t believe that jimin knew who you were, yet here you are.

“where we going?”

“my favorite secret place.”

you stopped in the middle of a forest, a part of you sort of feared where this was going because who would bring someone to a forest if not to kill them? or maybe you’ve been watching too much true crime that rei has been so adamant in you watching it with her. when you saw the clearing, maybe it wouldn’t be that bad to be killed by the girl you like. it’s just a hot spring, and it worried you when jimin started unpacking her duffel bag, only to pull out a small radio. you’re just stuck in this place with her, turning your back at her when she started removing her sundress. you’re not sure if she removed her undergarments but just the idea that she’s probably skinny dipping makes your face heat up.

jimin turns around as your gaze looks everywhere except for her. you looked at her back for a bit, toned, smooth, and her hair despite being wet already it stil remained smooth and silky. so, you stripped, not fully. she only turned back to face you when she heard a bit of water splashing. an embarrassed smile was evident as jimin takes in what you’re wearing.

“oh i almost forgot.” you thought it was from the heat from the hot spring that made you feel this way but confirming that jimin is indeed naked walking around the area and setting up the small radio. you submerged yourself underwater.

“there’s no cell service here, nothing could reach us here.”

“so if you kill me, completely leave me here to decompose and scream, no one would come to rescue me?”

it was a lighthearted joke, one that made jimin laugh as she dipped back into the spring and you still avoided looking at her body. things were going well, talking about interests, family, religion, everything under the sun as you played around in the water.

“i don’t think i’ve hanged out with a girl and not talk about boys before.”

“oh… sorry.”

“no, no… it’s nice, actually.” you nod to her statement, maybe this could be a way to help yeonjun out.

“yeonjun’s nice.” jimin looks at you, pondering. she can’t put a finger on it but she tries to explain her emotions.

“he’s... confusing.”

“how?”

”when i’m with him, i feel... safe. he’s a sweet guy, don’t get me wrong. then he writes these things that feel... not so safe.” you tilt your head as you process everything, you wrote those things, the letters, the messages, everything - you wrote it.

“not safe?”

“makes me wonder, think about things - all this time i was set on this idea of marrying jeno but then here comes yeonjun when i asked god for a sign. god doesn’t know either or he’s not telling.”

“i don’t believe in god.”

“that must be so nice.”

“it’s not…” you slowly submerged yourself into the water, jimin still observing you, everything feels weird. “it’s lonely.”

“i wished i knew what i believed in.” you tune everything out, listening to jimin’s rant about jeno already planning their future wedding, her asking a sign to god if that was what love is. simply accept it and be grateful. but the letter appeared the following day, the letter you wrote and what started this whole thing.

“silly, right?” you shake your head as you swim closer to her.

“no, its not.”

“but you know what’s silly?” everything moved so fast that your oversized shirt was removed from you, a triumphant smile but easily replaced by her laughing.

“did you layer?” now, you’re left with your undergarment and a black tank top.

time went by so slowly, you’re talking to her about life, love, religion, while floating on your back next to her listening to a radio playing old songs. the current song playing was your mom’s favorite song, waiting for the best part, the climax as she would say.

“my mom also told us that every song, movie, story has a best part.” patiently waiting, letting it pass and enjoy each other’s presence and the song you heavily associated with your mom. a part of you wants to reach out to jimin and hold her hand as the song continues on.

“was that it?”

“you asking or stating?”

the best part - is when you actually hold onto jimin’s hand as you float like otters. the song playing in the background as the lyrics perfectly encapsulate what you feel for her. words can’t express your feelings - pain from knowing the girl you like is straight and seeing your only friend but also happiness from getting such a small moment together that you’ll cherish till you leave this little place called kwangya.

you may not believe in god, but if falling in love with yoo jimin is a sin. call me a sinner, then.

taglist [CLOSED]:

@1luvkarina @beawolfbealionbeyou @pandafuriosa60 @txtbrainrot @rinapomu @limbforalimb @yoontoonwhs @noascats @thefckghost @petruchiosstuff

#aespa x fem reader #karina aespa #aespa smau #aespa x reader #aespa karina #aespa #karina smau #karina x reader #karina imagines #karina #yoo jimin x reader #yoo jimin #the idea of yoo smau

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chuthulhu-reads · 10 months

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[ID: Five panels from Trigun Maximum. The background and borders are solid black instead of solid white. Before the first panel are speech bubbles saying, "Mama. Mama, look!" The second panel shows a small child pointing as his mother, a pretty woman with a kind smile, crouches next to him. In the second panel, the mother looks down at the child and says, "She's pretty, isn't she?" The little boy, still staring up, asks, "Why..." In the third panel, he looks up at his mother and continues, "...Is she in there?" In the fourth panel, the mother puts her hands on the kid's shoulders and looks up as she says, "She's... working." In the fifth panel, the mother smiles back down at her son as she says, "It's thanks to her that you, mama and papa can live here safely." The little boy looks confused. End ID.]

I WEEP over this flashback. They're introducing the plant to their child not as something weird or alien, but pretty. Not as a thing, but a person who's working, who's not just property of the community but a crucial member of it. In the next panels, the mother prompts her child to thank the plant in a way that looks both like a hyper-respectful Japanese bow and Christian prayer.

[ID: Three panels from Trigun Maximum. The first shows the little boy pointing up with a big smile. Behind him, his mother is looking back over her shoulder at her husband, a smiling man in glasses. The little boy is saying, "Mama, look! She smiled!" The second panel shows the little boy still looking up and smiling as, behind him, his parents talk and laugh together. In the third panel, the boy is turning away and looking at his parents, saying, "See?" as the father smiles and waves and the mother looks surprised. After the last panel, there's black space, and a last speech bubble saying, "She smiled..." End ID.]

She smiled. She smiled at a child smiling at her. She smiled at a child who was alive because of her. She smiled at the people who loved her and prayed to her and thanked her. She treasured them enough to remember their smiles even after being fused into the horrendous amalgamation in the Ark.

[ID: Two panels from Trigun Maximum. The first shows Knives looking startled, wide-eyed and sweating, the left side of his face flaking somewhat. The second panel shows him standing on a walkway over a huge mass of fused plants, an uncomfortably fleshy mess of wings, veins, and random limbs. Knives is saying, "Was that..."]

LOOK at that. Knives himself knows he's at risk of losing his sense of self inside that mass, and Chronica later says that plants don't innately have an individual sense of self to begin with. Yet one of those plants remembered some of the humans she once supported fondly enough to cling to that memory, no matter what; or, perhaps, that memory was so beloved by every other plant that saw it that they all kept it, all shared it and held it close to their hearts, all that love battering against Knives' shaky mental walls of rage and hatred and fear.

[ID: A chaotic double-page spread from Trigun Maximum. The first four panels show a quick sequence of Knives falling to his knees and gasping as he clutches at his face, his eyes widening desperately. The next three panels are thin slices, each showing a larger and larger number of random people, like you're pulling out from a crowd that just keeps getting bigger. Despite how many people are crammed into each panel, artistic effort has been put into making each face unique and distinct from each other. The next face shows Knives' face literally cracking and splitting into a number of panels showing the Project Seeds ships, stars in space, the shooting-star image of the ships falling, a sun rising over ruined ships, and the elongated arms of a plant reaching out from among folded wings. A panel at the bottom of the page shows Knives screaming as it looks like the flesh is actually melting off of his face. The last panel shows Elendira running towards him, crying out, "Knives!" End ID.]

I really think, at the end of the day, the plants don't necessarily mind being relied on as producers, because I think they love life and creation. They've held onto all of these faces, all these people who were alive because of them. Short of the horror of the Last Runs, maybe they take pride in what they do. Maybe seeing other lives flourish from theirs makes them happy. We don't know for sure, but for all the body horror in their imagery, they are still, ultimately, evocative of angels. And they're reaching out to Knives with enough love for humanity to fracture the walls in his mind that he's put up against the reality of what the Big Fall was, against remembering that he did once love humans, and then he killed tens of millions of them. Being forced to see humans as Vash and the other plants do--as individuals, as living things, as people--is literally tearing him apart. God this page is a real artistic flex from Nightow, both in terms of panel composition and just thumbing his nose at mangaka that draw the same three faces forever

#Trigun #I love the plants so much #I think we can infer a lot by assuming that Vash (and Knives as a child) is pretty normal for a plant #Loving being around other living things #Loving helping other living things #Like yeah now Vash has a massive guilt complex #But he was always a kind kid #and Knives as a kid was LONGING to meet other people #My autistic ass feeling the longing to just be weird and do your own thing #but being extra happy when you can Do Thing for others that they appreciate #They're such eldritch sweethearts I love them so much

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cafenervosa · 2 years

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happy narumitsu week! i saw this headline about the former japanese princess and her husband and said well that is absolutely phoenix and miles lol

[original headline and ID under the cut]

[Image description: two pictures of a news article. The first one is a drawing parodying the second but featuring Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth.

The first picture is a drawing of a news article with the headline, "Head Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth looks loved-up as he strolls hand-in-hand with disgraced former defense attorney boyfriend in LA after he failed bar exam for the second time." Below the headline are two drawing of Miles and Phoenix. The left picture features Miles, walking alone and carrying a grocery bag while looking at his phone. The second picture is of both Miles and Phoenix. They are walking while holding hands, Miles carrying the groceries while Phoenix talks animatedly. There is a caption below the pictures which reads, "Head Prosecutor Miled Edgeworth, 30, was spotted out and about with his disbarred partner, Phoenix Wright, also 30, in Los Angeles.

