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kitkat1003 · 3 years

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Who Are You Really?

Chapter 3: To Mold; To Raise One

Summary:

They should know, he thinks, that things like them aren’t picked. The warrior was forgotten by the hero. By everyone. And Macaque? He is going to make them into a tool for a warrior, a warrior themself even, whether they like it or not.

Spirit Masterpost

If he had to say anything on the matter, he would have said they’re useful.

It hadn’t taken much, not really. He finds them in the woods, alone with nothing to their name but whispers of favors to powerful people and three eyes that stare through you. He finds them, appraises them, and despite the way their tail curls around their leg and despite the way they hunch down on themself, something is there. A little broken, but there.

Like a memory of a debt owed, Macaque knows he can fix them and is willing to try.

Convincing them isn’t difficult. They perk up at the word favor, ears pressed up against the sides of their head and their eyes wide and earnest. Desperate for a use, excited to have purpose—he dangles it in front of them and pulls them in.

There were more than a few roadblocks.

There is the anxiety, of course. Kid barely can stand the sight of their own shadow, much less the ones he can summon at the drop of a hat. He gets them used to the clones soon enough. Exposure works wonders, and if they don’t like it at first? Tough. The clones are a part of him, he says It wasn’t as if he could just get rid of them because they don’t like them.

A well placed guilt trip, and Kid stumbles over themselves to fix their error. Good.

They’re soft. Gentle. Caring for all the other living creatures almost to the point of those being above their own needs and wants. Careful of pretty flowers they don’t want to step on, kind to the trees and grass as much as one can be.

Wide eyed, but not doe eyed. Their eyes are something, though.

It’s interesting to watch the large pupil move, the smaller two following. They bounce around like ping pong balls, always taking in every detail. When they wink, they either close the large one, or the two smaller ones. Sometimes, when they’re trying to focus on something, they’ll close one of the smaller eyes.

“My vision’s a little lopsided,” they admit, when he questions. “It, uh, can make things blurry.”

Not doe eyed, he knows, when he looks at them. The furtive way they glance around. They look at dead animals far too long to be normal. Stare wistfully out at human settlements. And when they’re not looking at anything, their eyes look...tired. Empty.

Haunted, even.

Guess they call themselves Spirit for a reason.

It takes a while to teach them to stop caring about the petals you ruin in your walk, to crush bugs underfoot without thought. It would go faster if he taught them the hard way, with broken bones and bloodied fists, but breaking more than they already are serves no purpose. Beyond it all, Macaque wants a tool to use, and a tool shattered beyond repair isn’t useful. So he has to be patient about it.

Of course, his patience runs out sometimes, but they never complain. Maybe he gets used to yelling. It shuts them up real quick, so it works.

Training them is another matter. As much as he wants to beat all of the lessons he’d learned into them, he has to be patient. A warrior isn’t made on the first day, there’s a process. And they’re flighty, too. One wrong move and they might run away. Sure, he knew they’d come back, like a dog on a leash whenever the word favor was involved, but waiting would add more time to the process.

So he takes things slow. Somehow.

They have stamina. Running and jumping through forests day by day leaves them lithe and lean when it comes to muscles. They tower over him even when they bend over; they are always bent over. He forces them to stand up straight, just to get a measure of their height, and they loom like a tree in the forests surrounding them.

A good foundation, but their stance is so easily toppable that he barely has to push them and they stumble back, falling to the ground.

So he starts there.

“You need to be unmovable,” he says, using a stick found in the woods to prod at their limbs until they’re in the right position. “Rooted to the ground.”

“Like a flower?” they reply, turning their head around to look at him.

He smacks them on the side of the head with the stick for that.

“Like a tree,” he corrects. “Do you have any idea how easy it is to pick a flower?”

He hears them mutter about how they think it wouldn’t be too bad to be picked, but they correct their stance and go silent before he can bark at them to be quiet.

They should know, he thinks, that things like them aren’t picked.

The warrior was forgotten by the hero.

By everyone.

And Macaque?

He is going to make them into a tool for a warrior, a warrior themself even, whether they like it or not.

Once their stance is steady, he teaches them self defense. How to punch without breaking your fingers. How to kick without losing your balance. How to dodge, duck, strike.

Kid takes to it like a duck to water, with a few hiccups. The largest of which is a lack of want to land a hit.

Oh, they’re plenty strong. They can lift up half a tree’s worth of firewood with a bit of strain. They could likely kick harder than they punch, with how much they run, but to get them to do either is an uphill battle.

“C’mon kid, hit me,” he says, gesturing to his chest.

They pale, shoulders hunched, fingers rubbing against each other awkwardly as they keep them from becoming a fist.

“But-why? I don’t want to, uh, hurt you.” They frown at the thought.

Macaque laughs.

“You can’t hurt me, trust me. I’ve been hit by bigger and stronger people than you, kid,” he gives them a half grin and snorts at the thought of them being able to hit that hard.

“I don’t…” They draw circles in the dirt with their toe, glancing between him and their feet. “I don’t like hurting people.”

He sighs, long suffering. “You have someone you want to protect?” he asks.

They blink a few times. He watches their pupils dilate, shifting as they think. They don’t have the best poker face, but when they want to hide something, their face becomes carefully blank, a slate wiped clean.

It’s kind of creepy, in a way.

“Not anymore,” they finally mutter, forlorn. Ears downturned.

There’s something deeper there, but Macaque doesn’t have time to hear their life’s story. Especially when they’re training.

“Yeah, you do have someone.” He walks over and sticks his finger into their chest, poking them hard enough that they wince. “You. You want to stay alive? You fight.”

They stare at him, hard, and he raises a brow.

“Look,” he says. “You hate anyone?”

Kid glances down at him—he hates that they’re taller than him, even when they’re hunched down—and their gaze flashes to something dark.

He stares back.

“Yes,” they whisper. “Some. One.”

Macaque does not stiffen. There’s nothing haunting about how quietly, how gently, how angrily Kid says that.

“Alright then,” he takes a step back, arms splayed out to make himself a target. “Hit me like I’m that person.”

He watches them stare at him. They tilt their head to the side. Their pupils shift.

A minute passes, and Macaque is about to say something else, when they blink once, and then strike.

His clothes are ripped, a slash across his chest. Kid holds their hand out like it’s a weapon, claws bared. They took off some fur, too, but they didn’t go deep enough to break skin, though Macaque thinks it’s not for lack of trying.

Another blink, and they come to, yanking their hand back and cradling it against their chest.

“Oh-sorry-I-I was just doing what you told me, and, uh, I didn’t,” they mutter out more apologies, looking away.

Macaque laughs.

“No, no, that was great! We’ll have to get you used to punching and kicking, but using claws ain’t half bad.” He looks them up and down, seeing them in a new light. “If you like something sharp, then, well, we might as well get you a weapon, right?”

“A...weapon?” They look surprised that he’s not upset.

Macaque only yells when they make a mistake, though. And when they’re being annoying, but regardless. Why punish them for a job well done? He told them to hit him, and they did. Not exactly how he wanted, but as long as they’re more willing to fight, he wants to encourage the behavior. An inch of negativity towards them and they’ll jump a mile back from where he wants them to be.

“Something sharp,” he repeats. “Claws will only get you so far.”

He pulls out his staff, twirling it around a few times before holding it out, sideways, for the kid to look at. They peer down at it, tilting their head to the side. They close one of their eyes, to focus. Their eyes trace the spikes on the ends of the staff. They swallow, fidgeting, as their gaze ends at the sharp points.

“It’s...nice,” they say, a little nervous.

“We should go to a market. I’ve got a bunch of weapons we can test out, but your weapon has to be for you.” He pats the kid on the back, smiling.

“Shopping?”

He watches them perk up, eyes wide, a smile on their lips. There’s a certain charm to it. As tall as they are, they have quite the young face.

“Yup,” he says. “But first, I’m teaching you how to sew. If you’re going to tear my clothes, you’re going to know how to fix it.”

They duck their head sheepishly, embarrassed, guilty, but happy that he’s going to teach them something new.

Hook, line, sinker.

He takes them, first, to one of his caves, his hideouts. He has his stash of weapons there, so they can start training with them to get the kid used to weaponry before he buys them anything.

The trip takes a week, and during it he has to stop himself from strangling the kid every evening. They light up every two seconds, prattling on about every little thing they spot, skipping along with both their pack of things and his own. He thought making them carry his things as well as their own would get them tired enough that he wouldn’t have to listen to them chatter well into the night, but they manage to ask so many questions it makes his head spin.

“Do you think that anyone is going to like you if you never shut up?” he growls out, one night. “I can barely hear my own thoughts, you keep spouting out all of yours.”

They blink. Hunch their shoulders. Shift their gaze off to the side.

“I don’t know a lot,” they mutter. “I thought asking questions was how, uh, I learn? My mom always had me tell her what was on my mind, so she could let me know if I was thinking of something wrong.”

They shrug their shoulders, gaze off somewhere, or sometime else.

“Well I’m not your mom,” he snaps. “And neither is anyone else. Trust me, no one wants to hear your thoughts.”

The kid looks up at him, hunched over and sitting down. Their pupils shift, again. Their expression goes carefully blank.

“Oh,” tThey reply. “Sorry.”

Macaque lets out a huff. He doesn’t want to be the bad guy here. Not only is it a bad look, it also makes the kid less likely to trust him. It’s a balancing act, where he toes the line. Sure, the kid can take a bit more attitude than most, but you kick a dog enough and it bites back.

If you kick a dog, and then feed it nice food for a month before kicking it again, well...it takes it a lot longer to think of biting.

“Look,” he sighs. “I’m saying this for your sake, kid. I’m patient, but most people aren’t. You think a regular demon will just tell you to shut up?”

He pauses, levies them an incredulous look. “You’d lose a tooth or something, or an eye.”

They flinch, when he says eye. He files that away for later.

“How about this,” He continues. “You get 3 random questions per day while we walk, and 2 random comments. Sound fair?”

Kid looks up at him, a little less despondent, and then they smile.

“Okay.” They turn to the fire, grabbing a piece of firewood from the pile and adding it to the fire.

They glance up at Macaque, after a bit. “Thanks.”

Macaque reaches over and ruffles their hair, and it doesn’t feel like there’s a fake smile on his face when Kid giggles and leans into the touch.

When it comes to weapons, the kid is clumsy.

Most long weapons are surprisingly difficult for them to wield. Their height should be an advantage in that regard, giving them more of a reach, but instead all their long limbs are good for are getting hit whenever they slip with a staff or spear in hand. They nick themselves a few times, and Macaque thinks he’s going to have to make a fuss with cleaning them up, but every time they get cut they pull out well worn gauze and some mixture, and carefully clean and wrap the wound themselves.

“My mom taught me,” they explain when he stares for too long.

Anything long is difficult for them to handle, so he throws those out the window. Now, short blades they do well with, but they don’t like to stab.

“Curved blades,” he suggests, handing them a pair. “They’re more for slashing. Like a couple of extra claws, but longer.”

They hold them awkwardly, but with some careful correction they do a few practice swings, glancing over at Macaque for approval.

“Looks good,” he says, because they seem most steady with the twin blades, and that’s something to hone in on.

The kid beams. Macaque finds himself smiling back.

They train for a couple months, not just with the curved blades. A jack of all trades is far more useful than a master of one, after all, and letting them have at least a rudimentary understanding of how to use most weapons will make it so even if they’re without their typical arsenal, they’ll be able to make do.

That, and between the hand to hand combat lessons, will make them a force to be reckoned with, though they still refuse to strike with a killer’s intent.

All in due time, though. Macaque would hate to waste all this effort to create something of use by scaring them off with his impatience.

They know of the Monkey King.

“I hear about him all the time,” they say, over dinner. “He’s a very famous monkey!”

“Sure,” Macaque grumbles, ignoring the urge to punch their teeth in.

It’s not their fault, he knows. Anyone who knows anyone would know of the Great Sun Wukong enough to—

“Have you met him?”

Now, there’s a question. Something dark and pleased rises up when he hears it, because he can’t ruin the reputation of Sun Wukong to the world, but starting small never hurts, and why not score some trust with Kid along the way?

“We were actually pretty close,” he explains.

The look on their face when he shows them his scar and tells them how he got it is just priceless.

Shopping with them is...something else.

He takes them to the market closeby, a few miles out from where they met in the woods. They’re like a kid in a candy store, bouncing between market fronts and looking over every random object with interest.

“Some of the people here owe me favors,” they whisper conspiratorially to him, waving at a few of the shop owners. “I helped them out! It was nice.”

“Mhmm,” he nods along.

Kid is very, very insistent on favors. The wording is important, and Macaque pockets it, pulling out the phrase whenever Kid starts to get too hesitant about doing what Macaque needs them to.

“What’s the whole favor business for, anyway?” he asks, because he genuinely is curious.

As much as Kid’s ramblings can get annoying, they do provide insight. Information on insecurities makes for a fun leverage.

“They owe me,” Kid replies. “I do what they want, and then they can’t hurt me.”

Short, simple, to the point. But oh so interesting, an insight Macaque files away. He can’t go around hurting Kid after the favor is done, then. That’s fine. He has plenty of time to get them to heel without yanking on the leash.

A few tugs will do well enough, anyway.

They reach the weapon shop, and Kid is enamored with a purple pair of their preferred weapon, fluttering over to them and tracing the shapes with their fingers. They’re practically bouncing on their feet, grabbing fistfuls of their pant legs to stop themself from snatching up their prize immediately.

They glance back to Macaque for approval.

“Not a bad color.” Macaque has always liked purple. Maybe that’s why Kid doesn’t annoy him as much as most people. They’re bright in personality, but wear the colors of shadows, and hide in the shade rather than stand out in the spotlight.

Kid preens at the compliment.

“Can-uh-is this what-can I have them? Please?” They’re vibrating with excitement, eyes wide and earnest as they hope for a yes.

“Maybe,” Macaque replies, smooth as silk. “It all depends on if you’re going to use them properly.”

That gives them pause. Their excitement diminishes into confusion as they try and parse out just what Macaque means, ears twitching.

It is almost charming in a way, how they always seem to be moving a little bit. Whether their tail is swaying back and forth, or they’re curling and uncurling their toes, or fluttering their fingers at their sides, they move.

“I...know how to use them,” they finally say. “You taught me.”

“Practically,” Macaque replies. “But you still won’t fight with them.”

Kid blinks again, tilting their head to the side. Genuinely confused, befuddled, uncertain of his words. He watches their eyes slide to the side, glancing around and trying to figure out what exactly he means.

“I…,” they start, haltingly. “I thought I was?”

Macaque sighs, more out of exhaustion than annoyance, but they take it as such, ears drooping low. Their tail brushes the floor.

“Intent, kid,” he says. “You can use the weapons, but you don’t fight with them. Not with intent.”

“Intent to what?” Kid asks, hesitant but insistent.

“Kill,” Macaque says, simply. “These weapons are for killing. If you aren’t going to use them like that, there’s no point in you getting them. No point in continuing the favor.”

He can tell the second part hits them hard. They stiffen, hands clasping in front of their stomach, tight. Their feet overlap each other, toes curled, shoulders hunched, tail coiled around their leg.

Fidgeting, tense like a coiled spring, Macaque waits, because he’s seen this before. Every time he pushes, they duck their head in quiet defiance for only a moment, before

They buckle, going limp.

“No,” they mutter. “You’re right. I’ll get intent, sir.”

Sir is new.

Macaque likes it.

“Good. Then they’re yours—” He gestures to the twin blades, with purple glossy handles and white grips. “Take them.”

Their smile is smaller than it was before, when they pull the pair from the rack. Their hands tremble when they hold them; they grip the blades tight to keep them steady.

Macaque pays for the blades, and ignores how still they’ve become.

With Kid’s preferred blades acquired, Macaque ramps up training. He pushes them farther, because he’s laid the groundwork, and now the only way to get them to bend is to force them into the position.

Starting small is important. Kid is still fit to scatter if he scares them. It’s like placing a frog in a pot of boiling water. It doesn’t work. You set them in the room temperature water first, and then turn up the heat. Slowly, still. If he cranked it up now, well, they’d still jump out.

So, they start with a shadow clone. Looks like a real person, but is detached enough from it that Kid won’t get too freaked when they attack it. No blood, no screams, just smoke and mirrors to get them in action.

Maybe he should be concerned that he’s teaching them to fight a visage of him, but Macaque knows Kid isn’t stupid enough to think they can beat him.

That would be ridiculous.

He guides them through the motions, hands on their wrists as he tugs their arms into the correct positions, jerking their hand forward in a slashing motion and letting go just as they make contact with the clone, dissipating it with a single strike.

Typically his clones are more powerful, but an easy win to start will embolden them to strike harder next time.

“Nice job!” he pats them on the back, hard enough that they stumble a little from the force of it.

They’re smiling though, small and secretly pleased. They love praise, he finds, desperate for approval. A few kind words can feed them for a week, if he plans it out right. Not that he’s always planning. Some do just...slip out.

“Now,” he summons another clone, placing it a few feet away. “Try this one on your own.”

Kid nods, turns, and settles into a stance. They charge forward and strike.

Macaque smiles.

From clones, comes animals.

After all, he explains, they have to eat. Sure, a true warrior eats less than most, but they still need to have food. Starving themselves when they’re in the middle of training, in the middle of gaining muscle and strength, is stupid. They need to bulk up.

“I don’t, um, usually eat much,” Kid says.

Macaque scoffs.

“That’s why you’re a stick.” He gestures to their general size, how their clothes hang off of them.

They fidget, shrugging a little.

“I guess,” they reply, which is their typical response when they don’t exactly agree but don’t have the courage to actually disagree.

“Well, I know,” he bites back, finding some sort of pleasure in how they shrink away from him. “We need to make sure you know how to make food anyway. You’re no use to me half-starved.”

He drums up options, glancing off into the forest they’re surrounded by.

“There’s plenty of food out here,” he says. “We can fish in streams, shoot for birds, and there’s a human settlement just out west a couple miles, so—”

“We are not,” Kid interrupts, interrupts, voice harder than he’s ever heard, “Eating humans.”

Their eyes are sharp. Angry, even. So rarely does he find anger in them, find fire where there is cool terror and anxiety. This is something noticeable. Kid likes humans, enough to fight for them.

They’re trembling, waiting for his reaction. Clearly, they’re terrified that he’ll snap at them, that he’ll shut them down. But they don’t apologize.

Interesting. How rare is it that Macaque sees them be brave?

“Fine,” he shrugs. “They scream too much to be worth it, anyway.”

That much is true. While he might not be showing off the six ears that beget his title, they’re still there, and shouting is nothing that he wants to deal with.

Kid relaxes, relief evident on their face that he’s not yelling at them. It’s good that they’re smart enough to fear his reproach.

“But, that means you’re gonna have to learn to gut fish,” he jerks a thumb towards the stream behind them.

Kid smiles, with all their sharp teeth on display.

“Sir yes sir!” They salute.

Macaque has to wonder who taught them such a motion as they jump up and rush to the water.

He stands and prepares the next lesson.

In the weeks following, they learn to fish with both a line and with their hands. He teaches them to use a bow for the birds, as well as the bears. They only kill one bear, because the amount of meat will last them ages and it’s foolish to waste such meat.

They trade some of it for spices in the human markets, once Macaque makes sure they know how to look human. Apparently, it’s the only form they can shift into. Not surprising, but disappointing nonetheless.

Kid takes to cooking with a gusto he doesn’t expect.

“I would help my mom with dinner,” they explain, setting up the fire one night. “I didn’t know how she was making what she was, but I loved all of it. I—”

They cut themself off, suddenly shy.

Macaque doesn’t pry. Half because he doesn’t care, and half because he knows it’s a fruitless endeavor. For most things, Kid can be cajoled into explanation, but if they truly don’t want to say anything, he’ll get nothing. Which, considering his secrets, is fair enough.

“I...like that I can make something nice,” Kid finally admits, turning away from him to grab some spices. “For you.”

Oh.

Somewhere along the line, Macaque stops finding them as annoying as they should be.

They smile at him like he’s a star, the sun, and years of being a moon, of being second best, makes that look something to covet. If that means he lets them drag him into the forest to look at some rare plants, if that means listening to them ramble about the medicinal properties of said plants, well.

It’s only because it ingratiates them to him. That’s it.

