I feel like both Natsume and Sensei gain so much from their reluctant companionship. After decades and decades of loneliness meant for yokai life, Sensei becomes a part of an actual family for the first time-something I'm sure he neved planned to happen-taking up a role of a mentor for this frail human boy who can be easily killed, but little by little he learns how to be gentle and playful with Natsume, discovers boundaries and a desire to have a place to return to.
In that sense, while Sensei is a cat physically, Natsume is a metaphorical stray whom Sensei needs to domesticate and teach trust in the safe environment. See, I could eat you, but instead I open my mouth just a little in play-pretend and let you land a punch to gain the confidence. Natsume, who hid behind a mask since forever, now has someone to practice communication with and to be a menace to without repercussions. He's always nice and polite with his school friends and the adults but Sensei allows him to feel so at ease he can just really be himself. The way Natsume would've been if he'd been raised in a normal family from the beginning. Sassy, confident, daring.
I think Nyanko's form is one of the main reasons that becomes possible. People hurt Natsume, monsters did too, but a cat is a neutral, relaxing, harmless creature. Soft fur and comfortable weight on your chest. Sure, he shit-talks and pesters you but I believe Natsume's mind considers him as a more of a magical cat than an actual threat that forest yokai are. So, this is, like, a perfect confidant for the teen for both the real and the spiritual worlds.
“He’s always nice and polite with his school friends and the adults but Sensei allows him to feel so at ease he can just really be himself.”
YES!!!! Natsume’s dancing 100 apology dances around EVERYONE he knows EXCEPT Sensei. And the way their relationship is so obviously different from Natsume’s every other relationship (and Madara’s every other relationship for that matter) fascinates me. They’re absolute menaces with each other in a way they can’t be with anyone else ever.
You have an insane guilt complex for everyone who’s as much as lifted a finger for you? Not a problem, here’s a guy who will never admit he does anything at all for your sake, and will actively reject gratitude, so no worries. You’re a majestic ancient beast who has to command respect and can’t enjoy the simple pleasures of being a petty brat? You’re in luck, this kid is entirely willing to forget your divine origins and play house with a talking cat 24/7 because he’s terminally lonely and isn’t spoiled for any other company. They don’t ever talk about their feelings and they understand each other perfectly. Whatever’s wrong with them fits together like a puzzle. Anyone who thinks about their living arrangement for more than 5 minutes gets a headache.
A while ago, I tumbled down the Natsyuu rabbit hole (again) and promised to pull all the best fics I was reading into a rec list. And then I completely forgot to hit publish. Very sorry for the long wait, but here it finally it is, in no particular order.
put your empty hands in mine by taizi
Kitamoto and Nishimura are soulmates, to absolutely no one's surprise.
But they're also soulmates with a very shy boy who lives somewhere far away, who writes to them in tiny, careful letters right before bed, who apologizes when the mimicry of bruises pop up on their arms and backs because of him.
And that's a surprise to a lot of people.
scrapbook by adventureboots
[image: A boy, maybe fourteen, stands on the porch of the Fujiwara household in a brand new school uniform. Slung over one shoulder is an old but well-loved leather messenger bag. In his hand is a brightly wrapped bento. The boy, although smiling, looks nervous.]
(or: Natsume learns to use a cell phone, text people back, call people first, and take pictures of his friends)
for a moment i was warm by taizi
It’s a cold day in Yatsuhara. Nyanko-sensei scoffs when Natsume says as much.
“You’re too human if the weather still bothers you.”
Natsume frowns. That’s a strange thing to joke about.
So few come and don't go by taizi
Natsume is happy. Tanuma doesn't know why he doesn't feel satisfied with that.
jars and jars of jam by adventureboots
“Your parents do realize I am a grown man and not, in fact, a college bachelor in need of feeding, right?” Shuuichi asks, cradling the rice like it’s a child and politely ignoring the strange emotional acrobatics Natsume’s face performs on the word parents. “I can and do feed myself. On a daily basis, even.”
Natsume stares at him, unreadable. Natsume’s monster cat peeks over his shoulder, ears flat and judgmental. Even Hiiragi, lurking in the kitchen, levels him with her unblinking one-eyed stare.
Never Lag Behind by Sarashina_Nikki
Natsume napping on his desk was a common sight, one that everyone in class C had long since grown used to. (Although the teachers seemed to find it less and less amusing as time wore on.)
So the castle that we built won't cave by taizi
The last time he remembers feeling this protective was probably back on the day he and Kitamoto taught Natsume how to ride a bicycle, those pleasant hours of late afternoon that swept by so fast. He had been unprepared for how thin Natsume’s shoulders would be, how fragile his back would feel under Nishimura’s hands.
The Perfect Team by Badwolf36
Touko Fujiwara is not a woman who gets easily flustered.
But she has to admit that she gets a bit nervous when Nyankichi streaks down the stairs into the living room where she’s sitting with Shigeru, the golden bell on his red collar jangling wildly.
the smallest things by taizi
In which Takashi comes into the Fujiwaras' lives much earlier on.
Only the monsters we make by taizi
Kitamoto thinks Natsume’s cat is probably a much better judge of character than Natsume is – the cat will take a vicious swipe at anyone who tries to hurt it, after all, while Natsume will close his eyes and forgive.
The Four Noble Truths by versaphile
After Takashi opens up to his family and friends, life for him and Kaname has never been better. But as graduation looms, their futures are uncertain. They visit nearby Kumamoto to see the universities and Natori-san, but following in Reiko’s footsteps reveals old pain and new peril.