The second picture is a screenshot of the original article which is headlined, "Former Japanese Princess Mako Komuro looks loved-up as she strolls hand-in-hand with commoner husband in NYC after he failed bar exam for the second time." There are two photos below the headline, the left image is that of Mako Komuro, walking alone carrying a shopping bag. The right image is that of her with her husband. They are holding hands and walking together. The pictures are captioned, "Japanese Princess Mako Komuro, 30, was spotted out and about wither her commoner husband, Kei Komuro, also 30, in New York City. End image description.]

#nmweek22 #narumitsu #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #wrightworth #digital #i've read this so much i don't even know if it makes sense lol #if you see any spelling errors no you didn't #ace attorney

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poliodeuces · 7 months

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ive been drawing w a lot of red lately. more talking under the cut, like usual !

the first one was drawn at around the same time as the last BOP. i wasn't familiar w all the hysptage content, although i am familiar w the music, and, bc i have favouritism, the last cast they had for fling posse was perfect and i was super sad that we won't be seeing more of it anymore. this was partly inspired by that...i can't believe fling posse invented love. this could have been cleaner, but i liked how their bodies overlap in the sketch.

second image: otome and dice's relationship have a special place in my heart. i only wanted to draw otome as a this literal abstract figure of a mother that dice doesn't know how to understand or love in a way that matters to the both of them

third image: there were three things i wanted to achieve while sketching this, bc it's just one giant sketch that looks nice lol-- 1. bring back gentaro's boater hat 2. to pair w that inverness cape he's wearing in the block party 3. looking directly at the viewer. カンカン帽 (cancan hat) + トンビコート (tonbi coat), as they're called in japanese, really makes him feel like a scholar from the meiji/taisho era www except they would have worn black boater hats...the book he's holding is Ágota Kristóf's famous trilogy: The Notebook, The Proof, The Third Lie. fourth and fifth images are closeups.

sixth image: a long overdue fanart of the second gendice duet. i think it's really funny that the first time we're shown a work by gentaro in-universe w a major character based on dice, he made dice a murderer

seventh image: debt collection

eighth image: my real otp actually is gentaro x a lot of blood

ninth image: some vague idea abt hifugen and my favourite subject, bodies connecting together. i want these two to have a proper conversation in canon bc i wanna see them reacting to how similar they are to eo. also hifumi really needs gentaro's influence to fight hnbn w violence

#cw blood #hypmic #hypnosis mic #fling posse #ramuda amemura #gentaro yumeno #dice arisugawa #hifumi izanami #france art

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duckiemimi · 9 days

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i fell into a little rabbit hole while reading bora chung's cursed bunny when i found the japanese proverb 「人ひとを呪のろわば穴あな二ふたつ」 ("hito o norowaba ana futatsu"), meaning "when you curse a man, [you dig] two graves" (click here for reference and click on the first link at the bottom for more context). it's a cautionary proverb about the consequences of cursing or invoking evil onto others, similar in a way to the english proverb "what goes around comes around."

i dug around some more (hah!) and found an article explaining the origins of the proverb (click on the second link at the bottom). do bear with my lacking skills when it comes to translating, but from what i understand, the proverb itself originated from the heian period. onmyoji (click on the third link at the bottom) were civil servants who practiced onmyodo, specializing in magic and divination. the article describes them using the kanji 呪術師 (third highlight in the left image), or jujutsushi, meaning sorcerer.

these onmyoji were responsible for calendar-related tasks and mystical duties such as divination, but the most interesting duty listed was protecting the capital from evil spirits, or 怨霊を (vengeful spirit) as the article cites, by cursing and killing the capital's opponents. now, this was a particularly dangerous task because they risked having that curse "returned" back to them in a counter-attack, killing them in the process, too—hence why one must prepare two graves when one resorts to "cursing" someone.

now that we've established the history of the proverb, it initially struck me as familiar because...

it's something geto mentioned when he came to the school to declare war! and...

later on when he says his last words to gojo!

given that the series takes some inspiration from onmyodo in the heian period (the golden age of jujutsu in the story), it's befitting that a proverb like this would make an appearance in the actual dialogue. in both instances, the proverb was relevant in geto's dialogue.

the article i referred to before also provided two example sentences related to the proverb, which when translated become:

"As there is a saying that if you curse people, there are two graves, hatred only produces unhappiness."

"I hate him so much. Even if you say that if you curse people, you will have two graves, I'm prepared for that."

as the geto fanatic that i am i find it interesting that both these phrases could align with geto's lines in volume 0. the first time geto references this proverb, it's when he says, "let's curse each other to our hearts' content." i've talked about this in my other posts (click here for one of them), that i've always believed that geto knew his pursuit of ideal was futile, or "impossible" as he explained to gojo in shinjuku. regardless of the outcome, this was the path he chose for himself, a path where he had to constantly pretend to the people around him that it was indeed possible.

referring to the proverb, the two graves here would be geto and the subject of his curse, non-sorcerers. his curse—his hatred—only led to his own unhappiness and his own demise. as it is, he failed his attack and the only grave there was his. he died unable to laugh from the bottom of his heart.

the second time geto references this proverb, it's when he says, "at least curse at me a little at the very end." he says this in an easy exasperation in response to gojo's omitted last words to him. he expects gojo to hate him or at least be angry with him, but instead gojo does not "curse" him the way he thought he'd be.

refering to the proverb, geto expects gojo to hate him so much, he'd curse him even if it might risk his own life to see geto dead. instead, gojo spares him—or rather, gojo says what he says honestly, without the disguise of anger or spite. the two graves here, at least in geto's mind, would be gojo and the subject of his curse, geto himself. ironically, despite the lack of "curse," there is still a grave for one body. in a more figurative sense, perhaps that alley is a teeming graveyard.

what an apt cautionary proverb for such a vengeful character.

links i couldn't hyperlink:

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto #gojo #satosugu #lobotomy kaisen #icb i see them everywhere #well at least i'm packed with more knowledge #i logged into jstor (for naught but a simple proverb but it was still fun)#why cannot i hyperlink #jjk meta

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vital-information · 3 months

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“Early Summer is about the difference between the married and the unmarried, how the married try to persuade or (worse) coerce the unmarried into getting married, and how maybe that isn’t always such a good idea. This theme is explicitly called out more than once in the film.

Early Summer further implies that there may be a good reason why some unmarried people, including Noriko (but not just Noriko), don't want to marry: they may be “that type of person,” as the young lesbian Fumi described herself in Takako Shimura's manga Aoi hana. This subtext rises briefly to the level of text at least once before being ambiguously dismissed.

Both Ozu and Hara remained unmarried until their deaths, and to my knowledge neither were ever credibly reported as having a romantic relationship with anyone. Per Donald Richie’s commentary on the Criterion release (referenced in the next post), Ozu was reported to become angry at any talk of his marrying. Meanwhile Hara, though termed “the eternal virgin” by a film producer for her film image, in real life had close friendships with many women, including a hair and makeup artist whose friendship with Hara began early on and continued after Hara retired into obscurity at the height of her career.

In modern terms we could therefore hypothesize Early Summer as a queer film subtly but firmly protesting compulsory heterosexuality, made by a (possibly) queer director and starring a (possibly) queer actor.

…

Early Summer opens with three establishing shots: first a shot of a dog walking freely on the beach with the ocean in the background, then a shot of a single bird in a cage outside, and then a final shot of birds in cages inside a house. This is the house in the oceanside town of Kamakura in which Noriko (Setsuko Hara’s character) lives, along with her brother Kōichi (Chishū Ryū), his wife Fumiko (Kuniko Miyake), Noriko and Koichi’s father (Ichiro Sugai) and mother (Chieko Higashiyama), and Kōichi and Fumiko’s two young boys.

If we wish, we can interpret the first and third shots as showing a strong contrast between freedom in nature on the one hand, and the restrictions imposed by society and the Japanese family system on the other. In this interpretation the second shot represents Noriko, who has a degree of independence that her mother and Fumiko do not have, but is still constrained by the bonds of family and society.

In the following scenes Kōichi takes an early train to his job as a physician, while Noriko goes to the Kita-Kamakura station to catch a later one. There she meets Kenkichi, another physician who works with Kōichi and who (along with his mother) is the family’s next-door neighbor. Kenkichi tells her that he’s been reading a book, implied to have been recommended by Noriko. The Criterion release describes it only as “this book,” but the BFI release names it as Les Thibaults.

Les Thibaults (published in Japanese as Chibō-ka no hitobito, and apparently relatively popular in Japan at the time) is a multi-volume French novel that begins as one of its protagonists is discovered writing passionate messages to a fellow schoolboy — something Ozu himself was apparently falsely accused of — and is then separated from his friend. Later volumes describe their diverging paths in life. Why might have Noriko recommended this particular novel to Kenkichi? Hold that thought.

We then see Noriko at work, as a secretary and executive assistant to the head of a small firm (Shūji Sano). As she talks with her boss regarding café recommendations, her best friend Aya (Chikage Awashima) arrives, there to collect payment for the boss’s spending at the restaurant her mother owns. Noriko’s boss wonders when they’ll both get married, and refers to them as “old maids.”

