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akimoroll · 1 month ago

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the day you said goodnight

yoichi nagumo (sakamoto days) x afab!reader—wc 2.1k—read on ao3

tags—married couple. domestic fluff. angst. false pregnancies. disease. death. hurt/no comfort.

this is me procrastinating the last(?) chapter of the other fic lmao

on loop while writing this: clair de lune - johann debussy┊the day you said goodnight - hale┊only - lee hi┊A POTION FOR LOVE - AURORA (mostly this one)

“Are you killing people again?”

“What? No!” He chuckled, placing a hand over your own, “Why’d you ask?”

You searched his face before speaking, “Your eyes look tired lately.”

He gave your hand a little nudge, “I’ve been working late nights, remember?” He reassured you and went back to eating dinner.

You continue yours as well. After a few spoonfuls and glass clinkings, “By the way, I think I’m pregnant this time,” you announced.

“Is that so?” His voice turned muffled after stuffing his face with rice, “you feeling nauseous again?”

You leaned back to your chair, pondering, “Yeah, my period is late too. I’ll take a test first thing tomorrow,” you smiled at him with sparkles in your eyes.

He nodded as he returned a smile to you.

The two of you had been actively trying to conceive a child ever since he retired from his life as an assassin, settling down and moving far away from his previous life. Routine check-ups had become a regular occurrence. However, despite your attempts, he always refused to let you speak to the doctor, claiming he “didn't want to stress you out”.

Nonetheless, you trusted Yoichi wholeheartedly, your husband and the only person whom you hold dear to your heart, the one who saved you from the people who put you through an unspeakable kind of hell. And although it wasn’t his responsibility to look after you—considering you were a miscalculation in that specific assignment—he couldn’t help it. This decision led him to foster a friendship with you that eventually blossomed into love.

All he asked of you was that you would take good care of yourself and religiously follow the regimen of pills the doctor prescribed to ensure your health.

Initially, he began working remotely to assist you at home, until he took all the responsibilities around the house. He started learning to cook healthier meals and then for some odd reason, he began putting labels on things around the house. He also took out all the things from the overhead shelves, built another so he could lower them down to make everything accessible for you. You protested at first: I’m not senile, I’m trying to be a mother! And he would laugh as he embraced you from the back, saying: I know and I’m trying to be a good husband… and father.

He noticed your complaints on nights you couldn’t sleep, prompting him to install blackout curtains and switching the mattress into something softer. He took you for walks to lessen your afternoon naps. Being in the countryside, you were closer to nature, helping you both to relax and be away from the city’s anxiety-inducing hustle and bustle.

And on days you couldn’t go out, he would play board games with you or watch movies in the living room, or sit in comfortable silence and read a book on the balcony that was seated above the garden that he learned to meticulously tend so he could make flowers bloom for you. And when he would piss you off from his incessant teasing the night before, he would sneakily pick flowers and put it on your nightstand while you’re still asleep, hoping it would soften your mood and make you forgive him; maybe even laugh about it together over tea.

However, marriage isn’t all bliss and serenity. There were times that doubts began to nag at your mind, suspicions arise that he might be hiding something. There were nights where he was convinced you were peacefully asleep, and you would catch sight of him crying alone in the living room. And everytime you attempted to talk to him about it over breakfast, he would always come up with a stupid excuse like: I was watching a movie.

Being intimate wasn’t such a big deal until he started lacking initiative and on days you yearned for his touch, he would decline saying that you should rest instead. And then you’d ask, how am I supposed to get pregnant like this? He was always sweet about it as he wrapped his strong arms around you, telling you: let’s focus on keeping you healthy first, alright?

Why? Is there something wrong with me? Are you not telling me something?

No, you’re perfect—he would always say with the sweetest tone of voice—I just don’t want you to experience complications when the baby arrives, that’s all. And he would kiss you so tenderly and you would always believe him.

But you noticed the hospital visits started becoming a little too frequent and you were clueless and in the dark, causing you to feel uneasiness. And when you asked him about it he said, “You told me you were having trouble breathing, right?”

“Yeah, I did say that,” you nodded, trying to recall it.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. Don’t worry,” he reassured, placing a hand on your lap and the other on the steering wheel as he kept his eyes on the road.

Frequent hospital visits turned into a full on hospital stay, causing you more distress. But he made sure to make everything feel familiar by bringing things from your house to your hospital room. However, everything still felt so confusing for you—all his answers were vague, making it difficult for you to piece it together.

“Why am I here? Am I giving birth already?” You worriedly asked as you watched him saunter around the room, making the place homey for you, “I don’t feel pain at all. I don’t even have a baby bump yet. Please, I wanna go home,” you continued.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he cooed as he glanced at you for a moment before continuing, “This is so we can make sure that you’re being taken care of closely.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I kept asking and asking and you never answered properly,” you voiced out in distress.

“I already–” he paused and walked over to you, sitting beside you on the bed, your hands in his, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to worry about a thing, alright?” He comforted you.

Reluctantly, you nod. But in your head, you knew he was hiding something. You had noticed a new watchful patience in him every time you had something to say. The changes in him made you brave to ask the real questions on his next visit.

“So which one is it?”

He looked over his shoulder for a moment before putting freshly picked flowers on the vase, “Which one is what?”

Taking a deep breath, you asked, “Are you killing again?”

He paused and went over to you, attempting to hold you but you pulled away. It had gotten annoying how he had been treating you like a child lately, “Or are you cheating on me?”

You could almost see the resignation in him as he closed his eyes, trying his best to maintain his composure, “Darling, you sleep a lot these days. I’m always with you.”

“You keep lying to me,” you hissed, “And why are you calling me darling? You never call me that, ever.”

“Listen, I got everything under control. I told you worrying isn’t good for you. Don’t you trust me?” He pleaded and you could see his tears welling up.

But you couldn’t feel anything other than betrayal, having been in the dark for so long and still in the shadows, you deadpanned, “No, I don’t trust you anymore. Please get out. I want to rest.”

That was the first time you had witnessed him breakdown before your eyes leaving you more confused than sorry. Because why was he the one crying when you were the one being lied to?

Asking yourself: Is he tired of me?

Every time he made a visit, the same tedious conversation kept replaying, as if the man you had fallen in love with was fading right in front of your eyes with each passing moment. A disconnect between you began to settle in—it seemed as if he was a complete stranger now, and the pain felt like no other.

///

You strolled in silence along the tranquil garden located within the hospital’s vicinity and despite the lovely weather and the flowers blooming around you, you couldn’t shake off the overwhelming sadness surrounding your situation. You began sharing your sentiments to the medical personnel attending to you, “I miss home.”

After walking around for a few minutes, you settled under the shade of a large aged tree and noticed an elderly man, likely in his sixties, sitting while holding a familiar book. He offered a warm smile in your direction as you sat a few inches from him on an old wooden bench.

“Have you read this one?” He abruptly asked.

You looked at the cover briefly, “I think so, yes.”

“This is my wife’s. They say if you read someone’s favorite book, it could help you understand them better.”

You chuckled, “That might be true. Is your wife here too?”

“She is. We almost live here now,” he joked.

“Your wife is quite lucky, mister. My husband doesn’t visit me anymore. He’s probably out there tired of me. He told me I was always asleep… but I never sleep.” you softly said with eyes far away.

The old man looked at you with a gloomy expression before flashing a gentle smile and kindly offered, "I’ll be your visitor, if you don’t mind, of course."

And he did visit you. He would bring books from his wife’s library and read them to you as you fell asleep to the sound of his voice. His most captivating stories were about his younger years with his best pals, you could tell he loved them dearly. He would challenge you to guess his former profession based on his tales alone, promising a reward if you guessed correctly (you never did).

Playing cards and board games was his thing too. He was hilarious, you had to suppress your laugh most of the time because it started to hurt when it’s too much. But laughter wasn't the only thing you held back in his presence, but tears as well when he finally spoke about his wife—the woman he claimed to have loved the most. He spoke of her with so much fondness yet in a distant and melancholic manner, saying that she was an angel who had unconditionally loved a troubled man like himself. And when you asked him what he meant by "a man like him", he simply smiled somberly in response.

You were puzzled with his words because he seemed to be a wholesome and cheerful man. And despite his age, he possessed striking good looks. Avoiding any prying questions, you instead expressed appreciation for him despite not having known him for so long, you found a friend and a father in him, telling him you’ve never met yours.

After listening to you, he shared a bittersweet smile before quickly shifting to a playful expression, telling you, "Hey, you've got something on your hair."

His hand extended and gently brushed the side of your face before reappearing in front of you, holding a freshly picked flower, a sakurasou, delicately pinched between his tattooed fingers.

Huh?

You both chuckled as he handed it to you. When you glanced up to him, you were certain you caught a fleeting glimpse of your husband’s face. Your smile gradually dropped as your breathing began increasingly labored.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” He asked softly with concern, his voice sounded distorted in your ears.

Before you could reply, you felt a stab like pain in your chest, slowly spreading through your neck and jaw. A blur of movement caught your attention as he bolted out of the room to ask for help. Soon after, the door swung open as your husband came rushing towards you. He held your wrinkled hand, telling you: Stay with me. It’s going to be okay.

His voice continually echoed apologies along with desperate I love yous, and you wish you could say it back and ask, where were you? I was waiting for you. I missed you so much. I was wrong for ever doubting you. However, everything was starting to slow down around you as you step in and out of consciousness, feeling extreme fatigue and sluggish all of a sudden.

Your husband's grip was abruptly severed as medical staff swarmed around you, the chaos overwhelming your senses. The only thing you could discern was the old man’s cry and pleading. As you began to feel the curtains of life closing in, you couldn’t help but realize that you missed the chance to tell the elderly man how grateful you are for helping you see your husband’s boundless love and the depth of his devotion for you.

You didn’t even ask for his name.

Or did you? You couldn’t remember.

Oh, wait. You did.

He had a pretty name.

His name was Yoichi too.

the floral language of sakurasou or japanese primrose is “desire” and “long-lasting love“. it also implies first love, youthful love, and longing.

#🕷️.fic—nagumo #nagumo x reader #nagumo yoichi fanfic #nagumo yoichi x reader #nagumo yoichi x you #nagumo x you #nagumo yoichi #nagumo #married couple #domestic fluff #false pregnancies #disease #angst #hurt/no comfort #death

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plutoccult · 11 months ago

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HAIKYUU X THE OFFICE AU — EPISODE SEVEN: VALENTINE’S DAY

pairing: sugawara koushi x female reader

description: it’s valentine’s day at the office, and you hope for it to be one you’ll never forget. however, everyone seems to be having a better holiday than you.

word count: 4.9k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: tis the valentine’s episode! plus, it’s episode seven of this au, which is also my favorite number. i wanted to make sure i had this out in time for valentine’s day, so i was really cranking out episodes like a madman. sorry for the content overload! i’ve been looking forward to writing this episode for awhile, and i really wanted to make something cute rather than something absolutely soul crushing (lmao BOOZE CRUISE), so i hope you enjoy it just as much as i enjoyed writing it. happy early valentine’s, everyone! <3

tags: @toorubobatea @intorder @dragon-slayer5 @femme-lune @jeanboyjean @cowgirlikets @darthferbert @kazuchaos @bakagun1312 @beingbrokenfitsus @mumblepingu @daedaep69 @intheewrld @msbyomimi @sukxma @akari-fujikawa @milkteeboba @5sos-wdw @todorokiskitten @intheewrld

taglist form here

as weird as it sounded, you loved spending valentine’s day at the office. it felt like elementary school where you’d share little treats with your classmates. you were notorious for bringing in a box of valentine’s themed candy back in the day, and you lived up to that reputation even now. this year, it was valentine’s fun dip, your favorite.

you’ve spent valentine’s day as an engaged woman for quite a few years now, but you felt this year would be different now that you were less than four months away from your wedding. however, you and ryo promised each other not to go too crazy when it came to gifts. you were trying to save up as much money as possible before your big day. still, you hoped he would put in some effort.

you watched a delivery man enter the office with a big bouquet of red roses. could they be for you? you sure hoped so. you had never received such a bouquet like this before.

the delivery man placed the bouquet on top of your desk. you stand up and read the envelope that came with the bouquet to see who it’s for—hoping it’s for you—but alas, it’s for someone else.

“yachi.” you sigh. it shouldn’t be a surprise, but you couldn’t help but feel some sort of disappointment. still, you had all day to get a gift. you just had to be patient, although that will be a difficult task for you. you don’t even know how you’ve been so patient just for a simple wedding date.

yachi stood from her desk to receive her roses, practically skipping over as she was filled with joy. you look over to see a smile on yamaguchi’s face as he watched her pick up the bouquet, and you could immediately assume they were from him.

“wow, yachi. that bouquet is bigger than your head.” hinata said in amazement.

“i know!” yachi exclaimed. “quick, grab the card and read it out for me.”

“okay…” hinata obeyed, plucking the envelope out of the array of roses and opening up the card. he quickly read it over in his head before reading it out loud. “happy valentine’s day, buttercup. love, yamaguchi.”

“aw, yams!” she cooed. yamaguchi’s cheeks quickly turned pink. “you’re the sweetest.”

you groan as yachi ran over to yamaguchi and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before returning to her desk. they were adorable, you’d give them that, but man. you were already growing impatient.

“hey, y/n. why the sour face?” ukai asked you as he walked up to your desk. were you giving away your bitterness just by the look on your face? no, maybe you just had RSF or something. resting sour face is a thing, right?

“what?” you jump and place your hand over your heart. you really hoped no one else noticed anything off with you. “nothing, nothing. i’m fine.”

“well, i’m heading to tokyo for that meeting soon.” ukai said. right, the meeting. you remembered informing him a couple weeks ago about a meeting in tokyo with other branch managers and the new CFO of the company. you sure hoped he wouldn’t mess it all up. “want any touristy merch? keychain? t-shirt you’ll never let see the light of day?”

“no, i’m good.” you reply. what you really wanted was for ryo to blow you away with a valentine’s gift already.

“ugh, lame.” ukai rolled his eyes. “you want anything, tsukki? i bet they have weird dinosaur crap or something.”

“i’d prefer it if you didn’t do anything stupid in front of the new CFO.” tsukishima said. you were sure everyone was hoping for that.

“what? of course i’m not gonna do anything stupid.” ukai scoffed. “what do you think i am, an idiot?”

“yes, yes i do.” tsukishima deadpanned.

“well, no dinosaur crap for you.” ukai huffed like a child. “tanaka, you’re in charge.”

oh god, this was a match made in hell. why ukai decided to make a decision so randomly like that, you didn’t know, but he could’ve picked anyone else in the office and no one would’ve had a problem with it.

“woah, why him? why not me or suga?” daichi protested. “i’ve proven to be a good leader! i won you that stupid volleyball match with the warehouse guys! suga even took a volleyball to the face thanks to y/n’s fiancé!”

“woah, let’s not drag me into this—” suga began to say. he didn’t want to have to think about that again, nor did he want any extra responsibilities today. suga just wanted a relaxing day.

funny enough, ukai almost forgot about that happening. it felt so long ago, but it only happened in the fall. maybe he should reconsider his choices. “oh yeah… i change my mind. daichi, you’re in charge now.”

“god dammit!” tanaka whined. at least he had his fifteen seconds of glory.

“see ya, bozos!” ukai cackled on his way out.

as soon as the door shut behind him, you all let out a sigh of relief. maybe today wouldn’t so bad without ukai around.

•••

“i’m pretty glad ukai’s not here, actually.” suga confessed without hesitation. you sat next to him, hurriedly nodding in agreement.

“we were all thinking it.” you add on to suga’s statement.

“yeah, i don’t have to worry about him on my back over my love life on a day all about love.” he chuckled. maybe he shouldn’t have said that out loud, but ukai’s absence was a massive relief and breath of fresh air.

“why would he be on your back?” you furrow your eyebrows.

crap. “oh, you know… he’s ukai. he’s always on our backs.”

“yeah, you’re right.” you shrug.

suga was thankful you brushed off any suspicions. that was definitely a close one, especially given recent events.

•••

everyone went on with their day as normal, although some found it odd they weren’t being bombarded or borderline harassed by ukai for once. was it opposite day? no, it was valentine’s day. a weird one, it seemed.

after grabbing a cup of coffee, tanaka returned to his desk. a mysterious package sat next to his keyboard, which wasn’t there before. he looked at the plain, suspicious box in confusion, tilting his head as he tried making sense of it all.

“suga, what’s this?” tanaka questioned, hoping suga would have an answer.

“i don’t know.” he shrugged, which wasn’t the answer tanaka wanted to hear. “it’s yours, not mine.”

“but who put it here?” tanaka asked.

“it was already there when i sat down. just open it and see what’s up.” suga said.

“fine…” tanaka groaned before he reached for scissors and fumbled with opening the box. it took a minute, but he managed to get the job done. inside the box was a card, underneath an unknown item covered in tissue paper. who knows what it could possibly be?

“happy valentine’s day. love, your secret admirer—” tanaka’s jaw dropped to the floor. “holy F*CK! a secret admirer?!”

“i’m not even gonna scold you on censoring yourself.” suga rolled his eyes. he’s had his fair share of dropping bombs on camera too, he surely wasn’t innocent either.

“my word… now i gotta see what’s inside.” tanaka ripped away the tissue paper and picked up a bobble head that resembled him. he instantly loved it upon first sight, but if only tanaka knew who gifted it to him. “it's me… i'm the bobble head. nice!”

from afar, a soft grin crept up on kiyoko’s face, which went unnoticed by everyone in the office. could it be?

•••

“someone in this office has the hots for me and all i know is that it better not be tsukishima.” tanaka said as he stared down the camera. “i mean, i get it, i’m a catch! but why be anonymous with your love? secret admirer, show yourself!”

it was hilarious how tanaka was blind to the only true possibility to the identity of his secret admirer, but the documentary crew would let him take the time to figure it out while filming some television gold in the process.

•••

rather than doing work, nishinoya decided to use his time at the office to make plans for later. asahi was in on nishinoya’s plans, only because he begged him to, allowing his much smaller coworker to do all the talking, starting with suga and tanaka.

“hey, suga.” nishinoya leaned against suga’s desk. “you doin’ anything for valentine’s day?”

suga almost wanted to laugh maniacally. of course, he wasn’t doing anything today. he was pathetically single and had no eyes for other women. saeko was nice, but she was only friend material in suga’s eyes. at least he gained a friend out of that mess from the booze cruise, but tonight? suga planned to be all alone.

“heh, no.” he forced a subtle laugh, holding back on making a mockery out of his pathetic love life. “definitely not.”

“well, me and asahi are going on a bar crawl later. you’re definitely welcome to join.” nishinoya said.

a bar crawl? it didn’t sound like a terrible idea, but suga was worried about who would be attending. “i sure hope hinata isn’t invited. dude cannot handle his alcohol.”

