Grief was a heavy thing.
It was supposed to be, at least. Tobio had heard it time and time again — how it weighed you down in your bones, sank under your skin, could shatter your heart like glass beneath the overwhelming pressure of it all.
But standing in front of his grandfather’s altar, Tobio didn’t feel heavy. Instead there was a hollowness, wide and aching, thrumming in his veins. His mind was blank; everything around him was white noise. It was all fuzzy and dim, and he probably would have kept standing there forever if Miwa hadn’t tugged on his arm.
“Come on,” she murmured. “It’s getting late. You need to sleep.”
Tobio blinked, tilted his head down at her. Some distant voice inside him noted that he was getting too old and too tall to let Miwa baby him like when they had been kids, but right now he was content to tuck himself against her shoulder as she swept him past people who talked in hushed voices and glanced over at them every so often. Tobio didn’t register any of it, but Miwa’s grip tightened around him.
“Did you see? The parents actually left early. Those poor children . . .”
“I heard the boy was practically raised by Kazuyo, I don’t understand how he can look so cold about this.”
“The girl ran from home as soon as she could, and this is the only time she returns? Completely disgraceful!”
“Such a shameful funeral, honestly, Kazuyo deserves much better than something so improper.”
Down the hall, turn right, out the double doors, past the crumbling stone steps and into a fresh breeze and the night sky. It really was a beautiful temple — the center courtyard was lit by stone lanterns glowing honey-yellow, and the trees and flowers were in bloom. It was one of the smaller ones, which Kazuyo would have liked. Even with all his talent, Tobio’s grandfather had never been one for pomp and circumstance.
“Who cares about tradition?” he had said once, eyes crinkling with a smile. “Just dump me in a ditch and bury me there. Good fertilizer. We can grow bell peppers over my body.”
Tobio’s heart clenched at the memory. He didn’t think bell peppers would ever taste the same again.
Nothing would ever be the same again.
“Nee-san,” he said softly, the first he had spoken the entire day. It sounded alien to him. Like he couldn’t quite comprehend that the words were coming from his own mouth. “What do we do now?”
Anyone else would probably have thought that Tobio was asking a literal question, but Miwa always understood him. She was the only person other than Kazuyo who did.
She squeezed him tight. “We grieve. We heal. We learn what feelings to let go of and what to keep. And we don’t ever, ever forget how much Kazuyo-kun loved us — and how much we loved him.”
Loved, not love. Tobio didn’t know if he could do that. Kazuyo had taught him to love in the here and now, to cherish all the things you held dear and hold them in your heart as you moved forward. He had never taught Tobio how to love in the past tense. He had never taught Tobio how to love somebody who was no longer there.
— excerpt from so long, a character study of kageyama tobio and what his grandfather meant to him
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Just finished watching Moral Orel.
Man, if they arent already making students study that show in creative arts schools...they need to.
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10 year old Erica Sinclair asked to climb through a vent and saying "I don't have phobias" played as a joke
but then they're in a Russian lab and she's still not afraid. she's mad about missing a sleepover and Uncle Jack's birthday party
she helps Dustin rescue Robin and Steve and doesn't show an ounce of fear
she yells at Murray and clowns the adults and tells them why their plan is bullshit
she hikes up to Cerebro and helps Dustin reach Suzie
she never once is afraid, even though it's meant to be a joke when she said that
when she's invited to Hellfire, Eddie goes full dickhead senior and talks down to her thinking the kids are pulling his leg and not taking him or the game seriously
and does she falter? no! she gives as good as she gets and rips him a new one because social pecking orders are stupid and she can handle her shit
when the cops start flinging mud at Hellfire she snaps the fuck back
when they drag Lucas, Max, and Dustin in as suspects she doesn't waver in her assurance that Hellfire has nothing to do with the deaths
when they tell her it's something from before she isn't scared — she starts asking the right questions to help them win
she walks into a store that caters to people who hate anyone who looks like her and fills the cart with weapons and supplies
the only time — THE ONLY TIME— we see her afraid is when she can't get through the door to Lucas
because she might think she's better than everyone in Hawkins (she is)
she might think she can handle her shit (she can)
but she does have one (1) phobia
because she might be fierce and formidable and badass
but her greatest strength is her loyalty. she likes to act like her only loyalty is to her bottom line, to what Erica gets out of this
but these stupid weirdos earned her loyalty too
and she'll be damned if she can't save them
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🏅 and 🌙 for the fanfic asks!!
Thanks for the ask!
🏅 What is something you recently felt proud of in regard to your writing (finished a fic, actually planned for once, etc).
There's a lot of things I could say, but I think I want to go with the one that's a bit of a story.
The writing discord I'm a part of holds 'book clubs' every other week, where we each bring a piece of a WIP to read out and receive criticism on. We held one just a couple days ago, and after I finished my reading the first comment was, and I quote, "first up holy shit".
I'll be running on that for a while, if I'm honest xD.
🌙 What time of day do you prefer to write? Why?
I think recently midnight's the only time I've been able to make progress at all. The reasons may include how there's less distractions on mobile compared to my laptop, but I'm just going to chalk it up to the unfathomable whims of brain chemistry.
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