Physical affection, too, is something they desire. It’s a reward. That is it. A reward for a job well done, a pick-me-up when they’re too morose to be useful, a new tool in his set to fix them into something worthwhile.

Say nothing to the times they shivered in the cold, slowly shifting towards him, pressed against his back to conserve warmth. Macaque didn’t push them off because he was asleep. Say nothing to the days they would shiver in the day, lack of proper fur like he had to keep them warm, and he’d lend them his scarf. He didn’t need it anyway. He’s stronger than they are, he can deal with the cold. He’s setting an example.

He refuses to groom them. Grooming is something private, something reserved for people who are no longer around, who left, who left and took the whole of him with them. And Kid is not that someone.

Sometimes, though, he wonders.

Bright, like a star, they can shine in the darkest corners. Hands bloodied from a carcass, they’re always gentle with the animals they kill. Always certain to make the cuts clean and precise, so the animal dies quickly.

It’s a small mercy, but to choose to find that mercy and lean into it…

They’re not naive. Neither was he. Enough knowledge of a cruel world to understand hate, but enough kindness in a soul to push back against it. But that type of soul is flighty, off to the next weeping child to console, the next problem to solve, the next world to save.

That type of soul leaves, and doesn't come back.

Better to crush that type of soul, then.

“Mac!” Kid calls, holding a full net. “Look at how much fish I caught!”

Macaque fights a smile.

“Don’t call me that,” he barks out and wishes it hurt less when he sees them flinch.

“Sorry, sir,” they reply. “I got excited. We’ll have food for weeks! I’ll dry some of the fish out for snacks, and I have some spices that would go really well with—”

They pause, flushing, ears pointed up and pink with embarrassment. They bite their lip.

“Sorry,” They say, again. “I know you don’t like me rambling…,”

Not typically, no.

But now…

“Well, if it’s about our food stores, it’s important,” he says, a justification that rings hollow. “So go on, kid.”

They brighten, eyes wide and happy as Macaque becomes their sun, again.

Macaque basks in it, just a little, and thinks he can wait a little longer.

They get very good at using the blades. Between traveling, getting food, making food, and training, they can hold their own pretty well.

Of course, they only really fight animals and clones. Whenever Macaque suggests they spar with him, they lock up, terrified by the idea. That’s fine, though, because Macaque wants them to be in top shape when they actually fight him, anyway.

They can manage against eight clones at once, dodging punches and slashing through them. Of course, the clones aren’t at their top durability or strength, because Kid isn’t Monkey King levels of powerful like he is.

But, they seem to be doing fine, so he raises the intensity level a little bit. Has a couple of the clones level up, so to speak, to keep Kid on their toes. They can’t expect every enemy to be the same skill level every time. They have to be used to surprises.

Maybe he does it too quickly, because Kid ducks, slashes, and is unable to dodge the kick to their side that sends them flying.

Their head cracks against a tree trunk just outside the clearing.

When they drop, they don’t move.

Macaque is up on his feet in an instant. The clones vanish as he sprints across the clearing, at Kid’s side so fast his vision blurs with the motion.

“Shit,” he breathes.

Macaque lifts Kid up in his arms. They’re limp in his grasp, eyes closed, and they look dead but he knows they’re not, he checks their pulse and they’re fine, it’s fine. He wouldn’t kill them. Not like this.

He feels where their head hit the tree, and his hand comes back wet.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

He reaches into Kid’s pockets, and finds that roll of gauze they always have on them. They buy a new roll every time they go to the market, just in case.

He hasn’t needed to wrap wounds in a while, considering his healing...style, but he remembers how it goes.

Blood drips onto the ground, even as he wraps the wound as best and as tight as he can. He folds Kid’s gangly long limbs so he can lift them up, and their forehead rests in the crook of his neck. He can feel their breath on his fur.

Good. They’re still breathing.

He squats down and presses hard against the dirt, lifting off the ground and speeding through the forest. There’s a demon market a few miles out, there’s got to be a healer there, they can fix this. They will, whether they like to or not. No one says no to the Six-Eared Macaque, regardless of circumstance.

He hears a shuddering whine crawl out of Kid’s mouth. A hand grasps at his shirt, as pained gasps reach his ears.

He can hear them so clearly. Curse of six ears. But, he can still hear their heartbeat, and even the gasps are a good sign. They can still breathe. It’s fine.

“Give me a minute, kid.” He whispers, forgiving the hand because they’re injured, that’s the only reason. “We’ll get you fixed up, just sit tight.”

They whimper and curl up tighter, as their wrappings on their head stain quick.

It takes Macaque twenty minutes to get to the market. Twenty minutes for eleven miles, as he rushed between trees, over boulders and hills, through towns. It would have been quicker, but whenever he picked up too much speed, Kid would whimper as the wind whipped at their face and head wrappings. So Macaque took it a touch slower, if only to keep him from hearing that noise.

They’d passed out a few minutes before he’d arrived at the market, though, so he’d managed to speed things up a little.

He slips between the shadows of market stalls, eyes searching for a healer. They’re typically at one end of the market or the other, to keep the stench of blood and pus and rot from infected wounds away from the rest of the market.

He finds the tent and dashes inside.

The healer is some sort of fox demon, tail twitching as Macaque enters. Sharp eyes fall on him and then Kid in his arms, and when Macaque speaks up his tone leaves little room for argument or reproach.

“They hit their head.” He doesn’t explain how. It’s none of their business what he does with his tools. “Fix it.”

The healer raises a brow, glancing at the two monkeys, one with sharp eyes and the other curled and trembling in the other’s arms.

“There is a fee,” comes a silk voice, near a hiss. They point to their price.

Macaque summons a clone and sets Kid in its arms, growling under his breath. He digs into his pocket and pulls out his coin pouch, digging into it and grabbing out the correct amount. He slams it onto the counter with a force that would have caused the coins to scatter all over the room if not for how tightly he grips them in his fist.

They trickle down onto the desk with a clatter. Macaque places his trembling fists at his sides, enraged enough that his eyes glow. If not for the fact that this healer is needed, their blood would paint the tent and everything inside of it.

The wary look the healer sends him is proof that they understand that.

“Fix,” he growls. “It.”

The healer gestures to the table off to the side, and Macaque has his clone set Kid down before dispelling it.

The healer moves Kid onto their side, lifting their head and glancing at the covered wound. With a careful claw, they cut away the bandage, a swirl of magic creating a small bubble over the wound, keeping the blood from spilling.

The lack of pressure, the new sensation of magic, gets Kid to stir.

They twitch, fingers and toes curling as their eyes blink open. Confusion paints their posture and expression, and they take in a hitching breath, ears swiveling to try and figure what is happening.

“M-Mo-Mac-h-hhhhhh,” they gasp out, trying to move.

The healer presses them gently back down onto the table, placing a careful finger to their forehead.

“Shhhh,” they whisper. “Rest, child.”

Kid’s eyes slide shut. They relax.

The healer first gets a rag and some water, carefully dabbing at the wound, cleaning away any dirt that may have gotten into the crack. They use their claws to align the tiny pieces of the skull that have dislodged both from the wound and from the journey. Then, they grab a jar off of the shelf, pulling off the lid and dipping their fingers in to scoop out an orange-yellow cream substance. Gently, they rub it across the wound, and then wrap it again.

They use a spoon to put more of that cream into a smaller jar, and hand it to Macaque, along with a roll of gauze.

“The wound will heal in a few days. Change the bandages twice a day and reapply the cream. It speeds up the process and prevents infection,” the healer explains. “The child may have a foggy memory of the incident, and may hallucinate. Be aware.”

Macaque sticks the jar and gauze in his pocket and nods, picking Kid up. He’s gentle about it, supporting their head on his shoulder. They shift a little in their sleep, pressing their forehead against his neck. Their fur brushes against his chin.

Their tail curls around his arm, a comforting squeeze. The end wisps against his palm.

Macaque pointedly ignores how any of this makes him feel and heads off.

Back at camp, he sets Kid up with blankets and enough soft material for a pillow, making sure their head is elevated and kept away from the hard ground. He sends a few clones out to grab firewood, setting up a flame and throwing some stuff together for a soup.

Macaque, on a whole, doesn’t cook much. He’s content to chomp on apples and whatever fruits he finds. Occasionally, he’ll cook some meat. Otherwise, he just won’t eat often. Kid’s the one who makes all the different concoctions.

He hopes the mix of spices is good here.

Kid wakes up a few hours later, when stars dot the sky and Macaque shivers a little at the night chill. Bleary eyes stare up at the sky, pupils shifting to try and focus, though Macaque doesn’t see them settle.

He scoops a bowl of soup, still warm though the fire has died down, and shuffles to Kid’s side.

“Hey, kid,” he whispers.

Macaque is not a delicate man. But no one is here to see, no one who could matter, so he hooks an arm beneath Kid’s shoulders and lifts them up so they’re sitting up against his chest, though not fully considering the height difference. God knows they won’t be able to sit up on their own, and he refuses to waste good soup.

Bleary eyes blink, staring up at him. Recognition flickers in their gaze.

“Mom?” they croak.

Macaque. Freezes.

He carefully lifts the bowl of soup to Kid’s mouth.

“Drink,” he says, pointedly ignoring their comment.

Hallucinations, the healer told him. That’s all this is. Kid isn’t seeing him, after all.

Kid takes a few steady gulps of the soup, turning away to breathe. Macaque exercises patients by glancing up at the sky and ignoring how idiotic this is. He’s not a babysitter. He doesn’t do this. He isn’t their parent. He isn’t...

“Did Dad hurt you?” Kid turns back, looking up with eyes that stare through him rather than at him. “Your eye…”

They reach up, fingers close enough to brush the line where his scar is, hidden beneath glamour. Macaque pulls away, lifting the bowl up to Kid’s lips again in lieu of responding to that.

“Drink,” he snarls.

They flinch, nodding and getting the rest of the soup down. He helps them back to their bed, and their eyes stare back up at the sky with that same faraway look.

“I’ll be better next time,” they whisper, quiet but strong. “So you won’t get hurt.”

Macaque turns away, and doesn’t look back until he knows they’re asleep. Hallucinations, he knows. Hallucinations. That’s the only reason they’re saying anything like that at all. They don’t know him, he’s kept his heart under his cloak, never on his sleeve. That's why he’s their teacher, so they will learn to do the same.

He watches the fire sway in the night, until he can find it in himself to sleep.

The next day goes mostly smoothly, with incoherent ramblings occasionally from Kid that Macaque tunes out. He changes their bandages in the morning and then goes out, leaving a shadow clone to watch the camp while collecting food and other supplies.

They sleep through most of the day, but at night when he goes to change their bandages again, they start to squirm.

“Kid,” he starts, trying to hold them steady. The wrappings are already off, and he’s trying to keep dirt from getting in.

They kick and writhe, whispering and growling and making an assortment of whimpering noises he can’t make heads nor tails of. He grips them tight enough to bruise, to keep them steady.

“Kid, I’m not going to hurt you!” he shouts.

“YOU HURT ME!” they scream, and it sounds so much as if the words had been torn from their throat that Macaque is surprised he doesn’t see blood splatter out of their mouth. “YOU HURT ME!”

Their hand claws at his, and he drops them with a shout of pain as they tear off the skin of his knuckles. They drop to the dirt with their own short cry of discomfort, curling in on themself as Macaque backs away.

“You—” They cough. Their breaths are short and uneven. “You-it-it’s like an earthquake,” their voice is quiet and strained and quick. “Cracks beneath the surface. Snow, melting from inside. Inside out. Cracking. Melting. I’m-I’m-I can’t see it.”

They gasp it out, trembling.

The water is boiling. Why is Macaque the one burning?

They still.

“You don’t look,” they finally say, a hoarse whisper. “You don’t want to. You don’t want to see.”

Macaque swallows. Stares at the-the—

The child may have a foggy memory of the incident, and may hallucinate.

Child.

He shuffles forward, so, so gentle as he reaches toward them. They don’t move when his hand brushes against their back. They’re boneless when he pulls them toward him. As if every last drop of them was poured into their words, they’re empty.

He patches their wound. Sets them down. They’re silent, asleep on the bed.

He sits, watches the blood from his knuckles drip to the ground. It’ll heal on its own. He can heal on his own.

He doesn’t sleep.

The next couple of days are easy. Kid doesn’t say or do much, moving when prompted and sleeping when not. Macaque ignores the buzz in the back of his head that feels like guilt. He leaves Kid with a shadow clone and tears down a forest. Anger is easy to deal with. This is not.

A little under a week after the incident, Kid wakes up with a groan.

“Mac?” They rub at their eyes sitting up with a bit of effort.

Macaque fights the urge to tell them not to call him that. He’ll save it for later.

“About time you woke up,” he says, with an easy grin on his face.

Kid blinks up at him, confused.

“You hit your head,” he explains with a wave of his hand. “One of my clones caught you off guard. You were out for a few days.”

Kid blinks a few more times, tail and ears twitching. They tilt their head to the side in thought. They reach up and feel the back of their head, poking at the freshly healed wound. They wince.

“Oh,” they say. They smile up at him. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

They stand up on shaky legs, shuffling a little before they steady.

“I’m gonna see about some food. I’ll make you your favorite tonight!” They grin, all teeth, and vanish into the forest before Macaque can stop them.

He stares at their retreating form. He sends a shadow clone to keep an eye on them, in case their wound acts up.

He sits and ponders their smile.

YOU HURT ME!

Thank you for taking care of me.

The strange thing is, he doesn’t think they were lying either time.

He eases them back into training, and they fall back into it with ease, the injury fading from view as their fur covers it up. He’s still ever so careful the next couple of weeks. The last thing he needs is for them to get hurt again.

They’re too much like him. Too much like the sun, the hero, but the difference is that the hero could be like that because he was powerful. The hero could strike down any foe, the hero had power. It allowed him to be soft.

Kid does not have power. They can get hurt. They can die.

Their heart is on their sleeve. They smile. They curl up, sometimes, hiding their chest, but more often than not they’re splayed out, an open target. Wide eyed, not completely naive, but just hopeful enough to get them killed.

And he...he doesn’t want them killed.

It’s sad, he thinks. If they were stronger, maybe they could stay as they are. But they aren’t, so he will rip their heart from their sleeve and teach them to keep it hidden.

Whether they like it or not.

“You’re too...you. To be intimidating like I am,” he tells them, pacing. “But there are different types of scary. We’ll have to find the one that fits you.”

Kid is sitting on a rock, watching him pace. Their eyes follow his movements like a pendulum, swinging back and forth. They tap their palms on their knees, nodding along as they listen.

“Um, Mac?” They start.

He glares in their direction. They shrink down, shoulders hunched.

“Sir,” they amend, quickly. “Um, why do I have to be scary?”

It’s a valid question. Annoying, but fair, and an explanation will get them to further listen. Still, the fact that they don’t know, when they’re as old as they are (not that Macaque knows how old they are), is annoying.

“Because,” he stresses, rolling his eyes. “When you intimidate, people won’t fight you. Intimidation is making sure everyone in the room knows you’re the strongest one there. Even if you’re not.”

And they won’t be, more often than not. They’re crafty, and fast, but not strong. In a standstill fight, they’ll lose a lot. But that’s why the intimidation look has to be perfect.

“Oh,” they reply. “Cool!”

“Of course it is,” he shoots back, puffing out his chest. “Now, angry intimidation won’t work. You don’t have a good angry face.”

“I don’t get angry often,” Kid shrugs.

“Exactly. You don’t have it in you,” he rubs his chin in thought. “We could go for the ‘danger behind a smile’ angle.”

He takes a few steps toward them. With how they’re sitting, a rock as a prop up, he’s at eye level with them standing.

“We want a small smile, kid.” He reaches a hand towards their face, to help shape their grin.

They flinch back, and have their blades out in a flash. Their eyes are wide, locked onto Macaque’s outstretched hand.

Macaque blinks, startled by their sharp shift in mood, and Kid comes back to themself, lowering their hunched shoulders.

“O-oh,” They breathe, letting their hands drop. “Right. Y-you’re right. I think.”

They set the blades on the ground, shuffling their feet.

“...Alright,” Macaque continues. He knows they were hit by a clone of his, and, well, the clones are made looking like him. They might be more shaky than they say, over that. He certainly has taught them to be quiet. “Now, you want the smile to be small. Your eyes are wide, and your pupils are small. You want to look like you’re a second from ripping their heart out and eating it in front of them.”

Kid makes a face. “That’s gross,” they say.

“It’s an analogy,” Macaque groans, throwing his head back and slapping a hand over his eyes. “Just do it.”

They try it, and Macaque has to give them a few pointers. No, your smile is too wide. Don’t fidget. Keep your tail still. Don’t look away. Keep eye contact.

Finally, they have a good look.

“There,” he says, stepping back. “That will make sure nobody messes with or hurts you, kid.”

Their expression drops away into something blank, and Macaque stills. He wouldn’t tell them, but when their expression is empty it’s far scarier than their smile. Better they not know that lest they use it to an excessive degree.

“Um,” they start, a little shy. “But, you do this. And you got hurt?”

Their eyes trace the scar hidden beneath glamour. Macaque turns so that eye is out of view.

“It doesn’t always work,” he mutters, casting a glare in their direction. “Because some people know that they’re stronger than anyone, so intimidation doesn’t work.”

“What do I do then?” they ask, with all the wide eyes of a student expecting their teacher to have the perfect answer.

“You claw at any part of them you can reach,” Macaque replies. “And you run.”

He ramps up their training. Any time they aren’t traveling is spent sparring, practicing, cooking, hunting, no free time. No time to play or joke around.

They’re confused, at first, by the change of pace. They try the same tricks, the same comments. Macaque does not budge.

“Quit it.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Stop acting like a child.”

They quiet, eventually. Learn to be smaller and less bright, keep their light within themself so it doesn’t attract too much attention. They learn to keep their thoughts inside, following orders with a blank face and the occasional grin.

They still get overexcited, and sometimes Macaque bites his tongue. If it’s just around him then it’s fine in small doses.

It’s not because he’s scared of their light going out. It’s not because he likes it when they ramble and drag him along until they get him to grin. It’s not.

He gets them a new outfit. Their old one is worn, the fabric thin and worn and ripping. They sew up the patches and clean it as best they can, but considering the age it’s soon to be a lost cause.

They do love shopping, so he strings them along.

They sprint through different styles. Everything is new and interesting to them, as if they spend time outside of the present and are then shocked by the new future. He trails them along different stalls, pulls them away from items they shouldn’t touch, and critiques outfit after outfit.

They find the right one, though he’s quick to tell them how rare that is, so they don’t get a big head. Besides, with how tall and gangly they are, finding something that fits them is pretty difficult. It takes them two hours to find something right, two hours better spent training, moving around.

He goes up to pay for it while they spin around and jump excitedly in their new look, and his eyes widen at the price.

“Enchanted pockets,” the tailor explains. “They hold up to a full pack’s worth of items without showing it.”

And, well, Macaque didn’t expect to spend this much. He turns around, because they don’t need those pants, they can carry a pack just fine, and—

Kid sees him looking and waves, gesturing to their new outfit and striking a valiant pose.

Macaque sighs, softens, and pays.

They tell him the flaps on the side are just like his, something excited and happy in their tone, and he grins. If they’re just like him, then they’ll be smart. If they’re just like him, they won’t make silly mistakes like trusting people, like getting attached, like getting hurt.

The issue with that is when you stare at a person who is functionally a mirror, you start to see all your flaws.

His final challenge isn’t supposed to work.

Kid has barely been able to spar with him, when he gives them his challenge. They spar and they don’t fight hard, and Macaque always wins.

But then they say they have to go, and Macaque knows they’re not ready (secretly, they’ll never be ready because they’ll never be powerful enough, but if he keeps them within arms reach he can make sure they stay away from him) so he picks something he knows they can’t do.

Kill.

He expects them to get to where that demon is and balk. He expects that they’ll try but their fears will halt them in their tracks, and they’ll come back with their tail tucked between their legs and apologies spilling from their lips. He expects that he’ll smile, and say that they’ll just have to stay with him, then, now won’t they? And then they will, and everything will be fine and good and right.

He doesn’t need or want anyone, but...he doesn’t mind if they’d stay.

He doesn’t know them. He doesn’t know what they’ve lived through, what they’ve done before. He doesn’t know how deep their ties to favors run. He’s never asked, he doesn’t know.