“yeah, i bet kageyama will put a stop to that.” nishinoya chuckled. he didn’t even want to attempt to invite them, really. “so, you in?”

“um…” suga looked over at you. you’re oblivious to his stare as you’re on the phone with someone. of course he stood no chance, so suga quickly looked away to answer nishinoya. “yeah, i’m in.”

“sick! i’ll text you the details.” nishinoya replied. “tanaka, you know you’re always welcome.”

“i don’t know, noya. i might be occupied with a special someone tonight.” tanaka said as he leaned back against his chair, his arms behind his head. totally not for the purpose of showing off his biceps.

“oh, really? with who?” nishinoya questioned.

“oh, boy…” suga groaned. the poor guy had been dealing with tanaka over the moon thanks to this whole secret admirer thing all day so far. if there were a drinking game to take a shot every time tanaka mentioned his secret admirer, suga would be dead by alcohol poisoning already.

“my secret admirer.” tanaka smirked. if only suga had a shot to down right now.

“yeah, okay.” nishinoya scoffed, walking away from what has now become a foolish conversation.

tanaka stood from his desk defiantly, slamming his hands down as he yelled at nishinoya. “my secret admirer is real and i’m going to figure out who it is by the end of the day!”

everyone looked up to watch tanaka’s random outburst, rolling their eyes before getting back to work. suga snickered as a result, receiving a glare from tanaka. as if that guy ever scared him anyway.

nishinoya walked over to kiyoko next, the sound of her name escaping his mouth catching the attention of tanaka. “hey, kiyoko. you doing anything later?”

“um, actually i might have other plans…” she replied timidly.

“okay, that’s cool. have fun.” he said, finding nothing about her response to be suspicious. she was a pretty girl, why wouldn’t she have plans?

however, a light bulb lit up above tanaka’s head. could it really be the woman of his dreams who sent him the mystery package? nah, tanaka figured he was just reaching for the stars. there was just no way.

moments later, a different delivery man walked in with an arrangement of various flowers. just what you needed to see again. it was easy to figure out who they were for, and the card had proven your guess right.

“yachi, guess what?” you call out for her, hiding your jealousy.

“again?” yachi questioned, her puzzled face turning into an overjoyed one upon seeing a new bouquet just for her. “aw, yams, you didn’t have to!”

“rub it our faces, why don’t ya…” you grumble to yourself as yachi took her flowers back to her desk. did she really need another?

•••

“i’m okay! i’m okay, i swear.” you say, your eye twitching as you lie your ass off. “i’m totally not jealous about yachi getting two bouquets already and we’re only halfway through the day.”

“um, i think—”

“i’ll take just a single rose! i don’t care! something! anything!” you exclaim. you had truly gone mad, and the crew was better off leaving you be with your madness.

•••

later, tanaka found kiyoko in the break room making a cup of coffee. he didn’t even want coffee, he just wanted to do some investigating. tanaka just had to know if there was any chance of his dream girl harboring at least a little crush on him. he’d take anything at this point.

“hello, kiyoko.” he said. did that come off creepy? tanaka instantly regretted the delivery of his greeting, that’s for sure.

“hi, tanaka.” kiyoko replied. “i’ll be done in a second.”

“no, no. take your time.” tanaka insisted.

he watched intently as kiyoko made her coffee, grabbing vanilla flavored creamer—her favorite—from the fridge. tanaka always knew she poured it for exactly four seconds before putting in only one sugar packet. as kiyoko always said, the creamer was sweet enough.

“did you hear?” tanaka spoke up. kiyoko looked over to him to see what he had to say. she seemed to be as cool as a cucumber. “i got the best valentine’s day present ever and i don’t even know who it’s from.”

“yeah, we all heard you screaming about a secret admirer.” she giggled. “i’m glad you enjoyed your gift though.”

“oh, i did. i sure did.” tanaka replied with smirk. “did you get anything for valentine’s day?”

“just some candy.” kiyoko said. “y/n saved a blue fun dip specifically for me.”

damn, tanaka got stuck with red. but that wasn’t the point. he had to press the current matter further. “nothing special?”

“nope, i don’t usually get anything big for valentine’s day.” she shrugged.

“maybe this year will be different.” tanaka said, trying his best to come off a little flirty, but in a cool way. he wanted to be the man for her so bad.

“well, i sure hope it is.” kiyoko smiled, tanaka instantly blushing.

tanaka stood as kiyoko left the room with her mug. he didn’t really get any clues from that conversation, but it was worth it anyway because he at least he got to talk to her.

when he returned to his desk a minute later, a note appeared on his desk, just as mysterious as his gift from earlier. “suga? you know anything about this?”

“nope.” suga replied.

“typical.” tanaka scoffed as he picked up the note and read it aloud. “meet me in front of the warehouse at 5:30…”

woah. now things were really getting spicy in here. it was truly tanaka’s lucky day.

while tanaka tried analyzing the handwriting of the note over and over, a sudden commotion in the form of a delivery man struggling through the door with an oversized teddy bear on his back ruined tanaka’s concentration.

“god damn!” he exclaimed. tanaka definitely took the words right out of everyone’s mouths, yours included.

“yachi… hitoka.” the delivery man said out of breath, letting the teddy bear flop to the ground.

“uh… yachi?” you say to catch her attention. it shouldn’t even be a shock at this point. maybe you should blame tsukishima for forcing yamaguchi and yachi to confess their mutual crushes on each other months ago. all that teasing wasn’t enough, apparently.

“what—” yachi turned around. she immediately rushed out of her chair and leaped into the arms of the giant stuffed animal. “oh my god, i love it!”

you gently hit your head against the keyboard. no one seemed to notice your misery.

•••

“i officially give up on valentine’s day.” you let out a loud groan. the crew wondered if the sounds of your agony could be heard from the conference room. unfortunately, it did.

•••

the work day went back to normal, although yachi’s desk was littered with oversized gifts now. daichi couldn’t even see her face behind her computer screen anymore as her desk was crowded with bouquets and cards from yamaguchi. he truly outdid himself, even you couldn’t deny that. your jealousy still lingered, but at least yachi was happy.

without ukai around, you were glad to have a conversation with suga without the two of you being bothered. as he ate the fun dip you gave him earlier—only your most favorite people got the blue flavor—you recall a story from your junior high days.

“this kid gives him the twenty bucks and he actually snorts the pixy stix powder.” you say, detailing the end of your story.

“god, his poor nose…” suga cringed, although an idea popped into his mind. “hm, i wonder if i could snort this fun dip.”

“oh god, don’t!” you beg, grabbing his hand so he couldn’t do anything stupid. suga practically felt his heart jump out of his chest from the sudden contact, even if you didn’t seem to think anything of it. “i can’t lose you to silly candy.”

“it’s yummy though.” he grinned, swiftly moving on from the touch of your fingers grazing against his own, no matter how much he didn’t want to.

“yeah, on your tongue, not up your nose, dummy.” you scold him.

the two of you burst into laughter, the laugh fest interrupted by tanaka walking up to your desk. it seemed quite serious given his demeanor. “y/n. hi, how ya doing?”

“oh, hey—”

“good.” he cut you off. how rude. “listen, uh, may i speak with you... privately?”

“i’m kinda in the middle of a conversation…” you say, looking over to suga.

“y/n.” tanaka stared you down. he always did this when he was trying to get something he wanted. you knew him long enough to recognize the look.

“don’t give me that look, tanaka.” you cross your arms. “you don’t hold authority over me.”

“y/n, please just...” tanaka tilted his head, motioning for you to speak to him in another room. he really seemed desperate.

“do i have to?” you whine.

“love is on the line, dammit!” he yelled out, mayhaps a little too loud, but now you had no choice but to oblige.

“okay, okay!” you stand up from your chair. “let’s go then. sorry, suga.”

suga insisted it was no problem, but you still felt a little bad for cutting off your conversation like this. you and tanaka then walk out of the office and head into an empty hallway. if this was over nothing that important, you were going to be pissed.

“what is it that’s so urgent?” you ask tanaka.

“you’re a girl.” he said plainly. what a great start.

“well, unless my whole life has been a lie—”

“y/n. please.” tanaka interrupted, a pleading look in his eyes.

“sorry.” you say quietly.

“do you… recognize this handwriting at all?” he asked, taking out a card and folded note from his pocket. “it’s from my secret admirer.”

so that’s what this was about. you weren’t sure what tanaka wanted your help for so bad, but you figured it wouldn’t hurt to try and help him. “i guess i can take a look.”

tanaka handed you the notes and you inspect them carefully. it didn’t take you that long to figure out whose handwriting this belonged to. for you, it was clear as day.

“tanaka?”

“yeah?”

without saying another word, you smack him across the face, the sound of the slap echoing throughout the hallway. did your coworkers managed to hear that from inside the office? you sure hoped so. it was so satisfying, and the crew ate up the drama. this was peak television right here.

“what the heck was that for?!” tanaka yelled as his face now stung like hell. “i oughta file a complaint!”

“you’re such an idiot! it’s so obvious who wrote these!” you yelled back, forcing the notes back into his hands.

“well, who?!” he asked.

you purse your lips and cross your arms. you were going to play the petty game. “i’m not saying.”

“please, i’m begging!” tanaka exclaimed. “don’t make me get on my knees.”

“actually, i’d love to see that.” you say. if anyone was going to threaten you with a good time, then you’d accept it happily.

tanaka did exactly as he said he would, getting down on his knees as he gripped the sleeves of your sweater. this instantly made up for the shitty day you’ve had so far.

“y/n, please tell me whose handwriting this belongs to.” he begged.

his desperation was almost adorable. you knew who he wanted to be the person behind everything today. while you didn’t want to totally give away the surprise, you would be glad to give a hint and hope tanaka figured it out in enough time.

“all i’ll say is you better buy this person a lot of tenmusu later.” you tell him, hoping that served as a suitable clue.

“tenmusu…” tanaka tried thinking, but couldn’t come up with anything. “who the heck likes tenmusu?!”

“you know.” you smirk as you walk away. at least you could help someone else be happy today.

you walk back into the office by yourself. suga, now sitting at his desk, looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “what was that about?”

you eye tanaka as he walked back in, rubbing over your handprint on his cheek. you look over to kiyoko who doesn’t notice you’re looking at her nor that you’re aware of her secret identity.

“i’m cupid, biyotch.”

•••

it took tanaka five minutes to figure out who in this office likes tenmusu. he felt like he was on cloud nine if your hint was actually for real.

“could it… could it really be?” he questioned, almost in a love-filled daze. “if it’s really who i think it is, then i hope this dream never ends.”

•••

just what you needed to see, another delivery man. at least it wasn’t anything lavish this time, nor was it for yachi. it was merely a potted plant and a simple card. you would be glad to sign for the delivery man.

you walk over to kiyoko, yamaguchi, and tsukishima’s desks and place the plant in front of tsukishima, the receiver of said plant. “tsukki, it’s for you.”

“please don’t let it be from my mom…” he opened up the card. yeah, it was from his mom. “dammit.”

“haha, lonely, lonely tsukki once again.” yamaguchi laughed at him.

“shut up.” tsukishima rolled his eyes. “you’ve been around me too much, yamaguchi…”

“just be glad you got something today.” you say to him before heading back to your desk. when you return, ryo walked in. hopefully, he finally has the gift you’ve been waiting for all day.

“hey, babe.” he said as he leaned against your desk, watching as you sat down. “you almost ready to go? i’m gonna get the car warmed up.”

you look around. everything was filed in the right places, there weren’t any emails, and nobody was calling. there was nothing else for you to do, but you sure were bummed to have wasted your whole day mindlessly doing office work without any joy or pep in your step. “i guess, yeah.”

“what's wrong?” ryo asked, noticing you looked quite down. you know it’s bad if even he notices.

“nothing, it's just that i had to sit here all day while yachi got like an entire hallmark store delivered to her.” you say, letting out your frustrations. ryo wasn’t exactly the best person to go to when it came to your problems, but you hoped he’d just listen.

“what, are you mad at me or something?” he questioned. that wasn’t the point. he never understood the point.

“well, no—”

“then what’s the problem, y/n? i can’t read minds, ya know.” ryo scoffed.

there was no point in telling him what was wrong. he would never understand. could you really be chained to him for life like your families expected of you?

“nothing. it’s nothing.” all you could do is just bite your tongue. you’ve done it so much that it doesn’t even sting anymore.

“well, valentine's day isn't over, babe.” ryo said, trying to cheer you up, but miserably failing. “let’s get you home so i can light a candle and toss some rose petals on the bed or something.”

god. anything but that.

“i just have some things to finish up before i leave.” you lie to him. you just wanted a breather before the dreaded ride home, really.

“yeah, of course.” he replied.

once ryo left, you watch as everyone packed up for the day. tanaka seemed to be stalling his exit in hopes of catching his secret admirer earlier than the planned meetup time, but had no luck. you really wished for the best in his quest for love, especially when the one he wanted for so long.

“happy valentine’s day, y/n.” suga said on his way out.

“yeah, happy valentine’s day.” you reply. suga wouldn’t let you down like this, right? if only things were different. curse the expectations that rest as boulders on your back.

“goodnight, y/n.” yachi said as she and yamaguchi carried out her gifts together. lugging that massive teddy bear seemed to be the biggest struggle of all. at the very least, you didn’t have to deal with that monstrosity.

“night, you two…”

even if your valentine’s day wasn’t what you thought it would be, you hoped someone else—no matter who that may be—had a good day.

•••

(bonus scene)

tanaka waited outside the warehouse, his patience is wavering as it neared the meetup time. he had been dying for this all day, and it felt like time was going slower just for the sake of torturing him.

was this stupid? waiting around here like this? tanaka felt like a total idiot, that’s for sure. part of him almost thought this was one big prank, an insanely cruel one. if it was, then some ass kicking would definitely be in order.

just as tanaka was ready to say “screw it” and leave, his secret admirer finally appeared, the moment he had been waiting for all day. “tanaka.”

you weren’t playing around with your hint, it was kiyoko. come tomorrow, tanaka would give you the biggest hug in the whole world.

“kiyoko? it… it’s you?” he said breathlessly. “you’re my secret admirer?”

“mhm.” kiyoko shyly nodded.

tanaka still felt like he was dreaming. just the possibility felt like one, but knowing now that it truly was real, it was greater than the thought of pigs flying or finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

“why the anonymity?” he asked her. “you know i’d love anything as long as it’s from you. i mean, i asked you to marry me on my first day here, for christ’s sake.”

tanaka almost let out a laugh looking back at the memory of his first day. when he found out kiyoko would be showing him around the office, the words “marry me” slipped out of his mouth upon her introduction, almost like it came naturally. she didn’t seem phased one bit, simply saying “no” and moving on with the office tour as if nothing happened. kiyoko never once made fun of him for it, even if she had every opportunity to.

“i know. it seems so silly, but i just…” kiyoko paused. “i get shy with this kind of thing.”

“what do you mean?” tanaka asked. the moment of truth, he figured.

“i, uh…” instead of saying anything else, kiyoko gripped the collar of tanaka’s shirt and smashed her lips against his. it didn’t take long for him to reciprocate, immediately meshing against her lips. he felt like he was floating, but if anyone were to keep tanaka on the ground, it would always be kiyoko.

when she pulled away, tanaka immediately fell backwards, a loud smack against the pavement. that had to have hurt, but he truly couldn’t feel any pain after such a movie-like kiss.

“tanaka!” kiyoko gasped as she kneeled down to inspect him for any injuries. “are you okay?!”

“never felt better.” tanaka said, a dopey smile on his face. he truly was adorable in her eyes.

kiyoko softly grinned before helping tanaka back to his feet. the touch of her hand holding his finally allowed him to let the reality of the situation sink in; kiyoko actually liked him. no prank, no sick joke, all real. he couldn’t even fathom what he did to deserve such happiness.

“if it wasn’t obvious… i really like you, tanaka.” she said, any nerves she had throughout the day now faded away. “i’m sorry it took so long for me to catch up.”

“i’m just glad you made it.” he replied, tears forming in his eyes, all from pure joy.

tanaka leaned in to kiss kiyoko, finding solace with his arms around her waist as she wrapped hers around his neck. they kissed again, and again, and again, all without a care in the world. if tanaka could stay like this forever, he would. it felt safer this way.

“you wanna get some tenmusu?” tanaka asked as he pulled away.

“that’s my favorite.” kiyoko replied. “how’d you know?”

“a little birdie told me.” he shrugged, that birdie being you.

for tanaka, this was the best valentine’s day of his entire life. plus, nishinoya was certainly going to lose his mind when he found out about this. there’s truly nothing better than the girl he loved from the start finally feeling the same way.

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thegorydamnreaper · 5 months ago

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Darrow vs Lysander - symbolism and favored weapons

Okay this I a bit of analysis that has been turning around in my brain since I finished Light Bringer. There will be major spoilers for all of the books, so read on at your own discretion.

And of course if anyone has points to add please do! This is by no means exhaustive, just a compilation of my main thoughts on the whole thing!

Darrow basically grew up with a weapon in his hand, since he started mining at age thirteen. It becomes part of his identity, an extension of himself. It’s also a symbol of his people, as all Red miners are given one. So as a Red, he already closely identifies with the slingBlade as a weapon, as a cultural symbol, and as a means of protection.

“I wonder what Eo wants of me. Does she want me to take my slingBlade and start a rebellion? I would die. My family would die. She would die, and nothing would make me risk her. She knows that.”

(RR Ch 4)

“This is your slingBlade, son. It will scrape the earth’s veins for you. It will kill pitvipers. Keep it sharp and if you get stuck in the drills, it will save your life for the price of a limb.” So said my uncle.”

(RR part III intro)

Lysander, on the other hand, is trained by his grandmother from childhood to use his mind as his weapon. He is capable of using a razor after spending a decade with Cassius, but his mind was his first weapon. It’s also a callback to the Jackal losing his hand and being mostly unaffected - because all Golds are taught that their mind is their first and greatest weapon.

“He sighs. “I told you. I am something different than you. A hand is a peasant’s tool. A Gold’s tool is his mind. Were you of better breeding, you may have realized this sacrifice means so very little to me”

(RR Ch 41)

“Skipping supper. No wonder you’re a little twig,” Cassius says, pinching my arm. “I daresay you don’t even weigh a hundred ten kilos, my goodman.”

“It’s usable weight,” I protest. “In any matter, I was reading.” He looks at me blankly. “You have your priorities. I have mine, muscly creature. So piss off.”

(IG Ch 8/ Lysander 1)

“My memory is a formidable thing. In many ways it is my grandmother’s great legacy, her teachings preserved in me.”