A post-Reveal adventure featuring Natsume and Tanuma, the Fujiwaras being the best, the Horrible Exorcists being only sometimes the worst, the impending end of the Book of Friends, the dangers of feeling bad things for too long, and Nyanko-sensei having to do all the work around here.
Little By Little by versaphile
When the Fujiwaras planned to ask Takashi to live with them, they didn’t expect to do it from a hospital bed. When Takashi’s previous guardians abandon him, Touko and Shigeru do their best to pick up the pieces, and learn how to care for a damaged boy who isn’t even sure if they’re real.
The first month of Takashi’s life with the Fujiwaras, from Touko’s perspective.
Deserving by kuragay
Takashi skips meals. It's not on purpose, but it becomes a habit nonetheless.
The first time it happens, Takashi’s eight, and he’s too afraid to go out of his room for dinner because that would mean having to interact with the family who’s just taken him in, and they’re scary.
Then and Now by riventhorn
Things are different now that Natsume lives with Touko and Shigeru.
Madara is such a fascinating character to me. An ancient and massively powerful youkai with all the emotional maturity of a kindergartener with a crush. Either presents himself as a noble white-furred beast the size of a building or a fat cat with a squeaky voice. And also a lookalike of a long-dead schoolgirl whom he has strong unfavourable opinions about. Knows perfectly well how human-youkai friendships end and jumps in head first anyway, rip to you but I’m different. Indulges Natsume’s every whim, acts like he has cooties when he says “thank you”. Jokes about eating Natsume on the daily, casually mentions his intention to stay with him until his dying breath. Can’t bear the thought of anyone finding out he’s got any sort of positive feelings for Natsume. Unabashedly spends his every waking (and sleeping) hour with said Natsume. Wise and perspicacious enough to know when to step back and how to guide Natsume to learn things at his own pace. Is the most unconvincing liar ever. Spends his free time getting into the pettiest squabbles, making outlandish demands and pestering neighbourhood dogs. He’s massively respected among youkai. He’s a public nuisance among youkai. He’s a spiritual guide. He’s an annoying sibling. He’s an alcoholic parent. He’s a pet mascot. He’s a main character. And I’ve got 5 and a half seasons left to go.
you know what actually pisses me off? when I finally start to feel a smidge of confidence in my writing ability and then some JERK POSTS A SINGLE LINE FROM A TERRY PRATCHETT NOVEL AND IT’S BETTER THAN ANYTHING I WILL EVER WRITE NO MATTER HOW MANY MILLENNIA I SPEND TRYING!
Terry was a professional writer from the age of 17. He worked as a journalist which meant that he had to learn to research, write and edit his own work very quickly or else he’d lose his job.
He was 23 when his first novel was published. After six years of writing professionally every single day. The Carpet People was a lovely novel, from a lovely writer, but almost all of Terry’s iconic truth bomb lines come from Discworld.
The Colour of Magic, the first ever Discworld novel was published in 1983. Terry was 35 years old. He had been writing professionally for 18 years. His career was old enough to vote, get married and drink. We now know that at 35 he was, tragically, over half way through his life. And do you know what us devoted, adoring Discworld fans say about The Colour of Magic? “Don’t start with Colour of Magic.”
It is the only reading order rule we ever give people. Because it’s not that great. Don’t get me wrong, very good book, although I’ll be honest I’ve never been able to finish it, but it’s nowhere near his later stuff. Compare it to Guards Guards, The Fifth Elephant, the utterly iconic Nightwatch and it pales in comparison because even after nearly 20 years of writing, half a lifetime of loving books and storytelling Terry was still learning.
He was a man with a wonderful natural talent, yes. But more importantly he worked and worked and worked to be a better writer. He was writing up until days before he died. He spent 49 years learning and growing as a writer, taking so much joy in storytelling that not even Alzheimer’s could steal it from him. He wouldn’t want that joy stolen from you too.
Terry was a wonderful, kind, compassionate, genius of a writer. And all of this was in spite of many many people telling him he wasn’t good enough. At the age of five his headmaster told him that he would never amount to anything. He died a knight of the realm and one of the most beloved writers ever to have lived in a country with a vast and rich literary tradition. He wouldn’t let anyone tell him that he wasn’t good enough. And he wouldn’t want you to think you aren’t good enough. He especially wouldn’t want to be the reason why you think you aren’t good enough.
I only ever had a chance to talk to Terry Pratchett once, and that was in an autograph line. I’d bought a copy of The Carpet People, which was his very first book, and he looked at it with a faint air of concern. “You realise that I wrote that when I was very young,” he said, in warning.
“Yes,” I said. “But I like seeing how authors grow.”
He brightened and reached for his pen. “That’s all right then,” he said, and signed.
There’s a collection of Pratchett’s short fiction that includes the very first piece he ever published.
This collection came out while he was still alive and each piece has an introduction from him. The introduction for that piece includes something to the effect of “LALALA IF I DO THIS I WON’T HEAR YOU READING THIS ONE!!”
Exact wording may be off but it very much starts with LALALA.
Creative writing is way closer to engineering than I think a lot of people expect. It takes creativity and imagination to decide what to write about. It takes a lot of honed dedication to craft to really make the word-to-word prose sparkle. But all the stuff in between? Knowing how long an idea should be, what medium it should be, how many characters, and how their motivations need to interact, all that shit is basically engineering.
All that plot and structure shit is the bones. I think it really trips some writers up. I think it's why writing a novel feels like torture for poets (poor fundamentals, all schmoovement), and why half-decent essayists can rapidly churn out slop (strong fundamentals, poor tech).
i saved my train ticket to my phone but it didn't work when i tried to scan it so i took it to the staff on duty and they were like. are you sure that's the right image. and i looked down and my screen was open on this
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