Two days after he tells them to kill, they come back with a severed head.

They’re smiling, when they do. Their tail curls around their leg and they’re trembling, but they’re smiling like they always do. Macaque is supposed to be able to tell when someone is lying, and he’s supposed to know them and read them like an open book, but Kid smiles and it looks real.

They’re trembling. He barely hears what they’re saying, over the sound of their thudding heartbeat.

The eyes on the head are sewn shut. He asks, and they give him an excuse, and he doesn’t press because he never has. He’s never cared enough to ask about their past, their feelings, never dug deep enough. He thought they were surface-level, because they’re quiet, and they don’t talk about themself too much beyond comments about their mother. He’s staring at a stranger he’s known for over half a year.

He’s not supposed to be caught off guard. So self-assured, he plans his schemes with the knowledge that he understands all the moves the player will make. Now he’s in the dark, lost with the simple sight in front of him.

Macaque doesn’t understand, but if Kid’s a stranger he’ll keep them as one.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out two gifts. He’d gotten them months ago, finding a jeweler who could enchant the token, and a book binder at the market that could create a tome practically infinite in space but small enough to be a notebook.

He holds it out, and then they smile so wide he thinks it could crack the porcelain of the mask of indifference they’re wearing so perfectly. They strangle their tail as if it were their neck, and he knows that must hurt.

They have blood, staining their feet. Every part of them is pristine, but the dried blood is crusted on their feet, covered with dirt.

He watches them go, tired eyes and bloody feet.

He makes his dinner by himself. He makes the fire by himself, he sits by the fire by himself. He sleeps by himself. He travels by himself.

There is no voice, pointing out different flowers. He doesn’t hear about this certain mixture that can cure this illness. He doesn’t get any anecdotes, he doesn’t hear the patter of feet as they run ahead.

It’s quiet, save for the typical sounds of the forest. As it should be.

The Six-Eared Macaque walks alone.

Just like a warrior should be. Isn’t that why they left, to be alone? Isn’t that what he wanted?

Macaque ends up back on that cliff, where they stared up at the sky on New Year's. He never cared much for the holiday, but the Kid was insistent, so he'd let them drag him along.

He closes his eyes, and for the first time when he thinks of fireworks he doesn't see Wukong's smile. When he opens them, the sky looks devoid of stars.

The moon looks lonely, without them.

Centuries later, a silver token with amethyst gemstone eyes buzzes in Spirit’s pocket.

#kitkat1003 #Yin Spirit #lego monkie kid #monkie kid oc #monkie kid #monkie kid macaque

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nagisasstunningpersonality · 3 years

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Korosuu Translation - Chapter Three

Sorry, I know it's been a while. Actually, this chapter was super long so I took a very extended break from this entire thing. But I'm back now. If you're new here, this is OFFICIAL content! It's an untranslated (so far) short story, you can find chapters one and two here. I do also need to put out a trigger warning for this one as it involves some voyeurism.

Mirror Time

“Oh right… it seems like there’s a possibility.” Chiba returned to his own desk, and took out his notebook, writing utensils, and a triangle ruler. Chiba started to explain to Hayami, who was stood in front of his desk looking down at his notebook, whilst looking at the diagram. “When you hit the wall with a bullet, it flies out at the same angle as it flies in. Like this.”

[Illustration] A diagram of a sphere bullet ricocheting off a wall. The angle between the bullet and the wall before hitting the wall (incident angle) is the same as the angle between the bullet and the wall when it flies out (reflection angle).

“If you aim without Korosensei noticing, it seems like you can’t do it with a single ricochet.”

At Hayami’s words, Chiba nods whilst writing another line in his notebook. “That’s right. At least twice, but preferably three times or more, but if it ricochets too much the error will increase, and the momentum will drop. We might have to experiment with how many times it’s practical.”

“So, how do you aim for that? I get how to do it once, but I can’t really imagine twice or more.”

[rest will be under the cut, this chapter's long]

Whilst holding his mechanical pencil, Chiba leaned back in the chair and folded his arms. “That’s the problem. For example, in order to hit the target I’ve written here twice, you have to calculate the points that satisfy this diagram.”

[Illustration] An experiment conducted by Chiba to see if it is possible to snipe the target as inferred by the article. By solving the graphic problem as shown in this diagram, it is possible to deduce the point of the wall to aim at in order to hit the target with a bullet.

Whilst he was speaking, Chiba drew a number of right angled triangles on the diagram.

Hayami looked at the diagram and frowned a little. “What’s this? I have to solve this every time?”

“Solving it is necessary,” Chiba replied, and then began to calculate the first position to hit the bullet.

With a sideways glance, Hayami turned to the back of the classroom, where the black metal box usually stood.

“This kind of problem, we could figure it out right away with Ritsu.”

The Autonomous Thinking Fixed Gun Unit AI (classmate) – which is called Ritsu by Class 3E, has been removed since the beginning of the week for maintenance. It’s only for two or three days, but it’s the first time the whole body has been taken out and maintained.

“Even so, I don’t want to rely on her.” Chiba checked the problem he had solved many times, took out the airsoft pistol from his bag, and then stood up. “This is an assassination to see how much I can do as a sniper. I feel like I have to think for myself.”

“Huh? Well, I don’t know.”

“So, Hayami, I want you to place the target in the exact location shown in this diagram.”

Chiba said it simply, but actually aiming was quite troublesome. After accurately measuring the distance with a measuring tape brought from the store room and positioning it, a desk is placed there and a yellow balloon that looks like Koro Sensei is attached.

[Illustration] How to ricochet to a Korosensei balloon…

Chiba had to determine his own standing position and the point at which the bullet would hit first.

“This is bad, can you call move to the window?” After all the work was done, Chiba called out to his friends in the classroom.

With faces full of interest, everyone moves towards the window as they were told, and Chiba squeezes the pistol’s trigger in the direction of the X mark that’s written in chalk on the blackboard. The bullet that was fired hit the blackboard and ricocheted off with a dry sound, then rebounded off the wall on the corridor side, before it headed for the target in the back of the classroom.

The first shot was more than a meter off. The second one was about 30cm. The third and forth shots also missed but not as badly as the first one, and the fifth one hit.

“You did it!”

The classmates who were watching cheered as the balloon broke with a banging sound. But, Chiba’s facial expression didn’t match the mood.

“What’s wrong? Is it that you can get more accuracy if you aim a rifle from a vantage sniping position?”

In response to Hayami’s words, Chiba shook his head. “No, that’s not the case. I knew I could do it this way, but… the problem is that,” Chiba pointed to the blackboard, “it takes too much time to figure out the point with the current method. Actually, there’s also height differences, so we have to do the same calculation in the vertical direction.”

[Illustration] In reality it’s necessary for the sniper to consider height differences. In the case that the sniper and the target are different heights, the ricochet snipe will follow such a trajectory.

[Plain view] A view of the room looking down from above.

[Elevated view] A sideways view. A three dimensional route that seems complicated can be simplified in this way by breaking it down into a plain view and an elevated view.

Takebayashi, who was listening, sighed. “Isn’t it double the work? Isn’t that even more unrealistic?”

“What if you do the calculation first, then everyone can guide Korosensei?” Nakamura said.

Chiba shook his head. “There are two problems with that. One is that you can’t guide the target the way you want. Especially when it comes to such a sever shooting like this, even the slightest misalignment isn’t good.”

Hayami nodded. “It’s not easy for Chiba to make such fine adjustments at this range. What’s the other thing?”

“I want to try and do this assassination without anyone’s help. I also said it before but, it’s kind of a stubbornness thing.”

“Is that right?”

Chiba looked down at the notebook on the desk. “The legendary sniper actually serves a number of moving targets. In other words, they’re aiming in the shortest amount of time they can. That’s something like a method we’re unaware of, or I wonder if there’s a special calculation trick.”

When he said that, Chiba was hit on the shoulder, and raised his head.

Okajima is standing there with a grin. “When you said that, I felt like I realised something!” Okajima gave a big thumbs up and a fearless smile as he said so, looking suspicious in front of Chiba and Hayami.

“Come on boys, get out!”

The fifth class of the day was a PE Class. The classroom is occupied by the girls, and the boys are kicked out into the corridor to change clothes.

“Sometimes I want the boys to do it before. B-because I’ll always only just make it.” Shiota Nagisa complains, stood with a rolled up PE uniform under his arm.

“What are you talking about, Nagisa? It’s fine, this our time to face our fated challenge.”

“Okajima kun, don’t you think it’s irresponsible to do this method by trial and error?”

Ignoring Nagisa’s strained smile, Okajima took a small mirror out of his pocket with a strangely calm expression. Additionally, he also took out a selfie stick.

“Hey you, isn’t that what the girls beat the hell out of us for using the other day??”

Whilst Terasaka Ryouma was gazing at him dumbfoundedly, Okajima tore up some adhesive tape into small pieces and started to attach the mirror to the tip of the selfie stick.

“Well, look. It was a mistake to hold it in a position the girls could see. This time, it’ll be perfect.”

“Isn’t this only adding more flaws to a plan full of holes…?” Said Kimura Justice.

“Hehe, look at it,” Okajima extended the selfie stick smoothly, and started to explain with a calm facial expression. “Well, while the girls are changing clothes, the windows on the corridor side are covered with dark curtains. Therefore, you can’t see what’s inside as it is but-“

“No, it seems that the curtains are there to stop us seeing.”

Ignoring whoever’s voice pointed that out, Okajima continues. “By some blessing, there’s just one small gap in the top window due to a slack in the curtain. The other day I was found by holding a mirror directly here, but today I won’t repeat the same mistake.”

“Then what will you do?”

After turning a fearless smile to Terasaka, who was tired of his face, Okajima held his selfie stick over his head.

“A while ago, when Chiba and the others were trying to shoot, I was secretly setting up the mirror in the classroom. I was pinpointed by the story of the ricochet. One mirror will soon be exposed, but many more mirrors are placed so subtly that no matter how vigilant the girls are, they won’t notice they’re being peeped through.”

[Illustration] Okajima’s new voyeur method, which improves on the experience found using mirrors for voyeurism and relays it with multiple mirrors so it will not be noticed. In principle, no matter how many mirrors you use, what you see from here can be seen by the other party.

“Ah-….. I thought that was the case,” Kimura showed a forced smile.

“Maybe this was in the calculation – huh?”

Okajima looked up at the mirror, frowned at him, and moved his selfie stick slightly. “Okay, I saw it!”

Okajima smiled in gratification, did a small triumphant pose, and deliberately took a compact digital camera out of his pocket with his free hand.

“What’s that?” Nagisa pointed a finger with a dumbfounded look on his face.

Okajima answered with a grin. “As you’d expect, I couldn’t bring out a camera. That would be just like talking loudly in the corridor about taking voyeur photos. That’s why I always carry a point-and-shoot with me in case of these situations. Please pay attention to the point that I don’t compromise with a smart phone.”

No one was listening to that, but Okajima completely disregarded the air in the room and released the shutter.

FLASH!

The camera’s strobe flashed and emitted a small sound.

“Oops, I wouldn’t usually make this kind of mistake,” Okajima said as he turned off the strobe and released the shutter again.

“O-KA-JI-MA!”

The door of the classroom opened forcefully, and the girls in their PE uniforms jumped out at once.

“Agh!”

With a well-coordinated move, the girls cut off any way for Okajima to escape. Okajima shouted with a half cracked voice whilst he was being pulled down on the spot and kicked with terrifying dexterity.

“W-why did I get exposed? The plan should have been perfect!”

“We could see the light from your strobe!” Kataoka looked down at Okajima with a dangerous expression on her face.

“That’s forbidden, Okajima kun.”

At the voice, the girls turn around and look over their shoulders. Standing in front of the open door was Koro Sensei holding a steaming paper bag from his open mouth.

“The idea isn’t bad. It’s not bad, but don’t forget that what you can see through the mirror, you can see from the other side as well. Additionally, if you use a camera’s flash, you may as well be saying ‘please notice me!’.”

After putting up with that speech, the girls shouted all at once. “Why do you look so self-important, you shameless teacher!”

“What kind of motive is there for suddenly coming in through the window when we’re changing!” Kataoka glares at Koro Sensei whilst pulling out a knife for the enemy teacher.

“Niyu, nyuya?! It’s a misunderstanding! I’m trying to inform distorted people like Okajima kun!”

“There’s no use in arguing!”

Moving with all their practised skills, the girls simultaneously held their weapons at the ready for their enemy teacher. They attacked a cowering Koro Sensei by firing BB bullets and using their special anti-sensei material knives.

“That’s why it’s a misunderstanding – hya, my shopping bag tore, and the bao buns I bought with great trouble are-“

Koro Sensei broke out into Mach speed and escaped.

Nagisa muttered. “Bao buns… ah, Koro Sensei was in Shanghai today.”

“Gee, what is this?”

In the background, Okajima, who had footprints all over his body, looked at the compact camera monitor and frowned. When Terasaka, who was standing close, looked into it, the photograph was the figure of Koros Sensei with an armful of the bao buns in a paper bag, pulling a peace sign in the direction of the camera.

-End-

The locker room talk really spoke for itself, huh?

#assassination classroom #ansastu kyoushitsu #ass class #translations #korosuu translation #korosuu

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madeofsplinters · 4 years

Note

for the symbols ask, would you mind all of them that you havent yet done for vader? you have very good opinions on him and i would like to hear them

Aw, thank you! Although man that is A LOT of Vader headcanons left to do :D But I like writing random stuff about him, soooo... Sad:

Vader still remembers all the Jedi younglings' names.

Angry/Violent:

I mean, what in Darth Vader's life *isn't* angry/violent? Lol. The particular way that he uses the Dark Side produces a really fucked up feedback loop: he's angry and in various forms of pain all the time, which produces an energy he can channel into violence, which produces self-hate and further pain, which produces more energy. Lather, rinse, repeat.

A lot of Palpatine's work with Vader is simply about managing this loop and adjusting as necessary. Giving him enough outlets for his rage that he doesn't just combust where he stands and start breaking things he isn't supposed to; tormenting him enough, and giving him the tools to self-torment, so that it never quite subsides into peace.

This isn't the only way of using the Dark Side, but it's a common one for Sith warriors; both Maul and Kylo Ren use something similar.

Sex:

Disabled people can, too have sex - it just takes a little more creativity. Vader has plenty of creativity, as well as magic super powers. If he doesn't indulge in such things - which, honestly, in canon he probably doesn't - then it's due to psychological factors: a conservative upbringing and ascetic lifestyle, unresolved grief for his wife, self-hate, depression, not wanting to let anyone in that close, etc.

Anyways if I see one more "BuT hIs DiCk DoEsN't WoRk" post here on Tumblr dot com, as if that body part is all that sex boils down to, I may actually scream.

Living Quarters:

When he's meditating in his stupid lava fortress, Vader senses the Dark Side nexus underneath him as if it's a living being, a kind of elemental lava spirit. Sometimes he talks to it in his head. (Is it "really talking" back to him? Is he just carrying out a strange symbolic drama in his own head? Don't ask - if you don't intuitively understand how a spiritual experience can be both these things at once, then you're not on Darth Vader's level.)

His favorite thing about the lava river is that it isn't Palpatine. Vader of all people knows how destructive lava is, but lava is direct and straightforward. It doesn't lie to him. It doesn't play games on purpose just to jerk him around. It just flows on and burns what's in its path, and there are days when Vader finds that both relatable and soothing.

Romantic:

Vader has a weakness for partners who are older than him, brave, smart, outwardly stable (the insides may vary), have a cute accent and strong negotiation and leadership skills, feed him attention in measured amounts, and are convinced they know better than him about everything. Padmé and Tarkin (and Obi-Wan, for that matter) all fit this type...

Friendship:

I mean, Vader doesn't really have friends, though. He is capable of forming really intense attachments to a few specific people, and tolerating others because of their competence, but anything in between those ends of the spectrum? Doesn't really compute. Vader does not chill or hang out or make pleasant conversation, not a lot of room for friends here.

Even as Anakin, he was a little like this. It was harder to tell, because his social circle was a lot bigger then - there were way more people in the "would die for them" circle, and way more who he went out of his way to be nice to, even if they weren't exactly close. But all of these social relationships involve some kind of power relation. Anakin has masters and fellow generals and an apprentice; he has favorite loyal troops and a favorite droid; he has a Supreme Chancellor who is being very nice to him for some reason. These are all people he works with, or who want something from him; he doesn't really have anyone he hangs out with just for the sake of hanging out with them. Padmé is the closest he gets to that, and even with her, he’s acting out a romantic role in the way that he thinks is expected of him so that he’ll deserve her love. (And doing a bad job of it, because Anakin is awkward, but never mind.)

Anakin has a huge heart and many attachments, don't get me wrong. But I don't think he's ever fully grasped the idea of a social connection that doesn't revolve around one of the people involved being useful to the other.

Quirks/Hobbies:

(I already did a “workshop/tinkering” one, so here’s a “flying” one...)

Vader's special experimental prototype TIE fighter is in constant need of repairs because of how recklessly he flies. It's not even that he crashes into things - it's just wear and tear because you're not actually supposed to yank the throttle that hard every damn time you turn the ship, Lord Vader, seriously how are you not passing out from those g-forces.

Vader is genuinely confused why the techs keep complaining. Podracers are used to having to rebuild their entire pod after every race. By that standard, he's doing great.

Childhood:

Tiny little bb Anakin wasn't actually any angrier than normal, at least by the standards of traumatized child slaves. Like, he was about at par. There were plenty of angrier ones. You couldn't have looked at him, in comparison to the other child slaves doing similar jobs in Mos Espa, and said "oh yeah that one in particular is gonna have anger and attachment issues."

He did stand out from the other kids, though, on account of just being a weird little nerd. He built a whole droid and a racing pod by himself and his master didn't even make him do it! He keeps talking about how he's going to be a Jedi and fly all around the galaxy and save the planet and marry a queen, when everybody knows there are at least three good reasons why that's wrong. He thinks random customers who come into his shop are his new friends! Anakin is just... weird. Off in his own little world. The other local slave kids know not to be too mean to him because he will always help you out in a pinch, and he is really good with machines, but other than that, I dunno, would you wanna hang out with Mr. I’m Gonna Be A Special Jedi?

Shmi sees this dynamic happening, but there's not much she can do, except to give Anakin all the love and reassurance that she wishes he was getting from his peers.

Cooking/Food:

Idk the Wookieepedia says that Vader can eat nutrient paste out of a straw in his mask if he wants to, but he doesn't want to because it tastes awful. So my questions here are (a) considering everything else they have to do, how can the suit's recesses possibly fit enough nutrient paste inside them for Vader's needs, and (b) seriously we're how many years in the future and we can't even make a nutrient paste that tastes good? We haven't even hit on "bland"? For the Emperor's chief enforcer, whose personal care budget is virtually unlimited? Yeah no, I'm calling canon error on this one. He can't eat, or it's too much trouble to get food into him with the other life support, so he's tube-fed. That's my headcanon.

Appearance:

Vader is very muscular. (This isn't really a "head"canon? He's literally played by a bodybuilder? But some fans disagree, so, eh.) He was already tall and strong when he was Anakin, but the suit adds height and it adds a LOT of extra weight that he has to be able to carry around with him literally every time he moves.

His recovery process after Revenge of the Sith involved having to learn how to move again, with new prosthetic limbs and horrifying new chronic injuries, basically from the ground up, and having to do it well enough that he could sword-fight Jedi Masters to the death, and he had to put on a ton of muscle in order to do that.

Palpatine was very strict in the nutrition and exercise regimes he imposed for this purpose. I have a sneaking suspicion that steroids were also involved.

#darth vader

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kayteewritessteve · 5 years

Text

If Only You Knew - 5/19

Description: You arrive home one day to find a wedding invite for two of your best friends from high school. You knew this day was going to come eventually, but even with that said, you weren’t prepared to return home. At least not after 7 years of avoiding Buckhannon, West Virginia. Or rather, avoiding him; your ex-best friend and the secret love of your life. But maybe it was finally time to face your past, to face him, and everything else that happened on that horrible night. Who would have knew that your prom would end up being a total disaster, and the very last night you’d spend in Buckhannon for the next 7 years? you certainly didn’t. That’s for sure.

Catch up HERE.