(IG Ch 8/ Lysander 1)

But the mind isn’t a symbol on its own, there’s no cultural gravitas to it. So to him physical weapons are tools that are an extension of his intellect. In that world view, a gun is the most practical choice of tool. Firearms are the great equalizer - you can be smaller, weaker, less trained than your opponent and there’s still a VERY good chance that you will win any fight.

This leads into another similar understanding that he and Darrow share: their rise must be meteoric. Darrow accomplishes this the hard way, through pain and training and failures. He builds himself as a symbol because he knows that’s the only way to start the chain reaction of bringing Gold down. He is a symbol, and so are his tools. The slingBlade becomes a symbols of liberation when once (as just a razor) it was a tool of the enemy.

Lysander? He cuts corners, because the tools don’t matter only the endgame does. He’s not trying to build something new, or inspire his followers to fight for something they never thought possible. He is fighting to reestablish the status quo as swiftly as he can. He doesn’t need to fight from the ground up to become a symbol - as a Lune, he already is a living breathing symbol of Gold, and that’s enough.

“Dancer would want me to accept the offer. It would guarantee my survival. Guarantee my meteoric rise. I would be inside the halls of the ArchGovernor’s mansion. I would be near the man who killed Eo. Oh, I want to accept. But then I would have to let the Proctors beat me. I’d have to let this little whorefart win and let his father smile and feel pride. I’d have to watch that smug smile spread across his bloodydamn face. Slag that. They’ll feel pain.”

(RR Ch 41)

“He sneers at the gun. “No honor.”

“No time.”

I shoot Alexandar in the head”

(DA Ch 81)

He studies those who came before him, flipping their symbols and methods against them instead of doing anything new. He quotes poems like Roque, uses Darrow’s Morningstar as his flagship, claims to be honorable like Cassius - but it’s hollow because these aren’t his achievements. He doesn’t subvert the paradigm like Darrow does constantly, he just borrows and steals to get his way.

Darrow sees himself as the sword of his people, but he’s more than that because he put in the work to be more. He questions if he’s a good man, but the we see the weight his decisions have on him. But because he built himself up, he has a community that loves him, friends and family that are truly loyal and will check his worst impulses. He is the symbol, but he’s anchored by those he represent. It’s real and has meaning because of all the sacrifices he has had to make.

Lysander can’t even unite the Golds because he is built upon lies. His parents and their deaths, a lie. His grandmother’s teachings, all lies and propaganda. The Golden lies of the Society he so desperately wants to restore. He is built upon lies and hollow promises, of course he collapses into Gold dogma at the first sign of pressure. He has no idea what he’s doing, but he’s sacrificing everything and everyone to prop up this dying system, because that’s where he feels safe. He has no symbols to look up to, no culture to give him strength and community. Anything that could have grounded him is gone (often because of his own actions). Pytha and Cassius were his only family left and he rejected them and their teachings. More than ever before there’s nothing holding him back. He has his mind and it is telling him the only way to be safe is to double down and become the worst of Gold.

#red rising #literary analysis #iron gold #pierce brown #darrow of lykos #darrow au andromedus #Lysander au lune #the jackal #red rising trilogy #mypost #Darrow and Lysander #character foils #narrative foils

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ghostherlig · 1 year ago

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some more random hcs!!

bc im going to be away from my pc for like a week and wont be able to write until i get back home :')

please enjoy some more poly earth champs 😌 (under the cut bc idk how long this is going to be- update: it's long :))

raiden picks up sayings and swears from each of his bfs- the first thing he picked up was kenshi's small curses in japanese, to which kenshi, when he first heard, gasped and asked "who taught you that?!?" before realizing raiden was repeating what kenshi had said a few (thousand 🙄✋️) times before

raiden also picks up johnny's internet lingo/slang and sometimes uses it- also picked up the "get in the bed" jokes from johnny (ie, "i'll show you (insert adjective here), get in the bed")

lao and raiden already talk like they're the same person, but raiden sometimes mimicks how lao says things- like tone, intonation, sometimes will even pitch his voice to match lao's

kung lao is a fiend when it comes to video games- has the most number of smash bros wins and wears that crown with pride (lao mains king dedede and kirby, johnny plays king k rool and bayonetta, raiden plays ice climbers and pikachu, and kenshi plays mr game n watch (theres a blind joke in there somewhere) and luigi)

kenshi actually really likes playing games- he's a very playful and coy person at heart and when he's comfortable his cheeky nature appears and always gets his bfs to laugh and swoon- he's also very funny when he's comfy

when johnny gets super comfy, he coos similar to a pigeon- it's always quiet and usually unintentional but whenever one of his bfs ctach the sound they melt- kenshi rumbles when he's comfy, almost like a purr before it trails into a sigh (and then a nap), lao stretches out and does this minute long sigh, and raiden grumbles before he fully settles

their coffee/tea preferences!! johnny needs his coffee, and he usually does it without syrups- just black coffee with extra espresso shots or a plain latte- johnny got lao into coffee but lao likes the fun syrups a lot and really loves when johnny makes him caramel macchiatos- raiden and kenshi are the resident tea drinkers 😌 raiden drinks mostly green tea since it's a nice boost for him in the morning, but kenshi has discovered london fogs and he cant go back- he saves his green teas for the afternoon or evening when he wants that lil boost

kenshi and johnny are both fantastic cooks, but raiden and lao can bake like no one's business- raiden really enjoys making bread and lao likes making cookies- often they can be found gossiping with sugar and butter beating in the stand mixer

kenshi will make ramen for his bfs during winter or when one of them is sick- it's his family's recipe and he's perfected it

johnny has the singing voice of someone on radio in the 40's and all of his bfs swoon whenever they catch him singing, especially when it's later in the evening and johnny is dancing in the kitchen to sinatra

raiden plays the kalimba!! he knows all sorts of songs from howl's moving castle to claire de lune and he usually plays in the afternoon- kenshi will always smile when he's drinking tea in the living room and hears the soft tinkling from upstairs

favorite sodas!! lao loves dr pepper- johnny is a coke drinker through and through, raiden likes sprite and ginger ale, and kenshi usually gets root beer or fruity sodas

the first time johnny took kenshi to a Mitsuwa the man was skeptical, but he found it had a lot of stuff he missed from home- johnny would've bought the whole store if it made kenshi happy

johnny begged madam bo for a few of her recipes (lao and raiden's favs) and he spent weeks with her near perfecting them before he cooked them for lao and raiden at home- they both cried (and so did johnny)

when kenshi is off around the world working with jax, lao will call him spontaneously just to fill him in, usually when johnny and raiden are napping or when he really misses kenshi- sometimes kenshi can hear how much lao misses him even though he doesnt say it :(( he always promises he'll be home soon and will blow a kiss through the phone

johnny has a huge walk in closet that he encourages his bfs to use also- johnny loves when any of his bfs "accidently" grab one of his shirts and wear it for a day- they all end up wearing each other's clothes anyway

raiden and lao are plant dads- they have a lucky bamboo plant in the kitchen and a few trees and a mint plant scattered through out the house- there's also eucalyptus in their giant shared bathroom which johnny cannot live without now that he has it

kenshi is the reason the other three love the smell of incense- kenshi used to burn some whenever he was really stressed (like once a week to a month) and he always smelled like incense- now his bfs will burn some when they miss him

johnny loves when his bfs sleepily talk to him in their native languages- he's picked up a bit from each of them and can make out a few sentences but really just loves how they sound-

johnny does math for fun (phd in quantum mechanics) and sometimes his bfs will find notes around the house of numbers and equations that mean nothing to them- but they keep a pile in a drawer somewhere bc they like johnny's loopy hand writing

johnny will slip into german when he's drunk- like full accent and everything- he's barely conversational in german sober though so when he watches videos of himself the next morning he has no idea what he's saying

kenshi hates bugs- like cant stand roaches or spiders- for the longest time johnny dealt with them for him when they lived together

lao makes fun of kenshi for jumping or getting anxious around spiders and roaches but he also gets jumpy and anxious around spiders and roaches

kenshi has his phone auto read texts and johnny will send awful texts when the house is in dead silence- like johnny will be upstairs or in the bathroom and kenshi will be in the kitchen or living room making food or relaxing and suddenly his phone will go off with nonsense or pick up lines over and over again and johnny is laughing somewhere in the house and kenshi is sighing trying not to laugh

raiden likes making mead at home- he's also dabbled in making beer and wine but he prefers mead bc he likes how simple the recipe is and how he can switch out the fruits depending on the season

johnny just doesnt like regular cows milk, so he always has a milk substitute available for himself- at first he was all about almond and oat milk but then he realized he could just use coconut milk and coconut cream for things.... he's a changed man

they all patch each other up after missions- usually it's a quiet affair and they all just soak up being home and safe together again, but other times it can be loud and boisterous or sometimes an argument will break out if someone was injured for a stupid reason (like when johnny broke a rib taking a hit for lao, or when raiden almost got thrown off of a cliff after taking on like five assailants at once)

johnny runs super hot, kenshi runs super cold, lao's thermoregulation is honestly impressive, and raiden says he's fine but his fingers and toes get cold hella fucking fast

despite lao being the one with the chakram hat, johnny's hands are the most scarred thanks to split knuckles, clumsy moments with sharp objects, his loose use of knife safety while cooking, and how often kenshi and him used to spar at wu shi

the only bf without a single tattoo on his skin is lao- kenshi has his body murals, johnny has a few small ones that can be covered by make up, and raiden has a small smiley face on his ass cheek after losing a bet to lao

when talking about his bfs to jax, kenshi never specifies until jax asks- so kenshi will go on and on about how one of his bfs has been getting into this new show, and jax will have to use context clues to be able to tell if it's johnny, raiden, or lao-

johnny plays with the press a bit by mentioning his bfs in passing but almost as if he's talking about one dude- it's a whole thing when he breaks that he's in a polycule

kenshi doesnt like being on camera, so often photos with kenshi are cropped or taken with his head/face/tattoos out of frame- the most kenshi interacts with fans is when johnny does short lives and kenshi will talk to them there while johnny reads the comments to him

raiden and lao always crash johnny's lives- lao and johnny will chat with ppl and raiden usually sits nearby but also doesnt love being on camera- so he's given his privacy unless he tells johnny otherwise

the four are well known at the closest ER- johnny is very clumsy and living with antique swords, a chakram hat, several super sharp kitchen knives, and a lot of glass antiques as well can lead to a lot injuries- the night nurse knows the four of them fairly well and johnny is always sure to send her little gifts during the holidays and on her birthday- she's like an honorary fifth member of their lil family

unless he's cooking, going out, or working out, raiden leaves his hair down- all three of his bfs love running their hands through it

johnny does skin care nights for his bfs- he pampers himself and all of them with face masks and special treatments, they make a night of it and order in and put some music on while they chill in comfy clothes and indulge in self care

kenshi is a master at massages- his bfs are always spoiled if they complain of back pain or sore muscles-

lao will make cookie dough if he cant sleep, and several times all three of his bfs have caught him up at 4 am leant over the counter mixing chocolate chips into cookie dough before shoving the bowl in the fridge and getting dragged back upstairs

kenshi smokes sometimes when he's stressed or needs to think smth over- johnny used to smoke and sometimes joins kenshi outside just for the smell, though johnny has stolen cigarettes before when he was a little too stressed with work

raiden and lao are always dragging johnny and kenshi away from work late at night- they both overwork themselves and it's always "one more thing" until it's 2 am and then raiden and lao go and drag them off to bed

lao has music going 24/7- it's impossible to catch him without an ear bud in (he listens to all sorts of music but johnny and kenshi introduced him to rap and dad rock and that's a good portion of his music)

lao also listens to a lot of hip hop and can be caught dancing around the house to whatever is playing

that's all i got for now- it's almost 2 am for me so now i must go to bed lmao, but i love polychamps so much 🥺💖

#johnshi #railao #johnny cage #kenshi takahashi #raiden #kung lao #mk1 #ghost's ouija board #johnrailaoshi

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och405o · 1 year ago

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Hey lol, can i request an &team reaction to their sunbae idol s/o (who's the leader dancer and rapper and is also from hybe) mentioning them on a show or in a live and saying that they love their content/music and that their rlly handsome(like cmon their gorgeous) and they like find out from fans and fanboy over them and they didn't know that they were watching the live...and ima stop there cuz it's so long srry (i'm the same anon who asked u just now btw even tho it's lowkey obvious)

Anyway hope ur doing great and hope this helped ur writing block. Luv uuu<33

&Team reaction to idol s/o mentioning them on live

Andy’s notes: Hi anon!! Thank you for requesting!! I hope you enjoy this 🫶🫶

Summary: While live a fan asked your opinion on the group &team, giving you the opportunity to talk about your perfect boyfriend

K had opened Twitter to be met with hundreds of tweets from Lune and your fandom. Obviously the first emotion he felt was confusion and a little panic. He scrolled through the thread and saw the clip from your groups live.

“Oh someone asked if I like &Team. Of course I do! I think my bias is definitely K. He is so handsome and talented, how can someone not like him”

K smiled at the clips, watching it over and over again. I think K would tease you a little about it but would be really happy that you love him so much.

Fuma:

He would be doing a birthday live (Happy belated Fuma day) when people started commenting about your live. He would be confused but as people began to explain it he would understand. He would worry a little about rumors but I think he would be one to reveal it himself with the help of the company before any scandals or rumors started to spread

Nicholas:

(This little shit) He would definitely tease you when he saw all the ships and fan edits of the two of you.

“Awe daring look at this clip you are practically drooling over me.” He would say while siting with you in a practice room. He would absolutely love seeing you talk about him with so much love.

Ej:

I think his first reaction would be to panic. He knows it’s not always a good think when you are trending on Twitter. He would be worried about scandals and rumors, knowing that could affect your careers. I think he try to distance himself from you in front of camera to avoid them. But don’t worry he definitely shows his live when you guys are alone.

Yuma:

He would be watching your live with some of the other guys when your fans started asking for your opinion on their new comeback. Obviously you were excited to talk about it and your amazing boyfriend.

“Oh it was so good they all looked great especially Yuma. He definitely shined in this comeback. I was thinking about learning the choreography for it, what do you guys think?”

Yuma would love it. I think he would get a little shy but overall he would think it was really sweet and definitely would be a little more clingy with you to show his appreciation.

Jo:

Jo was a hard one for me. He would be awkward (plz save him he doesn’t know what to do) people had already started to ship the two of you and Jo was a little worried. He was conflicted. Like obviously he loves you but he doesn’t want to affect your career. He wouldn’t worry as much as Ej but would definitely want to be careful from now on.

Harua:

He would think you are the cutest person to every walk the Earth. He absolutely loved the way your eyes lit up as you gushed about him and the way your cheeks turn a soft shade of red when you realized you talked too long. He would save the video in his phone and watch it at least 5 times a day.

Taki:

Taki would talk about you a lot especially with Niki (Rip Niki) when this happened. Oh boy Niki was ready to rip his own ears off. Taki would not stop bragging about you. He loved that you were so proud of him and that you loved him so much.

Maki:

Maki would feel a huge confidence boost. He wants you to be proud of him and wants to impress you. He is still super young so I think he would be a little awkward about and might even tease you or pretend like it doesn’t affect him when deep down he is so so in love with you

#&team #&team reactions #&team x reader #&team drabbles #&team fuma #&team k #&team nicholas #&team maki #&team yuma #&team jo #&team harua #&team taki #&team ej #&team fluff

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starlitiris · 2 months ago

Text

“Where is the Justice?”

Chapter 3: Clair De Lune

Summary: “The last two chapters have been very focused on the future. Let's rewind the clock a bit, shall we?”

Warnings: Descriptions of dissociation, brief mention of character death and gun violence, and just general sadness but if you read the first two chapters I'm sure you've come to expect that. Also possibly out of character Sebastian because the man is depressed as hell

Notes: Fun fact: The title of this story, "Where is the Justice?", comes from the Death Note musical. I also took inspiration from Ultrakill for this chapter's title. Enjoy that piece of useless information.

~ ⚖️ ~

October 23rd, 2013

32 minutes.

That’s how close Sebastian was to death before he was met with guards fitted in unfamiliar uniforms.

He can hardly remember anything they said to him. Most of it went in one ear, and out the other.

Papers were placed in front of him. He skimmed through them the best he could.

His mind and body didn’t feel like his own. Ever since the phone call with his spouse ended, he felt like he was frozen. Everything around him was moving with the passage of time, but he was stuck.

He wasn’t able to process much in this state, but there were a few details that stuck with him. These people wanted to take him away. To save him from being executed. He remembers hearing something about a false death report being released once they take him. That sucks. But at least he’ll be alive.

He signed the papers.

From his cell in the prison, to a gray bus that held him and other prisoners – probably also death row inmates who were in the same boat as him – to a submarine, to a large underwater facility where he would potentially spend the rest of his days. It all felt like one big watercolor blur.

He had another mugshot taken for the company to have on record, and was given new attire. Switching out the orange for a dark shade of blue. He tried his best to be mentally present for the brief orientation him and the other new prisoners were given. Then, he and the other inmates were led to a section of the site where they would be assigned to their new cells.

This all felt like it was happening too fast. Or, maybe it wasn’t? Not that Sebastian could tell. His sense of time is all but reliable at the moment.

Each cell was assigned to two prisoners. A change of pace from where Sebastian was before. Being a death row inmate, he wasn’t given a cellmate. Whether this was a nice change of pace would remain in the air until he meets his new roommate. It was really lonely in his previous prison. The company could be nice, but then again, these are criminals. His cellmate could be a huge asshole for all he knows.

He was about to find out, though.

A guard brings him to his new home. The door is open. He steps inside.

It’s very… gray. And it’s bigger than his old cell, which makes sense considering it’s holding two people as opposed to one. There’s a lone florescent light on the ceiling illuminating the cell. A smaller room is built into the back wall where Sebastian can see a sink and a toilet. There’s no door to the room, but he’s grateful it’s a separate room at all. Aside from the two beds that were set on the left and right sides of the room respectively, it was unnervingly empty in here. At least the mattresses at least look a little thicker than what he’s been sleeping on for the past few months.

There’s a man reading a book on the left bed. He’s pale, wearing rectangle-shaped glasses over his hazel-green eyes, and has longish blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. The man looks in Sebastian’s direction when he enters the room. The blond sets his book down and stands.

“Hey, new roomie! Welcome!” He looks about as tall as Sebastian.

The guard shuts the door behind Sebastian and leaves.

The man in front of him steps forward, extending a hand. “I’m Malachi. It’s nice to meet you,” he says, a lax smile on his face.

“Uh… hey,” Sebastian awkwardly shakes Malachi’s hand. It’s a firm, brief handshake. “Sebastian.”