(Before becoming a movie actress, Chikage Awashima was a musumeyaku top star in the Takarazuka Revue and occasionally played “pants roles,” i.e., as a female character dressing as a man for plot reasons. Osamu Tezuka was a fan of hers, and she supposedly inspired the main character Sapphire, “born ... with a blue heart of a boy and a pink heart of a girl,” in his manga Princess Knight. Why might this be relevant to Early Summer? Again, hold that thought.)

After work, Noriko meets Kōichi and Fumiko for dinner. While they eat, Kōichi complains about post-war women (“[They’ve] become so forward.”) and Noriko corrects him: “We've just taken our natural place.” Kōichi then claims that’s why Noriko can’t get married, and she rebukes him: “It’s not that I can’t. I could in a minute if I wanted to.” (Note: a bit of foreshadowing here.)

Next occur the two key events that set the main plot in motion. First, Noriko’s great-uncle (Seiji Miyaguchi) arrives for a visit. He wonders why she isn't married yet. “Some women don't want to get married,” he tells her. “Are you one of them?” Noriko laughs and leaves the room, but the seed has been planted in the minds of her family.

Noriko’s boss also thinks it's time for her to get married, and he has just the man for her: “He’s never been married. Not sure if he's still a virgin.” Her boss has photographs to show her, and won’t leave her leave without taking them.

Meanwhile Noriko and Aya mercilessly tease one of their married friends, and after attending another friend’s wedding have dinner with that friend and another married friend, with a side dish of sexual innuendo. One of the married friends brags about how she spent a rained-out honeymoon playing with a “spinning top”: “My husband is very good at it.” Her friend cautions her: “You shouldn't flaunt it in front of the single girls.”

However, Aya is not impressed with the implied amazingness of heterosexual intercourse: “Silly! We don’t play with tops, do we?” Noriko enthusiastically agrees with her: “That’s for children, isn’t it?” The debate between the married and the unmarried continues, after which Noriko goes home, where Kōichi and Fumiko are scheming regarding the marital candidate proposed by Noriko’s boss.

Kenkichi’s mother then visits Noriko’s mother, and tells her that a man from a detective agency has been asking about Noriko: “I realized it was about her marriage.” We also learn that Kenkichi’s wife died two years ago (leaving him with a young daughter), and that he's not interested in remarrying: “All he does since his wife died is read books” (like Les Thibaults). Finally, we learn that Kenkichi’s best friend, Noriko’s brother Shoji, went missing in the war.

We now come to the climax of the first half of the movie. As Noriko’s nephews and their friends play with their model train set downstairs (one nephew asking if their father will buy them more train track), Aya visits Noriko and they talk in her room upstairs. Their married friends have made various excuses for why they couldn’t also visit; Noriko recalls how close they were at school and laments their drifting apart.

Throughout the first half of Early Summer Noriko and Aya are shown as mirroring each other’s gestures and speech. That mirroring continues in this scene (for example, they sit down next to each other at the exact same time and in the exact same manner), and then a very interesting thing happens. Ozu’s typical modus operandi is to continue a shot until someone stops speaking or moving, or even until they leave the room. But here he cuts immediately from Noriko and Aya simultaneously raising their glasses to drink, to Noriko’s father and mother simultaneously bringing food to their lips, as they relax sitting on a street curb in town.

If I were to speculate about what this juxtaposition might mean, if anything, I’d speculate as follows: that Ozu intended to show that, whatever Aya and Noriko might be to each other, they are as close, secure, and happy in their relationship as Noriko’s mother and father are in theirs — as much a couple as any other in the film, but not formally recognized as such.

Noriko’s father tells his wife, “This may be the happiest time for our family,” although he’s sad at the thought of Noriko leaving. They continue their conversation, and then are interrupted by the site of a balloon rising into the sky. “Some child must be crying,” Noriko’s father remarks. “Remember how Kōichi cried when he lost his balloon?”

…

The good times continue as Noriko brings home a cake to eat with her sister-in-law Fumiko, and their neighbor Kenkichi drops in unexpectedly and is invited to share it with them. The scene re-introduces Kenkichi and brings up the subject of his remarrying — something he doesn’t want, but his mother (played by Haruko Sugimura) does.

…

In the meantime Noriko’s brother Kōichi has been pursuing the idea of a marriage between Noriko and an unseen bachelor first suggested by Noriko’s boss, including asking his friends and associates for more information on the proposed groom. The results are “very promising”: “He’s in the social register, and seems to be a fine businessman.” “How nice,” replies his mother, but, “how old is he?”

…

Then Noriko’s boss asks a few questions that we’ve been asking ourselves. While Noriko is away from work, Aya stops by, and the boss questions Aya on whether Noriko will go through with the match or not: “I don't understand her ... Is she interested in men?” Aya at first demurs: “What do you think?” Noriko’s boss has seen indications both ways, and presses the question: “Has she always been like that?” Aya responds in the affirmative. The questioning goes on. Aya tells him that Noriko’s apparently never been in love, “but she has an album of ... Hepburn photos this thick,” holding her thumb and forefinger about 4 centimeters apart.

Here we have the first of two translation issues. Aya actually refers to “Hepburn” without mentioning a given name. The Criterion subtitles — by Donald Richie, who should have known better — make this a reference to Audrey Hepburn, who’d had only small roles by then. It’s almost certain that this is instead a reference to Katherine Hepburn, who was a major star by the time Noriko would have entered middle school. Was the teenaged Noriko besotted by the androgynous beauty of Katharine Hepburn (who would have made a stunning otokoyaku)? It sure looks like it.

The subtext now threatens to become text, as Noriko’s boss learns that “Hepburn” refers to an American actress, and asks the obvious follow-up question about Noriko. In the Criterion subtitles it’s translated as “So she goes for women?” The BFI translation puts it more bluntly: “Is she queer?” What is Noriko’s boss really asking? Japanese speakers can correct me here, but I believe his actual question uses the term “hentai.”

Western fans are used to thinking of “hentai” as referring to pornography. However, my understanding is that at the time of the film “hentai” in colloquial Japanese would have referred specifically to sexual behavior that was considered abnormal. So if Noriko’s boss did use the term, another possible translation might have been “Is she a pervert?” Both the Criterion and BFI translations soften the question; in particular BFI’s “is she queer?”, while defensible, risks projecting our current ideas about “queer” (including its positive connotations) onto a film created in a different time.

In any case, Aya is determined to shut down any discussion of Noriko’s proclivities. “No!” she firmly replies. Noriko’s boss is apparently unconvinced: “You can never know. She’s very strange, in any case.” His prurient instincts aroused, Noriko’s boss then envisions another solution to the problem of Noriko, and queries Aya about it: “Why don’t you teach her?” “About what?” “Everything.” “What do you mean, everything?” He pats her shoulder and admonishes her: “Don’t try to be coy,” as we viewers pause to consider the implications of what he’s asking her to do.

Aya rejects this line of inquiry as well: “Don’t talk to me like that! That was rude!” Noriko's boss laughs, offers a half-hearted apology, and then (after telling Aya that Noriko won’t be back that day) invites her to lunch and quizzes her on her preferences in sushi: “Tuna” she says. He continues, “How about an open clam?” (which Donald Richie's commentary helpfully informs us is a euphemism for the vagina). “Sure,” she replies. “And a nice long rice roll?” “No, thank you!” His final words are, “You’re strange too,” and again I think I hear the word “hentai” enter the conversation.

…

Recall that Kenkichi decided to accept an offer as a department head in a hospital in Akita, several hundred kilometers north of Tokyo and on the opposite coast. Noriko meets him in a café before her brother Kōichi is to host him at a farewell dinner party, and they talk about Shoji, Noriko’s other brother who went missing in action during the war. Kenkichi recalls how he and Shoji were best friends in school, often eating at this very café, indeed at this very table. Kenkichi tells Noriko that he still keeps a letter that Shoji sent him, with a stalk of wheat enclosed (probably indicating that Shoji was deployed in northern China). Noriko asks if she can have the letter, and Kenkichi agrees.

Afterward Noriko visits Kenkichi’s mother, while Kenkichi himself is still at his farewell party. Kenkichi's mother tells Noriko her secret dream (“please don’t tell Kenkichi”): “I just wish Kenkichi had gotten remarried to someone like you.” She apologizes and asks Noriko not to be angry (“It’s just a wish in my heart”), but Noriko stares at her with an intense expression (her usual smile absent), and asks her, “Do you mean it? ... Do you really feel that way about me?” Kenkichi’s mother apologizes again, but Noriko presses on: “You wouldn’t mind an old maid like me?” Then before Kenkichi’s mother can respond, Noriko speaks: “Then I accept.”

Kenkichi’s mother is incredulous. She asks Noriko several times to confirm what she’s saying, thanks Noriko effusively and weeps tears of joy at her good fortune, but continues to question Noriko about her decision even as Noriko leaves to go home. (Incidentally, this scene features a bravura performance by Haruko Sugimura.)

After she leaves the house, Noriko encounters Kenkichi, just returned from his farewell party. Noriko exchanges some small talk with him, but says absolutely nothing about what she just told his mother.