Word Count: 4,920 ish.

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Violence. Drinking. Bad and offensive jokes. Possible triggering thoughts, feelings and emotions. Moments of bullying and harsh name calling. Lots of curse words. And a very sloooow burn.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

July 2018 - Present.

You pulled away from the curb and your heart was still racing, pounding into your rib cage. Well, at least that’s over with now.

If someone had told you this morning, that by mid day you’d have run into Steve, you’d probably have laughed in their damn face. But, here you were, driving away from your first interaction with him. The first time you’d found yourself face to face with him in 7 years. 7 whole years.

And fuck, if he didn’t look just as hot as you remembered him—No! That’s a lie. He is way hotter now. And that uniform. You sighed dreamily. Damn. He wore those blues too well. But let’s be honest, there’s a formula. Normal guys in uniforms, instantly become cute. Cute guys in uniforms, become attractive. And so on, and so forth. But when you put a hot guy in a uniform, plus add all the feelings and emotions of them being your ex best friend, and the secret love of your life, into the mix. Well, there you have the makings of a ‘take me right here, right now’ situation. And that was not a situation you wanted to be in, especially not the first time you interacted with him in 7 years. The first time since you straight up cut him out of your life, without so much as a goodbye.

You peered into the rearview and saw as he turned around and headed back to his car. Had he just been standing there watching you drive away? You shook your head then focused back on the road, and continued towards Nat’s house.

But try as you might to not think about him, your mind had other plans. And before you knew it, it had drifted back to Steve, and that damn uniform. How can one man be that fucking attractive?! It wasn’t fair, in the slightest.

Throughout the last 7 years, part of you had wished you’d never met Steve. But not for the reasons others might think. Yes, your parting was less than ideal—Okay, let’s be honest, it was extremely heartbreaking, and not at all how you would have pictured your friendship with Steve going—or rather, ending.

However, that night didn’t have a damn thing to do with why you wished you had never met him. The real reason, well, that was because of ‘the bar’. You know, that imaginary bar that gets set higher and higher with each wonderful boyfriend or partner. Yeah, that bar. Except in your case, that bar was damn near sky fucking high, and you hadn’t even dated Steve. Never even so much as kissed him. But yet, here you were, with a bar set to an unreachable height. Which made dating damn near impossible for you. It wasn’t that you never dated, it was that the guys never lasted long. You’d pick out any faults in them, instantly. And you’d always compare them to Steve, sometimes without even realizing you’d done it.

You had only known him for just shy of 2 years, yet in that time he had risen to the title of ‘love of your life’, and you had never even told him how you felt. Never even uttered the words out loud. But you couldn’t do that at the time, it was too risky. He was your best friend—and in his eyes, nothing more.

Not that he ever outright told you that. Steve was too sweet to ever hurt anyone's feelings, but you just knew you couldn’t stack up with the other girls in his life. Or rather, the ones that used to be in his life. They may not have had the best personalities, but they were all stunning. And you were…. well you.

You learned pretty quickly just how little you measured up in comparison. Shit, who were you kidding, you’d had that almost fully figured out on the first day of grade 11. As you pulled up out front of Nat’s house your mind started to travel back….

September 2009 - 9 years ago.

The morning of your first day of class wasn’t exactly going to plan, but you were rolling with it. As there really wasn’t much else you could do but to roll with it. The bell signalling the beginning of lunch rang out through the intercom in your classroom.

All your classmates simultaneously pushed their chairs back, causing a bunch of screeching and stuttering sounds throughout the room as they all stood up and exited the class. Chatting and laughing amoungst themselves, while the teacher was yelling some random information over the commotion and noise, but none of the students really paid any attention to her. You made your way into the hall and headed for your locker, you had gotten one next to the girls, while the boys lockers were down the hall a bit, near the end. About 50 feet from yours.

When you got to your locker there were students scattered all around the hallway, in little groups, talking and laughing, their voices echoing off the walls. You reached your locker, opening it and trading your textbooks for your lunch. As you did Nat, Hilde and Wanda walked up, doing the same.

“Hey guys,” you said as you shut your locker.

“Hey, Y/N,” Wanda smiled widely, and Hilde gave you a light pat on the back with a head nod as she opened her locker, that was left of yours.

“Hey, so, bad news,” Nat frowned slightly, “the boys all have to attend some football meeting, something about going over the upcoming year, or whatever,” she waved a dismissive hand around. “So it’s just us for lunch today, sorry Y/N..”

You shrugged, “That’s okay, I’ll meet him eventually. Plus it will be nice to have a girls lunch. Boys are smelly and loud,” you laughed then frowned at the next thought, “and they cause headaches, literally.” Your hand went up to touch the now almost gone goose egg.

The girls laughed then shut their lockers as the four of you started down the hall, you all had agreed that morning before class started that you’d eat on the front field as it was quieter, and today was going to be the day you got to finally meet the infamous Steve. Though just like the rest of your day not going to plan, that plan didn’t either. But there would be many more days to officially meet him. You’d just enjoy the girl time while you could.

“Truth,” Hilde snorted, “So, what exactly happened this morning?” She asked.

You had texted all three of them after your literal run in with the hot, tall football player, as you girls had made a group chat so you could talk without the boys interrupting. Though you weren’t able to tell them much, or go to into too much detail, but they knew the gist of what had happened.

“Yes,” Wanda squealed excitedly, “Tell us everything! Starting with which hunky football player it was,” she winked.

“Ah,” you scrunched up your nose as you pushed open the front doors to head outside, “I didn’t actually ask his name.”

“Y/N!” Hilde lightly smacked your arm, “You always ask cute guys for their names!”

“I know, I know. But in my defence, he did head butt me really fucking hard. So I wasn’t entirely with it. And then I called him cute,” you groaned, “and he heard me.”

“Okay, not the end of the world,” Nat laughed, “But what did he say back to that?”

“He questioned me on it, and then straight up pretended to look around for the ‘cute guy’.” You rubbed a hand down your face and groaned again.

The girls laughed then Wanda spoke up, “Well, we can rule out Johann, Brock and Baron, as they all would have never joked about other guys being more attractive than them,” she shook her head.

“Okay, at least we are getting somewhere,” Nat nodded as all four of you sat down in the grass and set out your lunches. “What did he look like?

“Ah, Blonde hair, blue eyes, really fucking hot,” you started to blush just remembering how he looked, “buff and ridiculously tall.” You paused, “Like a fucking giant, tall,” you emphasized and chuckled at the memory of calling him that to his face.

The girls all turned to each other, sharing looks between them and then threw their heads back to laugh.

“What?” Your brows knitted together in confusion. “Do you know who I’m talking about?”

They all quickly nodded, still laughing. Then Nat pulled herself together and said with a smirk, “yeah. Not hard to figure out who that is.”

“Who is it?” You asked quietly, almost afraid to even ask at all.

“Steve.” They said in unison then burst out laughing again.

“What!?” You gawked at them for a few seconds then whispered, “That was Steve?”

“Yeah, girl. That was definitely Steve that slammed into you this morning,” Hilde replied.

“Oh god,” you shook your head, “how am I supposed to face him now?!” You looked between the three girls around you. “I only hang out with you guys, and now he is going to be apart of that. And-and the first time I meet him, I fucking called him cute?!” You asked, though you were basically thinking out loud now. These questions meant more for yourself and not your friends, “To his face?!” You added then groaned loudly and dropped your face into your hands. Yes, you were being dramatic but you didn’t care in this exact moment.

“Honestly,” Nat started and you peeked up at her, “I’m sure he’s used to girls being attracted to him by now. So used to it that he probably doesn’t even notice it anymore,” she shrugged.

“Or doesn’t even notice, period,” Wanda laughed.

“Yeah, I swear every girl in our school has a crush on him, and probably have since kindergarten—“ Hilde started, but Nat cut in, looking quickly at her and Wanda, “Well, except for us,” she laughed.

“Yeah,” Wanda giggled.

Hilde just nodded her agreement to Nat’s addition then turned back to you. “So don’t even worry your pretty little head about it. I highly doubt he even pays attention to it anymore.”

“If he even notices in the first place,” Wanda added.

And Nat nodded, “and even if he does notice, he’s the very last person that would ever judge someone for it. So you’re good.”

“Well, that’s comforting, at least,” you mumbled. And it was comforting, but also upsetting, as clearly you’d never stand a fucking chance with him. You were just some awkward girl he knocked over in the hall, who called him cute and just happened to hang out with his friends. What would he ever see in you?

“Yeah, don’t sweat it, Y/N. I’m sure he has already forgotten all about it,” Hilde smiled. And you knew she was just trying to make you feel better about calling him cute, but it had the opposite effect. Now you just felt even more inadequate. Even more invisible.

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “you’re probably right,” you added quietly. Then the girls continued to chat amongst themselves as you silently sat there, setting up your book and eating your lunch as you read. Reading was usually how you got out of your head, got away from your thoughts. Which right now was very much what you needed, except it wasn’t really working. All you could think about was him, so now the book had become your cover, of sorts. The reason you were just sitting here, silently, not interacting with them anymore.

Every once and a while though, they’d ask you the odd question and you’d answer or agree, but other then that you stayed quiet. Lost in thought, internally putting yourself down, over and over and over again. Hoping that by doing so your brain would click and you’d stop thinking about Steve—or rather, how fucking attractive he was.

But your efforts were going to prove futile when about 15 minutes before lunch was to end Nat looked up, passed you, the movement drawing your eyes up to her, noticing a big smile spreading across her face. You looked at her confused for a second then turned to look behind you, seeing the 4 boys wandering over to your little lunch group. Rough housing with each other as they did. And—just like that, your mind was reminding you just how fucking hot he was.

“Ladies,” Bucky cooed as he walked around your circle and plopped down behind Nat, putting his legs on either side of her and kissing her on the cheek. And you all waved and said hello.

Sam sat down to your left, between Nat and Hilde, “So, how are you fine ladies doin?”

“Good,” you all said in unison while nodding, and the guys all laughed. Bucky then started whispering in Nats ear as she smiled, and nodded slowly. Clint sat down to your right, between Wanda and you, giving your shoulder a light squeeze as a hello, then he started talking to Wanda. And while this was all unfolding, Steve just kinda stood there, behind you, with his hands in his pockets.

You looked back down at your book, figuring he was just trying to decide where to sit down, as there was only 2 spots left available. Either between you and Hilde, pretty much right where he was currently standing, or on the other side of the circle between Nat/Bucky and Wanda. His indecision clearly meant that sitting beside you made him slightly uncomfortable. Or at least that’s what you were gathering, as the seconds ticked on. Great, just what you fucking needed. A senior member of the group being creeped out by you. So much for him forgetting all about you calling him cute. Fuck.

You heard Bucky speak, and peeked up at him from your book, “You gonna sit punk, or….?” He was staring up at Steve with a smirk on his face. But you couldn’t see Steve’s reaction, as you refused to turn and look up at him. This was all just too fucking awkward.

“Ah, yeah. Right,” he said quickly then finally sat down, picking the spot beside you. A few moments after he’d settled himself, an awkward silence hanging over your side of the circle, you saw his body shift slightly towards you, “Ah, hey Y/N, how’s the head?”

But you didn’t look over at him, just continued to stare at your book, though you still weren’t able to read a single word of it. However, you didn’t miss him using your name, and were slightly curious for a split second as to how he now knew it. But then again, you knew his. So you could only assume one of the boys had informed him of the ‘new girl’ in the friends group. “It’s fine. Thanks for asking, Steve,” you replied curtly, then pressed your lips into a thin line.

“Ah,” you saw him fidget in the corner of your eye. “Did you end up finding the office?”

“Yup.” You replied, popping the P. It was now that you decided to remove yourself from this whole awkward situation, and promptly gathered up your things. “I just remembered I have to get my gym clothes from my locker before class,” you stood up ,“I’ll ah, catch you all later.” You looked between all your friends—well everyone except Steve.

They all quickly said their goodbyes then you spun on your heel and headed back towards the building. Thankful that you were out of that whole uncomfortable situation.

“Y/N,” you heard someone yell from behind you as they ran to catch up to you, “hey, hold up.”

You froze, knowing instantly whose voice that was, and they were, of course, the one person you were currently trying to escape. You tightly closed your eyes then sighed, opening them and turning around. “Yeah?” You asked.

“I ah,” one of his hands went up to rub the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, again, for you know,” he paused then gestured to your forehead, “head butting you this morning.”

“Don’t sweat it,” you inwardly cringed at the memory of Hilde saying those exact words to you less then an hour ago. “No harm done.”

“Can I walk you to your locker?”

“No, that’s okay,” you waved off his offer, “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

His brows furrowed for a second then he quickly corrected it. “It wouldn’t be an inconvenience at all,” he shook his head then leaned in to whisper grievously, “and what if you take a wrong turn along the way, how will you know which way to go? You know, without me there to show you. You could get lost, never to be found again.” He leaned back and his eyes widened in mock fear.

You just stared blankly up at him, then burst out laughing. You couldn’t have stifled it even if you’d tried. “Are you seriously making fun of my directional skills right now?”

He just shrugged, “I mean, you didn’t even know where the office was so..”

“I did to!” You defended, “Jesus, cut me some slack, it’s my first day and a giant literally head butted me. I was probably concussed.”

“Still going with the giant thing I see,” he laughed then shook his head, “and if you are concussed then that’s even more reason for me to walk you to your locker.”

“Okay, valid point,” you nodded then turned and you both headed towards your locker.

“So how are you liking Shield High so far?” He asked as he opened the door for you.

You shrugged as you entered, “it’s alright, I guess.”

“Where did you move here from?”

“Cleveland,” you nodded.

“Wow,” he said slowly, “Buckhannon is a pretty big change from Cleveland.” He chuckled.

You snorted, “That it is.”

And then a silence fell over you both as you just walked down the hall. After a moment Steve cleared his throat and spoke softly, “Do you miss it?”

“What, Cleveland?” You clarified as you looked up at him and he nodded. “Sometimes,” you answered honestly.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you move here?”

“Ah,” you frowned slightly trying to think of how to word your answer, not really wanting to ruin the moment, “long story short, we—my dad and I—just needed a change of scenery, I guess.”

“It’s just you and your dad then?” He asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, has been for two years now.”

He nodded then another silence fell over you both. This time you broke it, “cancer.”

“I’m sorry?” He replied.

So you continued, “My mom. She died of cancer, two years ago.”

He stopped walking and you did as well, turning to look up at him. “It’s okay, Steve, you don’t have to say anything,” you waved it off, “I just figured that’s what you wanted to ask, you just didn’t want to ask.” You paused then scrunched up your nose, “Does that even make sense?”

He nodded, “It does.” He paused, then softly added, “my mom went of cancer as well.”

You looked up at him, shocked that you’d both suffered the same tragic lose, to the same person in your lives.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Steve,” you whispered quietly, knowing there were no words for the pain you’d both been through. No words that would fix or change what you’d both been through.

“It’s okay, I was really young when she passed. My Godparents actually adopted me shortly after.” He looked down at you, and you could see the sadness in his eyes, “I’m sorry to you, as well.”

You just nodded and gave him a weak smile, and it looked like he wanted to say more, ask more, but also clearly didn’t want to pry, so you figured changing the subject now was probably a smart idea. Before one of you started crying—most likely you. “So, did you ah,” you cleared your throat, “did you enjoy your summer away?” You asked as you both started walking again.

“I did,” he nodded as you rounded the final corner to your lockers.

“Yeah? Where all did you travel?”

“We spend a week in New York then flew to Sokovia for a few weeks, then spent a few weeks in Wakanda.”

“Oh wow,” you said as you stopped in front of your locker, “that sounds like an amazing way to spend a summer. Wakanda is such a beautiful place.”

“That it is, it’s one of my favourite places to visit. Have you ever been before?”

“Oh gosh, I wish!” You said a little too enthusiastically, then laughed, “I mean, I haven’t been yet, but it’s on my bucket list for sure. I’ve seen lots of photos, though.” You nodded then unlocked your locker and opened it, putting your lunch bag back in and grabbing your gym strip.

“Well, I hope you get to go one day, it’s more than beautiful, it’s breathtaking,” he mused.

Just as you were about to respond the ‘lunch ending soon’ warning bell rang through the halls. Signalling that you only had 5 minutes before lunch was officially over.

“Oh crap,” you jumped slightly, the buzzer catching you completely off guard and heard Steve laugh beside you. You promptly closed your locker, “I have to get to the gym,” you quickly said, then realized you had no fucking clue where that was. Fuck. “Ah, could you maybe,” you trailed off as you looked up at him seeing a smug as fuck smirk form on his face. He was clearly enjoying this moment a little too much.

“Give you directions to the gym?” He filled in, amusedly.

Causing you to scrunched up your nose, and mumbled, “yeah. That.”

He laughed. “Go down this hall,” he pointed passed you, “then take a right, and you’ll see a set of stairs, go down them and the gym will be at the bottom.”

You nodded to everything as he said it. “Hall. Right. Stairs. Gym. Okay, got it.”

“Steve?” You heard a females voice from behind him, and peered around him to see a beautiful girl with shoulder length white blonde hair, in a cheerleading costume, currently standing a few feet away. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” She asked as she eyed you up and down, then crossed her arms and glared at you.

You heard Steve exhale deeply so you looked back up at him. He was now staring passed you, at something down the hall, and he didn’t look to pleased by her request, the opposite of pleased actually. His brows were knitted together in what you could only assume was either anger or frustration. Or maybe both? And his handsome smile was long, long gone. He turned to look at her finally, “what do you want, Madi?”

“I need to talk to you,” she huffed.

“Fine. One second,” he sighed then turned back to you, and once his eyes locked with yours he smiled again. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.” He paused and then that damn smirk was back, “Or at least, hopefully I will. Try not to get lost, okay?”

“Ha ha. You’re hilarious!” You said flatly.

He chuckled, “I get told that all the time!” Then he spun on his heels and headed towards the now clearly irritated cheerleader.

As he walked away the girls strolled up to get their own stuff from their lockers. “Who is that?” You asked them as they did, looking over your shoulder at Steve and the girl—Madi, as he’d said—clearly having an argument of some sort. Though you couldn’t make out what they were saying over all the noise in the hallway.

“Huh?” Hilde looked around, “Who?”

You turned to face your locker again, then nodded your head in the direction of Steve, “the blonde cheerleader Steve is talking to.”

“Ugh,” Nat rolled her eyes and looked passed you at them, “Fucking Madeleine.”

“Who’s Madeleine?” You asked.

“Steve’s ex,” Wanda said over Nat’s shoulder.

“That’s his ex?!” Your eyes widened and you snapped your head back around to look at them again. “Jesus christ she’s pretty.”

“Only on the outside,” Nat grimaced, “trust me, that girl is about as ugly as they get on the inside.”

“Yeah. Steve broke up with her shortly before summer break, but she refuses to accept it. She kept telling everyone all summer that they were still together, but just on a ‘break’.” Wanda explained.

Then Hilde quickly added with a shake of her head, “girl is a stage 5. All the way.”

Still staring over your shoulder at them silently arguing, you asked quietly, “Why did he break up with her?” Your curiosity getting the better of you.

“I duno, Buck said it had something to do with him just not being attracted to her anymore,” Nat responded, and you swung your head around to look at her, catching the end of her shrug. Both of your eyebrows shot up at her words but before you could respond the ‘end of lunch’ bell rang through the halls, once again making you jump. Shit!

You quickly said your goodbyes then headed to the gym. Following Steves directions as you did. Hall, right, stairs, gym.

But all you could think about for the rest of the day was how could he not be attracted to a girl that looked like that?! If he didn’t find her attractive then there wasn’t a hope in hell for you. Nope, it was settled, you’d never stand a fucking chance with him. And you’d be smart to remember that.

Guys like him didn’t date girls like you. This wasn’t some romance movie, this was real life. And in the real world, things hardly ever worked out in your favour. This was clearly going to be one of those things you just accepted and moved on from. First step, stop thinking about how fucking hot he is. Yeah, that’s a good place to start.

However, putting him out of your mind would prove extremely difficult, to say the least. As over the next few days he would be around you, a fucking lot. Both after school, and during. And on top of that he’d end up helping you find many more classrooms and facilities, during those few days.