“Sebastian! Cool name. That bed over there is free,” Malachi points to the right-side bed. “And don’t worry, I don’t snore! I just move around a lot in my sleep, but hopefully the shuffling won’t be an issue for you. I have no strict rules or boundaries, just try not to be a dick and keep your hands to yourself, yeah? You be chill, and so will I. If you have any questions, I’d be super happy to answer them for you. And I’ll totally respect any rules or boundaries you have, as long as they aren’t like… mega weird. You know?”

This man reeks of stoner himbo energy. At least he seems chill. Sebastian could’ve been dealt a much worse hand than this.

“Okay… yeah, just- hands to yourself and don’t be weird I guess,” Sebastian responds.

“Mm. Define ‘weird’.”

“Uhh…”

“Kidding! Kidding,” Malachi holds his hands up in admittance. “I get it, don’t worry. I won’t do anything weird, you’re all safe here.”

“Right…” Sebastian moves around his new cellmate to get to his new bed. He sits down with a heavy sigh.

“Rough day, huh?” Malachi takes a seat back on his own bed.

“Yeah,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He feels a headache coming on.

“Yeah… first few days are always rough. Getting all your shit in order and trying to learn all the rules and protocols and areas. But you’ll settle in eventually. ‘S not so bad once you get used to it,” Malachi leans back against the wall his bed is connected to, resting his hands up behind his head.

“Mm…” Sebastian rubs his face and looks at the blond. It’s been a while since he’s been able to hold a good conversation with somebody. Might as well give it a shot. Maybe it’ll help distract him enough to ground him some more. “So… how long have you been here?”

“Oh, geez. Almost a year, I think,” Malachi looks to the ceiling as if he’s recalling an old memory. Perhaps his own arrival. “Man, time flies… yeah, it’s been a while.”

“Have you just had this cell to yourself the whole time, or…?” Sebastian questions.

“Oh, no. I had a cellmate before you.”

“Where is he now? Why was he moved?”

Malachi’s smile falters slightly. He purses his lips into a straight line, seemingly debating on how he wants to answer that question. It gives Sebastian a twinge of uneasiness.

“He, uh… he wasn’t moved. There was an accident,” Malachi eventually answers.

“Oh…” Yikes. “What happened to him?”

Malachi takes a deep breath. “I don’t really know. I just know he got reassigned to ice cream taste testing and never came back after his first day doin’ it.”

“... Ice cream taste testing?” Sebastian looks very confused.

“Yep.”

“How does someone not come back from ice cream taste testing?”

“Dude, it happens a lot more often than you would think,” the blond adds through a chuckle, understanding how absurd it sounds.

“What the fuck are they putting in the ice cream?”

Malachi shrugged. “Dunno. And frankly, I hope to never find out.”

“Tch…” Well, this place is already a lot more eventful than Sebastian’s previous prison.

“So, what’s your deal?”

“Huh?”

“Why’re you here? Life sentence with no parole, multiple life sentences, death row?” Ah, that’s what he’s asking about.

“... The latter,” Sebastian muttered.

“Ohh, damn. That’s tough,” he paused. “Can I ask what you did? Personal question, I know. I won’t judge, though. Probably.”

Sebastian sighed and looked down at his shoes. Should he even bother telling this guy? It’s not like telling the truth ever goes well. On the other hand, though, what’s the worst that could happen? He might as well just be honest.

“... Got wrongfully accused of killing nine people,” he spoke, barely above a whisper. “Not that anyone ever believes me when I say I didn’t do it.”

“Mm…” Malachi is quiet for a moment. “I believe you.”

Sebastian looks at him again, seeming a little surprised. “You do?”

“Yeah. A lotta guys here try to say they didn’t do what they were accused of. Some of them are telling the truth, some of them aren’t. You hear it often enough, you can kinda start to tell if someone’s full of shit or not. You look like you’ve been stripped of every ounce of joy you’ve ever experienced throughout your entire life, so I believe you.”

“...” He sighs, feeling like a fraction of the weight on his shoulders has been lifted. Someone believes him. It is just another prisoner, but it’s somebody. That’s something, right? “Thank you.”

“‘Course, man.”

Sebastian clears his throat. “So, uh… what about you? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Nah, of course you can ask. I asked you first,” Malachi adjusts the way he’s sitting, now leaning forward with his forearms resting above his knees. “Burglary gone wrong. Sort of,” He absentmindedly scratches at his jaw as he recalls his story. “I had a friend that I really trusted give me some bullshit story about his ex-girlfriend stealing one of his family heirlooms and refusing to give it back. He convinced me to break into her house with him while she was out to steal it back, cause apparently it was somethin’ really special to him. We got into the house, started looking around. I went one way, he went the other. Then I heard gunshots coming from the bedroom,” Malachi rubbed his hands together and looked off to the side with a nervous, uneven smile. “I didn’t even know he brought a gun with him.”

There’s a brief pause. Sebastian patiently waits for the man to finish. The blond was clearly uncomfortable.

“We bolted after he shot his ex and the new guy she was seeing — who he definitely knew were home, by the way. Cops caught us, though, obviously. I was given two life sentences with no possibility of parole for just being an accomplice.”

“Wait, really? Just for being there??” Sebastian blurted.

“Yeah. Just for being involved, even though I had no idea the fucker was there with the intention to kill someone,” he looks down at his hands, picking at calloused skin on his palm. “Shit’s fucked, huh?”

“No fucking kidding,” Sebastian groaned and laid down on his bed, facing up toward the ceiling. “... Haven’t really been able to talk to anyone but my lawyer since I was put on death row.”

“That sucks.”

“Mhm.”

“... Got any family?” Malachi asked, hoping to keep the conversation going.

It takes Sebastian a moment to answer. “… Yeah. I do.”

“Me too,” Malachi somberly added. “... I have a little sister. And cousins I’m really close with that are like my siblings.”

“... I have a mom. An older sister, a little brother, and…” he trails off, thinking of them. “... a partner.”

Malachi frowns. “… I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“Shit’s not fair.” Malachi says, a hint of frustration lacing his voice.

“They’re pregnant,” Sebastian continues, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. “Twins. We’re… having twins.”

“Oh, dude…” Malachi looks at his cellmate in disbelief. “Fuck…”

There’s silence again. Sebastian hasn’t looked away from the ceiling. If only he could sink into the mattress he’s laid on. Just… disappear. Sleep forever. Maybe it would hurt less if he slept, and never woke up.

Malachi speaks up again, breaking his train of thought. “Did you come up with any names?”

“Mm… not really. We’d only known they were pregnant for a few weeks, before…”

Malachi nods, not needing Sebastian to finish his sentence. He thinks carefully about what to say next, hoping to maybe cheer Sebastian up. “… Man. Twins. Any gender combos you guys were hoping for?”

“Not really. Well, not me, anyway. I couldn’t care less what the genders are. I was just excited to be a dad. My partner, though…” an image of his lover’s face flashes in his mind. Bright and happy, attentively reading a book on pregnancy for parents-to-be. He swears they read that thing a hundred times over as if they were worried they would miss something. They were so excited to start a family. So passionate about doing it right. “They said they were kinda hoping for a boy and a girl. Thought it’d be nice to have both.”

The blond smiled a little at the sentiment. “Well…” he starts again. “You were wrongly accused, right? Maybe one day that’ll come to light and you can get released.”

“I don’t know,” he doubts, unable to find it within himself to be optimistic. “I’m not sure how likely it is that I’ll ever be proven innocent, and a false death report for me has probably already been released at this point. Getting out of here is a nice thought, but…” he lets out a deep sigh. “I’d rather not get my hopes up.”

Malachi sighs as well. “I’m so sorry, man,” he apologizes again. “You and your family don’t deserve any of this.”

Sebastian just hums in response.

The two then fall silent, not able to find anything more to say.

It isn’t long before the lights go out, indicating that it’s time to go to bed. Malachi sets his book and glasses aside so he can lay down as well.

It’s very quiet. The only sounds found in the boys’ shared cell is their quiet breathing, and the occasional shuffling of sheets and blankets.

It’s too quiet.

It’s always too quiet.

Sebastian didn’t get much sleep that night.

~ ⚖️ ~

Ao3

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

#pressure fanfic #sebastian solace x you #sebastian solace x reader #pressure x reader #WhereIsTheJusticeFic

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messusminnow · 3 months ago

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JEGULUS/SPIDERMAN MINI FIC PT. 2

Idk how many parts there will be but I’m still going. And of course wolfstar is here because they are my forever boys.

Rating: M

“Okay,” Regulus said when they finally stopped for breath. “A couple of rules before we go in.”

James panted, his hands on his knees. They had landed on rooftop garden, the only green he’d seen so far.

“Why is there no land?” He rasped. He wasn’t used to having to swing through the air constantly without stop.

Regulus snapped his fingers. “Pay attention.”

“Alright alright. Rules.” James said.

“Don’t make any sharp movements around him. Don’t stare too long. And definitely don’t flirt with him.”

“Don’t flirt with him?” James made a face.

“It’ll piss him off.” Regulus said. He tugged his mask off again. “And take that off. He hates Spiderman.”

“What’s wrong with him exactly?” James pulled his broken mask off, ignoring the anxiety that was creeping its way into him.

“Nothing.” Regulus tugged open the window. “He has a parasite.”

He dropped down, landing silently on the floor beneath them. James followed.

“Reggie what the hell?” He heard as Sirius Black rounded the corner. “I told you that you needed to let me know before you—“ his best friend was now staring at him, his head cocked. “Regulus you brought home a stray?”

“He came through a wormhole.” Regulus began. “I figured Remus could do something.”

“A wormhole? Oh that’s really interesting. We noticed a strange anomaly in the stars about two hours ago.”

“That was when it happened!” James exclaimed. “You’re Sirius.”

“Oh yeah… he knows us. From his universe.” Regulus pulled a sweatshirt on. He threw one to James. “Put that on.”

James donned the sweater and followed the pair of brothers down a massive hall and through two huge doors.

“Where are we?” James asked looking to the covered portraits.

“Our home.” Sirius said. “Mum and Dad left it to us, so we’ve turned it into headquarters.”

“Is it different from our home on your Earth?” Regulus asked.

“Sort of.” James thought back to the mansion in upstate New York with its dark halls and its anger. He thought back to the bedroom he’d sneak into and the slick black sheets and the nights between them. He shook his head, his eyes darting to Regulus again.

“Moony, we’ve got company.” Sirius hummed, his arms now wrapped around a tall thin young man sitting in front of three different computers and opened books.

The boy turned, James barely remembered not to stare at the pitch black eyes or the gaunt skin.

“Who’s this?” The young man reached for his cane and stood shakily.

“Er… James Potter.” James held out his hand.

“He came through a wormhole.” Regulus said once again. “He’s like me.”

The boy smiled. “Ah… another web slinger. So you were what caused the stars in Leo to erupt tonight. I’m Remus.”

Remus shook and fell into Sirius’s hold. “No. No. You can’t meet him.”

“It’s alright baby.” Sirius soothed, pressing kisses to Remus’s sallow cheeks.

“Is he alright?” James whispered.

“Shh!” Regulus hissed.

“I don’t want to scare him.” Remus moaned.

“You won’t scare him, Moons. He’s a good one, I can feel it.”

Sirius’s eyes shot to Regulus who was now tugging James back farther by the hood.

“You don’t have to let him out if you don’t want to lune.” Sirius was whispering, his head pressed firmly to Remus’s.

“What are they talking about?” James whispered again.

“Shut up already.” Regulus groaned. “New rule. Keep your mouth shut.”

“I…” Remus groaned, taking long hard inhales. “I don’t want to. You can’t come out right now.”

James kept his mouth closed as he watched the boy struggle with whatever problem he seemed to be having before he finally was able to take a long inhale and looked a bit more relaxed, save for the pitch black eyes.

“Sorry about that.” Remus gave them another gentle smile. “Let’s take a look at you, you can come closer now.”

James walked up to the taller boy. “You smell like Earth 3. Is that where you’re from?”

James shrugged. “Up until a couple of hours ago I thought my earth was the only one.”

All three boys chuckled. “What year is it back on your earth?”

“2020.” James said.

“We’re in 3010.” Remus said leaning over to scroll through his book. “No it is earth 3 I can tell. Well no one asked you, did they?”

“Sorry?” James asked.

“Oh sorry. Not talking to you.” Remus smiled at him again.

“He’s talking to Venom.” Sirius whispered. “His symbiote.”

“The parasite?” James asked, Regulus’s hands were now covering James’s mouth as Remus slammed his own hands down to the table.

“He didn’t know.” He grumbled, his fingernails clawing at the desk. “He doesn’t like that term James. We call him a symbiote. Or Venom.”

“S-sorry.” James flushed.

“It’s alright, he’s just sensitive.” Remus huffed out a breath. “So, what were you doing before you got here?”

“I was battling a villain from my universe. I was swinging from the city center and then I was here.” James said.

Remus chuckled. “ I bet that was a shock. Your universe is quite different.”

“Yeah, what’s with all the water?” James asked.

“They had a bit of a mishap around one hundred years ago.” Remus said. “Eventually our entire world will be engulfed in the water and we’ll all die. But I don’t think it’ll happen in our time.” Remus said. “Yeah well you always think that.” He added rolling his eyes.

“So we need another wormhole if we want to get you home, James.” Remus lowered himself down, wincing as he finally sat and began typing. “Not now.” He batted his hand at nothing.

Sirius was now wrapped around him again, whispering something James couldn’t hear.

Remus chuckled and nodded, talking to either Sirius or the parasite.

“Alright, the next thin spot isn’t for another week. So you’ll be here until then.”

“But my city will be ash by then.” James complained. “Once word gets out I’m not there to protect it all the villains will come out from the holes they hide in.”

Remus shrugged. “Maybe, or maybe not. Wormholes are interesting things. You may come through the other side with no time having passed. Or you may come through centuries later. We can’t know.”

“Not helping, Remus.” Regulus said. “C’mon James. I’ll show you where you can stay.”

“You should hurry, Reggie.” Remus said, his smile more strained than a moment earlier. “I won’t be able to keep him in much longer.”

They were nearly down the hall when the screams began.

“Christ.” James stopped. “Will he be alright?”

Regulus shoved him. “Keep moving. Remus can’t control him very well.”

“What about Sirius?” James asked.

“He’ll be fine. Venom loves Sirius as much as Remus does.”

“That’s why you told me not to flirt with your brother?”

Regulus laughed, it was sharp and warm in James’s ears. “No I meant for you not to flirt with Remus. Sirius gets all pissy. Honestly it’s pretty hilarious, maybe you should.”

“It’s killing him, isn’t it?” James asked when they finally reached a large black door that Regulus tugged open.

“Yes and no.” Regulus said, grabbing James by the wrist and tugging him inside. “The symbiote is deteriorating his body. But Remus had an aggressive brain cancer that would have killed him way sooner. Venom can heal those types of things, but Remus’s body will still take a toll carrying the parasite.”

“And why does he hate Spider-Man?” James asked.

Regulus shrugged, tugging sweats and underwear out of a drawer and throwing them to James. “Remus doesn’t know. Venom won’t say. Do you know Remus from the other earth?”

James shook his head.

“Makes sense.” Regulus said. “He’s not from this earth either. He’s a genius and perhaps not even human. He was trying to find a cure for his cancer when he found Venom. Or when venom found him. Made his way to this world looking to dominate it, then found Sirius. Remus was stuck inside venom for years wreaking havoc on the verses before he found Sirius.”

“That’s kind of sad.” James said.

“Maybe.” Regulus added. “He and Sirius are sickeningly in love with each other. It’s gross. I’ve walked in on them so many times. Does my brother love anyone over there?”

James shook his head. “He’s been with people here and there, but nothing has stuck.”

“And you?”

James met Regulus’s eyes.

“Do you have anyone?” Regulus asked.

“Not anymore.” James whispered.

Regulus nodded. “You can change.” He turned away.

“Do you have anyone?” James asked quietly.

“I’m not him.” Regulus reminded.

“I’m just asking.”

Regulus turned again as James tugged the sweats on.

“No I don’t.” Regulus said.

#jegulus #james and regulus #spider man au #spiderman #wolfstar

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lunetual · 1 year ago

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♡ HAPPY HEECHAN DAY ♡ everyone wish my yangstar a happy birthday RIGHT this instant!! he'll know it if you don't so do it right now before he gets sad!!

quick cc note: omg long time no talk guys...... but i'm back i am spilling out my feelings i bet you MISSED this!! (pls do not feel obligated to read all of this u know how it goes!)

anyway... my heechan my yangstar my little mirrorball.... i don't know if it's evident because a lot of times i can't even speak about him because i feel too protective of him LOL but i really love him So much.

the thing about heechan is that he is so incorrigibly himself at all times that i never stood a chance. i think i've mentioned before how lune charmed me like thirty seconds into dkb's first peak time segment but heechan was NOT far behind! during their intro stage when he strode up, all swagger, absolutely thrumming with energy and yelled 이게 바로 멋인기라 !!!! i was TOAST. i didn't know it at the time but i was a GONER !! honestly. i can't think of a better introduction!! like. what could be more indicative of heechan as a performer. god i love him.

i think one of the reasons i do feel so protective of him is because he is always trying so hard. he is trying so fucking hard all the time he is always ALWAYS giving it everything he has and then he somehow finds it in himself to give even more. lmao it makes me want to cry ha ha ha. i am grateful every day for how hard he worked to get to where he is now and i want everyone in the world to perceive him!!! and also i don't want anyone to look at him unless they LOVE and RESPECT him as he deserves!!

heechan on stage is a force to behold — obviously i was absolutely enthralled by him lol like i was not immune to the sheer force of his presence !! but heechan offstage is like... so endearing. he's very earnest (i think his stage presence is earnest too, if you know what i mean) and is always striving to make sure fans feel seen and heard. i joke very often that heechan should be paying ME for subscribing to his bubble given that i do nothing on there but ply him with reassurance and praise lmao but honestly! he is so active and diligently sends photos to make bbs happy and he always updates us on how his day is going and as he goes to bed he often reminds us to send anything we want to tell him and that he really truly does read everything fans leave for him whether it's on fc or bubble or comments on his fancams (that he checks religiously aslkdjfalsk).

i think it's pretty clear that heechan is really someone who thrives in the spotlight, who loves being the center of attention, but !! he gives that energy back! all of the love and enthusiasm that's poured into him he gives back tenfold, with his boundless exuberance and his innate desire to make people smile.

my yangstar i hope you save some of yourself... for yourself. i hope you know that you shine so brightly even when you're not putting SO much effort into it — but that we do see you working so hard and always, always appreciate it. i hope that you are always surrounded by love and that you know that you're doing so well and that the coming years bring you joy and fulfillment and laughter to spare! ily my yangstar!!!