Noriko's decision then plays out across multiple scenes:

At first Kenkichi doesn’t understand what his mother is trying to tell him (“She accepted.” “Accepted what?”). When he finally gets the message (“She agreed to marry you. To become your wife!” “My wife?” “Yes. Isn’t it wonderful?”), he looks absolutely gobsmacked. His mother breaks down in tears again telling him how happy she is, and how happy he should be. He tries to play along (glumly echoing, “Yes, I’m happy”), but he looks for all the world like a man who would sooner eat nails than enter into another marriage.

Kenkichi’s mother doesn't understand why he’s not happy. She concludes, “What an odd boy you are.” The Japanese word here appears to be “hen,” which I understand to be a softer adjective than “hentai,” and not sexual in nature. But note that Kenkichi is now the third person after Noriko and Aya to be referred to as not normal in some way.

Meanwhile Noriko is interrogated about her decision by her family, especially by Kōichi, in a beautifully framed and shot scene — Noriko in white, her head bowed, her brother in black, barking questions like a prosecutor cross-examining a criminal. Noriko is unrepentant: “When his mother talked to me, I didn’t feel a moment’s hesitation. I suddenly felt I’d be happy with him.” Her parents retire upstairs to chew on their disappointment — Noriko walking silently past them on her way to her room — while Kōichi tells Fumiko, “What could we do now? She’s made up her mind. You know how she is.”

…

Meanwhile Noriko and Aya have their last scene together. It starts by echoing and completing the action at the end of their previous scene: then they raised their glasses together to drink, now they lower their glasses in a simultaneous gesture. Aya tells Noriko that she can’t believe Noriko would ever end up like this: she thought Noriko would be a modern woman living “Western-style, with a flower garden, listening to Chopin,” “wearing a white sweater, with a terrier in tow,” and greeting Aya in English — “Hello, how are you?”

Instead Aya now imagines Noriko wearing farmers clothes in rural Japan, speaking the local dialect. She playfully imitates country speech, and Noriko responds in kind: “Ya don’t look it, but ya talk like the locals.” “I figure to live in Akita when me and my man get hitched.” The subtext here I read as follows: Noriko knows how to pretend to be something she is not — a conventional heterosexual woman in a conventional heterosexual marriage — and she will accept doing so in her self-imposed exile from Tokyo, the price she must pay for avoiding what she considered to be a worse fate.

The tone then turns serious. Aya recalls meeting Kenkichi when they were in school, on a hiking trip with Noriko and her brother Shoji, and presses Noriko about her choice: “Did you already love him then?” “No, I had no particular feeling for him. ... I never imagined myself marrying him.” Noriko evades Aya’s questions about how she came to love Kenkichi, refusing time after time to acknowledge her feelings for him as those of love. Instead she insists, “No, I just feel I could trust him with all my heart and be happy.”

But trust Kenkichi for what? we want to ask Noriko. To respect her for who and what she is? To not want a conventional relationship with her? To not press her for sex or for children (after all, he already has one)? To keep her secrets, as she might keep any secret of his?

…

The family then gathers for one last commemorative photo. Without Noriko's salary they can no longer afford the house in Kamakura, so they break up: the parents to live with the great-uncle; Noriko to Akita with Kenkichi, his mother, and his daughter; and Kōichi, Fumiko, and their sons to some other less-expensive dwelling (perhaps an apartment in the Tokyo suburbs).

The parents recall when they moved into the house: “It was spring and Noriko had just turned 12.” Kōichi remembers that time as well: "She used to wear a ribbon in her hair, and she was always singing." But “children grow up so quickly,” her parents remark, and living together forever, "that's impossible."

Her usual smile nowhere in evidence, Noriko takes it all upon herself: “I’m sorry, I’ve broken up the family.” Despite reassurances from her father (“It’s not your fault. It was inevitable.”) she flees from the room, goes upstairs to her own room, and cries her heart out, distraught about the turn that her and their lives have taken.

The final scene shows Noriko’s parents at the great-uncle’s house, far from the sea. They glance at a wedding procession walking through the fields (“Look there. A bride is passing by. I wonder what sort of family she’s marrying into?”), think of Noriko, and resign themselves to the family's fate: “We shouldn’t ask for too much.” “We've been really happy.”

— Frank Hecker, “Ozu’s Early Summer Seems Pretty Darn Queer to Me”

#yasujiro ozu #ozu #queer history #setsuko hara #early summer #film criticism #queer film #gay subtext #queer coding #long post

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ken-katayanagi · 5 months

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I’ve read your google docs of the katayanagi twins’ fashion. Super interesting stuff and I love it as both a fashion enthusiast and fan of the siblings. Your document really emphasizes the distinction between those two even with the very little info we have on them (kyle’s style could be late 80s japanese pop while ken’s style could be more leaning towards visual kei). Also matches their personalities (ramona mentioned kyle is the hothead of the two, so I guess the pretty and proper bad boy kind of look fits him)

Something about your endnote fascinates me, however. You mentioned something about the twins’ relationship being strained but then strengthened after ramona’s betrayal. Would you implore more on the idea? I’m now invested in it very much…. thank you and have a good day

Thank you!!! I mostly based my looks off this piece of concept art by O’Malley, which makes me think the personalities the twins had in their few anime appearances were just parts that weren’t as well communicated in Vol. 5

(I think that little doddle next to the crossed out “they’re not even Japanese” emphasizes that visual kei comparison you made)

But as for the second bit, I think the twins weren’t exactly on great terms, even before Ramona. A decent part of this has to do with my own personal head cannons surrounding Kyle and how I perceived his and Ramona’s relationship with alcohol, but also with just how different the twins seem to be under the surface. They seem like they would run in almost completely opposite social circles and be invested in similarly opposite things.

And it’s honestly really tied to their teens. Basically, their parents kinda unintentionally set up a dynamic where Kyle felt like Ken got away with everything (piercings, weird clothes, going out to band shows and having a more trusting relationship with their parents) and Ken thought Kyle couldn’t get his act together (partying, showing up back home late, getting in fight with their parents). Neither was true as in reality their parents let a lot of stuff with Ken slide that wouldn’t have otherwise because “well at least he’s not drunk” and Kyle was genuinely going through some serious mental shit but not telling anyone so his actions just looked super random and mean spirited. So by the time they get to college, they haven’t really addressed this weird image they have of the other in their heads.

And it explains how Ramona was even able to two time siblings. They’re not going to the same parties, they’re not really talking at length about their lives (since they never mention enough detail to make the other suspicious), they’re probably not really bothering each other much if they share a dorm. Ramona unconsciously sees and plays this divide, knowing they’re not really together enough for her to get caught.

It also emphasizes for me a very emotional aspect for all three of them. Ramona is hot off a messy break up (Roxie), the breakup that ended her first relationship with a women and also seems to be her first attempt at having something…maybe not serious but genuine (it seemed more important than anything with Matt Todd or Lucas). Shes hardly in the headspace to be in a relationship, and maybe after some nights out, she’s terrified and not sure what to do because whoops she’s in two! And the longer it goes on the less Ramona actually wants to fix it because it’s kinda fun in a messed up way, and the twins aren’t bad company…until it all comes crashing down and she’s out the door before they even notice she’s gone. I think Ramona’s relationship with the twins is her at her actual lowest, with her being most at fault for what happened and the least justified in bolting afterwards. This low point is exactly when Gideon finds her, unsure and upset at herself, in exactly the position to manipulate her. (Sorry if this came off a little Ramona bash-y, I love Ramona but this girl makes bad choices)

As for the twins, I think the really strong emotional beat here is the idea of how avoidable it would’ve felt for them. How if they had just been able to set aside their own bullshit, if they had even bothered to connect at all, they could’ve figured it out in a few days, rather than in a few weeks or a few months. Ramona’s betrayal is catalyst for them to sit down and just…talk out a lot of their own personal crap.

But yeah that’s why. Sorry this got super massively long, but I hope you liked it and it wasn’t too ramblely lol.

#long post #anon ask #scott pilgrim #ken katayanagi #kyle katayanagi #katayanagi twins #ramona flowers #my head cannons #thank thank thank you for bringing this up I’ve been dieing to talk about it #the twins low key seem like the kinda guys to be super put together on the outside but like five seconds from unraveling on the inside #I love them they are my messy idiots #also this is mostly based on comic lore don’t come in here with that they were her TAs nonsense #they can be players but weirdos? nuh uh. no.#tho I am deeply curious like what was Ramona’s major? engineering maybe since she knows about the sub space highways

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just-sp-in-inginthevoid · 9 months

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Flowers in Brahman (and what flower could have been Takeomi’s)

The easiest to figure out are the cherry blossoms for Senju; they’re easy to see since Senju has a close-up wearing her uniform and her image color is cherry blossom pink.

In Japan, cherry blossoms symbolize optimist, the fleeting nature of life and is a symbol of death and rebirth. Although it doesn’t seem official, cherry blossoms are Japan national flowers and have a great importance in their culture, Hanami being the best-known example.

For Wakasa and Benkei, since I’m not an expert in flowers I did my best but I might be wrong.

Wakasa seems to have camelias on his sleeves. Although red camelias symbolize love (in both the western world and japan), this is not what Wakui was going for with it. In Japan, camelias are known for their ‘noble death’ since they seem to behead themselves when they die. Yoshitsune no Minamoto born Ushiwakamaru (the irl man and myth Wakui based Wakasa on) is believed to have committed sepukku after being surrounded by enemies – sparing himself an honorableness death.