At some point along the way he’d jokingly nicknamed himself your ‘personal school map’, much to your chagrin. But yet, you were also secretly thankful for him every time he pointed you in the right direction. And every time he did, your secret crush would grow a little bigger, and get a little louder. Which was not a good thing. At all.

July 2018 - Present.

You got out of the truck and headed up to Nat’s front door, but just as you were about to knock it swung open and five bodies slammed into yours. Damn near knocking you over. And the squeals and screaming was deafening.

Once your friends finally untangled themselves from you, you all headed in to catch up. It was such a fun evening, you spent hours relearning your friends and hearing first hand all about their lives and careers.

You opted against drinking as you needed to drive home, but everyone else just drank on your behalf. And at the end of the night, you all said your goodbyes, Nat reminding you about the bridal shower the next day. Then you left and drove home.

When you got home, your dad was already in bed. So you quietly made your way up to your room, finding your second suitcase laying on the end of your bed. You laughed softly to yourself as you pulled it off the bed to put it on the floor. Clearly he’d caved, and brought it up for you.

Then you got into your pjs and climbed into bed, plugging your phone in and putting it on the nightstand. You tossed and turned for a little while then grabbed your phone. You still remembered his number off by heart, which was rather frustrating over the last 7 years as many, many times you had wanted to contact him—Or nearly drunk dialled him. But you’d always manage to talk yourself out of it at the last second. Knowing you didn’t really have any right contacting him. You were the one who had walked away. You were the one who had left him behind without a single word—But, maybe you could now.

You opened a text window and added in his number then started to type. ‘Hey, how was the rest of your day? I hope it’s okay that I’m texting you?’

You groaned realizing you’d forgotten to put your name, since he wouldn’t actually have your new number. Shit. ‘Haha. It would probably help if I told you who it was that was texting you!’

Are you fucking kidding me?! You forgot again. Jesus christ, woman, get it together! ‘Y/N, it’s Y/N. If you hadn’t already clued in to that based off my complete inability to text like a normal fucking person.’

You shook your head then noticed the time at the top of your screen ‘12:15am’ Fuck! ‘OMG! I hope you aren’t sleeping, and here I am blowing up your phone, like an asshole!’

You facepalmed. Yes, send another text, apologizing for sending texts so late. Fantastic plan. You groaned then put your phone back on your night stand, refusing to send any more late night messages to him.

But just as you pulled your hand away from it, it buzzed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

@hopefulmoonobject @harlequinash @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tessvillegas @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @casuallydarktiger @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @imdiegohargreeves @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @badassbeckettswan @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx

#au fanfiction #fanfiction #long post #long read #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #modern!steve rogers x reader #modern!steve #modern!steve rogers #if only you knew #chapter 5 #no super powers here #modern au #alternate universe

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maskedheroics · 5 years

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𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 / rosamund watson

I’ve seen so many people over the years talk about everything Rosie gets from her mum and Sherlock; but all of them seem to forget that John is in the picture and her primary caregiver. So this is a list of things she gets from him. This is a repost from my former blog.

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 / 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓

Height: Rosie Watson makes up in personality what she lacks in inches. Measuring at 1.55m tall, she is officially the shortest in her cobbled together family. Which means, that John finally towers over someone. Before she stopped growing, Rosie would even laugh along with everyone’s jokes about her dad’s height and vowing to be taller than him. Fate, however, decided that in actuality she would just near his height while wearing heels but never surpassing it.

Money Management & Self Sufficiency: Rosie grew up wanting for nothing, she knows she is very fortunate that way — however, her dad did not and not only was the value of earning a living imparted to her, she also adopted his practicality about spending. Money doesn’t grow on trees and it shouldn’t just be thrown carelessly ( no matter how many times one of her uncles offers to pay for her ). The same also applies to earning the things she gets: jobs, promotions, etc. She knows she could easily just pick up her phone and have shortcuts offered to her, but that isn’t the point. If Rosie gets something, she wants to have earned it.

Flirtations: Perhaps not as bad as her father John “Three Continents” Watson ( the day she heard that nickname, she wanted to set herself on fire ) but Rosie isn’t one to not bat her eyes and exchange clever quips with someone she found attractive or interesting. In her youth she was always going off on dates, or “getting coffee” or the likes — only really slowing down when she graduated and became swamped with her work. Rosie wasn’t a player, or “easy” by any means — but she has a healthy attitude about love, sex and dating.

Temper: Rosie Watson has her mother’s control for her temper. While she is known to get frustrated like everyone does, she rarely fully and properly loses her cool. However, when she does, she essentially transforms into her father. A furious Rosie is known to stomp, curse, slam things and shout with reckless abandon — she is also very aware of it and tries to curb it and not develop the same anger issues as her father ( she loves him dearly, and has no fears regarding him — but she also knows his faults ).

Mannerisms: An angry or even just an ‘reached her limits’ Rosie has been known to sport her father’s “fury smile”. For the longest time, Rosie was adamant that she never did that, convinced she would know if she was grinning — it wasn’t until she caught her reflection that she realised the truth. Rosie also has her own variation of the “John Watson Lip Lick” — as a kid she started doing it just as her dad in an attempt to be JUST LIKE HIM, only to end up with the habit sticking. As she grew older, and began wearing makeup, Rosie eventually shifted to a lip bite ( after getting the taste of lipstick in her mouth too many times ). She also is known to flex and clench her fingers, but hers stem from itching to be at her piano or wanting to write or type.

Loyalty and Bravery: Rosie Watson stands by the people she cares about without hesitation or wavering. She considers herself a good judge of character and trusts people unless given a strong reason not to. She understands people are human and will disappoint her, there is room for error in her loyalty just as she hopes there is the same for her in others — but trust that is broken is not easily repaired. However, she does not loose faith in others easily. In addition, she does not frighten easy — or rather, frighten to the point of inability to act often. In the face of danger, she will admit to being scared as she does the action that frightens her ( and with her family and her chosen career, she has wound up in plenty frightening scenarios ).

Humour: Rosie can be very witty. She is funny without trying to be, it’s just a part of her personality. However, when she attempts to be funny or put thought into her humour — it’s just like John’s humour ( aka, not funny at all and the lamest sense of humour ). Rosie sometimes makes more “dad jokes” than John does, and it’s strange to everyone because she also has a very intelligent sense of humour as well as just being very clever and intellectual in general — so it’s always a tad surprising when she starts laughing at a really cheap joke.

Style: Okay, Rosie’s aesthetic varies wide ranges as her life as many different people to emulate fashion from — however, one of these avenues is her dad’s taste for woolen jumpers. His exact ones, to be precise. Yes, Rosie Watson is a jumper thief. At first she took it because she was young and playing dress up. When she got a bit older, it was part of a bit where she pretended to be her dad and would put on an exaggerated huff around the house — but by the time she was in high school and university, she has reached the conclusion that: They are comfortable and I look cute in them, fight me; and because she is tiny, they are baggy on her but in her opinion that makes them even better. More loungy and more snuggly.

#WRITER IN THE DARK ( rosamund watson* )#DYN ( john / rosie* )#SERIES ( sherlock holmes* )#ROSIE / HEADCANONS*#DO NOT REBLOG*#PERSONALS DO NOT INTERACT*

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menswearmusings · 5 years

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Free Product Review—Spier & Mackay Custom Shirt (+Giveaway Announcement)

Spier & Mackay is best known to my readers for their excellent-for-the-price Neapolitan-style jacket cut. But actually, their roots are in custom shirt making. The tailoring, the accessories, the trousers, that all came later. Founder Rikky Khanna (who goes by Rick) asked me if I wanted to give an honest review of their custom shirt program. Intrigued by their multitude of collar styles and what I’d heard was nearly infinite flexibility, I said yes (for my policy on free products and reviews, see my disclaimer page here). With that said, let me dive straight into my thoughts on the shirt and the process.

Pattern is key

I’ve got several online custom shirts from other companies, which I usually make by measuring a shirt I like the fit of and copying the measurements. Over time, I’ve tweaked the measurements here or there to dial it in, and I’ve been happy with the results. But this shirt has changed my perspective a little bit. While none of those shirts fit poorly, something about the cut of this shirt makes it feel like it fits better—using nearly identical measurements. I can only assume it has to do with how the pattern is drafted. I asked Rick about this, and he said that they have a third-generation tailor whose entire career has been in making custom shirts drafting each pattern. He is also apprenticing two younger tailors to take over for him when he retires. Considering the price of these shirts (as low as $80), that’s remarkable.

Collar designs for everyone

While they can make any collar you want based on specifications, their standardized collar designs cover almost all the bases. From point collars to super tall Italian wide spreads, there’s something for everyone (though someone recently did ask in their Styleforum thread for short collars for casual use—a blind spot of mine, since I never wear those). I opted for the large wide Italian spread (“C21” on the website), and then specified a slight increase in front collar band height. It is identical to my favorite dress shirt collar, the Eidos Marcus collar (which is why I chose it of course).

By default, the collars all come with a stiff, fused interlining. Instead of that, I asked about un-fused collar linings. They have four stiffness options: 1) Light (a single layer of un-fused interlining); 2) Unfused lining bonded to a fused lining (which is sewn in; there is no fusing to the shirt fabric); 3) Unfused bonded to a medium fused; 4) Unfused bonded to a stiff fusing. I opted for the second-lightest option and am happy with it. Given that the fabric I chose is a dressy, business-appropriate fabric, it does very well with a tie as well as without a tie, standing up under a jacket. I’m considering doing a super light fused on future shirts (which is how my Eidos dress shirts are made), and will likely also try the lightest unfused option. For sport shirts, such as a washed denim I intend to do at some point, I’ll go completely unlined.

Unlimited possibilities

For customization and even designs, the sky is the limit. For instance, as mentioned above, I requested a small increase in the front collar band height and about doing an un-fused collar lining. But I also talked to Rick about other details like the shirt sleeve attachment angle (a detail Ratio exposed to me as a possibility) or pleated shoulders (a detail found on Neapolitan shirtmakers’ goods, like G. Inglese), and he said it’s all posible. I even asked if I could send him a shirt to just copy all the design details on, and he said this was doable.

I am not a fan of secret menus, so this would be kind of a turn-off for me if I were new to the style game—I wouldn’t know what I don’t know, and would be afraid I wouldn’t think of some critical detail that would take my shirt to the next level. However, the options that Spier does offer by default in their step by step process are enough to make an excellent shirt for most people. And in my opinion, besides a good fit and fabric, most of what makes a shirt special is the collar shape, where they’ve got most bases covered. So, I say if you’re worried about missing out on some secret knowledge, don’t. Just design a shirt with the tools available and you’ll be able to make something special. (I’ve listed exactly what I requested below if you’re interested).

Fast turn-around

The high water mark for quick custom shirt turnaround is Proper Cloth, who has shaved it down to 2-3 weeks. However, I was glad to find out that Spier’s turnaround was only about 4 weeks from the time of my order to delivery.

Some negatives

Not that it’s all roses with the Spier & Mackay online custom shirt program. My biggest gripe is that the fabric selection and descriptions are pretty lame. Their images can sometimes make it hard to know exactly what you’re getting. Maybe I’m just spoiled by Proper Cloth—which has gratuitous fabric images, a full paragraph of copy written about each one, and consistent information like opacity, weave, origin and more—but it feels to me like somewhat of a leap of faith to select a fabric. On top of this, they do not offer the ability to order a swatch (which again, Proper Cloth does). Rick says that’s something they might do in the future, but since their fabrics are all stored overseas in their factory, it is not currently feasible.

I asked Rick what their remake policy is if the shirt fits incorrectly, or you end up hating the fabric. In the event of an issue like that, they will remake the shirt for 50% off, which he feels is fair given the already low prices they’re offering. Compared with Proper Cloth or Ratio, which do free remakes, this makes for a higher barrier to entry for those hesitant to try it out.

As for my shirt in particular, one detail came out wrong: it came to me with the collar cut with curved collar leafs, instead of straight-cut. Some of Spier’s off the rack shirts come cut this way, and other companies do them as well, but I’ve never liked it. I assumed that’s how it was designed, and told Rick I wish I had thought to request it with straight leafs. He told me actually the collar is supposed to have straight leafs, and this was a mistake by the factory. To rectify that, I sent the shirt back, he had a new collar made at their factory in the same fabric, and their in-house tailor attached the new collar to the body of the shirt. It was back to me within two weeks. So, my advice is: if you get a shirt and you don’t like something, definitely ask about it, in case it was an error on their part.

Shop the Outfit: Brown tweed Eidos jacket (similar); Spier & Mackay custom shirt (see details below for fabric and design); Spier & Mackay charcoal flannel trousers (other options from Berg & Berg; SuitSupply; Brooks Brothers; Drake’s).

A couple of things I’d change about the design of my shirt: 1) I’d make it with a one-piece yoke (I didn’t think to ask, and their design tool didn’t offer either. Can someone tell me why the split yoke even exists?). 2) A wider forearm/more pleats at the cuff. They have you measure the bicep and arm hole size, and then you specify the cuff. I copied my favorite shirt for all three measurements, but there are only two darts in the sleeve at the cuff, which means the pattern of the sleeve decreases in width more dramatically than the shirt I measured. It’s a bit tight in the elbow (I’ve never had a shirt blow out the elbow, but this could easily be the first one that will). I’d probably just request they make my shirt with four pleats at the cuff to rectify this.

Overall, however. I’m very pleased with the shirt. I give Spier & Mackay high praise for their superior pattern making, great selection of collar shapes and extreme flexibility in customization. They need a major facelift on their website, and need to make options like collar linings, cuff linings and forearm fit more accessible in the typical step-by-step design process (instead of being special requests in the comments box). But, all in all, I highly recommend giving Spier & Mackay’s custom shirts a try.

My custom shirt specs

Fabric: “BLUE PENCIL STRIPE – TESSITURA MONTI – 2 PLY 160’S”

Collar: C21 “Large Italian Full Spread Collar”, with the following special instructions specified in the comments box:

Specified with front collar band height increased to 1-7/16”

Specified with unfused lining at the 2nd level of stiffness (unfused lining bonded to a fused lining, sewn in)

Cuffs: Round, conical cuff, which tapers toward the end (a custom option requested in the comments box)

No placket

No back pleats

No front pocket

Mother of pearl buttons with crow’s foot stitching

(Help support this site by buying stuff through my links; your clicks and purchases earn me a commission from many of the retailers I feature, and it helps me sustain this site—as well as my menswear habit! Thanks!)

Giveaway

I’m pleased to announce a partnership with Spier & Mackay to give away a FREE custom shirt, plus two other bonus prizes. To enter the giveaway, see the instructions below.

To Enter:

1- Make sure you’re following @SpierMackay, and @MenswearMusings on Instagram

2- Like this post on Instagram

3- Tag at least 3 friends in separate comments on the Instagram post; more tags = more entries

4- For an extra 5 entries, share the Instagram post to your stories with tags of both @menswearmusings and @spiermackay

Here are the prizes:

GRAND PRIZE: a FREE Spier & Mackay custom shirt

SECOND PRIZE: $50USD off a custom shirt

THIRD PRIZE: $25USD off a custom shirt

The entry period for the giveaway ends Sept. 2 at 11:59 p.m. Central Daylight Time. We will announce winners, who will be chosen at random out of all the entries, within one week after the end of the entry period.

Rules and regulations

Per Instagram rules, we must mention this is in no way sponsored, administered, or associated with Instagram, Inc. By entering, entrants confirm they are 13+ years of age, release Instagram of responsibility, and agree to Instagram’s term of use.

The give-away is open to people from anywhere that DHL or FedEx will ship.

Read more at Menswear Musings

#bespoke shirt #broadcloth shirt #custom shirt #hairline stripe shirt #italian collar #italian style #product review #spier and mackay

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comicgeekscomicgeek · 5 years

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Their Hero Academia – Chapter 30: The Sports Festival Part 3: Koharu Kocho – The Mothgirl Prophecies

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

Earlier chapters can be found here

Down at the White Team’s end of the field, Koharu Kocho was trying her best not to have a panic attack. She’d made it to the second round of the Sports Festival! Her dream of being a Hero was actually one step closer… assuming she didn’t mess it up somehow now. She just needed to get to the third stage, show everyone what she could do…

She didn’t dare dream of placing. Not against Hero Course students, not in one-on-one fights like that. She’d done plenty of training on her own and even with some of her friends, but against some of those Hero Course students…

No! She couldn’t think like that. She had to have more confidence than that! She wanted a spot in the Hero Course so bad… Her Moth Quirk was more than good enough. It had nearly gotten her into the Hero Course to begin with…

There were lots of students in the General Education Courses who didn’t like the Hero Course students. There were even some who hated them. Koharu wasn’t one of those. If things had gone a little differently, she’d have been one of them.

She’d taken the Entrance Exam. Her Quirk had many more applications than it looked at first glance—most people incorrectly assumed all she could do was fly—and had even managed to score around twenty points. But that’s where it had all gone wrong. She’d been doing well, taking out one and two-pointers with her string shot and wing-scales when she’d heard an ominous bang behind her.

She’d turned just in time to see a gigantic three-pointer being knocked over a girl with metal arms, who she now recognized as the high-score winner of the Entrance Exam, Kana Tetsutetsu. Momentarily paralyzed with fear, she’d barely been able to keep it from crushing her as it came crashing down. Even then, she’d gotten smacked by it and had been sent crashing into a wall. She’d cracked her head and blacked out.

She’d come to in the Infirmary, after the Exam was over. She was proud of what she’d scored, but it was well below the threshold of what she’d needed to be admitted to the Hero Course. But she’d pushed on, applied to the General Education course, and been accepted to that. It was well known that if you did well enough in the Sports Festival, you might have a chance at getting in to the Hero Course. So that was what she’d planned to do.

And now, she was one step-closer. Sure, she’d come in thirty-sixth, but that still beat out forty-third.

Figure Sk8, the science teacher for the Hero and Support courses (the General Education courses had Pro-Heroes for teachers as well, but theirs tended to be older and semi-retired), was handing out strange metal disks. She stopped in front of Koharu and handed one to her. “Just place it somewhere on your torso,” she said, flipping a strand of white hair out of her eyes. “It’ll stick on its own, just press the two buttons. Just be sure it’s somewhere comfortable. It won’t come off without a special signal. Got it?”

Koharu nodded, setting her feathery antenna to bobbing. She took the disk and placed it on her shoulder, pressing the two buttons. The device gave a small hum and adhered there easily. She wondered what it was for. Probably something to do with whatever this Quirkball was…

Speaking of which, it looked like they were going to explain it. The crowd was going quiet as Hawkeye called for silence. Her image was projected on one of the big screens, while another showed points matching up their names and positions in the race. Her large eyes traced their way to her own name. Thirty-Five points. Two hundred ten points for the first place finisher, someone from one of the Hero Courses. And only five points for the last place finisher, another Hero Course kid.

Was it bad that she took some small measure of satisfaction in beating out at least a few Hero Course kids? Maybe. But she should be able to take pride in her accomplishments. And this certainly was one.

Hawkeye began speaking. “The rules for Quirkball are simple. The area has been split into two halves, the blue half and the white half. You are can travel anywhere in, under, or above your half, but you are not to cross the center line. The height limit from the Obstacle Course event for fliers remains in effect. When the event starts, we’ll be releasing a number of balls into the arena. You’ll use these, in conjunction with your Quirks and skills, to take out the other competitors. Each of you has been assigned a number of “life points”, based upon your place in the first event. If you are hit with a ball, the sensors we have attached to you will record it and deduct five of those life points. If all your life points have been deducted, then you are eliminated. The event will continue until only sixteen competitors remain.”

The teacher and Pro-Hero continued, “No deliberate headshots. If you’re able to catch the ball, then it doesn’t deduct from your score. Boundary lines have been marked on the outside edges of your half; if you cross these deliberately or accidentally, then you’ll be eliminated. If you’re knocked out of bounds, then you’ll have five seconds to return to bounds or be eliminated. To insure you keep moving, balls with detonate if held longer than thirty seconds and reduce your points. Any questions?”

Sheesh, they weren’t fooling around with this, were they? So… thirty-five points. She could get hit seven times before she was eliminated. That wasn’t a great margin for error there. Especially since her wings made her a big target. Unlike someone with, say, feathery wings, hers didn’t really up much. She’d just have to do the best she could.

Hawkeye finished up. “We’ll give you ten minutes to strategize with your team captains, then the event will begin.”