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sweethoneyrose83 · 2 months ago

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Authors Context:

- The two things Dr. Malware Corpse made successful in his time alive was Trivia and the Abstraction Virus, and when Trivia least expected it, he infected her with the virus. -Caine and Trivia have a father/daughter relationship somewhat like Joel and Ellie. He calls her Honey for many reasons but her eyes are normally golden like honey. She was saved by Caine very young.

- The Abstraction Virus has stages like any virus; stage 1: You start hearing voices. Stage 2: You twitch, your vision blurs, and your eyes go black. Stage 3: You get paler, and your heart starts to rot; you are also sensitive to light of any kind. Stage 4: You lose yourself from time to time going rabid, your heart rotting more each time you lose yourself. Stage 5: You have Abstracted from reality. Trivia is a special case zero. There is a cure but it’s a prototype. Songs that I wrote to:

If The World Falls To Pieces - Summer Young

What was I made for? (piano) - emptiness

Roses- Glassface

Designed to End - Belzifer

Clair de lune (out-of-tune piano) - emptiness

Twisted - Adrian Von Ziegler

A Fathers Untold Loneliness (FanFiction) Warnings: Talk of death and/or wanting to die, knives towards the end, sickness Days passed from the day they found out Trivia was infected with this new virus. Caine continued to visit Trivia daily trying to help her get better trying to help her beat the infection. Trivia twitches and sits in the corner of her room. Caine walks up to her sitting down next to her sitting down beside her in the corner. Trivia slowly looks at Caine. Caine gently smiles at her holding a hand out to gently rest it on her shoulder.

Trivia smiles weakly as her eyes are black, her ivory fur is paler than normal, almost transparent, and her heart is black and rotting. Caine gently rubs her shoulder. "I'm here… I’m here honey.." Trivia closes her eyes and nods. Caine slowly scoots a little closer.. wanting to be closer.. to comfort her.. to hold her.. Trivia looks away. Caine gently tries to coax her attention back to him."Honey?.. look at me please.." Trivia looks back slowly as she twitches her breathing shallowly and slowly. Caine gently cups her cheek holding her face. "I'm here… I'm right here.." Trivia nods slowly again.

Caine slowly scoots even closer. "Please honey.. don't look away again.." He slowly scoots so that he's practically right beside her gently rubbing his thumb across her cheek. Trivia smiles weakly. Caine leans over to gently press a soft kiss against her forehead. Trivia closes her eyes and continues to breathe shallowly. Caine moves his hand to gently pet her head."Please honey.. just relax.." his voice is somber. "I'm...I'm not getting better..." Trivia responds grimly.

Caine gently scoots even closer.. his face filling with worry.. with concern. "Honey.. don't give up.." Trivia's fox ears twitch. He gently moves his hand up.. slowly caressing one of her fox ears.. trying to comfort her… "You need to let me go...." She whispers. Caine's expression grew scared, worried, and panicked. "H-honey.. No.." "Thank you for caring about me..." Caine gently moves his hand to cradle her face again… gently running his thumb across her cheek. "Honey. I'm not letting you go… I'm finding a way to fix you.." Trivia smiles weakly."Fix...me...But I'm not getting better"

Caine's expression grew more desperate and more panicked. "Honey, I'll fix you. I'll find a way.. I'll find a cure.. I'll find something.." Trivia opens her eyes slowly, her shallow breaths filling the quiet dark room. Caine slowly moves his other hand to rest against the other side of her face, gently cupping it and rubbing her cheek. "Please honey.. don't give up.." "Dr. Corpse wanted me to die with him," She whispers in response. Caine's expression grows horrified and worried.”But you didn't, right?.. you didn't listen to him… Right?!" "I'm infected because of him..."

Caine's expression morphs from horrified to extremely angry. "That bastard…" he murmurs under his breath. Trivia looks into Caine’s eyes again "Please let me go..." she whispers. Caine's hands slip away from her face and grab her shoulders, holding her in place desperately. "No..." "Why..." Caine's expression is filled with desperation, worry, and fear. "Because I'm not losing you… I'm not going to let you give up.." Trivia smiles weakly as her fox ears go down "It's not giving up, it's moving on..."

Caine's expression grows more and more panicked as she says that. "A-and what if you can get better hm?... what if I find a cure?.." "What if there is no cure..." Caine's grip on her shoulders tightens as she says that. "Don't say that.. please.. don't say that.." "I don't want anyone else to get infected…Please let me go..." Trivia pleads.

Caine's grip on her shoulders tightens even more. His expression is filled with worry and desperation. "I'm not losing you… I'm not.. I'm not letting you give up… I'm figuring this out… I'll find a way..." Black tears filled Trivia's eyes as she pleaded again. "Stop, please...I want to move on...I don't want to be in pain anymore!..." Caine's expression grows slightly fearful as she says that terrified. "Honey.. please… I can't-" He pauses and swallows, unable to form the words."I can't lose you." "Da...father…Caine..."

Trivia looks down and tries to get out her words. Caine can feel his heart twisting in his chest, twisting and breaking. "Y-yes honey?" "You care for me right?" Caine gently tilts his head down to rest his forehead against hers."..Of course, I do. I.. I care about you more than anyone.." Trivia closes her eyes softly as tears fall down her cheeks as she whispers. "Then let me go...you can bury me under the rose brushes I like…”

Caine's heart breaks as he hears those words. Tears start to fill his eyes, but he doesn't know what to do. "H-honey.. please.. I-i can't.." He is sobbing against her, holding her like he's afraid she'll disappear, too afraid to let go. Trivia’s fox ears twitch. “Father…” Caine can barely speak, his voice broken and choked. "P-please don't do this.. don't make me let you go.. please.. I-i'm begging you.." He grips her even tighter, nearly squeezing her at this point, so desperately holding onto her, afraid to lose her, he can barely speak. "P-promise me that you won't.. that you won't give up…that you'll stay… Please.." "I promise..."

Trivia slowly hugs him back and whispers. He lets out a shaky breath trying desperately to calm himself to calm his racing heart. "Please.. please don't break your promise.." Caine gently cups her face again, his hands shaking slightly, his heart still racing afraid that one wrong move will break her. Trivia smirks weakly, her breathing still shallow. Caine can't help but smile faintly at her smirk hoping it means she's not going to give up. Caine gently caresses her cheek with his thumb."Please, honey.. just stick with me.. please. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too… I can't lose to anyone else.." "Dear Ringmaster....I'll hold on as long as I can..."

Caine's expression grows slightly fearful again. "What do you mean 'as long as you can' honey?.. don't you dare try to do anything stupid now.." "Remember it gets worse, it rots my heart, I go crazy...I hurt your wife...Pomni...I'm sorry..." Caine's expression grows desperate again, holding her face with a slightly tighter grip. "Oh honey please.. please don't mention hurting Pomni.. don't apologize for that.." "But I DID...I..." Trivia sobs "Father...Caine..." Caine gently pulls her head against his chest, rubbing the back of her head. "shh...shh.. don't cry.. you weren't in control of yourself… you didn't know any better.." Trivia's fox ears go down again as her tail sways softly.

Caine gently pets her head trying to soothe her gently, shushing her."Shh.. it's okay.. it'll be okay. You didn't mean it. Don't blame yourself.."

Soon, Trivia cries herself to sleep; Caine gently rests his head on top of hers, slowly rocking her back and forth, quietly whispering. "Shh.. it's okay… it's okay, just rest now. I'll keep you safe, don't worry, I'll never leave you, I promise.." He sits against the wall, holding her protectively in his lap, keeping her close to his chest, gently rubbing the back of her head with his hand, humming a soft tune.

He remembers taking in the little orphan fox girl and feeling like his heart was mended somehow just by having her in his life. He remembers her growing up, her first steps, her first words. He remembers all the times he held her when she cried the times he read her stories to put her to sleep.. the times he just spent with her. She was his daughter and he loved her more than anything in the whole world.

Epilogue:

It's been a few weeks since that night. Caine always checked in on her around nightfall, trying to make sure she wouldn't give up and that she'd keep her promise. Trivia was bad again that night as she growled, going rabid, losing herself. Seeing her go rabid again nearly gave him a heart attack. "Honey? Calm down please.." his voice was calm as he watched her. Trivia growls and screams "It hurts!!!" She throws a chair into a wall as it breaks on impact.

Caine's heart nearly shatters as he hears her say that.. he's trying to remain calm.. he doesn't want to upset her. “Honey, I know I'm trying to think of a cure, but you need to calm down. Please.." Trivia cracks her neck and laughs insanely. Caine's heart is racing as he hears her laugh so much that he is afraid of it coming true. "Honey, please don't give in, please. I promise I'll find a cure. Please you have to hang on.."

Trivia slowly stumbles to Caine growling and holding a large kitchen knife as she continues to laugh insanely, her body twitching. Caine is visibly tensing up as she walks closer his heart is still racing, afraid of what she might do but he tries to maintain a calm facade, his hands instinctively coming up defensively every instinct in his body is screaming at him to run or defend himself but he can't no matter how afraid he is."H-honey, please put the knife down, please don't do something you'll regret. I know it hurts, but you've got to fight it, please.” Trivia snarls slowly coming closer, knife still tightly in hand. "Why won't you just let me die!" She screams, raising the knife.

Caine's heart breaks at her words keeping a close eye on the knife. "Y-you know why… I can't lose you too. I can't…you promised. you promised me!" Trivia stops and twitches, lowering the knife as she titles her head like a curious child "Promise..." She whispers, her fox ears going down. “Promise…” She repeats. Trivia pants and falls to her knees, groans, and puts a hand on her heart as the rot spreads quickly. Caine immediately hurries over, gently crouching down in front of her. "Honey? Are you back to yourself? Can you recognize me now?" "F...ather?...Caine?" Trivia whispers. "It's me, honey, it's me… I'm here… I'm right here.."

#tadc au #tadc fanfiction #tadc oc #tadc original character #tadc fandom #creative writing #tdac #digital circus #amazing digital circus #tdac caine #tadc #tdac pomni #tadc caine #cw death #tw death mention #cw violence

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clonemedickix · 1 year ago

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Again, sorry. Coping in the medical field is one of the hardest things to quantify, explain or manage. We often develop weird coping mechanisms and lone wolf tendencies. People struggle to understand our level of weird, while we struggle to maintain our sanity. I hope this is just a small glimpse into the mind of a good medic who can’t save everyone, but still cares deeply about continuing the fight.

Rating: M

Word count: 2.9K

Pairing: OC CMO Volte x OC General Lara Lin x OC Aurelia (by permission of @freesia-writes )

Warnings: Surgically assisted birth, coping with life risk, medical coping with reality of trauma and loss, discussing the feels

Excerpt Summary - Lara and Volte are required to deliver a child surgically; Volte has a flashback to times when he couldn’t save everyone and has a moment, struggling to cope.

@anxiouspineapple99 @blueink-bluesoul @523rdrebel @mandos-mind-trick @jediknightjana @moonlightwarriorqueen @wizardofrozz @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @dystopicjumpsuit @villanousace

Excerpt beneath the line

About six months into the girl’s pregnancy, Lara had noted her fiddling with her socks and boots, complaining how tight they were, and that her ankles were swelling up daily. Sliding over near her, Lara asked her how she’d been feeling, if she was excited about the coming baby. The girl, named Rhaela, chattered on in happiness about her preparations, how they’d made clothes and furniture for the baby, how excited Falco was about becoming a father. Lara listened to her with a smile, but with rising concern, which turned to fear when she heard Rhaela complain about the frequent headaches she was getting. Hearing her complaints, Lara realized they were symptoms of a concerning pregnancy related condition - at the very least it was gestational hypertension, but was most likely preeclampsia. She would need to talk to Volte and Aurelia as soon as possible about treatment plans for Rhaela; there wasn’t much to offer really - no antihypertensives, no hospital to stash her in until delivery. She would be much like the millions of human women that had gone before her, doing their best to survive high risk pregnancies.

In the end, Lara’s fears came true. Rhaela went into labor and struggled to deliver her child. As the birth progressed, she was unable to bring the child out, not matter what techniques she and Volte used. Lara found herself looking at Volte silently, full of dread and knowledge. In a small lull, while Rhaela rested, Falco holding her hand desperately, his face full of concern, Lara and Volte consulted in the corner of the small home, Aurelia listening without a word.

“She’s not going to be able to deliver that baby, Volte,” Lara said softly.

“So what do you propose we do, General?” Volte’s tone was laced with desperation and unhappiness. He knew instinctively where this was going, and his heart hurt at the knowledge, the risks they were faced with taking.

“If we do a section, we can probably save the baby. It’s full term, and should be fine. But I’m not sure if we can save them both. The meds we have will depress the baby’s breathing and heart rate as well - we absolutely can’t go cutting on her without giving her pain meds. So, we won’t have much time to get the baby out.” Lara’s fine brows were drawn together in thought and distraction. “What do you think, Volte?”

Volte looked disturbed that she was deferring the decision to him. He gawped a little in surprise and panic. “I…I don’t know, General! You’ve done this before - I haven’t.”

Lara looked at him a little flatly. “If you’re going to be the doctor for this community, these decisions will come up. Even the best docs on Earth still struggle with this at times.” She glanced over at Rhaela, who was napping fitfully. “We have to ask Rhaela what she wants. While she sleeps, we can get stuff ready.” She looked up at Aurelia a little sharply, focused now on a task that they could accomplish. “Rely, go get the med packs and the IV equipment. The surgical packs are labeled as such. Bring those as well as the airway pack. Can you get it all?”

“I can get Howzer to help me. I’ll be right back!” Aurelia turned and ran from the home quickly, on a mission to get the equipment back as soon as possible.

Lara stepped over to Rhaela and Falco; reaching out she took the young woman’s wrist in her hand and felt her pulse, then glanced at the fetal heart rate monitor to see how the baby was doing. The signs were okay for now - both mother and child were resting for a moment. Falco stared at Lara’s face, fear hiding in the depths of his brown eyes. He could sense the General wasn’t happy with how the delivery was going. Rhaela stirred, waking groggily and looking up at Lara and her husband. Taking a breath, Lara braced herself for the conversation that had to happen now.

“Rhaela, we are having some trouble bringing the baby along. I’m not sure you’re going to be able to deliver without help.” Falco’s eyes hardened.

“What kind of help?,” he asked guardedly.

“Surgical help. We’ve reached the point where we have to make a choice. I can surgically open the womb and get the baby out, or both mother and child will likely die in the attempt to have the baby naturally.” Lara’s expression was as flat as she could make it, looking into both parent’s eyes. They both looked taken aback, slapped by the cold hand of reality and dread. “Before you make your choice, you have to know - there is a large chance that Rhaela could die. This surgery is not without risks. The bleeding associated is usually bad, and I can’t make you any guarantees, other than if we do nothing, you will certainly die. And the child.” Lara’s eyes were full of regret, that she couldn’t do more for them.

Rhaela and Falco looked at each other, seeing that the writing on the walls was dark and unhappy. Tears came to both their eyes, along with a mixture of physical pain; the contractions were starting to return. Lara reached out and took Rhaela’s hand, saying nothing, but offering her presence as support. The girl took a deep breath, leaned over into Falco’s chest and cried softly. Falco held her like he was trying to force the strength from his own body into hers. Looking up at Lara, he whispered, “There’s no other way?”

Lara shook her head sadly.

Tears fell from Falco’s eyes, and he closed them, holding Rhaela tightly. After a moment, Rhaela looked at Lara and took a breath. “Do it, General. I know you’ll do your best. You and Volte can do anything, I know it.”

The words touched Lara’s soul, and she couldn’t stop a rim of tears from filling her eyes. Squeezing Rhaela’s hand, she gave her a bracing smile, nodded and stood. Aurelia and Howzer walked into the home carrying the supply bags at that moment. Aurelia was focused, moving to place them on the table and already opening the compartments, knowing exactly what she was after. Howzer glanced over at Falco briefly, his face full of uncomfortable sadness for the couple, but unsure what his place was, or how to be of use in this situation. Lara looked up at the captain and said quickly, “Howzer, please go find Turk, Dorian and Primer - ask them to come here. I’m going to need their help. Be quick, please.” Her tone was a professional command and brooked no argument. Howzer hurried from the home to do as ordered.

Lara and Volte worked quickly to get the room set up for the procedure, laying out the items and sterile packs they would need. She and Volte would do the surgery, while Aurelia kept Rhaela medicated and sedated, and Lara planned to have Turk and Dorian help with her airway and the baby when delivered. Primer she needed to support Falco. She wouldn’t ask him to leave his wife and child, but she wasn’t going to have him there alone if the worst occurred. The men soon turned up as requested, and Lara explained their roles to them. They nodded solemnly and immediately got themselves in the proper mindset for the challenge ahead.

Aurelia got an IV started on Rhaela and the fluids hooked up without issue. Lara drew up the appropriate doses of meds to sedate the young woman, and to keep her under for the surgery. “Rely, these are good for the first few rounds of the induction, but you’ll probably have to draw up a few more doses from the vials.” Aurelia nodded succinctly. She knew her job. She helped get Rhaela settled in her bed with some protective sheeting beneath her to catch blood and fluids, and then washed up quickly, returning to the girl’s bedside to don gloves. Lara got everyone masked up and to their places, then nodded to Aurelia to push the first doses of sedation and pain medication. Looking into Rhaela’s eyes, Lara did her best to assure the brave girl as her green eyes started to get glassy with sleep and medications.

Once she was deeply under with the versed and fentanyl on board, Lara had Rely push a new medication - rocuronium - to temporarily paralyze the mother’s muscles and have her relaxed enough to allow a medical airway to be placed. Lara picked up her laryngoscope quickly, positioned herself behind Rhaela’s head, opened her mouth with her right hand, and inserted the blade of the laryngoscope to push the girl’s tongue out of the way and expose her vocal cords to Lara’s sight. She inserted the endotracheal tube with practiced ease, and removed the stylet within, attaching an AMBU bag to the end of the tube with one hand and skills long learned. Watching for chest rise, she saw Rely quickly listen with a stethoscope for breath sounds or gastric gurgling, but the girl glanced up at Lara with a confirming nod. The tube was in place correctly. Lara moved to tape it securely to Rhaela’s mouth and cheek, then handed monitoring of the airway and respiration to Turk. She and Volte washed up and opened the sterile surgical trays and equipment, Lara donning a sterile gown and gloves and setting the field up with Volte’s help. When she was done, he did the same, getting dressed for the procedure and stepping up to Rhaela’s side. The two surgeons looked at each other, took a breath and nodded.