Benkei may have chrysanthemums. In Japan, they symbolize ‘imperial’ is they’re yellow or ‘truth’ if they’re white, they’re also a symbol of the imperial family. Something that should also made a nod to the irl Benkei who is said to have fought Yoshitsune’s enemies (while he was committing sepukku) and who was Yoshitune’s retainer; and chrysanthemums are also known to symbolize loyalty.

As for Takeomi, who has a dragon (or two)…

The reason behind that is that he can’t let go of Black Dragon and unlike Wakasa and Benkei he sees Brahman as that – Black Dragon but under a knew name and without Shinichiro to guide them. Still, if he didn’t, what would have been his flower?

Obviously it’s only a speculation, a supposition, but I think hydrangeas would be a great candidate. First of all, they symbolize pride, and second, they represent the rainy season and, well, ‘Rain Bringer’. Hydrangeas need a lot of water as well (‘hydrangea’ means ‘water vessel’ in Greek and ‘ajisai’ means ‘water drinker’ in Japanese).

Various websites don’t say the same thing about hydrangeas meaning in the western world so I can’t talk about it without thinking I’m wrong but one thing is sure – they symbolize heartfelt emotions, whether they be positive (gratitude, love, perseverance/patience…) or negative (arrogance, boastfulness, cold-hearted…). Some says that blue hydrangeas represent feelings of remorse and apologies but also deep gratitude and understanding. It can also be used to express regret and ask for forgiveness.

/!\ EDIT /!\

I most likely got it wrong !!! Benkei's flowers are lotus flowers, not chrysanthemums !

Meaning : purity (of the body and mind), chastity, and a whole other bunch of spiritual things (such as pink lotus flower symbolizing Buddha)

I guess it can fit irl Benkei since he used to be a monk?

Edit 2:

I dont know anymore

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 11 months

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PSA on sharing others' twst merch pictures + jp fandom etiquette

Okay guys, it’s time to sit down and have a serious talk for a second 😣

With the recent deliveries of 2023 Valentine Gifts to Japanese fans, I noticed that many had censored the text (whereas in previous years, it was much easier to locate uncensored letters). At the same time, I've also noticed many international fans reposting pictures (which do show the uncensored text) taken from Japanese fans' accounts to sort of "live react" or scream about the contents (rather than sharing and/or liking the original post they clearly took the images from).

Admittedly, this is an issue that moreso plagues TWST Twitter than TWST Tumblr, but I know that there are fans that frequent both platforms and are unaware of this issue. Here in this post, I'm going to talk about why spreading someone else's merch pictures looks bad for us (in the international TWST fandom), why you shouldn't do it, and what you can do instead.

First thing's first, let's think of it this way: this situation is similar to art/writing/translation theft. One can make the argument that technically since the work being shared around is "not original/not made by the OP" then it is okay to just take it and spread it. That's not the problem here; the problem is that someone else spent their hard-earned money to obtain this item, and some OPs even go out of their way to make elaborate set-ups to take pictures of their merchandise. The act of taking something that isn't yours but still posting it without crediting the OP (and thus taking the credit for yourself, even if not explicitly claimed to be "yours") still pervades. If you want to think of it another way, it’s like not citing your sources properly in an essay. What makes this behavior worse is that it's literally SO easy to just retweet and/or like the original post. But no, instead people are actively making the decision to take their photos without so much as linking back to the OP. What purpose does that serve, especially when it's considerably more effort than liking/retweeting? Not to mention the harm it does for the already shaky relations between Japanese and international fans 💦 I already mentioned before that the number of uncensored Valentine Gifts has gone WAY down in 2023, and I'd wager that this is, in part, due to international fans often engaging in this aforementioned "picture theft". It is seen as something done in poor taste, but it is not often overtly spoken about due to the language barrier and/or Japanese fans not being as outspoken as, say, western fans are. Japanese fans are sharing pictures of their merch to express their excitement and share the love of their favorite character(s) with others. It feels like a violation of those positive feelings to have someone else come along, snatch up the picture they lovingly took, and pass if off as essentially their own without permission or even acknowledging that the OP exists. We also need to consider the possibility that some Japanese fans may be uncomfortable with their pictures being spread around because it unintentionally spoils others. Their excitement should not impact others' experiences, so when this is done outside of their own control it can make them feel helpless. They are NOT posting these very personal pictures for clout, but to spread their joy to their friends and followers. That's why so many Japanese fans now feel discouraged from sharing something they love so much with fellow fans--because their boundaries and intentions are not being respected. We want to see the Valentine Gifts and other awesome pictures of TWST merch in the future? Then we need to give our fellow fans the courtesy they deserve. We should NOT act entitled to or feel owed for what is paid content that other people purchased. This should be a GIVEN act of basic human decency. Furthermore, PLEASE remember that in continuing to take pictures that don't belong to you, you're only going to make it harder for yourself to all to see Valentine Gifts moving forward (save for buying all 28 letters yourself, or hunting down the 28 individually on a platform now scarce of the uncensored versions). The OPs’ feelings are obviously much more important than international fans not getting their fix of merch pics, but if that’s how the situation needs to be reframed to make people reconsider their actions, then reframe it we shall. Merch picture theft, combined with international fans misusing the JP fandom's tagging system to increase visibility of their posts (even when the content is not relevant), acting entitled to translations of official and fan content, and instances of international fans acting aggressively and harassing Japanese fans has created an environment of distrust. It's only going to get worse if we can't draw a line in the sand here and now.

The intention in calling attention to this issue is NOT to gatekeep Japanese merch from an international audience. You have MANY options available to you where you can engage with OP’s post, still see and enjoy the content, AND be polite about it.

What's NOT okay to do?:

Taking OP's picture and reposting it with no credit.

Taking OP's picture and editing it (filters, drawing over it, etc.) before reposting.

Asking OP to uncensor the image(s).

Contentious to do:

Quote retweet! (Japanese fans are generally iffy with internet strangers in their mentions. This may vary from OP to OP.)

Commenting on OP's post! (Like QRTing, the Japanese fandom generally does not like comments unless they come from mutuals/people they are familiar with. Again, this may vary from OP to OP. It’s best to preface comments with an “excuse me”, “I’m not a mutual but”, or something along those lines to be polite.)

Linking or crediting the OP in a thread, especially if it is the second tweet or beyond (because not everyone will read the entire thread, and therefore they may miss the credit). If you’re going to credit OP in a thread, do it in the initial tweet or as soon as possible in your own post.

Asking for and getting OP's permission to share their picture in a public space. (I would advise against this one due to potential language barriers. This method may also put OP on the spot to give a certain reply.)

So... what IS okay to do?:

Liking OP's post!

Retweeting (or whatever the equivalent of sharing is) the OP's post!

Sharing OP's post or images in private spaces (ie DMs, among friends/group chats, etc.)

Sharing only the TEXT of merch items in public.

Sharing your OWN pictures.

Sharing your reactions to merch in your own post (without any pictures).

Sharing/referencing a database created by the OP (same person who took all the pictures in the database) for the sole intention of being shared.

Asking to see merch images taken by your friends.

I did my best to research this situation and to give appropriate advice on it, but please let me know if I flubbed up somewhere 💦

Anyway!! I hope that you found this post enlightening and that you take its message to heart 🙇‍♀️ Please, let's all try to be more mindful of how we share things that we're excited about in this fandom!! We can still have fun and scream about our favorite characters without souring the experience for other fans!!

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst merch #twisted wonderland merch #disney twisted wonderland #twst en #twisted wonderland en #twst valentine #twisted wonderland valentine #notes from the writing raven #advice #twst valentines #twisted wonderland valentines #twst valentine gift #twisted wonderland valentine gift #twst valentines day letters #twisted wonderland valentines day letters

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thyandrawrites · 1 year

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Being fully honest Dabi coming to Endv after being ignored yet again doesn't change the fact that he has been ignored yet again. Even now endv has his eyes on afo and I can't see it changing

Nah, I get that. I feel the same. To be honest I see this as another set up for failure. So far the heroes have consistently been making the wrong choices and letting things escalate instead of trying better ways of facing their opponents.

I didn't wanna say it in case I jinxed it with my prediction, but if we are to take Hawks and Mic's reactions as the standard for how the old gen will continue to act moving forward, then I'm expecting Enji to be much the same. He's gonna fight Touya like a villain who's too far gone. Possibly he'll even echo his colleagues and try to protect Touya's idealized memory by killing the man his son has become.

I might be wrong about this of course... But looking back at Enji's internal narration during the Central Hospital chapters and his thoughts as he fought AFO... He's still nowhere near recognizing that Dabi and Touya are the same person.

Remember this line?

Well, here's some translation trivia. In japanese he's only calling him a mass murderer (大量殺人者). The only reason why we know that he's even talking about Touya and not any other PLF villain is because the furigana (the little reading on the right of the aforementioned kanji string above) tells us he's referring to his son (むすこ). Stuff like this is hard to translate because English doesn't have an organic way to do the same kind of word play, so the only way to get across both definitions is to include them both in the line itself, like the character is uttering them at once. The famous "a dance with your son, here in hell" was another example of Hori using furigana that doesn't match with the kanji they're paired with, to get across a double meaning. But for the sake of understanding Enji's mentality, I'd like to stress that he sees Dabi first and foremost as a "mass murderer". Only incidentally, like an afterthought, as his son. You'll also notice how in that same scene he's thinking about "fighting him". Not reuniting, not seeing how he's doing. Fighting. Like he would any other villain, because to him this is still a matter to be tackled as a hero and not a father.