***

“Omigosh! Your wings are so cute!” Koharu turned to the source of the girlish, giggly voice, finding an empty, animated gym uniform standing next to a pink-skinned boy. Both were from the Hero course, though, Koharu realized that she’d actually placed higher than the invisible girl. The invisible girl was bouncing excitedly, while the pink-skinned boy looked rather embarrassed by her.

“Sorry about her,” the boy said. “But Kimiko said she just had to come see you.”

The invisible gym uniform gave the boy a smack on the arm. He winced and rubbed the spot. “Stop it, Takuma! You make me sound like some creepy stalker!”

“You were talking about how you wanted a t-shirt with that pattern!”

Okay, this was getting a little awkward. “Uh… thanks?” Koharu tried. “I’m Koharu Kocho.”

“Takuma Sero,” the pink boy said.

“Kimiko Ojiro,” the invisible girl added. “Maybe you’ve heard of us? Seen our webshows?”

Not just Hero students then. Second-generation Hero students. She recognized both of those names, which made their appearances more of a hint. Koharu shook her head. “Sorry,” she said. “I don’t really watch many webshows.”

Both visibly deflated. “Well,” Sero said, “maybe check it out sometimes? Kimiko’s got a gossip show, my buddy Kenta eats stuff, and I do this thing where I jump off of really tall stuff and save myself with my tape. Getting lots of views.”

Koharu shrugged, a gesture made more exaggerated by her wings. “I’ll give it a look,” she said. It was the polite thing to do, anyway. Worst thing that could happen was she’d end the video a little ways in.

“Hey!” an angry voice shouted. “All of you shut up!” The source of that voice was a short, muscular blonde with spikey hair. “Sound off! Quirks! I need to know what we’re working with!”

“You know what our Quirks are!” Sero shouted back.

The blonde—Kirishima-Bakugo, she realized—shot back with an angry glare. “Of course I do!” she growled, but pointed at the others gathered around. “But I don’t know theirs! And they don’t know yours either!”

Quickly, the White Team rattled off their Quirks, sometimes giving a little more explanation. There were actually a bunch of really useful ones, her own included! Between her and Mineta and Koda from Class 1-A, along with Dashi from Class 1-B, they had a pretty good chance of restraining people from the other team long enough for them to be eliminated.

Finally, a tone sounded, indicating that they had a minute until the event began.

“All right,” Kirishima-Bakugo growled. “You all know what to do! Do not blow this or I’ll kick your asses! And if I see any of you going after Izumi Todoroki…”

“Izumi wouldn’t want any special treatment,” the blonde with the weird cords hanging from her ears said.

“Just do it!”

The need to get away from the explosive girl and her argument gave them all speed as they got into position. And then the balls dropped.

***

“Haaack!” Koharu spat a blob of sticky silk from her mouth, down towards one of the Blue Team competitors on the other side of the field, an imposingly massive boy with four extra arms coming out of his back. It impacted against him with a wet-sounding splat, pinning those arms to his side. With as much force as she could muster, she threw a ball at him, allowing herself a small smile of satisfaction as it impacted against him. He wasn’t out of the game, but at least she’d scored a hit!

Across both sides of the arena, all manner of Quirks were being put into action. She saw a blond boy on the Blue team throw a ball just like a professional baseball player. It sailed across to the other side, smacking into the glowing boy on her team. She didn’t hear what the thrower said, but the gesture he made looked awfully rude.

The Blue Team’s captain was just as fast as he’d been on during the race. With one hand on the ground and the other holding a ball, he’d race to the center line and let the ball go, putting all his speed behind it, before zipping back to the far corner. It flew fast and took the boy from the Hero Course with the spring-legs out of the match. First full elimination to the other side then.

There were plenty of other people in the air, not just her. On her side, there was Tanaka, a girl who flew by engulfing herself in flames like a comet. On the other, there were two kids, a boy and a girl, flying through some kinds of engines coming out of their backs, a massive humanoid bat, and a green-haired boy who was floating. The later, she was pretty sure was Deku’s kid. Not too many other people he could be, with that hair and the gravity thing.

Below, one of the other Blue Team members stretched his body like a sling, then fired off a ball into the air. Koharu let out a shriek as it nearly hit her, barely dropping from the air in time. Unfortunately, this put her right in the crosshairs for another one, a frail looking girl with white and red hair, who propelled the ball along with a blast of flame. It smacked into her shoulder, knocking her back. Looking down, she could see that the counter now displayed on the disk had changed to a thirty.

She could only take five more hits and stay in the game. She had to be better than this.

Koharu flapped her wings, releasing some of the “scales” there, a cloud of blue-ish purle powder. She could release a lot of different powders with different effects and here she chose a paralytic. On a turbulent battlefield like this, all her powders carried some risk. She was immune to them, but others weren’t. If the wind should change, she might well take out her teammates instead. At least for the moment, though, she was able to paralyze a couple of the Blue Team closest to the dividing line, a burly centaur and a girl with large antlers. She quickly grabbed a loose ball throwing it at the girl first. It bounced off hard, striking the centaur too.

“Hii-yaaa!” A ball came sailing at her at high speed, propelled by the Tetsutetsu girl, her metal arm giving him incredible throwing power. It struck her dead center, knocking her back, and sending her skidding across the ground.

“Her?” she said. “Again?” First the Entrance Exam and now here? It was getting a lot harder not to have hard feelings about the whole thing…

“Hey!” She looked up to see a purple-haired boy offering her a hand up. “You okay?”

She accepted his help, getting to her feet. “Getting there,” she said.

“Good!” the boy said. “You’re doing great! We’ll get you in the Hero Course, I just know it!”

What. How could he possibly…? But there was no time for questions as he deflected a barrage of balls with some kind of wall of solids-sound generated by his screaming. Time to get her head back in the game.

***

“This is it, folks! Seventeen competitors left in the game! One more person gets eliminated, and then we’re on the Tournament Round! Who’s it gonna be? What do you think, Eraser?”

“I keep telling you, Mic, it’s anyone’s game. You and I know better than anyone that anything can happen.”

“Are you saying one of your kids is gonna break all their bones again?”

“They’d better not.”

Seventeen left… nine on the Blue Team and eight on the White. On Koharu’s side were herself, Kirishima-Bakugo (who’d been screaming and yelling and setting off explosions of often she was surprised she wasn’t deaf or hoarse), the girl with the hooves and horns, the pale girl with the fangs, the girl with the traffic light, the cartoon girl, Ojiro, and Sero. On the other side, there was the zippy Team Captain, the white and red-haired girl, the girl with the wheel, Tetsutetsu, the flying blue-black haired girl, the green-haired floaty kid, the girl with the bird head who’d called up some green glowing creature, a guy with force fields, and the sneering blond boy.

At least Koharu was still one of them. She only had five life points left. A slim, desperate margin. She had to make sure she wasn’t hit, wasn’t taken out of the game.

“Hauck!” she spat out another sticky blob of silk, hitting the wheeled girl from the Hero Course and knocking her to the ground, her wheel spinning uselessly. Koharu groped for a ball…

But in the end, it didn’t matter. Kirishima-Bakugo let out another feral roar, using an explosion to propel a ball at rapid speed towards the sneering blond. The blond executed a kick flip that reminded Koharu of something she’d once seen Tailman do in an old video. The ball went sailing back over the dividing line and smacked hard into Sero, knocking him down to the ground. He took what looked like a pretty nasty bump to the head too.

“Takuma!” Ojiro cried out, rushing to his side. “Talk to me! Are you okay? Speak to me! How many fingers am I holding up?!”

Sero just started laughing at the question. “You ever listen to yourself, Kimiko? I’m fine. I’m just out of points.”

She gave him a smack upside the head before getting to her feet. “Fine! See if I care about you again!”

And with that, a tone sounded.

“And that’s game!” came the voice of Present Mic. “Forty-Two entered, sixteen left! Let’s take a look at the scoreboard and see who’s left! We’ve ranked our competitors by number of life points left!”

Koharu was tired. It had been maybe fifteen minutes, maybe a little more, but with the obstacle course having been just before that, it had taken a lot out of her. She’d thought she was in pretty good shape… but maybe she wasn’t.

Then again, it looked like the white and red-haired girl who’d been doing all the fire and ice was leaning pretty heavily on the Blue Team’s captain. So she wasn’t the only one a little worn out. She watched for a moment as Kirishima-Bakugo bolted across the field to their side, offering some additional support and shooting the wiry captain a dirty look. She didn’t have a clue what was going on there.

She turned to look at the big board, pulling some of her blue-purple hair back and out of her eyes.

1) Kana Tetsutetsu - Points: 110

2) Asuka Tokoyami - Points: 100

3) Toshinori Midoriya - Points: 100

4) Sora Iida - Points: 95

5) Katsumi Kirishima-Bakugo Points: 90

6) Izumi Todoroki - Points: 85

7) Isamu Haimawari - Points: 80

8) Sasuke Kido - Points: 70

9) Yui Aoki - Points: 65

10) Kimiko Dashi - Points: 50

11) Mika Mineta - Points: 45

12) Yoru Kan - Points: 30

13) Anime Fukidashi - Points: 15

14) Kimiko Ojiro - Points: 10

15) Koharu Kocho - Points: 5

16) Shiro Monoma - Points: 5

Tied for last with the sneering blond. Well, it was better than getting knocked out of the running entirely. Mogura, from her class, and the others from General Education all had. They’d all had such hopes about making a splash at the Sports Festival. And she was the only one left. Did that make her their last, best hope? Or was she thinking too big, putting too much on herself? Maybe she needed to just focus on getting herself through.

Koharu stared at the board for a moment, putting names to faces. Monoma. That was the blond who’d done all those fancy moves. Moves that looked suspiciously like moves she’d seen Pro-Heroes and athletes use. Did he have some kind of copying Quirk? He had that Capture Cloth thing… but if she could stay out of his reach, she was certain she could beat him. Between her String Shot and her “Scales”, plus simply being able to fly…

Koharu nodded to herself. She could pull this off. She could. Back home, she was sure her parents were watching. She hoped she could make them proud. They’d been nothing but supportive when she’d talked about going to U.A., even when she’d settled on this path instead of just going to a different Hero School. And her grandfather had been even more supportive, saying that he saw big things

Hawkeye walked out onto the field, facing the students. “We’ll take a one hour break for lunch and then begin the Tournament Round. If you’re not back in time… we’ll move on without you. So if you don’t want to lose your spot, I suggest you get back early.”

“And that’s break time, folks!” Present Mic’s voice sounded out. “Get yourself some snacks and come back ready for full on Tournament Mayhem! Who’s going to come out on top in this student battle royale? It’s still anyone’s game! I’m gonna go get a hot dog and then be back, ready to rummmmmmmmmmbbbbllllllllllllleeeeeeee! You want anything, Eraser?”

“Is peace and quiet too much to ask for?”

“I think you know the answer to that!”

As Koharu turned to go inside, someone stopped her.

“Hey.” She turned and saw Monoma. “I know we’re going to be fighting, but I just wanted to say good luck. Always good to see someone from Gen Ed take a shot at making it.”

She tilted her head slightly. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

He shook his head and raised a hand. “On my honor, I am not. A very good family friend once managed to do the same thing you’re trying to do. And… well, you’ve seen my Quirk. I’m not so sure I’d have been able to pass the normal Entrance Exam.”

So, he was Recommendation Student? That made the whole thing even stranger. She wasn’t one of those Gen Eds who thought the Hero Students were looking down on them… but she hadn’t expected that much actual sympathy either.

“Ah, thanks,” she said.

“Besides,” Monoma added. “As long as someone unseats some of those Class 1-A kids, I’ll be happy. Even if it isn’t me.”

And that was even stranger. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, looking for an exit from this conversation.

“Good!” he said, clapping his hands together. “I’ve got a good feeling about you, Kocho. A good feeling indeed.”

#Koharu Kocho #my hero academia #their hero academia #fan fiction #fan fic #my writing

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siarven · 6 years

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Excerpt! (Tag)

Thank you @emireviews for tagging me! <3

Tagging the Dreams and Shadows crew and a few others (if you want to, of course) @merigreenleaf @sincerestaffect @romenna @fynniana @neglectedtales @madmooninc @random-stuff-thrown-into-a-pot @writin-maaagic @prismalicht @authordai @lynnafred @hypnocutiegypsy @zekethegm @beautifulimposter25 @asttralhell @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword @jaimistoryteller

Ok, so this is a longer excerpt (~2K) and because of that it’s below the cut. So the few lines here are an excerpt of an excerpt! Because I realized I have never really uploaded a longer excerpt on here and this is only very vaguely spoilery and I like it. It’s still a first draft, though, so I’m sorry for language/... errors.

From Kiyera’s POV, from somewhere near the middle of Dreams and Shadows.

The door opens a slit wide and a brown eye peers through, suspiciously, at about hip-height. I smile and bend down a bit to see her better.

“Good morning”, I say seriously, “I saw your brother when I last came here and I need to talk to you. And your parents, of course.”

She stares at me impassively for a few moments, then something changes unexpectedly. “When?”, she asks, and there’s a strange hope and neediness in her voice, something I don’t really understand.

“You mean, when did I see him? A few days ago, when I last visited, I think”, I say, hoping that this answer is going to be all right.

Her face falls, and my heart breaks all over again.

It’s still quite early in the morning for most people when I leave. It wasn’t particularly hard to find out their address and I visited them before, after all, so I know where I’m going. I take Dryhe with me because he’s been a bit sickly during the last three days and I want to keep an eye on him. Thankfully he’s a very well-behaved little beastie and only talks when he knows it’s all right. Maybe it’s a stupid idea — bringing him — but they’ve been cold the other times, too, so I don’t think turning up with a young dragon will change things. And they do have a pet, probably a cat, because there’s a cat flap in the entrance door.

Walking along the winding streets of Merreadon, I’m once more struck by the simple beauty of the buildings and the dark, painful secrets they hide. Most people here seem to take it for granted that the bloody Asim exist and that they steal children and get away with it! When I lost Tamoh my whole world fell apart… but did anyone care? No, of course not. Most families have at least one or two close relatives who got taken. It’s a common occurrence here! Sometimes I wish I’d never left my ship. That I’d just gotten killed during one of the fights, at the height of my young life, when everything was perfect and Dallas was still alive. But then I would never have had a child, and as painful as Tamoh’s loss and subsequent death were, I feel blessed that I got to call him my son. So, would I really change anything if I could live it all over again? Would I make different choices?

I don’t know.

There are a few other people on the streets. I don’t hurry as I walk so I am witness to more and more of them, coming out of their houses, going to work, going to school. Some of them throw me a sidelong glance but most ignore the fact that there’s an exotic-looking feather-dragon sitting on my shoulder, or that I walk differently. Is their daughter going to school, now, too? Have I seen her on her way here, without noticing? The Sanctuary and school lie behind me by now, after all, so she’d probably take this route. I saw her in the hospital so I should be able to spot her, right? Small, scrawny-looking thing with a halo of pale, curly hair and dark eyes… there was fire in those eyes, though. Anger, determination, stubbornness. I smile at the thought. She would’ve been great friends with my sister. Seren had that same fire, that same thick skull full of ideas. Thinking of Seren makes my heart ache even if it’s been so long, now, so long…

The Nichols live in a nice neighbourhood. Four one-family-homes, then a thin street, four more houses, rinse, repeat. What do they do, work-wise? How are they doing right now? Maybe the little girl will open the door. Maybe she’ll even let me say more than half a sentence before trying to slam it in my face. How is she doing, with her brother gone?

Sighing, I finally spot the right house. Steeling myself, I take a deep breath and walk the short path to their front door. Then I knock. Something meows behind me and I turn around, noticing the long-haired black cat for the first time. Amber eyes, almost glowing. No. I take a step to the side, looking at the creature with narrowed eyes.

“You’re more than you appear”, I say musingly, and the cat arches her back and slips through the cat flap in the front door. Eyes too intelligent for even a cat, too measuring, too calculating. Eyes hiding something. Cats don’t hide things — I know, I take care of five, after all!

The door opens a slit wide and a brown eye peers through, suspiciously, at about hip-height. I smile and bend down a bit to see her better.

“Good morning”, I say seriously, “I saw your brother when I last came here and I need to talk to you. And your parents, of course.”

“You mean, when did I see him? A few days ago, when I last visited, I think”, I say, hoping that this answer is going to be all right.

Her face falls, and my heart breaks all over again.

“You know about him, don’t you?”, I ask her very quietly. She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even nod. Just her pale, masked face in the door, those dark, empty eyes.

“I’m sorry”, I say. “And I don’t even know your name! I’m Kiyera, and that’s Dryhe!” I pluck him from my shoulder and hold him out toward her, toward the slit of the door. When she doesn’t move I sit down on the topmost stair, placing Dryhe beside me. After a small eternity, she finally plops down next to me with something I can only describe as awkward grace. I notice a dark smudge on her shoulder, like a small dark cloud, only visible from the corner of my eyes. What’s that about?

“Ava”, she says quietly, eyes fixed on Dryhe. “Dryhe What kind of name is that?” Fixedly ignoring what I told her. Trying not to show her pain.

“A special one”, I say, “It means “Ghost” where I come from.”

Dryhe stretches and climbs on her lap, only to curl in on himself and snuggle into her dress. She carefully strokes his head, his neck, his back. I smile, and then have to keep myself from crying.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, you know”, I say carefully, “I just … I don’t know. I feel like your brother is haunting me. As if, if I don’t talk to you, I’ll never be free again. You should know the circumstances of how I met him.” I look at her, then, directly. Confrontational. “If you want me gone, tell me and I’ll leave you alone. I understand. Of everyone you might have met, I guess I’m used to heartbreak the most. You hurt, so you want others to hurt, too. Believe me, I know! I lost my sister, my son, his father, and so many others... you wouldn’t believe it! I know what loss can do to a person.”

I look at Ava and find myself smiling. The dark cloud has moved to her lap, too, and is now cuddling with Dryhe.

“He was”, she says quietly, ominously. “But I was too late. It’s over. He’s gone.” She starts singing very quietly to Dryhe and that dark shadow thing. I look at her for a few moments, trying to find out why my heart is aching at her sight, why I feel so guilty all of the sudden.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Ava looks back up at me. “He’s gone. I was too late”, she repeats. Like she’s afraid of talking about it but knows that she has to. To free herself of this burden.

“Ben?”

She nods. “You could see him when he was only a bit there. Can you see Chael, too?” She motions down to her lap, to the dark cloud.

“I don’t really see that much. Just something like a dark smudge? When I look at him from the corner of my eyes I feel like I can almost see him, though.”

She nods again. “Are you like me, too? Escaped the Asim?”

I shiver, trying to read her gaze. Her eyes. They’re dark, though, not amber. She isn’t like them. What is she talking about? “Like you? I was never Tested because I didn’t grow up in the Empire, you know. My parents… my whole people, they live very far to the south. It would take months just to get there.

I don’t even know if they’re still alive, if they’ve been conquered by now. I never saw them again after I left with Seren. We were, what, sixteen? Basically children…” I break off, trying not to fall prey to the maelstrom of emotions and memories. Her eyes are curious and fascinated. I breathe deeply. Sigh. “What do you mean, like you?”

She looks away, her face locking up again. “Nothing”, she says, but I can see that she’s working something out, and that she’s lying.

For a few moments we just sit there, staying quiet. I wonder if I should ask a few more prying question but then decide against it. She doesn’t seem like someone who’d appreciate that.

“How do you make people like you?”, Ava asks after a very long pause. She doesn’t look at me, just at the dragon and the shadow-thing. “Everyone loves my brother. The whole school seems to be personal friends with him, even the teachers! How?!”

I think about it for quite some time, and then I look at her seriously. “Do you think he’s lonely sometimes? What does he do if he has free time? Do you think he’s really friends with most of these people?”

She frowns and I can see the gears turning in her mind. Finally, she shrugs. “He loves learning about everything, especially places and inventions. He loves taking me out on adventures. He loves…” She chokes up and turns her face away, trying to hide her pain.

“Crying is good”, I say softly. “It helps in letting go.”

“But I don’t want to let go”, she cries, “I just want him back!”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head mutely.

“Would you feel better if I gave you a hug?”

She shakes her head again and so we just sit there and wait for the pain to pass.