“Okay for a quick time out, team. We are going to do this c-section on Rhaela because we’re out of options to deliver naturally. Turk, you have the airway. Dorian, for now you are waiting to catch the baby. Aurelia, you are in charge of monitoring the vitals and administering the meds. Volte - you got any questions?” Volte shook his head. “Okay, I’ll make the first incision.” Lara reached over to the table and removed a scalpel, placing her left hand on Rhaela’s abdomen, pulling the skin back slightly, and at the base of her uterus at the pubic line, made a cut about six inches long. Volte quickly dabbed at the welling blood with gauze.

Lara worked swiftly to get through the layers of tissues, avoiding important structures carefully until she could see the outer surface of the uterus. Looking up quickly at Dorian, she said, “You ready D? Two minutes to having this baby out.”

“I’m ready General,” he said quickly, poised with a couple of clean blankets, ready to accept the child from Volte, who would hand it off to Dorian.

“Okay here we go.” Lara quickly cut into the uterus, working to avoid going too deeply; she didn’t want to accidentally nick the baby. She carefully stretched the incision, trying to avoid making it too big; there was benefit to leaving the incision slightly tight so as to squeeze the infant’s lungs of amniotic fluid and mimic the passage through the birth canal. She felt for the little head and got her fingers around and under it, directing it to the incision she’d made and gently pulling it out. She and Volte paused for a moment to clean the field of all the amniotic fluid and blood present, and then Lara reached back into Rhaela’s womb to grasp the child’s shoulder. Lifting it towards the opening, she worked first one and then the other free, feeling the body slide more quickly now from its former home of nine months. Lara lifted the infant’s body free of Rhaela and placed it on the sterile field, over the gap between her legs, working with Volte to clamp and cut the umbilical cord and clean the surgical field again of blood. Free of his mother’s womb and the placenta now, Volte quickly handed the newborn over to Dorian, who enfolded the boy in the warm, clean blankets and quickly stepped over to another table to work at waking the baby up, vigorously wiping at the vernix covering his skin, stimulating him until the baby let out a breathtaking, loud squawk. Internally, both Lara and Volte sighed with relief at the sound, but were working quickly to get Rhaela’s c-section finished and her sewed back up.

Lara reached once more into her womb to deliver the placenta. She placed it on the sterile field as she had the baby, and Volte quickly assessed it for completeness, nodding to Lara when he checked it. “Complete, General.”

“Good. Good, good, good,” Lara breathed. She worked to clean Rhaela’s uterus out as best she could, irrigating and scraping it clean of any remnants of birth so there would be minimal risk of infection after. When she was satisfied, she started working to sew up the incision site, which required multiple layers of sutures. Satisfied that the uterus was no longer bleeding, Lara started working on closing Rhaela’s abdomen back up, and they finished when Volte put in the final sutures and staples. They wiped her belly clean, watching it for any last oozing, and then took deep breaths out of relief. Aurelia looked up at them with a smile that spoke volumes of her own happiness at their apparent success, and pride in what their small team had accomplished. Falco had gone over to meet and hold his new son, Dorian handing the baby off to the new father with a happy smile for his teammate. Primer had watched the whole affair with a look of silent concern and solemnity, and he only broke into a smile when he saw Lara stand to her full height, stretching her shoulders and letting out the tense breath she’d been holding the entire time.

Lara glanced over at her first in command, their eyes meeting quietly. He gave her a little one sided smile of pride and congratulations, and Lara smiled back beneath her mask. Then she looked at Volte. The medic looked strangely… distracted, even a little shattered for some reason. Like he was looking at a scene of devastation and not success. Lara’s brows knit a little in confusion and she reached over to him, touching his arm softly. “Volte? You okay?” His eyes snapped up to hers suddenly, as if his mind had been far away.

“I’m fine, General. Good work. We did good work.” He tried to make his words sound strong and sure, but Lara could hear a faint note of confusion still there, like he was lost in a memory he couldn’t shake.

“Help me get all this taken down and scrub out. Go get some air.” Lara felt concern for him, but wasn’t sure what was wrong. He did as she’d directed, getting all of the instruments back to their tray, helping her break down the sterile field and clean up from their work. Volte stripped off his gloves, gown and mask and then left the home almost as if chased by ghosts. Even Primer watched him go with a look of concern. Primer met Lara’s eyes, full of questions for Volte’s behavior. Lara shrugged and shook her head - she wasn’t sure what was wrong, but she had two patients to attend to at the moment and couldn’t do anything about Volte.

She quickly checked the baby and the mother over, assuring both herself and Falco that they were doing well. Aurelia and Turk sat with Rhaela for a while longer, monitoring her vitals and maintaining her airway. By the time Lara was finished with her work in the little home, Rhaela was breathing on her own and seemed to be stable. Lara ordered Turk to remove the breathing tube, and remained to watch the girl, making sure she continued breathing independently a bit longer. Aurelia looked up to Lara and said, “Go after Volte. I’ll stay until she wakes up.”

Lara looked at Aurelia gratefully, reached over and squeezed her shoulder, and turned to leave. Primer stepped over to her quickly, following her out the door. “Do you need me to go with you to find him?”

Lara shook her head. “I’ve got it. I don’t think this talk will follow a path you know much about. But thanks. Watch over them for me and if Rely needs something, come get me pronto, okay?”

Primer stopped walking and called to Lara’s retreating form, “Will do, General.” He watched her for a minute longer, the pride he felt in her swelling for a moment, then he turned and walked back to Falco’s home in silence.

Lara found Volte sitting on her little hill, listening to the waves. His eyes were distant and his mind was far away, tears falling softly down his cheeks. She studied him in profile for a moment; he didn’t even acknowledge that he’d noticed her, he was so distracted. Lara pursed her lips a bit and moved to sit next to him without a word. He’d come back eventually, and she would be here when he was ready to talk. It was well over an hour though, before she felt him take a deep breath, hesitate, and then reach for words.

“Sorry, General, I just kind of… lost myself there for a minute.” To be honest, he still sounded rather lost, Lara thought quietly. She looked over at him from the side, her blue eyes studying him silently. Lara waited for Volte to make the next move.

Volte saw her watching him patiently, and sighed. “You ever have those moments, when you wonder if you did everything you could for someone you didn’t manage to save?”

Oh, so many, Lara thought to herself quietly. She looked off, over the waves before them, losing herself in the question and a swell of memories. “We all have those moments, Volte. The frustration of loss, of not being able to best Death - every medical person faces that at some point, if not multiple times. It’s a sign that you’re a good one, someone who cares.” She met his eyes firmly, trying to convey the depth of her meaning.

Volte nodded as if she’d verified something to be right, that he’d been thinking. He looked down at the grass and pulled a blade, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, focusing on it as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d seen in a long time. After a long pause, he said a little haltingly, “I know we didn’t lose this time, but when we were sewing her up, I suddenly remembered the face of another person, from the war. She was a citizen on Falucia, and had taken a bad shrapnel wound to the gut. She was bleeding to death, right there in front of me, and her husband was there, begging me to save her. She was pregnant, probably close to her due date. And I just remembered his voice as he pleaded with me, to save her life. To save the child.” Volte stopped, his mind working to deal with the flooding memories. “I couldn’t save either of them. I had no idea, no training, on how to deliver a child.” It had never come up in either conversation or education. It wasn’t something the GAR thought a combat medic would ever need, nor should waste money and time on teaching. “I watched her life drain away, knowing her baby was dying too, and could do nothing, but hold her hand, while her husband grieved beside her. I felt so helpless, so useless.” He bowed his head, bringing his hands up to cover his face, breathing deeply to steady himself.

Lara listened patiently; Volte had to tell the story himself, let the grief roll through him so he could address it properly. She watched as he came to grips with the truths of his past self, and where he’d come to now. The truth was, there were no better teachers than time and experience. And he was right - why would the Kaminoans have trained him for obstetrics? They weren’t bred for community health work - the GAR medics existed to put their brothers back together and keep them fighting. But Lara knew after her long years of life, that the bitterness of helpless loss could still rise up to choke a good medic regardless of the reality of their situation. There were times when she’d watched good people die in her arms, because the technology didn’t exist yet for her to help them.

The two sat in silence for a while, letting the sounds of nature wash over them. “Sorry I let it get to me back there, General. Seems kind of silly now, since the whole operation went so well.” Volte looked over at Lara with a slightly sheepish grin.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Every medical person I’ve ever met is haunted, Volte. Our ghosts follow us around, reminding us of what might have been if we could only just take that extra step, find that miracle cure, have the right equipment. I’ll be honest - the ghosts only multiply when you start working with children.” She stole a glance at him, seeing if he was following. Volte wore a look of foreboding, hearing her say that. Lara shrugged a little. “Adults have lived their lives, made mistakes, learned, experienced, while kids have their whole future ahead of them. Losing a child is like seeing someone completely robbed of everything they might be, stealing someone from the future that might have cured cancer or solved the greatest problem known to life. Plus, there’s the parents who brought that child into the world out of their love for each other. Children are hard. But man they’re brave. Holy shit, Volte, they’re the bravest patients you will ever know.”

Lara looked hard into his eyes, and he saw for a moment that there were tears in hers. “They will fight and fight and fight, having no idea what life really is, whether it will be rewarding or continued pain for them, but they don’t give up. The struggle I’ve seen them shoulder - children carry the weight of the world and don’t even know it, but yet they do it gladly, with an excitement no adult will ever get back. Those kids on Earth that I take care of on ECMO - they push Death back every day, playing with the medical staff, doing their therapy with a giant hose in their necks, strapped to their head, or coming out of their chest, and yet - THEY STILL FIGHT!” Lara stopped, her face truly awed at the memory of some of her patients. “I’ve seen a lot of death and suffering in my time, but no warrior I’ve ever met can equal the spirit of a child fighting for their life. It’s a strength only they possess and can tap into.”

Lara shook her head, looking down at the grass. A dark look crossed her face momentarily. “But when they run out of that strength, when we lose them no matter how valiantly they fought, it’s the most soul crushing thing to experience. And once they cross that veil, Volte, when you know they’ve turned away and you can’t get them back - you would do anything, ANYTHING, if you could just reach out and grab their hand, keep them with you.” Her eyes misted over a bit, seeing a memory from another time. “I’ll never forget the sound of a mother when her little boy let go. She howled - howled - with grief, a torn sound from the bottom of her soul. She pleaded for him to come back, because she knew - he’d crossed that divide. He’d turned away, and there was no coming back.”

Lara stopped for a long moment, tears silently falling down her cheeks. “The sound of her pain and loss will never leave me. Just like that lady on Falucia will never leave you. You will face loss, Volte; it’s just the reality of being a medical officer. We cannot win every time. And for every success, it seems you pay in the blood of another. But you can’t give up - you’re invaluable to Nidhogg, to your brothers and their families. You can’t let the ghosts stop you from saving others. We take the pain and the risk, challenge Death at every turn, fight back against the darkness, so that others might live. Ut alii vivant. Fighting and sacrifice was what you and I were made for. We were given strength, determination and stamina so that we could face both loss and victory in equal measure and continue on. You are courageous enough to keep going, even in the face of failure - it’s that tenacity and flame I saw in you the first day, that made me choose you for Dragon Company. And why I know without a doubt, that you will be the best physician I’ve ever known.” Lara put her hand on his shoulder and smiled at him proudly. “I won’t always be here to help. But I KNOW this colony - these people - are in the best hands.”

Her smile for him was firm and determined, sure in her words. She believed in Volte completely, and he could feel it. Volte looked down at the ground for a moment, absorbing all she’d told him. It was a daunting thing, looking to the future and knowing he would have to step up and make all the decisions himself sooner than later. Lara was right - she wouldn’t always be here to hold his hand. But knowing that she was behind him in thought and spirit, knowing she believed in him utterly - that meant so much to him. He could do his job, knowing he had her support and faith. Volte met his General’s eyes steadily and nodded, a small shy smirk forming on his face. “Thanks, General. For everything.” She gave him a small smirk back and nodded, then turned away to watch the gulls flying over the water before them. The two sat in companionable silence for a long time, two best friends bonded by mutual experience, mission and their ghosts.

#worksbyclonemedickix #OC General Lara Lin #OC CMO Volte #OC Captain Volte #starwars fandom #the clone wars fanfiction #my fanfiction #the clone wars #star wars #starwars the clone wars #the clone wars fan #the clones

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tgrailwar-zero · 1 year ago

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The subroutine stopped, without fanfare. Time resumed as normal, and you found yourselves back in the town. There was the sound of excitement buzzing about from the duel, but it seemed muffled by the constant conversation buzzing around from you all, mixed in with your Servant's own thoughts.

Quietly, she helped LUNE up to their feet. However, before any words could be exchanged, she shot into the air with a burst of green light, hovering in the evening sky. In a word, she was running, only saying three simple words once they were far, far away from earshot.

"…We need to talk."

It seemed like that discussion with INVADER was real enough. However, now that it had ended, she could put the feelings behind the cold logic that INVADER was using. They were one in the same, after all.

"Saber won't be merciful if you continue to search for the keys. Historia said it himself. As long as you don't pursue 'truth', then he welcomes you as an ally. I don't know what he knows, but I can sense that much. Destroying Lune would have been cruel, but… it would have saved us pain in the future, I believe. We're 'Interlopers'. No matter what, we'll never reach the same frequency with the Servants here. Or… maybe I can't. Sorry. And even then... this is a war. This is battle. The fighting is fun, but not everybody survives..."

The rest of her statement was clear.

'...And I don't want to be the one who doesn't.'

She looked away, apologetically, laying out her reasoning to destroy LUNE then and there.

"A 'wish'. A 'curse'. Both of those things make up the Solar Cell. The wish created the lands, the civilization, the people- and the curse created the foundation it was built upon."

She reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out a feather. It glistened with an array of colors as the light bounced off it, beautiful and prismatic. It was familiar. You recognized it from your encounter with QUETZALCOATL. Apparently it had served as part of the catalyst to summon KUKULKAN. The magical energy from it was all but gone, but it still seemed to hold on to just a bit. Just enough to shine.

"It's a beautiful civilization. I see that. I feel that. This feather tells me that. But it's going to die either way. Either whatever exists at the core of the Solar Cell will manifest and come forth, destroying everything… even humanity outside of the Solar Cell… or we destroy it, and destroy one world to save another."

"That's why it has to die by my hands. Being betrayed by their Sun at the core of the Solar Cell would be too sad of an ending for the beautiful civilization that exists here, so the Sun of another world… one who can be easily cursed at and shamed, must be responsible. Extinction is a part of life's cycle, but something must be the catalyst. Something must be to blame, not everyone can be happy and blameless. It's a god's duty to accept that burden from mortals, yes?"

She paused, before her smile became a bit more bittersweet.

"…Though you all aren't gods, sorry. I'll carry most of the burden, promise."

She was quiet for a moment, before continuing, her tone shifting a bit as she collected her feelings.

"…And maybe I'm not your Rider or Avenger or Assassin, or any of the other special Servants you contracted with, and I'm sorry about that too, but… you contracted with a troublesome and inexperienced god, so… I can't do it alone- I don't want to do it alone. If we can't see eye to eye, then…"

She trailed off. The look in her eyes was a complicated one, but resolute none the less. She had her own conclusion, which meant that she felt like she was owed that same resolution. Agreement or not, she wanted a decision. Perhaps realizing that intensity, she forced a smile, letting the tension leave her body as she drifted in the air.

"Ahaha, nevermind! I'm your Servant, so I'll follow orders no matter what, yes!"

#main post #code cast: ask foreigner #thgw: chapter 4 #thgw story

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jaymber · 1 year ago

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L'envol

Timeline 20151 - Protagonist : V Temarii

"Tout en chantant sur le mode mineur, L'amour vainqueur et la vie opportune. Ils n'ont pas l'air de croire à leur bonheur, Et leur chanson se mêle au clair de lune."

“Almost there, So Mi. Hold on.” V had done it, he had freed Songbird. Or rather, Songbird freed herself. Her display of power kept the other netrunner in awe, almost forgetting it was the Blackwall she was using, draining. It drained her back. V didn’t want to be separated from her when they fled the stadium. He helped her walk, and clang onto her as her car arrived. He didn’t want to let go. She was so weak. He was so scared, scared for her, scared of abandoning her again. Scared of her being hurt, again, because of him. He needed to stay close, help her, protect her, save her. He could save her this time. He could- “V?” Songbird asked as his chromed hand was holding tight onto her. And V let go, reluctantly. He had to trust her, had to remind himself she wasn’t Amy. Just another girl he got attached to - not his sister. V stayed home waiting for So Mi’s call. He was restless. Incapable of sleeping, incapable of eating. Johnny’s bluntness didn’t help, letting him picture the most horrible scenarios. Maybe she had left without him, maybe she had died, maybe … V felt like he was drowing. Her call - the lifeboat bringing him back afloat. He was desperate at this point, he would’ve done anything for her. It wasn’t about his own survival, it was about mending his past. He needed to save her, prove himself he could. She was her second chance. He drove her to the airspace center. He got her into the airspace center. He took over, then destroyed the airspace center, all for her. The scene felt disgustingly familiar. He knew, when the civilians were evacuating, that he had gone too far. And he couldn’t even blame Johnny. It had been his idea, and his idea only. His body was still tingling from his brief connection to the Blackwall when So Mi admitted her suvival meant leaving V behind, taking the cure all for herself. V only blamed himself for not seeming trustworthy enough. He would’ve done anything for her, and giving his life for hers turned out to be such an easy decision. And killing for her, such an easy action. “T’y es presque, So Mi. Accroche-toi.” Freeing her, V realized as he watched the rocket launch into the skies, freed the merc as well. A weight lifted off his shoulders as a smile formed on his tired lips. He had saved So Mi. She was alive, she was free, with her dream at her fingertips. She had been his redemption. His actions still had dire consequences. V’s life was still at stake, and the destruction of the airspace center meant that the parade was delayed by a week - for everyone’s safety. V now had many enemies that wouldn’t leave him be even if he survived the Relic. His body still itched at times from connecting with the Blackwall. But his sense of completion, and Johnny’s teasing but genuine praise at what he had just done, succeeding where he had failed, was a reward valuable enough to feel like he had done the right thing.

#phantom liberty: over #cyberpunk 2077 #oc: vaea temarii #phantom liberty #phantom liberty spoilers #songbird #song so mi #poem is clair de lune from verlaine and inspired the song from debussy

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quillswriting · 7 months ago

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WIP Wednesday Tag Game

I know it's Thursday in the US right now, but I was tagged in this yesterday and didn't get to respond - I was too absorbed into my Stardew Valley save file, lol.

I got tagged by @ilovevewritingfanfic. Thanks for the tag!

Here is the most recent progress (from 6/10) I've made in my WIP novel called project.ties ft. Aiden Dahl, the main character, and Lord Greed, one of the Seven Sins and an original Vampire. It's also the end of Chapter 2!