Point is, Enji still doesn't fully recognize Touya in Dabi.

This is how he pictures him in his mind's eye. This is not by far a flattering image. For all that Enji says that he recognizes the wrongs he did to Touya, the image he conjures when he thinks of him is not that of a man falling apart from the weight of unaddressed trauma and desperation. He sees a monster, grinning maniacally, reveling in Enji's anguish with sadistic glee. This is not the son he abused, over and over, until he had an emotional breakdown and lost himself. This is Enji picturing an enemy, someone not to feel any sympathy for. Someone whose most prominent feature is his creepy grinning mouth, open wide as if ready to devour everything Enji's been working for all these years.

Even in his thoughts, he keeps referring to Dabi as an abstract evil rather than a person:

He's the physical manifestation of Enji's "mistakes", not his son. Not the boy he said he missed so dearly he hoped he could get a second chance with.

Touya is Othered as an abstract being, the sum of every flaw Enji possesses but never wanted to acknowledge.

Now compare that to how he saw Touya as an idealized martyr:

Here Touya is remembered as a good kid, not through the distorted lenses above, because up until this moment he's still a "good victim". Someone who died before he could become an obstacle, and as such still someone who Enji treats with humanity. He brings offer to his altar and manifests "regret" over his premature death, because this Touya is easy to mourn. After all, with Touya gone, who's gonna complain about Enji using his memory as a justification for the continued abuse of Shouto and the rest of the family?

Certainly not Touya. The dead are the perfect people to idealize because they can no longer fight for their rights as a living person would. And Enji clearly knows this. He obviously ignores how training Shouto and punching him so hard he pukes goes directly against everything Touya ever wanted because Touya's wishes are simply no longer part of the equation. Touya is no longer a person but just a a cause that Enji needs to honor (arbitrarily, and with even more abuse than before).

But when Touya comes back, and suddenly he's a person with agency once again and not just an idealized memory anymore...

Suddenly, he becomes "a mass murderer".

So... No, I'm not really expecting Enji to turn around and act like a good dad just because Dabi showed up. As you said, Dabi chasing him down doesn't make Enji any less neglectful or any less at fault, and if Horikoshi knows what he's doing, he's probably about to make him do something extremely uncalled for and totally catered to himself, as Enji's actions so far have only been shielding his own ego from any genuine remorse

#Ali replies #Bnha spoilers #Bnha meta #Meta:endeavor #My post #Whoops I didn't mean this to get this long #Or to even write about the topic #But I guess I had been biting my tongue for too long and the ramble just came out...#Here's to hoping hori won't just erase his own set up just to make enji look good

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kisakitwister · 7 months

Text

“Simp” pt. 1

Kaminari x Reader

It was never not obvious when Kaminari stared at you from across the room. A love struck glint in his eyes and a smile plastered upon his face.

In the coming weeks U.A was hosting a Hero Ball, anyone who attended U.A or was a Pro-Hero was allowed to attend.

As Mina, Kirishima, and the usual group began to talk about what they would wear or who they would invite, his gaze remained on you.

You were a new addition to Class 1-A, a foreign exchange student from the States and although you didn’t speak much Japanese, you still spoke it confidently. You glanced over to Kaminari who quickly averted his gaze and a light blush coated his cheeks.

Jirou catching sight of this quickly nudged her electric friend. “What was that huh? Got eyes for the new student?” She teased as she looked at him.

“What!? N-no I was just looked at that- uhm”

He tried to changed the subject but the small comment immediately alerted the gossiper of the group.

“Ooo Kami has a crush!!” Mina squealed as she looked over at you. Still oblivious as ever you finished taking notes and put them away, glancing back one more time, this time the whole group looked at you. You felt yourself grow a bit embarrassed but a quick wave and a smile was enough for them to look back at Kami.

“Come on guys, it’s nothing please drop it!” Kaminari sighed as he smiled trying to burn it into his head the image of your smile.

Kirishima then spoke up “You should ask them to the dance! They seem pretty chill I bet they would love to go with you.”

Kaminari shook his head, “Are you crazy!? I bet they don’t even know my name-!”

A small voice then spoke up. “Hey, sorry I don’t mean to intrude but your name is Kaminari right?” You walked up to the group, trying not to be rude as you spoke up.

Mina wiggled her eyebrows at Kami as he blushed brightly looking over at you. “Ye-yeah that’s me.”

He said giving you a small wave and smile. You smiled back and then quickly introduced yourself to the rest of them. You might have joined the class about 3 weeks ago, but you never dared to talk to anyone.

Other then two other students who approached you the second you stepped through the door.

The group and you talked for a while before the bell rang signaling that class was about to start and break was over.

That afternoon after class ended, Kaminari found you by your locker. Putting on his confident smile he walked over and leaned against the locker.

“Why hello there ___—“ he attempted to say your name but fell down as he leaned on your still opened locker. You looked down and he was blushing heavily as he quickly stood up.

“Excuse me. I mean, Hi ___.” You chuckled and looked at him. “Hey Kaminari, you okay there?”

He nodded brushing off fake dust off his uniform and then giving you a grin. “Mind if I take you out to get a treat or something?”

You thought for a moment and then smiled “Why not? I’ll meet you by the front gate.” You winked and walked off leaving Kaminari speechless.

No other person really accepted his proposals much less a person like you. His face flushed a rose pink as he tried to imagine what this date would be like.

Walking towards the gate he found you waiting just like you said. “Hey you actually waited for me?” He said his voice soft and genuine.

You looked back and smiled softly, “Of course.”

“Let’s go then! I know this cafe that’s just down the street, you are going to love it!” He said excited as he began walking beside you.

As you both walked, you glanced up, the setting sun made the sky a beautiful orange and pink. Looking over at Kami his smiling face glanced over at you. He looked ethereal, so much more handsome than he did in class.

A small blush creeping upon your face as you looked back at the path. “So I never even asked, what’s your quirk?”

He broke the silence as she kept walking. “Oh right! My quirk is …”

He nodded in acknowledgement and nodded.

“That’s really cool! Your power is going to be such a huge advantage over villains! I’m gonna bet you are going to be an amazing hero when we graduate!” He rambled, each compliment sending a new shade of red to your cheeks.

“Thank you Kami…” you said. He looked over and chuckled as he took notice of your cheeks. “Did I go to over board with compliments?” He nervously scratched the back of his neck.

Shaking your head you looked back at him. “No it’s alright…I liked it.” You beamed softly, making it his turn to blush.

“Ah it was nothing…uhm look there it is! Come on!” He smiled grabbing your hand gently and tugging you over to the shop.

Upon entering the shop, you were greeted with a lovely smell of fresh made bread and coffee, this shop would be the jewel of the crown during winter.

Kaminari led you over to a booth as a waiter came over and handed you the menus. “So what would you like? I’m paying.”

He said as he looked over his menu.

“Oh no it’s fine—“

“I insist! I was the one who offered to take you out.” He interrupted. You sighed and gave him a small smile.

“Alright but I’ll pay you back one day.” You laughed as you picked up your own menu and looked over the choices.

Finally choosing over what you both wanted you told the waiter and waited for your food. “What made you decide to come to Japan? Aren’t there hero schools in the US?”

He asked curiously. You nodded and continued, “my family wanted me to have a change of scenery. It had always been a dream of my mothers to visit Japan so why not have her child do that for her.”

“Since I was going to be here for a while, let’s also have her enroll at the most prestige school there.”

Kaminari nodded and smiled. “Well it’s lovely to have you here.” You smiled and then looked at him.

“Hey I never even asked you, what’s your quirk?”

Kaminari grinned and explained to you in detail about his quirk. He smiled pridefully as he made you snort with his drawback.

“And I kid you not during that training session I was so out of my mind I had to sit out for the rest of the class!”

He laughed loudly, you laughed along with him trying to hold back some tears. When your order arrived you still couldn’t hold it together. “Good lord, I hope that doesn’t happen if we train together! I would not be able to hold it together!”

You laughed as he finally calmed down a bit and looked at you. Seeing your smile made his heart beat fast.

He wanted to make you smile like that everyday. A blush creeping up on his cheeks, once you settled down he cleared his throat.

“Uhm..ya’know if your not busy tomorrow or another day…do you want to do this again?” He asked, feeling nervous for your response.

You looked at him and smiled softly.

“I’d love too”

~ 💛🖤

#kaminaridenki #denki kaminari #mha fanfiction #mha #writers on tumblr #anime #mha x reader #reader insert #writing #kaminari x y/n #kaminari x reader #i love him #sweet #u.a. high school #bnha x reader

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wariofranchisefanblog · 6 months

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A new WarioWare has come out and I got enough playtime in to feel comfortable talking about it in full, so I’ll do just that.

Right off the bat I can say in short: this is a good game and a good WarioWare. Not up there with my favs, but it does a lot right. My experience did end up quite differently than anticipated and I’ll explain why soon enough.

First I want to talk about the presentation, which I think is an easy high point. Everything is vibrant and colorful, the art keeps showing the strengths of the current style and everything feels very much like it should. Microgames run that perfect mix of genuinely nice looking and deliberately cursed and the cutscenes are the best of both worlds, being smooth and lively, while returning to Gold’s full voice acting.