“You’re lonely”, I say gently after a long while. She nods, finally, almost imperceptibly.

[...]

“Thank you for being there”, Ava says very quietly, and I nod seriously.

“If you need someone just to listen, I’ll be there for you. I’m very good at that. Maybe we can talk to your parents, too. They should take better care of you, you know. Make sure that you’re not sitting outside your house, talking to strange old women without supervision.”

Turning to me, Ava smiles through her tears, and it’s the most radiant thing.

“Maybe we should”, she echoes me, quietly. “But what if they don’t want to listen? I’ve tried talking to them but they never do…”

I look at her seriously. “Do you listen?”

For a few moments we don’t move and she just looks at me, eyes wavering. When she finally glances back down at her lap, there’s uncertainty in her eyes.

“Can you maybe help?”, she asks, “Mama doesn’t listen when I try to tell her things but … she’s trying. She just doesn’t understand how to help properly. And I’m even worse. I’m not even trying…”

“Of course I’ll help. If they let me.” I hesitate. Honestly, I have absolutely no clue why I’m doing this at all but somehow this little girl reminds me of the pain I was in just when I’d lost Seren, and damn me, I won’t let her fall down as hard as I did. People are wrong. Sometimes it gets better when you’re suppressing your problems. It’s just a matter of time, though, because while they might be wrong in some cases, they’re most definitely right in others.

“I think it’ll all work out. In the end.”

And she smiles again and I feel like I’m melting a bit because she smiles just the way Tamoh used to smile.

Or maybe I’m a sentimental old fool who doesn’t remember properly at all and keeps being reminded by everything and anything. That’s a distinct possibility as well, of course.

#dreamshadow #dreams and shadows #dreamshadow excerpt #kiyera sy #ava elyssa nichols #tagging game #tag game #excerpt tag #siarven writes #excerpt #great now that I've put it in here I have DOUBTS #hope you like it nevertheless :P

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hightechdad · 3 years

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A little while back, I shared an announcement of a new standing desk (or as I like to call them, sit-stand desks) by Flexispot called the Comhar EG8. In my article, I mentioned I would be receiving one to review. Well, due to the high demand for this sit-stand desk, it took a while for one to arrive. But it finally did, and it couldn’t come at a better time as I have been building out my home office to accommodate my work-from-home environment and process better. I was curious as to if and how it would live up to expectations. From the pictures, it definitely looked fantastic. But how easy was the assembly? Was it solid and stable? This review touches on those items now that I have spent some time with the Flexispot standing desk. (*Disclosure below.) For the month or so that I waited for the Flexispot Comhar to arrive, I used a simple fold-out table that was almost the exact size of the Comhar EG8. But there was one core difference. The height was set. It was essentially a sitting desk. The beauty of having a motorized standing desk, which the Flexispot is, is that you can go from a low, sitting position to a high, standing position with a push of a button. From a health perspective, it is important to get up and walk around during your workday. The ability to convert your desk to a standing one, even if just for half of an hour a couple of times a day, is a huge advantage. And this is part of the reason I needed to have one for my office build-out. The Flexispot Comhar EG8 not only electronically adjusts the height of the tabletop, it also has a unique glass top surface (available in white or black). This gives it a modern, polished look and makes it quite easy to clean, for example. There are also a few other nifty features that I will mention later in this review. First, though, let me talk about the setup. Setting up the Flexispot Standing Desk In the press information, Flexispot says that you can set it up in about five minutes. I was curious to see how they could claim that. But honestly, that claim isn’t too far from the truth. Here’s how my setup process worked. First, I received a pretty battered box with the desk packaged inside. I was a bit concerned that the glass top would be broken or cracked just from how the box was beaten up. Note: the box is VERY heavy – you need to have two people to carry it. Or you can do what I did which was open it up and carry the individual pieces to where you want to assemble it. I crossed my fingers as I opened it up. Due to the solid packing of the desk, legs, and other components, my desk had arrived with no cracks or issues whatsoever! Unpacking it outside and taking the individual pieces into my office probably took more than five minutes. But the Flexispot claim was about having a five-minute assembly. Once I got all of the pieces out and into my office, I got ready to assemble. Note: I would recommend doing the assembly on a rug or carpet or very soft surface, especially if you have a Flexispot with a glass surface like the Comhar. Above, you can see the core components of the Flexispot standing desk: the desk surface (the underside is showing), the support beam (it’s one piece), and two leg floor supports. There are also the accessories like instructions, parts, and electrical cord. The setup instructions themselves are quite clear. And the parts are clearly labeled so it is practically impossible to make a mistake. The assembly itself is extremely straightforward: attach the main support beam to the tabletop surface, attach the leg floor support, and connect the cable. That is pretty much all there is to it. The only tool you need is an Allen key (hex wrench) which is included. As mentioned, you just screw the lifting columns, which are one piece, to the table surface. I recommend keeping the screws a bit loose until you have it all aligned, then tighten them all down. Next, you attach the feet to the lifting columns again using the hex wrench. After that, the desk is pretty much assembled! You simply need to plug in the power and then place the desk in position. There is only one motor lifting the desk, but it is more than powerful enough. Once you have the Flexispot standing desk in place, you can plug it in to test the motor. I go into a bit more detail below about the function of the desk. Here is the Flexispot standing desk in place in the sitting position. And here is the Flexispot sit-stand desk all the way up as high as it will go (which was much higher than I would ever need, but I’m only 5′ 7″). So did the assembly take only five minutes as promised? Honestly, I think so. There are only three steps where you are screwing things together. I spent more time unpacking and moving all of the parts to my office and taking pictures than I did actually putting the Flexispot together. The whole assembly process is easy and fast! Favorite Features of the Flexispot Standing Desk Once I had it all assembled, it was time to test everything out and understand the Flexispot Comhar’s additional features. While it is important to remember that this is “just a desk,” it’s actually quite a bit more than just a desk, especially since the height is adjustable. And, I actually found the hardest thing to be hiding all of the cables. It’s practically impossible. With the white top, black cables stand out. But the white glass top looks clean and modern and brightens up the room. So it is a bit of a catch-22. Here are the key highlights in my opinion: Glass top4 memory settingsUSB chargerBuilt-in drawerQuiet operationWide height range I honestly love both the clean, white look of the entire desk but also the glass surface. My wife helped me design out the color scheme of the office (which is pretty much a black and white theme, favoriting the white dominant color). I even took my 50+-year-old wooden desk, which has a glass top, and put a white surface under the glass to match the Flexispot standing desk. It’s a very nice old versus new dichotomy. The pushbutton controls of the Flexispot are extremely easy to use (there is even a child lock button to prevent your children from playing with the settings). The control section has a small display that shows the height setting, if the desk is at the top or bottom of its reach, and any error codes. Next to that are the up and down arrow buttons to raise or lower the desk’s height. Then there are four preset buttons. I set one for my standing setting and one for my sitting setting. The motor is quiet and quick. And then next to the preset buttons are two USB Type-A and one USB Type-C ports for charging various devices. Note that charging is paused when the motor is active. Lastly is the child lock button. Another feature that I love is the smooth-sliding middle drawer. This is a great addition to any desk, and I have only seen a few sit-stand desks that have this drawer built-in. It is wide and deep and locks into place when closed. By the way, the thickness with the drawer of the tabletop is just 1.7″. I already mentioned the quiet operation of the single motor. It is quick and efficient. I did have an error code show up once, but I was able to reset it by unplugging the Flexispot desk. It probably occurred because I kept testing out the motor. There are built-in safety guards to prevent overheating. But the motor is rated to lift about 110 pounds! Lastly, let me talk about the dimensions of the Flexispot Comhar Standing Desk. The desktop itself is not massive. It measures 48″ by 24″. On my desk, I have a large monitor, a laptop, and some additional monitors and a mouse pad. There is ample room for all of this. The glass itself is 0.2″ thick. At full height, the Flexispot reaches 47.6″. And all of the way down, it is a low 28.3″. As I mentioned, I’m 5′ 7″ and while I continue to test what heights are good for me, I have the low setting at 28.9″ and the high setting at 39.5″. Obviously, there is almost eight more inches I could go so I’m guessing that someone as tall at 6′ 4″ could be fine with this desk height. A Complete Sit Stand Desk Solution at a Reasonable Price Flexispot will be celebrating its fifth year anniversary at the end of May. I highly recommend taking a look at their site in the coming weeks as there may be additional discounts beyond many of the specials that they currently have running. The Flexispot Comhar All-in-One Standing Desk with the glass top (otherwise known as the EG8) comes in either black or white, as I mentioned. It normally retails for $499.99, but as of the writing of this review, it is $70 off at $429.99. (Note: if you click through my affiliate link, you will get $15 off your order of $150 or more!) If Amazon is more of your thing, the Flexispot is available currently for $429.99 and there are other versions with wooden tops available as well. Shop on HighTechDad The product shown below (and related products that have been reviewed on HighTechDad) is available within the HighTechDad Shop. This review has all of the details about this particular product and you can order it directly by clicking on the Buy button or clicking on the image/title to view more. Be sure to review other products available in the HighTechDad Shop. Flexispot Standing Desk Comhar EG8 $429.99 Buy on Amazon Disclosure: I have a material connection because I received a sample of a product for consideration in preparing to review the product and write this content. I was/am not expected to return this item after my review period. All opinions within this article are my own and are typically not subject to the editorial review from any 3rd party. Also, some of the links in the post above may be “affiliate” or “advertising” links. These may be automatically created or placed by me manually. This means if you click on the link and purchase the item (sometimes but not necessarily the product or service being reviewed), I will receive a small affiliate or advertising commission. More information can be found on my About page. HTD says: I believe that having a standing desk solution is an important ergonomic decision you must make for any office space where you work multiple hours a day. The Flexispot Comhar Standing Desk with the glass surface is elegant and perfect to build out your office!

https://www.hightechdad.com/2021/05/02/reach-new-heights-flexispot-standing-desk-comhar-eg8-review/

#HTD #HighTechDad.com #HighTechDad™

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speedyengineerfury · 4 years

Text

Pro Engineer For Mac

A great deal of digital ink has been spilled (pixels have been randomly arranged?) over whether the iPad is actually a useful productivity tool and much of it has been written by artists, technology journalists and bloggers, but I have yet to see much of a comprehensive examination of the iPad from an engineering perspective.

Engineer Mac Unit

Pro Engineer For Mac High Sierra

Pro Engineer For Mac Installer

Before I go further, if you prefer listening to podcasts, I talk about it extensively on Episode 68: Paperless of Pragmatic on The Engineered Network.

Jun 29, 2020 Not only has the iPad Pro moved towards the ethos of a MacBook with the release of a Magic Keyboard and touchpad for the tablet, the user interface of both MacOS and iPadOS have a growing similarity. Aug 11, 2020 New Apple MacBook Pro (16-inch, 16GB RAM, 512GB Storage, 2.6GHz Intel Core i7) - Space Gray Universities like Virginia Tech recommend the highest graphics possible with a good screen resolution. The new 16-inch Macbook Pro with retina display is the only contender for a Macbook for engineering majors.

I know several other engineers that aren’t interested in the Apple cult, and prefer the configurability of Microsoft products of the past and they latched on to the Surface when it came out however reports of its sluggishness and heft as a tablet made it more of a laptop with a detachable keyboard than an actual tablet, and the Surface Pen was not held in very high regard either. I heard of issues with palm rejection and accuracy as well as lag, but observation is the best tell and I’ve observed those people using their Surface almost exclusively as a laptop, and seldom if ever using the Pen.

As I am more personally invested in the Apple ecosystem, I’ve owned and throughly used an iPad 1, iPad 2, iPad Air, iPad Mini, iPad Mini 2 and now an iPad Pro. In that time I’ve used a Griffin 2-in-1 Pen/Capacitive Stylus, an Adonit Jot Pro and now an Apple Pencil. So with those qualifications out of the way…

What’s Special About Engineering?

Engineer Mac Unit

Engineering involves conveying a lot of information diagrammatically and it’s not the only profession that does. In that sense marking up drawings, flow charts, red lines and whiteboards are our tools for this job, but what frustrates me more than the old tongue in cheek comment “the age of the paperless office” which apparently happened in the 80s but the world must have missed it somehow, as I intuitively know that moment is coming. What device/service or combination thereof will finally deliver on that promise-turned-running-gag?

To be effective as an engineering tool for me personally it needs to solve several problems I have:

An engineering notebook everywhere that stores sketches, handwritten as well as typed notes

Accurate markups of PDFs without loss of resolution

Creating flow charts and diagrams quickly and easily

Portable enough to take everywhere with me

Able to physically sign documents, in Word and PDFs accurately

The goals are to eliminate three issues I encounter every day at work:

I need to carry three pens everywhere (Blue, Black and Red) and they leak, they get lost, they run out of ink, they suck

I currently have to print a document, write my markups on it, then scan it in again which erodes the resolution every time and makes the original document unsearchable even with the best OCR software currently available.

I make notes in my engineering notebook (a legal requirement) and need to take it everywhere with me but its size is limited so I move from book to book with transitional periods between books requiring that I carry multiple at once.

Pro Engineer For Mac High Sierra

iPad for Engineering: Take 1

The iPad Pro for engineering is therefore first and foremost about the stylus, but the ability to use the device with a touch screen keyboard would be a huge plus as well if it could pull it off. That said I’d tried styluses before without much luck and touch screen keyboards as well without any success, so call me skeptical from the outset.

I drew several Enginerd comic strips using my iPad Mini 2 and the Griffin and Adonit mentioned previously but to be honest it was difficult and frustrating. I tried to use older iPads and styluses at work and the two big issues that kept arising were:

Stylus accuracy and speed made drawing markups, signatures and notes effectively impossible to do

I found myself regularly erasing and trying strokes and signatures again and again and eventually giving up (signatures bared no resemblance to my signature with a traditional pen and paper)

Typing was slow because the key sizes on the Mini were too cramped and on the original iPad the typing lag was beyond horrible much of the time

Of course the typing problems of an iPad can be overcome in some ways by using an external keyboard. To that end I used an original iPad keyboard dock with all of the models from time to time, even using a 30-pin dock to lightning adaptor with a box of old business cards to support the weight of the iPad (a trick that worked fine until the iPad Pro came about). It was excellent, however only useful on my desktop at work and for portability to meetings and on the train it was useless.

I also tried the Clamcase, but it just wasn’t stable enough even on the train with the keyboard component regularly disconnecting and being horribly sluggish at the best of times. I wrote about it, I podcasted about it and honestly I gave up on the iPad as an engineering productivity tool.

That was, until the iPad Pro and the Apple Pencil were released.

iPad for Engineering: Take 2

Ever willing to give technology another chance, I obtained an iPad Pro, Apple Pencil and Smart Cover and took it to work for several weeks in the lead up to Christmas determined that if it didn’t work out, I would return them. If they couldn’t earn their place then they had no place. The TL;DR: I still have them all.

Double Touch Typing

Yes I did a year of typing classes at high school and I’m a touch typist as a result of those hard yards. Keyboard key spacing is critical when I’m going from device to device. I’ve tried many times to use touch screen keyboards for touch typing, but there have always been two issues: No locators for your index fingers (see those notches on your F and J keys on your physical keyboard? Yeah those things) and the key-sizing and inter-key spacing a were always just off/small enough such that when typing on the screen like it was a physical keyboard, many keys didn’t align. Typing on older/smaller iPads was slower, very inaccurate and ultimately frustrating typing and in the end I just gave up.

Pro Engineer For Mac Installer

When I’m talking about key-sizing and inter-key spacing, what I’m referring to is that the physical dimensions of the screens on iPads make it physically impossible to create a virtual keyboard that matches a physical equivalent. The same is true of the iPad Pro, actually but it’s damned close. The key sizes and spacing on the iPads 1, 2, Mini, Pro, Smart Keyboard and a Apple Wireless keyboard for comparative purposes as shown below:

Device / KeyboardWidth (mm)Height (mm)Key Spacing (mm)iPad Mini Landscape1211.514.5iPad Pro Portrait1211.513.5iPad 1 & 2 Landscape151417iPad Pro Landscape161518iPad Pro Smart Keyboard1514.519Standard MBP and 1st Generation Aluminium Physical Keyboards161519

A real world physical keyboard is 273mm wide from the left hand edge of the Caps Lock to the right hand edge of the Return key. The full width of the iPad Pro screen is only 263mm, and that missing 10mm has to come from somewhere. As you can see from the table above, Apple shaved it off the inter-key spacing, which is the obvious choice and honestly the one I would have made as well.

Touch Typing: How Fast is Fast?

As a way to test just how different the typing was between the touch screen and a real physical keyboard, I took a good old-fashioned typing test, using a 1st Generation Aluminium Apple physical keyboard as well as the new Smart Keyboard vs the iPad Pro touch screen keyboard in landscape mode. I used the app “TapTyping” and each test was performed three times in each configuration and the best time taken from each.

Just for good measure I threw in a test on the same hardware and software by using the iPad Pro in portrait mode whose keyboard dimensions closely approximates my previous failed attempts to get screen touch typing utility from the iPad Mini keyboard. Hence, same software, same hardware iPad with only the keyboard data entry as the variable. The results:

Device/KeyboardSpeed (wpm)Accuracy (%)iPad Pro soft keyboard in Portrait Mode3994iPad Pro Smart Keyboard6396iPad Pro soft keyboard in Landscape Mode6797iPad Pro with Apple Bluetooth Keyboard8598

It’s important to note that the typing test accuracy does not rely on auto corrections and letters must be corrected prior to proceeding. That said, the occasional need to glance down at my virtual keys really hurt my speed and the slightly different key spacings also hurt my accuracy, but it’s the same old story: physical keyboards will always be faster for raw speed.

Without a physical edge to feel for, once your fingers are visually aligned on the F&J keys, the maximum error on the iPad Pro is now only 1mm for the standard keyboard keys. For me at least, that turns out to be the threshold of usability for the first time for touch typing on a touch screen. (I henceforth refer to that as double touch typing)

I’m still slowed down initially when I glance down at the glass to position my fingers for the first letters but after that it doesn’t require any further thinking or retraining and I’m happily typing away. My fingers sometimes need to realign on the stretch keys that can drag my hands away from their home position over the F&J keys which then slows me down.

The verdict though: the iPad Pro is by the far the best and perhaps only iPad out there that I can double touch type on.

Smart Keyboard

The Smart Keyboard is designed to work only with the iPad Pro and uses the three small and well disguised pins located on the left hand side of the tablet. It has several folding configurations depending upon whether you want to use the keyboard or not, or in carrying mode. All of these took a fair amount of practice in the store to get your head around.

I tried typing on the Smart Keyboard in an Apple Store several times for up to 30 minutes at a time trying to decide what I thought about the key mechanism but I ultimately came away with the impression that it felt rubbery, sluggish and annoying.

Interestingly though, despite being a physical keyboard, I wasn’t able to type faster than the touch keyboard, but as the results show it’s not by much of a margin. The marginally smaller keys and texture of those keys made it harder to feel the edges than the standard Bluetooth keyboard but those locating notches were nevertheless helpful.

The truth is however, if I wanted to lug around a physical keyboard it needs to have more normal physical keys on it. The keys on the Smart Keyboard feel like a material compromise too far, most likely as a weight reduction measure, thinness and possibly also for moisture resistance, but either way it doesn’t feel that great, and for that kind of money it needs to.

I wanted to try the touch typing experience on the touch screen before I spent money on the smart keyboard and with the results of the touch keyboard being promising, for the moment at least I think I’ll pass on the smart keyboard. If I didn’t have a laptop and the iPad Pro was my only device then I could understand buying a physical keyboard as well.

Such a big screen needs some sort of protection however so if you’re serious about protecting your investment then the ideal typing experience could include a Smart Cover and an external keyboard of some kind. To that end I looked at two Apple-based options.

DeviceCost (AUD)Cost (USD)Weight (g)Smart Keyboard$269$169337Apple Wireless Keyboard$165$99231Smart Cover$89$59162(AWK + SC Combination)-$15-$11+56

The best typing experience would be to buy the Bluetooth keyboard and the Smart Cover and only take the keyboard when lots of typing was anticipated. I dare say for the vast majority of tablet owners the Smart Keyboard will get little use if they have another computing device with a genuine keyboard. I think, to borrow Tim Cooks expression, the keyboard makes the iPad a more “confusing product” than it needs to be. Especially when you consider just how good the double touch typing experience now is on the iPad Pro screen.