He hummed after a few moments, shoving his phone back into his pocket, and turned to fully embrace Aiden. “You have a plane leaving to take you to New Orleans in less than an hour, you’ll be texted in a few minutes with the rest of the details of your trip.” A pause, a tighter squeeze on his part. “Hell is not stable, little fire. Tread carefully - between the blood plague and the rising tensions between factions in the Empire, this may be the first piece of a rebellion against the status quo. Watch your back and your family, I will back whatever play you make in La Lune - just don’t burn the city down unless truly needed.” Tension eased out of the tight hug allowing Aiden to hug back.

She chuckled as she gave him a tight hug back. “I cannot promise any actions Greed, but I will try not to burn down cities like my old life.” She patted his back twice and let go, he squeezed her once more before slowly releasing her. “I’ll handle the situation alone - don’t bother sending anymore Enforcers. If I can’t while my family is there, they’ll be paying you a visit.” Aiden’s lips pulled up at the corners as she tossed her braided hair back over her shoulders, the metal beads at the ends of them tapping her upper back. She gave him a shallow bow before adjusting her jacket on herself.

“Good luck, little fire. I’ll be just a call away if things get out of hand politically. We both know politics aren’t your strong suit.” A laugh rumbled out of both of them as Aiden turned, throwing a quick wave over her shoulder as she stepped toward the elevator.

“Good luck with Lady Lust and your boring politics between the lineages. I’ll be a call away if you need someone to rant to and Franks can’t listen to you anymore.” The elevator doors slid apart allowing Aiden in. Between the closing doors, the letter from Paloma flitted through. Aiden smiled, shoving it into her pocket.

Well, this was certainly one kind of home coming. And not one she ever expected.

Thanks again for the tag! I'm gonna tag @illarian-rambling and @the-golden-comet + an open tag!

🕯Taglist🕯

@glbettwrites

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writeblr community #writers #writers of tumblr #writing community #writerscommunity #creativity #creative project #project.ties #novel writing #creative writing #writing #writing excerpt #wip wednesday

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squish36-writes-and-draws · 9 months ago

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Sesquipedalian Adventures of the Self-Proclaimed Definitely not a Nerd (he's wrong though)

Word count: 119.6 Garwins (7058 words)

Summary: It's definitely still Garwin Day, alright? I'm not 24 hours late. Actually, I'm being more accurate because Ivy Day 2012 was March 29th. Anyway. There's a spelling bee at Garwin's school, and blonde 12-year-old problems ensue.

TW: swearing, suggestive humor

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @faggot-friday @kamikothe1and0nly @nyxpixels @florida-preposterously @poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @i-loved-while-i-lied @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @hi-imgrapes @callum-hunt-is-bisexual @callas-pancake-tree @hi-my-name-is-awesome @katniss-elizabeth-chase @arson-anarchy-death @dizzeners @thefoxysnake @olivedumdum

On Ao3 or below the cut!

Garwin absentmindedly flicks through the decks of Quizlet flashcards he’s been through at least a hundred times as teachers mill about the gym co-opted into a facsimile of a classroom. It’s not as though there are so many spelling-addicted nerds in this school that all of them couldn’t fit into a single actual classroom, but apparently this will look better on Canyon Crest’s Instagram page, so everything gets to become a logistics nightmare.

The nightmare has moved on from a never ending line of folding chairs, despite there only being need for forty-eight between the student participants and the proctors scoring each of their tests, and now it gets to feature the all-powerful ‘No Signal’ glyph plastered across the center of a projector screen, gleaming solidly as though taunting everyone that has contributed to causing this exact moment.

It’s still a long fifteen minutes until the proceedings are to officially begin at five-thirty, and the participants, told unsuccessfully to show up twenty minutes before anything interesting was to happen, have finally started to filter in. Shannon in-his-Spanish-class-Sophomore-year Turing and Gerry don’t-make-eye-contact-don’t-make-eye-contact Barker are among the first to join him. Let’s just say that it’s not particularly surprising they’ve arrived at the same time or that they choose to sit next to each other on the bleachers, quite noticeably not leaving room for Jesus.

Garwin is only privy to their…canoodling…by the sheer coincidence of being at school the entire time at Science Olympiad practice. Even then, he was kicked out of there at five, leaving him to stake his claim to the most choice of homogenous plastic chairs.

It turns out, it doesn’t take long for Garwin to grow bored as his attention refocuses on the Quizlet cards that are his lifeline this evening. Thankfully, he’s saved from actually having to study—perpetually remaining in a state of pretending to study—as more victims file into the gym, slowly filling up the chairs. Even Shannon and Gerry realize at one point or another that they will be forced to disentangle their limbs as they stake out their own seats.

Gerry flashes Garwin a half smile as he passes, choosing the seat a row ahead to Garwin’s left. It takes everything in himself to not glare back. It seems as though one of them has moved on from that particular breakup a bit more than the other. Garwin is under no obligations to be civil, but it is generally good practice.

Especially when he finds Abraham James’ eyes boring daggers into his back. To be completely fair, Garwin didn’t realize when their English project meetings turned into dates. He still can’t exactly tell where the line lay. Though, in hindsight, the fact that they continued after the project was due should have been a better indicator than it was.

Garwin doesn’t recognize the swarm of likely freshmen that filter into the gym together, laughing boisterously and he’s stuck with the realization that he’ll be leaving the Science Olympiad team’s future in at least some of their unworthy hands. Not all of them, of course, but there’s only so many people around here that are willing to spend their free time studying instead of literally anything else.

And, actually, now that he thinks about it, he’s pretty sure one of them is actually on the Division B—sixth through ninth grade—Scioly team. Bethany, her name might be? It doesn’t really matter, but it helps to prove his point.

Garwin turns away, his focus returning to the Quizlet deck that he hasn’t been through in its entirety once this evening, and he notices John from-his-Sweeney-class Shelley. AP Environmental Science isn’t a particularly difficult subject and the reason the scores are so bad is because everyone universally agrees upon this and chooses to not study, but the teacher makes the whole thing an unbearable pain in the ass. As such, the class becomes more about surviving the teacher, and, before long, the class and teacher are interchangeable.

Then Victor and Clay—god knows what their last names are—come bounding into the room, and let’s just say that just because they’ve somehow managed to get into Garwin’s calc class, there’s no way it didn’t involve copious amounts of teacher bribery because there’s no way either of them should be allowed to do the derivative of y = x.

At this point, the cycle of people showing up and Garwin vaguely recognizing most of them has dulled to extraordinary lows, so much so, in fact, that he’s opened up the Quizlet designed for last year’s countries round. It would have been as advertised on the can except whoever made the list wasn’t informed that Czechoslovakia isn’t a country anymore, so instead it got to be the round of countries along with one former country. Capital cities—between Ouagadougou, Phnom Penh, and Ljubljana—could be fun though. Transliteration from one language to another always has such wonderful results.

Garwin’s phone clock ticks over to 5:35 before the triumphant calls of victory echo throughout the gym at the technical difficulties being resolved, blazing a rectangle of bright white title slide of a presentation into everyone’s retinas. The proctors waste no time in fanning out to their assigned locations, and Garwin is surprised to see that all of the seats are filled—no, that’s not right. There’s still one left empty, being presided over by the wrathful eye of Sweeney. Whoever is the unlucky soul to arrive last is going to be in for a bad time, and Garwin feels a tinge of pity in the darkest recesses of his chest.

He’s ended up neither winning nor losing the lottery with Faber. It could be better, but Garwin’s never been particularly proficient at English on the macroscopic level, so it’s difficult to put in any more than the bare minimum of effort.

It’s nice that whoever planned this managed to coerce the principal into being the official announcer. It would be even nicer if Garwin genuinely believed that Morgan could spell USA. Not the fully spelled out version—the acronym itself.

“I would like to start by congratulating each and every one of you for making it this far. You’ve had to beat two thousand other students just to be in this room today.” He pauses for unnecessary dramatic effect. “I’m sure all of you are familiar with the rules for this evening, but just in case you aren’t, there will be four rounds. The first two are the theme rounds of Literary Devices, followed by Fossils. This is followed by a round where you will be presented with a word and have to identify whether or not it is misspelled before correcting it. The final two will then go head-to-head in a general knowledge round.”

Morgan shuffles his index cards before continuing, “Each word inside of the theme rounds will be read by me, followed by a definition and its language of origin, before I repeat the word once more. This will be read twice. If, for whatever reason, you need it read again, please raise your hand. After that, you will hand your paper to the proctor and the correct answer will be revealed on the slides. If your answer matches the slide, you get a point. The fifteen of you with the greatest number of points will go on to the second round, the six will go on to the third round, and, like I said, the top two will enter the fourth round. Points carry across rounds, so one bad round can still hurt you even after it’s over. Is all of that clear?”

Nods slowly wobble out across the almost-crowd of students. Morgan waits five seconds longer than reasonably necessary before switching from his index cards to a stack of papers that invariably has all the answers.

“Before we start, just to make sure we all get the process, there will be a practice question. Your word is Chicago. Its definition is ‘a midwestern city located on the shores of Lake Michigan, also known as the Windy City.’ It originates from the Canadian French form of an Algonquian word. Chicago.”

Morgan repeats all of that, being thoroughly tuned out by Garwin, who is instead wondering who is enough of a slut for College Board to use their practice question as the inspiration for the practice question for this. God, it would be so funny if this counted as copyright infringement.

The slide clicks over to the proper spelling, and Garwin passes over the scrap of unofficial paper over to Faber, who dutifully struggles to read his handwriting as he places the tiny plus in the left margin. One whole nanopoint. Garwin has never been so proud of himself.

“If everyone is good, let us begin with the first round. The first word is enjambment. Its definition is ‘the running over of a sentence from one verse or couplet into another so that closely related words fall in different lines. Lines stride over more than one line.’ It originates from French. Enjambment.”

In the amount of time for Morgan to read that all again, pass the paper over, click the slide, and confirm that Garwin did, in fact, spell ‘enjambment’ correctly, he’s nearly ready to take his pencil and see what happens if he pushes it into his eye socket.

“Polysyndeton,” Morgan takes his sweet time stretching out each syllable. “The repetition of conjunctions in close succession. For example, from page six of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel The Great Gatsby, “the shining secrets that only Midas and Morgan and Maecenas knew.” It originates from Latin. Polysyndeton.”

If it wasn’t nerd behavior to have a favorite rhetorical device, that would certainly be one of Garwin’s top choices. What does it do? Nobody knows. But it’s fun to use and fun to say, especially in front of people who don’t know what polysyndeton is so it sounds like he’s making up fancy new words for no reason, which is enough for him.

After the whole end-of-word housekeeping is over, Morgan flips through the pages on the pedestal in front of him, and Garwin could swear it’s an IPA chart. Not—not the beer kind of IPA. Not Indian pale ale. International phonetic alphabet. It’s basically a pronunciation guide on steroids. This next one is sure to be a hell of a word.

“Caesura.”

Hm, what do you know? An absolute clusterfuck of a word that starts with a hard C sound and almost certainly doesn’t look like it should if the frantic IPA reference is any indication.

“Pauses that occur within lines of poetry, either grammatical or rhetorical. It originates from Latin. Caesura.”

Something tickles at the back of Garwin’s memory, but he can’t access it, even when given the entirety of Morgan’s reread to try to unlock its secrets. He’s left with transcribing it as kaysuera which looks so inherently, viscerally wrong. The reveal of the proper answer is equal parts ‘that still looks painfully wrong,’ ‘I guess that does look more reasonable,’ and ‘holy shit I was thinking about the pronunciation of Julius Caesar. The Ides of March were two weeks ago. You have no reason to be thinking about his assassinated ass this evening.’

That’s one point lost to the ether, but Garwin has to accept it and move on. There are many more points to be gained, so he can’t quit now.

“Metonymy. The use of the name of one thing for that of another of which it is an attribute or with which it is associated, such as ‘crown’ in ‘lands belonging to the crown.’ It originates from Latin. Metonymy.”

This one is a return to form, which is to say that it made its way into Garwin’s Quizlet deck. He fills in the empty line with half a mind before he goes back to the doodles on the scrap paper that he has discovered are far more interesting than this competition.

As he’s having this exact thought, almost like he planned it in advance, Sophie Foster comes barrelling into the room, a deep blush splattered across her cheeks as she settles into the Sweeney seat, breathing heavily. Of course she’s been invited here.

In a cruel twist of fate, it was already decreed in the original rules handbook email—the same one that Dorktionary here inevitably did not read long enough to find out what time this was to start—that any late arrivals would not be extended the privilege of making up any missed words. That means, if he’s counting correctly, he’s three points ahead of the special Sophieflake, and, with any luck, she may get eliminated before that photographic memory becomes a real threat.

Her first real word, and, by extension, Garwin’s fifth follows quickly. “Synesthesia. A subjective sensation or image of a sense other than the one being stimulated. It originates from Latin. Synesthesia.”

There are about fifty percent too many of the letter ‘s’ in there, but Garwin’s fairly certain that he’s managed to predict the most likely balance on the scale from too many to not enough. It’s soon revealed that this confidence is not unfounded with the answer being revealed to match his own. The image of the jumping powerline gif that makes sound fades from his mind as he refocuses himself for the next word.

“Synecdoche. A figure of speech by which a part is put for the whole, such as ‘fifty sail’ for ‘fifty ships’, or the whole for a part, such as ‘society’ for ‘high society.’ It also originates from Latin. Synecdoche.”

Faber’s mouth curls into a smile, underlined with just enough malice for Garwin to question every life decision that brought him to this place. He knows that they went over synecdoche—and its much more reasonably spelled brother, metonymy—in class, but if it weren’t for the blessed gift of Quizlet, he would have been lost to the abyss.

He turns in the paper, and Faber seems to take pleasure in striking it out even before the answer is revealed. ‘Synechdoche’—the version Garwin submitted—is close enough to ‘Synecdoche’ that it should be accepted. It’s not like he went absolutely, unequivocally excessive with the letter ‘h’ like that one day in his Physics class following the Synecdoche lesson. At least he didn’t turn in Shyhehchhhdhohchhheh, and that should be worth at least half a point. A pity point, perhaps. A nanopoint. A pity-induced nanopoint.

Before Garwin composes enough of his simmering thoughts into a full-blown three hour video essay, the next word is upon him, and whoever built this list was not interested in pulling punches.

“Chiasmus. An inverted relationship between the syntactic elements of parallel phrases. For example, from stanza 34 of Oliver Goldsmith’s poem ‘The Traveller,’ ‘to stop too fearful, and too faint to go.’ It originates from Latin. Chiasmus.”

This one quite notably did not appear in Faber’s poetic devices extravaganza, and, as such, it did not migrate to the All-Knowing Quizlet. Garwin gets to guess the spelling, which is more likely to turn out painfully.

When the answer is revealed, Garwin’s relief is nearly strong enough to be described as his soul leaving his body. There is no corner of himself that he wouldn’t sell in exchange for a point.

“Epistrophe. Repetition of a word or expression at the end of successive phrases, clauses, sentences, or verses especially for rhetorical or poetic effect, such as in Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address ‘of the people, by the people, for the people.’ It originates from Greek. Epistrophe.”

Garwin makes gratuitous eye contact with Faber as he passes over his answer. It’s Faber’s fault that he was assigned a group presentation on “Sestina” by Elizabeth Bishop, whose form is entirely built upon its use of epistrophe. Sestinas are absolutely labyrinthine, and if Garwin has to explain it again, his eyes are going to rot out of his skull.

“Onomatopoeia. The naming of a thing or action by a vocal imitation of the sound associated with it, such as buzz and hiss. It originates from Latin. Onomatopoeia.”

Maybe the person who made this set is more than a bit of a sadist. That many vowels next to each other is pretty much a linguistic orgy.

It also makes the properly spelled word carry an inherent sense of misspelling, which is far more significant. Somehow Garwin manages to pull every single one of those vowels out of his ass in the proper arrangement to gain a point, fanning the flames of his already overblown ego.

“Believe it or not, we’re at our final word.” Morgan smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Epistolary. Written in the form of a series of letters—for example, Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel Dracula. It originates from French. Epistolary.”

Garwin’s eyes narrow. He just recently finished reading the Dracula Sparknotes for his independent reading project. If it sounds like he has a lot of different English projects that are somehow all simultaneously relevant, well, that’s because Faber assigns a lot of shit. Including a 500 word essay that’s due tomorrow by 8 a.m.. Garwin hasn’t started it yet even if he should have because that would involve planning ahead, and he can’t have that.

The time between rounds is agonizingly long as each of the papers is copied into a spreadsheet to calculate the nine that are going to be forcibly ejected from existence. Sophie is not among them, much to the horror of literally everyone who ever existed. Shannon is, however, much to Garwin’s delight and Gerry’s dismay. She finds a nice place on the bleachers to make her new home because she obviously can’t be more than ten feet from Gerry at any given moment.

Garwin hasn’t realized until now that Melanie Thompson—his one and only ill-fated girlfriend from sophomore year that, if nothing else, forced him to go through a self-realization character arc into polyamorous homosexuality purely out of spite—is here. Or rather, was here would be more accurate.

John from APES is also eliminated, looking thoroughly dejected. He was probably just here for the dinosaur round. Maybe Garwin won’t be forced to sit through another spinosaurus monologue tomorrow.

“Our next round is the fossils round, and in addition to the names being read by me, I’ve been informed that images have been prepared on the slides. After this round, we will pause for a five minute break. Is everyone ready?”

Significantly fewer heads are available to nod at this question, though it is kind of funny watching from the corner of Garwin’s eye Shannon nod from the bleachers. Like the opinion of her eliminated ass matters anymore.

“All right. Your first word is Astraeospongia, a genus of saucer-shaped Silurian fossil sponges having 6-sided stellate spicules and important as Paleozoic index fossils. It comes from Greek for ‘star sponge.’ Astraeospongia.”

The picture of a limestone-looking glob made of tiny stars appears on the screen. Garwin thanks those lucky stars that a word bank for only this round was published long ago, because scientific names would be a goddamn nightmare without it. Still, the vowel threesome is a bit tricky. It narrowly balances itself out by listening to Morgan struggling to pronounce the definition during both reads.

He just as narrowly gets the point for that one, and refocuses his mind for the next one as a fishy-looking guy crawling out of the water appears on screen. Put simply, it’s friend shaped despite it being the reason we all pay taxes.

“Tiktaalik, a Devonian transitional fossil between lobe-finned fish like Panderichthyes and amphibious tetrapods like Acanthostega, discovered by Neil Shubin in Alaska. It comes from Inuktitut for ‘large freshwater fish.’ Tiktaalik.”

This list was so clearly written by someone who was deep in a Dinosaur Train revival phase and was nowhere near expecting Morgan to be the one reading out these definitions that absolutely cannot be from a reputable dictionary. They don’t read like dictionary definitions.