Speaking of cutscenes, that brings us to the story related stuff and that’s where the game shows some interesting tricks up its sleeves. In terms of structure it’s a return to the pre-Gold era, with the closest to an overarching theme being the vacation set-up.

I do think the Ware crew is in top form, likable, fun and full of life as always and two stories in particular even do something major.

Kat and Ana’s story marks the shocking return of Cractus, bringing a Wario Land character into WarioWare and Young Cricket’s story sees his Kung-Fu Ball partner finally brought into WarioWare properly. Both of those are really massive and show a willingness to more heavily utilize elements from other parts of the verse, which I find incredibly exciting.

Oddly enough, the weaker link of the story for me this time is Wario himself. Now don’t get me wrong, everything that happens here is usual Wario antics and I do like how non–english versions of the script like japanese and german, have him be actually be nice about bringing the others along. His confusion at the Crygor drawings and later ascending to godhood, with the cast roll confirming he got a happy end, are all good too, plenty of nice stuff here.

He just feels weirdly absent here. Having no presence in the Remix stages, no bonus mode in his image and even the final stage has him stuck being cursed to have his face be the avatar of an angry volcano. It doesn’t really feel like Wario and ends with him being the only one of the cast with no moment to shine during the climax, which I can’t help but find a little disappointing.

Still, it’s not a big deal, after so many games Wario taking a slight backseat isn’t a dealbreaker, it just stood out a little.

Moving away from that, there is the audio side of things. The music as usual is full of unapologetically catchy jingles and some major stand-out tracks such as MegaGame Muscles and the Form Guide theme.

We got full voice acting again and with it our first taste of Kevin Afghani as Wario. Pre-release stuff had me very on and off with how I felt about it, but having heard all of him in the game: yeah, I like him! He does have some wonky deliveries, but the overall voice still feels like Wario and has its own fun appeal. Certainly more noticeably different than Mario and Luigi, but I am optimistic Kevin will greatly grow into the role, as he gets to play him more and more.

Then we get to the big one, the gameplay and this is where I was thrown for a loop the most. With this being a direct Smooth Moves successor I thought I’d know what to expect, but was quite caught off-guard in many places.

This surprisingly ended up being the most difficult WarioWare for me by a long-shot, enough that I actually had to take advantage of the second chance mechanic, which I never had to do in Gold and GiT.

If I had to sum the game up in one word, it would be demanding, Wario commanding you to move it is not just a funny title, it’s the name of the game.

With the Wiimote, you could get away with just sorta doing the poses in a lot of cases, but Move It really demands you do the exact poses, down to holding the Joycon juuuust the right way.

More than anything I was surprised how strict it could be in that regard, not following the form instructions is asking for trouble, but I have to say, at the same token I was amazed how well things worked once I got the hang of it.

I’ll admit, I was ill while playing the game, so maybe that caused me to be a little more daft than usual, but it took me a bit to really get into it and I had to consult the museum several times for some microgames to figure out what I even needed to do.

I do think the game is a touch more complicated than usual for WarioWare, since you have to take effectively two controllers and specific poses into account, on top of grasping what each microgame demands of you, but once it clicks everything feels well thought out and purposeful. Getting things down is immensely satisfying and shows some really stunning results of what the Joycon can do.

That said the game isn’t entirely without jank, Hand Model being a notable culprit of it. The game finds several fun applications for it, but anything regarding reading forms or how many fingers you hold up, can be really clunky in the heat of the moment. In general, the strictness of the forms also means you need to really be prepared for every microgame, since slouching with your form could lead to a bad desync

Still, even with some jank I do think stepping up to the challenge to get a feel of it and get better is very much worth it. I wasn’t sure how to feel at first, but my opinion on it only went up the more I played.

That covers it for the main stages, as for the side-content though, yeah, that is where the game shows a weaker side of itself.

Not so much in terms of what’s here though. You got your standard towers, as well as MegaGame Muscles, which no joke, may be my favorite stage in the game. It’s frantic, fun, the music slaps and the set-up of Mr. Sparkles having ascended to being a literal god of fitness, is pure WarioWare.

The new Pyoro game of the day is a fun, different take on it, much like the one in Smooth Moves was as well and Dirty Job is a cool bonus game expansion of a more stand-out microgame concept.

That is really it as far as the single player content is concerned though and it does feel a liiiittle on the meager side. No souvenirs, which Smooth Moves and GiT didn’t have either, but Smooth Moves had more bonus games and GiT had the final Pyoro stage, Penny Remix, more bonus games, unlockable art and the Wario Cup.

We do still have a decent variety of multiplayer modes to work with and I did get a friend to come on by to try them, save for the 4 player exclusive one.

I think it’s a good selection, in concept it has the best multiplayer mode offerings since Mega Party Games (though I did like GiT a lot too), but there is one issue I have with it and I think GiT was a little guilty of it too.

As I mentioned, I do think there is a learning curve on how to play this game most effectively and you feel that even more in multiplayer, where someone not as in the know, is naturally gonna accidentally grip his Joycon slightly wrong, despite doing the pose and need some extra instructions, much like the characters in GiT can take some learning.

It is something you can overcome and have a good time with, WarioWare is a very good ‘’don’t take me too seriously’’ kind of multiplayer experience, but on the whole, if they want a true party game WarioWare, I still think something simpler like Mega Party Games is in order and by all means, I wouldn’t mind them doing something like that again.

On a side note, I also find it a bit of a shame that the nice new models for the cast, updated to resemble their designs in this game, are ultimately watered down to sprites of their heads during multiplayer gameplay. With how much emphasis is being put on multiplayer to carry the game for longer, I think it would have been nice if they put in the work to fully animate GiT-style models for the multiplayer modes.

That small gripe aside, as I said, I think multiplayer is fine, but not quite the pick up and play experience for people new to the game, as I feel they wanted it to be and I do think a bit too much of the game is locked behind multiplayer.

But yeah, that’s WarioWare Move It. It’s good and if you like WarioWare, you’re getting what you wanted out of it. It’s not one of my top games in the series and feels a bit too lacking on the side content front, but on the whole, I had a good time and it gets a surprising amount out of a controller that I have an openly low opinion on.

#WarioWare #WarioWare Move It

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revasserium · 1 year

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requests are open

54. first love, last rites (alternatively titled: sign)

kageyama; 2,631 words; mute!reader w/ mentions of japanese sign language, mostly fluff

01. new

he remembers the first time like a dream, scenes drifting in and out of focus, the images hazy behind the screen of time and memories re-remembered a million times, the rough edges and imperfections smoothed over by years of polishing — your shy, round face and your huge dark eyes peering at him from behind your mother’s legs. but he remembers your smile with a startling clarity —

so big, so bright, so sweet and happy and unrelenting.

your family just moved in next door, or so he gathers from the pitter patter of words he catches as the adults above you both chat. and you’re still watching him, half-hidden from view, your fingers digging into your mom’s beige slacks.

“tobio, say hi,” his own mother urges him with a pat on the back. he frowns, his lips pulling down as he tries to muster the breath. somewhere upstairs, he can feel his sister watching and he wonders at the unfairness. why’s he have to be the one to make friends with the new neighbors? why not her?

“hi…” he finally forces out. a huff of a word.

but when he looks up again, it’s to find you stepping out from behind your mom, a bit less hidden.

you reach out your hand and he stares at it for a solid five seconds before taking it in his.

it’s warm, he thinks, and soft, he realizes.

you pull your hand back and flash him a smile — that smile, that smile.

and somewhere in the back of his young, yet-unburdened mind, he knows he’ll be chasing that smile for the rest of his life.

02. weight

he’d never thought it was strange the way you speak with your hands, the way your fingers flicker and flash, your words big and sharp sometimes, small and hesitant at others. he doesn’t question, in the way that children never question, about the differences in your preferred modes of communication, and he learns quickly enough.

sign… language…

you spell out the letters one by one, slowly to show him and then the motions for the words — a rapid spinning of the fingers. he nods and repeats. you smile and continue.

and like this, he learns about the shapes and weights of words.

03. tomorrow

“ugh, i hate math…”

you look at him over your homework, blinking before you tap your pencil twice on his worksheet, motioning for him to hand it over. he frowns, sighing as he pushes the paper towards you, shifting his chair to sit next to you, bending over it to watch your pencil move.

your arms brush, your knees press.

outside, the spring droops on sun-soaked cherry trees, their branches budding in green.

you chatter with your free hand as you work out the equation on the page.

see? it’s easy, you push the worksheet back at him with two more decisive taps, the dark charcoal lead digging dots into his worksheet. he frowns harder as he tries to piece together how you arrived at the answer.

“it’s not easy,” he says, even as the bell rings, signaling the end of study period, and the classroom erupts into a clamor of voices, of scraping chairs and tinkling phone charms, of laughter and shouts and the poomf poomf poomf of the chalkboard eraser being cleaned.

you try to hide your laughter behind your hands even as kageyama tucks his workbook back into his schoolbag and shoulders it.

“same time tomorrow?” he asks as he makes his way towards the door. you flash him a thumbs up and a hearty nod and he finds himself smiling. he tosses his fingers up into a sideways peace sign before turning out into the crowded middle-school hallway.

see you later.