Garwin nearly shoves his fingernails through his palm at missing the double a. There’s no reason he should’ve missed that.

“Arthropleura. Carboniferous millipedes that grew up to 2.5m long as a result of the higher oxygen levels present in the atmosphere at that time. It comes from Greek for ‘jointed ribs.’ Arthropleura.”

The thing on screen is kind of like that one Wild Kratts episode where a king cobra looks them in the eyes, but 120% more millipede and 10% less threatening, with a similar cartoonish rendering of old CGI.

It’s also 1200% larger than it should have ever been allowed to become. The Carboniferous might have boasted 30% oxygen levels compared to today’s 21%, but that’s excessive by even those Meganeura-infested levels.

Garwin is almost so caught up in his musings that he forgets to submit his answer, but he gets it turned in just in time.

“Lambeosaurus. Herbivorous members of the family hadrosauridae that are known for their hollow crest and lived during the Late Cretaceous. Its name comes from Lambe’s lizard, from Lawrence Lambe and Greek. Lambeosaurus.”

Garwin finds himself essentially putting the letters into a blender and unable to untangle them into an answer that makes sense. Eventually, he just erases the whole thing and calls it a ‘Lame-o-saurus’ because, well, it’s a hadrosaur. They don’t deserve respect. The only ornithischians who do are the ceratopsians because bird-hipped coolness is proportional to the number of stabby horns a dinosaur has, and Kosmoceratops wins that contest with almost no contest. It would be a good spelling word too.

The answer is revealed and Garwin gazes into the doodled hadrosaurid dinosaur’s blank eyes, contempt written plain across his face.

“Merycoidodon. An oreodont that somewhat resembled a pig in appearance and was native to North America during the Eocene to the Miocene. It comes from Latin for ‘ruminating teeth.’ Merycoidodon.”

That’s a bit of a departure from form. Paleozoic drug-induced fauna is consistently more interesting than ‘pig but slightly to the left.’ Garwin can only hope that the Cenozoic doesn’t take up too many words. Merycoidodon is a little annoying to spell at first, but once figured out, it’s stored quite nicely in the back of one’s knowledge bank. Garwin pulls it successfully out of said knowledge bank.

“Ichthyosaurus. Extinct marine reptiles of the Early Jurassic specialized for aquatic life by a streamlined body with a long snout, limbs reduced to small fins for steering, and a large lunate caudal fin. It comes from Greek for ‘fish lizard.’ Ichthyosaurus.”

Fish lizard. What a bunch of absolute buffoons. It’s literally just a game of taking the stems and duct taping them together. Ichthy- could be difficult if it wasn’t ingrained in his psyche. Maybe that Quizlet was doing more harm than good.

“Coprolite—”

Garwin stops listening, giggling to himself. You people put dinosaur shit on the list? And, more importantly, what the fuck is the middle vowel? Garwin eventually settles on ‘copralite’ which, unfortunately, single handedly dashes his dreams for receiving a point for a properly spelled word.

“Coelacanth. Extant lobe-finned fish that first evolved in the Devonian and are more closely related to mammals than to ray-finned fish. It comes from Greek for ‘hollow spine.’ Coelacanth.”

Coelacanth is one of the words that just doesn’t sound like how it is spelled. Now, how it’s spelled is still a mystery, but coelophysis—a Triassic theropod dinosaur—implies that it’s somewhere near coelocanth. That still looks inherently wrong, but the oe vowel combination is not going to look normal anytime soon.

It’s also not going to get Garwin a point anytime soon, because he managed to not get the point for flipping the ‘a’ to an ‘o’. Can’t copralite and coelocanth just switch letters and everything balances out? Garwin’s spiral into depression has to wait, though.

“Eurypterus. Silurian arthropods commonly called sea scorpions, though they are not true scorpions of the order Scorpiones. It comes from Greek for ‘wide wing’ or ‘broad paddle.’ Eurypterus.”

A Jaekelopterus appears on screen where a eurypterus should be. They’re both sea scorpions, it just so happens that the former is three whole meters of sea scorpion compared to Eurypterus’s estimated maximum length of two feet. It could also technically be another genus like Pterygotus. The important part is that the picture is wrong and therefore this is all a lie.

Jaekelopterus, despite its not being in the officially published word bank, would be an absolutely lovely word to spell in one of these. Make the others suffer. Garwin is so consumed by the thoughts of this suffering that he nearly forgets to submit his own, correct, spelling of Eurypterus, which would have been a painful mistake.

“And we have already arrived at the end. Your final word is Sacabambaspis.” Morgan pronounces each syllable slowly, as though afraid of butchering its pronunciation. To be fair, he probably would be if he cared that much. “A genus of jawless, armored fish that lived during the Ordovician period, named after the village of Sacabamba, Bolivia. Sacabambaspis.”

Whoever was given the responsibility to control the slides waited for Morgan to stop speaking before revealing the little doofus. Words are insufficient to describe how silly the little guy looks, but a defining feature is the eyes look like googly eyes. They have one fin—the tail fin that looks like it could be very accurately recreated in play-doh—the whole thing looks like it could be recreated in play-doh. And, of course, it doesn’t have a jaw, and instead it has a triangular mouth that hangs open.

Bothriolepis swallowed mouthfuls of mud and digested the organic matter inside, and Sacabambaspis doesn’t look far from that, although Placoderms like Bothriolepis existed in the Devonian, not the Ordovician. They’re united by their distinct look of never experiencing a single thought in their lives, which, honestly, sounds kind of pleasant. It certainly sounds more pleasant than this drudgery of spelling words. There’s not even a justifiable reason why this is a useful skill. Spellcheck exists and getting ruthlessly clowned upon by a Discord server can still happen because the stupid QWERTY keyboard is designed to be convoluted because people were typing so quickly, they’d jam the goddamn typewriters.

The five minute break that follows is much more like eight, and when it does end, the pool is narrowed down from fifteen victims to a mere six. Sophie is among the survivors, as is Abraham. Gerry seemingly got evaporated, bringing Shannon with him. Bethany did as well, but she’s taken Shannon’s place on the bleachers, watching each and every one of those remaining left alive, and it wouldn’t be surprising if she was responsible for a massacre in order to make herself the winner by default.

“Our next round will be a little different. We have a list of ten words, nine of which are typos from student papers and one of which is spelled properly. It is your job to identify if the word is spelled incorrectly, and then fix it. Is all of that clear?”

In other words, it’s the most annoying type of true or false question. Garwin nods, calculating his chances across those remaining. There’s only one he doesn’t know, and he’s mostly convinced Victor and Clay got their hands on the answer key, because there’s no other justifiable reason they should have gotten this far.

Morgan takes this opportunity to go sit down, leaving the running of the slides to whoever was doing it already. There’s no need to read out atrociously spelled words.

The first is resluts.

Off to a great start. Garwins eyes narrow, thinking back to last year when he corrected this exact typo. It wasn’t, however, a student typo. It was a teacher typo, but it doesn’t make any sense that a US History teacher would be choosing the words. Maybe there was a Google Form for favorite typo submissions. Or maybe it’s a common enough transposition that none of this means anything.

Garwin corrects resluts to results and passes the paper back to Faber for grading, even if he already knows in his heart that he’s successfully gained that point.

The answer is revealed, and the slides click to an absolutely gorgeous second word: mauntaim.

It takes a second to realize that it once used to be mountain before it got corrupted. How it got corrupted will forever be a mystery because spellcheck should have caught and corrected it long before it made its horrible way to these slides.

Mountain, believe it or not, is not particularly difficult for Garwin to spell properly as he turns it in for a point.

The third word is regrettably less simple: Carribean.

Garwin can’t help but wonder if that was at all inspired by last year’s countries round, even if it isn’t a country in itself. It still has enough double letters to make everyone regret their life choices, but not much more than that. It’s just that seeing it on the big board makes Garwin question himself. He closes his eyes, trying to spell it without the pulsating insistence of that arrangement of letters, but it has slipped from his mind at the suggestion of the other.

It’s not the one spelled correctly, but he marks it as such. There’s something inherently wrong with it, but he can’t quite figure out what it is, let alone how to fix it. When the slide switches to the answer, Garwin buries his head in his hands, unable to cope with how he could have ever been so stupid. It’s Caribbean, goddamnit. He should have known that.

Wallowing in self-pity can only do so much good as the slides march forward. Diptheria.

Okay, first of all, what student has to write out ‘Diptheria’ and how is it possible that Coyle actually noticed that it was spelled wrong? Garwin isn’t convinced that Coyle even knows how to spell it properly, and he’s the one in charge of teaching microbiology.

It’s that exact class in microbiology that has impressed upon Garwin’s mind that it’s spelled diphtheria and it’s caused by Corynebacterium diphtheriae. He doesn’t remember much else. Pseudomonas fluorescens is fluffy and causes fin rot in fish. Does that count?

The slide ticks forward, and the disappointed groans are deafening. Little miss perfect Sophie Foster seems to be the only other one unaffected. Disappointing, but to be expected.

The next word is broccoli.

That is, in fact, spelled correctly, and Garwin checks off the appropriate place on the sheet. He’s not sure who thought broccoli would be a difficult word, but he’ll take the point where he can get it after a five-second crisis where he has to question his entire belief system to triple check that it’s right.

And then the slide changes to colckwise.

Garwin has a very different kind of crisis seeing that. The kind of crisis that is accompanied by an aneurysm—which would be a lovely word for the next round. The kind of crisis that is also accompanied by vividly painful memories of his physics teacher telling him about a typo one of his former students, who is now a teacher here, made during a curriculum mapping meeting. On a whiteboard. This was not induced by a keyboard.

It’s pretty clear that it was just out there to make him angry because the proper spelling of clockwise is a single transposition away, and it turns out that it worked better than it had any right to be.

At least the next one, quater, is a funnier typo all around.

It’d be even funnier if he hadn’t found it on a college website. His lord and savior Yale would never do him dirty like that. It’s not even on a quarter system, so there’s next to no reason to even encounter the issue.

Then the slide turns to Green Papper, and Garwin feels the rage of a thousand suns boiling inside his chest and an undeniable urge to laugh and cry at the same time. The fact that it’s two words instead of just the one is mildly annoying, which is to say absolutely infinitesimal against the flood of Papper’s horror show.

It, um, isn’t difficult to fix the problem to pepper. Garwin hopes everyone else that has gotten this far has an equal lack of difficulty. It would be concerning if they did.

The next is Illiniois.

Back to skirting around the countries round. Illinois already has enough vertical lines to make it look like the living embodiment of simplified loss.jpg, but adding one more bonus one can’t hurt that much. You just have to blame the French transliteration for what it has become.

The last, and almost least, flicks onto the screen. Liscense.

Garwin nearly throws his pencil down in utter defeat. It looks almost like it could be right, but he knows for a fact that it has to be wrong. Broccoli was correct, it had to be, so liscense has to be wrong. Do why doesn’t it look it?

He massages his temples before succumbing to the peer pressure and marks it as spelled correctly. If he hadn’t sold his soul to college apps, it would have left him at that moment.

Faber looks at Garwin, plainly disappointed in the abilities of his student, as he gets up to give the master of slideshows all of his final scores. The screen in the front switches to a spreadsheet of each competitor’s scores in each round, and Garwin watches and waits as they come filtering in.

Morgan steps up to the podium once again, staring at the board like he’s new to public speaking. If he hadn’t been principal since the beginning of the last school year, Garwin might give him the benefit of the doubt, but he has no doubt left over. Morgan has absorbed all of it, and that means Garwin is allowed to make his own mental snarky commentary.

“As you can see behind me, our two finalists are—” Morgan pauses for dramatic effect, probably waiting for a drumroll that doesn’t come “—Sophie Foster—” he pauses for applause that doesn’t exist “—and Garwin Chang!”

Not sure why they’re in that order when they’re literally tied at 23 points out of 30 possible each, but you do you. Alphabetical order would have been reasonable.

The silence is deafening, despite that being a tremendously overused cliche. The only sounds are of chairs being moved so that the eliminated can either leave or make a home on the bleachers to watch the final tedious showdown. The one person he doesn’t know spends more than a standard amount of time staring at the back of Sophie’s head, his cobalt eyes glinting in the fluorescent lights.

Neither Garwin nor her majesty cephalosaurus are willing to move from the places they staked out so long ago. They’re logistically important, not a parasocial attachment formed through a weakly-held belief in luck.

“The person at the end of this fifteen-word round that has the most points will be the winner. The first tiebreaker will be the points scored in this fourth round, then the number scored in the third, and so on and so forth. I’ll read each term, definition, and language of origin twice before revealing the answer. Is that clear?”

Garwin’s neck is starting to get tired from all the nodding. This is not difficult to understand.

His brain also locks down into emergency mode, fueled only by enough spite to want to destroy Sophie like the pathetic child she is. There almost isn’t enough space for commentary between all of the letters bouncing around in the alphabet soup of his mind.

“Eviscerate. To take out the entrails of, disembowel. It comes from Latin. Eviscerate.”

“Syzygy. A roughly straight-line configuration of three or more celestial bodies in a gravitational system, such as a lunar or solar eclipse. It comes from Greek. Syzygy.”

Garwin curses those lined up stars for choosing such a word to describe themselves.

“Acknowledge. To recognize as genuine or valid. It comes from Old English. Acknowledge.”

“Fluorescent. Bright and glowing as a result of luminescence that is caused by the absorption of radiation at one wavelength followed by nearly immediate reradiation usually at a different wavelength and that ceases almost at once when the incident radiation stops. It was coined by English mathematician and physicist Sir George G. Stokes. Fluorescent.”

It would be so funny if his middle name was also George. It would be even funnier if Garwin manages to transpose the ‘u’ and ‘o’ and fail just now that he’s so close to triumph.

“Bureaucracy. Government characterized by specialization of functions, adherence to fixed rules, and a hierarchy of authority. It comes from French. Bureaucracy.”

“Sesquipedalian. Given to or characterized by the use of long words. It comes from Latin. Sesquipedalian.”

Garwin’s going to have to remember that one for Faber tomorrow. If a word doesn’t have thirty percent more letters than strictly necessary, you better believe Faber has never said it in his life.

“Sovereignty. Supreme power especially over a body politic. It comes from Middle English. Sovereignty.”

Something something James Madison something something AP Gov.

“Convalescence. To recover health and strength gradually after sickness or weakness. It comes from Latin. Convalescence.”

“Vicissitudinous. Marked by or filled with the quality or state of being changeable. It, once again, comes from Latin. Vicissitudinous.”

Wow, it’s almost like English was heavily influenced by French—quite noticeably a romance language—when William the Conqueror fucked shit up during the Battle of Hastings, 1066.

“Cubicuboctahedron. A convoluted shape where square faces and its octagrammic faces are parallel to those of a cube, while its triangular faces are parallel to those of an octahedron. It comes from Greek. Cubicuboctahedron.”

Someone involved in this folded their word of the day calendar into one of those. That probably doesn’t logically work that way, but neither does the word cubicuboctahedron.

“Vacuum. The emptiness of space or a device creating or utilizing a partial vacuum. It comes from Latin. Vacuum.”

Ah. A double-u that isn’t a ‘w.’ It’s almost like Garwin learned how to spell it in 4th grade and never looked back. He’s not sure anymore why there was spelling involved in a science class, but that doesn’t erase the useful part of the memory.

“Entrepreneur. One who organizes, manages, and assumes the risks of a business or enterprise. It comes from French. Entrepreneur.”

Or, more accurately, the DECA team when they aren’t underage drinking.

“Feign. To give a false appearance of, or induce as a false impression. It comes from Middle English, after a very long line from proto-indo-European. Feign.”

You know, some pie sounds really good right about now.

“Committee. A body of persons delegated to consider, investigate, take action on, or report on some matter. It comes from Latin. Committee.

“And for your last word of the night: borborygmus. Intestinal rumbling caused by moving gas. It comes from Latin. Borborygmus.”

Garwin was doing well until that point—hell, he thought he was doing well including that point, but boborygmus is not borborygmus, ruining his streak and hope for a perfect round. Still, maybe it’ll be enough to put Blondie back in her place. She’s a godforsaken twelve-year-old. She has no right to be anywhere near a high school, let alone being in half of his classes. He’s taking six APs at the same time right now, and his only other hour of the day is a study hall so he doesn’t devolve into a serial killer.

But it can’t be, can it?

The universe has divinely selected Sophie motherfucking Foster as its lord and savior, superior to all other beings that have ever been created or will be created.

Which is to say—she got a perfect score. Of course she did. Why should he have ever expected anything less?

Garwin forces himself to breathe, somewhere between seething anger and complete despondency. But there’s no use getting mad when the game was rigged from the start. This just means he can refocus on Science Olympiad. Yeah. State is on Saturday. That might be a good idea.

And, well, it’s hard to feel anything other than mild annoyance while doing a titration until he starts drinking the titrant, and at that point, the HCl has already burned through his esophagus, so he has larger problems than losing at a pathetic little spelling bee.

Garwin picks up the shattered remains of his dignity, and kindly gets the fuck out of there. He’s spent enough hours in this hellhole for a single day, and now he gets to go do homework. Yippee.

As he returns home, he gets the day’s mail from the mailbox, and his breath catches in his throat.

For some inscrutable reason, he almost forgot that today was Ivy Day, and now the Yale logo is staring at him mockingly. He doesn’t even bother unlocking the door before tearing the envelope open.

Dear Garwin Chang,

The Yale Admissions Committee has completed its evaluation of this year's candidates, and I am genuinely sorry that we are not able to offer you a place in the Class of 2016.

I realize that this decision may come as a real disappointment. I hope you will understand that the decision reflects the extraordinary range of talents represented in our applicant pool and not a judgment about your own abilities or potential. Of the nearly twenty-nine thousand individuals who applied to Yale this year, most are fully capable of doing outstanding work and making a unique contribution to a campus community. It is painful to us that we must turn away so many superbly talented students.

You may be tempted to ask what was lacking in your application. In truth, it is usually difficult for us to point to obvious weaknesses when so many applicants have demonstrated real achievement and potential for the future. Our decisions say far more about the small number of spaces available and the difficult choices we make than they do about a candidate's personal and academic promise.

I hope that the replies you receive from other colleges this spring will soon erase any disappointment regarding Yale's decision, and that you will go on to great success in your educational pursuits.

Sincerely,

Leto Kerlof

Magnate of Undergraduate Admissions

Tears well in his eyes, blurring the world as he fumbles for his keys. He wants nothing more than to crawl into his bed and live there for an eternity.

But as he stumbles up the stars, his plans for revenge are already piecing themselves together.

#kotlc #garwin day 2024 #kotlc garwin #garwin chang

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