04. listen

he hears them whispering, talking in between classes, outside during break period, during their mandatory gym classes — he hears them wonder, musing on the reasons behind why he spends so much time with you. why he would even want to. he never answers them, but he hears them.

and he knows that you can hear them too.

it’s okay, you tell him, i wonder too, sometimes.

kageyama stares down at the lunchbox in his lap.

“because,” he says, putting down his chopsticks to motion with his hands, “i want to.”

you smile, reaching out to steal an octopus sausage, popping it into your mouth with a pleased nod. he watches, as he always does, with a kind of muted wonder at just how much can be said without a single spoken word. he watches the way you sway back and forth with the summer breeze, the rooftop scattered with other students, all out to enjoy their lunch beneath the welcoming sun.

it’s quieter up here, so much quieter than the cafeteria or the field out back or the classrooms that allow their students to eat at their desks.

“and…” he folds his hands together, palm to palm, as if trying to catch a firefly’s light, “we’re friends.”

05. hands

he has always thought your hands were beautiful.

“it’s pretty,” he tells you one day, blushing as you blink up at him, quirking your head to one side, like a curious sparrow, waiting, wondering.

he swallows, hard, and its then that he realizes his hands are shaking. he bunches them into fists, squeezing them before letting go, feeling the blood rush back into his fingers, warm and tingling and strong.

“your voice,” he says, but he points to your hands, and as you look back down at them, he reaches out to take them in his.

“it’s pretty,” he repeats, his voice softer this time, less rushed, less forced, his fingers gentle as he folds them over yours.

06. care

he can tell you’re angry even without looking at your face, your normally fluid fingers stuttering as you swap between bandaging up his thumb and yammering away at how he’s gotta be more careful.

“i know,” he says, sighing as you glare up at him once more, dabbing iodine into the wound before tying off the bandage perhaps a bit too tight. he bites back a wince as you drop his hand, the first-aide kit clacking shut as you slam the lid.

his eyes follow the way your shoulders rise and fall with each of your breaths, how your cheeks are ruddy and red from worry, anger.

your hands are important, you say, reaching out to take them, clutching them between your own. you shake them as if trying to shake some sense into him, and he nods, but you shake your head, sharp and vehement.

no, you don’t understand.

“i get it! i do! i need them for volleyball, for setting —”

you shake your head again, squeezing his hands so tight that he does wince this time, his arms jerking back from the pain. your eyes are wide and dark and not for the first time, kageyama finds himself beholden by them, by the strength of your gaze, of your grip as you pull him back towards you.

they’re important to me.

you jab a finger into your own chest, once, twice, three times. so hard that he finally reaches out to catch your hand before you can do it again.

“stop — stop that! your hands are important too! th-they’re important to me!”

there’s a ringing silence, the kind that slices through a room, knife-sharp and bell-deep and kageyama realizes that his chest is heaving, his own heartbeats a thundering drumbeat behind his ears, pounding, pounding —

you slowly twist your palms in his till you can smooth your fingers over his loosening hands. you trace your thumbs along the the pads of his thumbs, pressing slightly to work out the tension he’s collected there. slowly, you move to the base of his pointer fingers, and then his middle finger, one by one, till his hands are warm and loose in his lap between your bodies.

“tomorrow’s game,” he says, his voice soft and rasping and more than a little sorry, “will you… be there?”

you let out an audible sigh, your shoulders slumping down, but you dip your head in a quick nod, your finger flicking out towards him.

i’ll go.

he feels himself relax, slowly softening back into his skin as he nods along as well.

“good. i’ll see you there.”

07. silence

even in the mind-numbing din of a game, there are moments of quiet — and it is in those moments kageyama finds himself most comfortable. in the space between when the spiker’s feet leave the ground and when their palm meets the ball, in the breath before a serve, in the millisecond space between a jump and a block.

“mah… but it really is impressive how you can find even the smallest moments of quiet in a match to concentrate,” sugawara drapes his arm over kageyama’s shoulder during court-switch, giving him a quick squeeze, and a teasing smirk “but i guess that’s why you’re a genius, and we’re all just plebs, hm?”

he dips his head with a huffed, “thanks,” but he glances up towards the stands and finds you immediately.

he feels your smile like a breath of air in a screaming crowd.

you catch his eye and raise both your fists, pumping them twice, and he feels his chest expand with warmth.

good luck!

he allows himself the shadow of a grin, turning back to the game, his shoulders square, his back straight, the cheers and shouts of crowd fading out. it’s his serve.

the whistle blows, he takes a breath, and he revels in the quiet.

08. sound

he learns the meaning of helpless the first time he hears you cry, the sound ripping through him like skin on gravel, harsh and tearing and raw. so jagged, so wrong — the way your breaths heave through your entire body, your hiccups cutting through the soft whine of your sobs.

you have your hands pressed to your ears, knees drawn up to your chest, your room dark except for the block of light pooling on the floor at this feet, caught by the shape of him in your doorframe.

there are so many things he wants to ask, so many things he wants to say — what’s wrong, who did this, tell me their names — tell me their names and i’ll make them pay — tell me, please — talk to me, say something — anything —

but for the first time in his life, when he reaches for the words, they do not appear. his voice stolen by the sight of you, curled up in the corner, hiding from the world, making yourself ever smaller, almost as if you wished you could disappear.

instead, he takes a step in and lets the door close behind him, shutting the pair of you in darkness. slowly, he lowers himself onto the edge of your bed, taking a deep, steadying breath, and then another one. you hiccup; the bed shifts; the sheets shuffle.

he pulls himself onto the mattress to sit across from you, cross-legged, leaving enough space between your bodies for you to deny him. he places both his hands there, palms up, open, imploring, patient. moments pass, and then just as slowly, the shape of you uncurls from itself in the corner, your toes inching forward till they almost touch his fingers.

you reach out to take his hands.

09. butterflies

the sight of your laughter never fails to stump him, to force a break in his thoughts, to slam pause on whatever else he might be doing.

a friend of yours is making you laugh, showing you something on her bedazzled phone, the pair of you giggling, your freshly painted fingers flashing like fish-scales beneath the fluorescent classroom lights. he catches bits of your conversation, his eyes so used to the rhythm of your hands, the way you flutter your fingers in between your thoughts, how you tend to move your entire upper body when you’re excited about something.

“ah… bakayama-kun, are you staring at your girlfriend again?”

kageyama whips around to glower at a much too smug-looking hinata, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face even as kageyama reaches out to try and whack him upside the head. hinata ducks out of the way with a gleeful laugh, and kageyama can feel his cheeks burning as he sinks further into his seat, glaring at the place where hinata used to be.

he feels your eyes on him before he ever turns around to look. but when he does, you quirk your head, blinking at him, a question in your eyes.

he shakes his head before grabbing his bag and stomping from the room, even as the bell rings to signal the end of lunch period.

when the teacher asks where kageyama-kun thinks he’s going, hinata answers that he’s probably got some stomach butterflies to deal with.

10. again

he doesn’t know when it happened, just that by the time he realized, it had already been happening for longer than he can remember. there was no after-school confession, no long-winded letters tucked into one another’s shoe lockers, no homemade chocolates on valentines day, no return-gifts on white day.

kageyama thinks that he’d simply woken up one morning and understood — he’d understood it in the same implicit way that his body had always understood the feeling of a volleyball court, the weight of a ball in his hands, the precise distance between the toss and the serve, the swing and the impact.

“tobio! you’re going to be late!”

he groans as he rolls out of bed, pulling on his track pants, haphazardly brushing his teeth as he digs for a pair of clean socks.

you’re waiting for him by the door, a bright red scarf around your neck, blowing warm air into your palms. you shoot him a bright grin and a wave as he slings his sports back over his shoulders and steps into his shoes.

“morning,” he says, blinking as you hand him a freshly steamed curry bun, still a bit hot to the touch.

he flashes you a grateful smile as he takes it, stuffing half of it into his mouth before you’re halfway down the street and when you turn to look at him with an exasperated huff, he crinkles his nose and holds still as you reach up to wipe the crumbs from the edge of his lips.

you motion for him to hurry, tapping at your wrist.

we’re going to be late!

he sighs, rolling his eyes as he shovels down the rest of the bun, breaking into an unwilling jog.

you let out a tiny, exasperated laugh before reaching out your hand towards him.

he blinks, stares at it for a second, and then reaches out to take it.

your hand is still small in his, and warm, and just as soft as he remembers. but your fingers are cold, and he curls his own fingers around yours, holding them tight as you smile up at him — bright and sweet and unrelenting.

you run your thumb over the back of his hand.

don’t let go.

you both hear the first bell ring when you’re a block from the school gates and he breaks out into a run, pulling you behind him, lacing your fingers between his, grinning despite himself.

you give him a squeeze and he squeezes back.

i won’t.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#kageyama tobio #kageyama tobio x reader #haikyuu x reader #kageyama x reader #haikyuu scenarios #kageyama tobio fluff #haikyuu fluff #floofy floof floof #this was a weird one and i struggled with getting it 'right' and im still not sure if i did but... i tried lol #it felt like a story that wanted to be told; i just didn't know if i was the right person to tell it #many thanks to 手話ちゃんねる yt channel for being such a resource #for my many jsl related searches and yes -- the sign language described in the fic is japanese sign language #for... obvious reasons LOL

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