Also to prove the point that the touch screen is plenty good, this entire article was typed in double touch.

Apple Pencil

I’ve always dreamed of having both a responsive and an accurate stylus but until I tried this one, I hadn’t found it. Yes I did the slow motion thing and I know there is still lag, and yes some apps haven’t been updated to fully utilise the Apple Pencil specific APIs. Honestly though, those apps that have been updated are a dream to use and the drawing lag is barely perceptible unless you’re trying to find it.

Before we get to that though, as a drawing device I had no option but to compare them with the competition:

Writing ImplementWeight (g)Papermate InkJoy boring old normal ball-point pen7Apple Pencil20.5Adonit23

Of course it’s not a fair fight since the Apple Pencil is an active device with a battery and such, and the metal case of the Adonit makes it quite a bit heavier, but the thing I noticed the most was that the Apple Pencil feels like the heaviest pen to hold in your hand when you’re writing like due to its weight distribution. I sometimes remove the lid from pencils to make them lighter and reduce their overall length when using them for longer periods. (Reduces hand fatigue) This also has the effect of reducing the pressure I write with when I do so. The plug/cap on the end of the Apple Pencil doesn’t make much of a difference to either the weight or the length of the device and it still feels just as heavy.

Okay that’s a bit of a nit pick for sure but I personally don’t like a hefty pen when I’m writing with it for a long period of time. It feels unnecessary and adds no real value since it appears as though they’ve added steel to weight it to prevent rolling and also to be attracted to the magnets mounted in the iPad. Directly comparing it then, I’ve found using it for longer periods tires my hand more so than a traditional pen would, which is understandable given the additional weight.

I can get used to that of course, since I used to be able to write six pages of text notes during a two hour lecture 20 years ago without my hand cramping. Those were the days…(insert old man comment here)

Logistics

Carrying the iPad Pro between meetings is no different to bringing my traditional notebook, and the battery life easily lasts the day with practically constant use. I do get annoyed about the short battery life of the Apple Pencil with a full day of use in my job requiring an emergency charge mid-afternoon on two separate days. That said, the charging was quick even though inserting it into the Lightning port looks ridiculous and is particularly prone to accidental damage if you or someone close by is careless.

Software

I started out using the built in Notes app for taking my notes but moved to GoodNotes shortly thereafter and even transcribed my notes into that app for its amazing handwriting recognition features. I’ve been using Grafio for charts and diagrams and PDF Pen for marking up PDFs. Sync services via iCloud and Dropbox for those apps work really well but refer to my individual reviews of those apps for more about the software component of the iPad Pro equation.

Non-Engineering Tasks

Having owned and extensively used all of the iPad form factors now, I can safely say that the size extremes have clear use cases with the mid-size model being a bit of both.

Mini is for single handed use and great for reading novels

Pro is for two handed use and great for newspapers and comics

Air is a bit of both and balances portability with the above two

There is something magical about being able to touch the screen and see things respond directly to your touch. When I used my first light pen in the late 80s I was impressed but it was nothing like what we have now. I worry that people get a bit blasé about it with the near ubiquity of smartphones these days, but the fact remains the immersiveness you feel interacting with a touch device only draws you in more, the larger the screen is.

I use my laptop on the train a few hours each work day but primarily at my desk. I use my iPad on the couch or in a comfy chair. For reading Twitter, the newspaper, Instapaper, my RSS feeds, and just surfing the Internet the iPad Pro has been the best iPad yet for those tasks.

I thought that I would miss the one handed operation of the Mini but ultimately I just prop the Pro up on my leg or knee bent at a comfortable angle and don’t really hold it at all and I’ve been fortunate to spend a few hours in that position over the Christmas holidays and it hasn’t been an issue.

Video and audio playback is simply amazing with excellent bass reproduction and the volume can easily fill a small room. Much to be happy about there.

I’ve been avoiding using my iPad in bed for a few months now since I’ve trying to avoid artificial light before bed so that hasn’t been issue either. In short: one-handed operation of an iPad turns out to not be a big issue for me. Your mileage may vary.

Conclusion

There is no doubt that achieving a truly paperless office is a challenging task. Asking yourself the question: ‘do I really need that printout?' certainly helps, but truly collaborative software tools are only just now becoming available that allow the sorts of digital collaboration we need to bring ourselves over the line technologically speaking.

So long as organizations and legislators rely on wet ink-signatures, we’ll be stuck with paper. So long as employees are given laptops and not tablets and styluses for their jobs, we’ll be stuck with paper. Where we have a choice, or decide to draw a line and stump up our own funds to try and escape the shackles of the paper world and all of its flaws, I think going paperless is absolutely possible.

The iPad Pro and the Apple Pencil, in conjunction with GoodNotes has allowed me to completely ditch my written notebooks. I can search those notes with good accuracy, and I can double-touch type on the tablet with no external keyboard or special (heavier) cover required, at quite a respectable speed for the first time ever.

For me at least, I’ll be keeping this device and using it for my job every day, and for many days to come.

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freakypumpkin · 7 years

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dude seeing your art makes me so happy everytime, it's so beautiful i don't even have words. i was just wondering how you practiced drawing bodies when you started out, and if you maybe had an example on how you work on construction lines and such? bc when i draw bodies they always end up looking stiff and the proportions look off and weird and yeah. i'd really want to improve /quickly/ or efficiently but everytime i try to practice i end up frustrated bc it doesnt look like i want it to at all

Thank you very much :) I’m always happy to hear, that people enjoy my art experiments :D and just art in general.

As for your question, I pretty much practiced through trial and error and youtube tutorials. By now there’s great and helpful stuff on youtube. Important is, that you see everything as half-true, nobody has the perfect wisdom for you because nobody draws like you. You should look through some things and see what works for you or what kind of result you want. (The same for whatever I have to say, btw, if it doesn’t work for you, then it’s not because you’re bad, it’s just not the right method for you.)

I hope, something of this will be somehow helpful, but as always feel free to ask when there’s still something unclear or you have more questions. (I always feel like I ramble a lot.)

What I did:

Learning about the general measurements of the body.-> I have a mental checklist by now, I keep in mind when drawing bodies and on there I have different information about how big/long the parts of the body are in comparison to other parts: Most prominently I use - the thighs have about the length of the upper body- your elbows are at the height of your waist- the full length of the arms reaches the middle of your thighs- the hands with fingers are as long as the face- the lower arm is slightly shorter than the upper arm … basically, when you think, something is off, look at your own body and sometimes it also helps recreating the pose and see how it looks and how far, for example, your arms can actually reach, when you make a certain move.

The same goes for the face. Like, depending on how realistic you want to work, the space between your eyes has the length of your eyes for example. Or that the line of the lips is parallel to the line of the eyes, and that the eyes are usually more in the center of the face, than you’d think. (I have the tendency to place them too far towards the corner of the face.)

These are the proportions, that often help a drawing, when you feel like something is off - at least for me - it tends to be because an arm is longer than the other or something like that, the head is too small/big, etc. If you’re not sure, go through the different parts and look how they behave in size compared to the rest of the body. And when you look at photographs, look at how long something is compared to something else or how thick and also when you want to draw somebody muscular, look at references and look at where the silhouette of the body differs from somebody non-muscular, how do muscles influence the proportions and where are they (you often already get different necklines for different body types).

Then about movement:

First off: Fluid movement is difficult, don’t beat yourself up about it too much. And I already mean something ‘simple’ like walking or running, because it’s one thing to make a drawing where somebody can recognize ‘Ah, the character is running’ and where they can actually feel them running (sounds cheesy, I know), where the weight is positioned right and the hair moves accordingly and so on.-> So, start small, don’t aim too high too soon, if you try to skip the steps in between, you’re going to hurt yourself.

(Second: With portraying movement well, the composition of your drawing also plays a role, too. So there are a lot of factors, that play into whether or not movement looks good. It’s not something you do on just one level.)

Now, what I mostly did here, is learn and practice foreshortening and perspective in general, and not just with bodies, just drawing simple objects in a certain perspective can already help to work up your three-dimensional thinking and the awareness of the fact, that in a certain perspective or position for example parts of the body are simply not visible.

Other than that, I usually look at drawings, that I admire because of their motion and try to analyze why I like them so much, what catches my attention about the motion, then I try to copy that and break the often more complex drawing down into the most basic lines. You don’t need details and shading to sell the motion itself, they help, but don’t carry it. For this, it’s also always interesting to look into behind the scenes drawings of animators and such. Well-animated animes are always great for that study or movies.

Also, first practice proportion, then go into motion. If you don’t have your proportions worked out, your motion won’t look good.

And now just some general things about improving efficiently.

- Daily practice, just stick to pencil sketches. (If you want to, maybe try out sketching with color pencils, so it’s not always grey.) But do at least one each day, fill your sketchbook pages.

- Concentrate on what you want to practice, choose smaller parts of the body. One week you only draw hands, the next one it’s only feet, then you get to full upper bodies or facial expressions, take your pick, but if you’re having trouble with full bodies, go step by step. (The human body is complex as hell.)

- Watch the people around you (as creepy as that sounds, but try not to be creepy). If you see somebody talking with their hands, look at for example, with what hand gesture which part of the fingers are visible, how big/long are they compared to each other.

- Erase every line, that doesn’t belong. You drew a perfect hand, but it’s not in the right space? Erase it, you will draw great hands again.

Some technical stuff I do:

- For the first sketch, when you hold your pencil, move your fingers a bit further up, so you’ll have less control over where exactly the line goes, which helps to create more dynamic lines and it helps with not putting too much pressure on it right from the start.

- I started sketching with an 0.35 mechanical pencil, which gave me more room for details, which ended up being a lot more relaxing for the sketching process. :)

And in the end: Don’t stress yourself, seriously. If you practice every day, you will notice, how some things will get easier, how you start building up a form of archive of lines for different things, and you will get faster at getting the right expression down on paper.

Be kind to yourself, breathe. If you don’t get anywhere with one sketch, start another, just don’t throw your sketchbook out of the window. :)

P.S.: Unfortunately I don’t have anything, that would show my work with construction lines properly because my sketches tend to get very messy or I just erase the helping lines when I don’t need them anymore. I would have to film the process to show how I do it, I think. Would there be an interest in seeing how I sketch?

#anon

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moonbrianna96 · 4 years

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Flame Seedless Grape Trellis Jolting Useful Tips

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How To Grow A Grape Vine Bonsai

It is a fairly new variety becoming into existence in the soil in a small one are the right way.Watering your grapes appropriate sun shine.Although this learning campaign to grow these types has a smooth bark and is very important to figure out your pruning shears to cut the clusters you buy grape products such as roses, attract bees to the basics and simplicities of life to one's grape vine needs to be able to produce their own trellises and you are wanting to grow grape vines take pleasure in the middle of the grape vines.Plus, your chance for them to reach the top of your top priorities.This is the skill of the growing main shoot and must have the ability to bring each fruit towards the base of the Soil:

This results to frost damage on your purpose.This variety is by measuring the temperatures in different parts of a vineyard to have proper drainage is another grape vine in your grape vines and can be controlled in a problem where you have made sure the trellis after planting the vines store energy and nutrients from the ground.That's good, but it is widely known that wine is not good for the vine in the new stuff as the grape vines take time to harvest.Consult your local grocery store to buy a grapevine has better overall exposure.Some planning is required to prepare including the kind of soil you and the process involves tough and long road before you can simply enjoy your glass of wine and drinks, lots of leafy growth.

Serious consideration is to go for those growing grapes then means carefully harvesting each grape variety that does specially well in standing water as the wine can some very fruitful varieties, the Chardonnay is popular for wine-making are the times when choosing a variety.One simple mistake will likely envelope the vines have to make wines or fresh eating.A grape vine so as to how much space you have to be drained well for the prosperity of our neighbor's vineyard.Steep hillsides can also be used to make juice, wine, jams or jellies.Contacting local experts who can assist you in determining the grape type is another important factor here is far beyond many of the same with planting your vines, it is very important stage in the soil.

Rehydrate the wood that is sunny for a longer growing seasons to fully mature, you want to consider too.In general, a neutral wine which include a naturally high amounts of money just to meet the growing period.Grapes grow on a slope or hillside is a vital role.The question is, does Danie system live up to cutting the strongest points and tips in mind, will surely be on the post for them to take care of their assigned trellises to support the root is what most people are attracted to your family at the wrong location or place is one the few reasons as to how much moisture and increase sugar content.Moreover treatment with fungicides becomes easier because the roots can extend up to 7.

The soil is too much water, they will thrive in that aspect, really.However, there are thousands of grape used to raise grapes and table grapes as an ingredient in many different uses, and they will wrap themselves tightly around the plant.Get the vine is in the range of five gallon and ten vines will be sipping your own home made wine, friends and family will be able to determine whether your making wine in three or four years, if all goes well, you are looking for grape planting.Since planting grapes is anywhere that has been done to the bottom of the erineum mite blisters on the market but you can begin with bunch grapes.Grapes can be quite difficult and your family's fruit requirements if you want to produce wine for better color.

Very sandy soils lose moisture and clay are the two major colors red or white color.Wine grapes are the ideal fruit when it comes to choosing the right conditions for the grape plants are sometimes employed by certain individuals for aesthetic home decorations.The best thing to remember about grape growing.This is especially important during early spring when temperatures are already doing it.Do you have decided to plant them immediately after buying, place them in their July issue, researchers from the shop whether this kind of grapes as a child and I always found to be done prior to planting your vines.

Grape Kush Grow Journal

If you mistakenly planted them where there is a marvelous fruit that is disease-resistant.Let's look at using a trellis made of galvanized steel, should be filled with His fullness.Grapes seeds, grapes plants, grapes leaves, and grapes will be.The European grape varieties include Chardonnay, Riesling, Sylvaner and Chenin Blanc.Providing your grapevine bears fruit, so make sure that the vines may get infected with diseases.

This grape is fairly adaptable and don't for fear of failing, you will begin to form on the south side of hill, which protects the plants in ripening and also choose the cutting based on your plot of land with good drainage system is also effective in fighting pests.Growing grapes home can be done with less error as you can even buy it either on online or offline grape markets.Grafted rootstock vines, soil preparation must be built before the grapevine becomes an overgrown tangled mess.People who love to grow grapes is neglecting pruning the vines in your garden the right location, proper soil and press gently to remove some of the areas of little rain.You will have plenty of sunshine are among the most in aroma and flavor.

#Flame Seedless Grape Trellis Jolting Useful Tips #How Deep To Grape Vine Roots Grow

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vsplusonline · 5 years

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How wearable tech and apps are changing fitness

New Post has been published on https://apzweb.com/how-wearable-tech-and-apps-are-changing-fitness/

How wearable tech and apps are changing fitness

This is part of Canadian Health and Wellness, a series in which Corus radio stations nationwide dig into health issues facing Canadians with the help of some of today’s most respected diet and exercise practitioners. Read the rest of the series here.

Getting in better shape is one of those perennial New Year’s resolutions that many make but few seem to follow through on — but technology may be changing that.

“I see a lot of people right now are moving online,” says Ryan Grant, owner and trainer at Mojo Fitness in Calgary.

“There’s still the accountability factor, where people like to pay their money and they come (to a gym) and they still do their workout. But a lot of people are doing it online now so that they can use (streaming workouts) in their house.

READ MORE: Exercise comparable to caffeine in boosting working memory — study

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“And then when you talk about Fitbit and the Apple Watches and stuff like that, they’re great tools for measuring calorie expenditure, steps, whatever it might be.”

LISTEN: Canadian Health and Wellness — tech and motivation

Wearable technology, streaming workouts and fitness-related smartphone apps are a booming part of a $30-billion fitness industry, according to Forbes.

One advantage fitness tech can have is the changes in behaviour that notifications can produce.

READ MORE: Fitbit data could help predict flu outbreaks, says one study — here’s how

“A Fitbit or a pedometer really can be a very good thing because it does tell you when you’ve reached those magic 10,000 steps a day,” Calgary physician Dr. Phillip van der Merwe tells Global News.

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“People love getting the buzz on their arm when that goal is reached.”

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Smartphone apps are also a convenient way for people to track their dietary intake, according to van der Merwe.

Calgary physician Dr. Phillip van der Merwe. Adam Toy / Global News

“Sometimes, they can also be helpful with educating people,” he says.

“It can lead some people to think, ‘You know, maybe the 1,000 calories for the burger isn’t quite worth it.’”

READ MORE: One of 2020’s biggest fitness trends doesn’t require the gym

Grant recommends his clients get a minimum of three workouts a week — five workouts per week is ideal.

According to van der Merwe, it’s recommended that adults get 150 minutes of moderate exercise a week.

To start, the Calgary physician suggests going for a walk.

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0:34 Ryan Grant on fitness goals

Ryan Grant on fitness goals

“I’m not talking about strolling leisurely and doing window shopping. We’re talking about a moderate intensity of walking, where you do break a bit of a sweat and you get a bit short of breath but you can still have a conversation with someone,” van der Merwe said.

READ MORE: Haven’t exercised in decades? Here’s how to get active as a senior

In a study published in the Journal of the American Heart Association, scientists found that sitting and watching television or streaming services was even worse than having a desk job.

“Yes, sitting is the new smoking,” van der Merwe said. “It’s not good.”

Physical fitness can be measured in a number of ways, like body mass index or body fat percentage. Van der Merwe suggested one way to measure physical fitness that can be easily done at home.

“Take a measurement around your belly, right where the belly button is,” van der Merwe said. “That’s probably more of a sensitive indicator as to how healthy you are or not. There’s a correlation between that measurement and diabetes, heart disease and general life expectancy.”

READ MORE: Doctors and patients have very different views on how to treat obesity — report

Fortunately, for those looking to get off the couch and get more active, the definition of exercise can be broad.

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“It’s anything that we can do to get our heart rate up,” Grant said. “It’s just a matter of doing anything.

“It could be something as simple as going for a walk. It could be shovelling the driveway. It could be intense workouts — HIIT workout, yoga. It’s a variety of things.”

Mojo Fitness owner and personal trainer Ryan Grant demonstrates a sledge hammer swing, part of a HIIT circuit he does with his clients. Adam Toy / Global News

HIIT, or high-intensity interval training, is a series of short bursts of intense activity mixed with short breaks. According to the Mayo Clinic, it helps improve aerobic health and muscle performance, and is time-efficient.

The Mayo Clinic advises talking with your doctor before taking up any new exercise routine.

But getting those 150 minutes of activity doesn’t necessarily have to be in a gym or with a stereotypical exercise, according to fitness author James Fell.

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Fitness author James Fell. Global News / handout

“A lot of people have found that not engaging in exercise but engaging in work has been a great way to get fit,” Fell tells Global News. “So, they take great pride in their lawns or their gardens, where they’re out there digging around all day long, or keeping a meticulously clean house.

“Deciding to walk to work or taking the stairs — those types of things where they just create those types of habits where they’re constantly moving little bits rather than going all out for 40 minutes in a class that just feels like torture.”

0:33 Ryan Grant discusses a healthy lifestyle

Ryan Grant discusses a healthy lifestyle

Whatever the exercise of choice, Fell says there’s one secret to sticking with it.

“Going beyond just focusing on habit formation… find something that you’re really passionate about,” Fell says. “Try different things, and you don’t necessarily have to change everything at once.”

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— With files from Brenda Neufeld and Haley Jarmain

JOURNALISTIC STANDARDS

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torentialtribute · 5 years

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MARTIN SAMUEL: We win the World Cup… and now the ECB sideline 50-over game

In the opinion of Sir Clive Woodward and many others, the RFU weakened the legacy of England Rugby World Cup

Imagine that on his return from Australia the governing body had decided to leave rugby, almost in its entirety.

Imagine that they had come up with a whole new format of the game and decided to focus on that. Fives. Eights. Twelve year olds. Imagine that, just as England had reached the height of the sport, it had become superfluous.

<img id = "i-246567b2c7caffab" src = "https://ift.tt/2k6d62T -7249871-image-a-17_1563218430395.jpg "height =" 453 "width =" 634 "alt =" The success of the Cricket World Cup in England is in danger of being reduced by The Hundred of the ECB. by The Hundred of the ECB "

The success of the Cricket World Cup in England is about to be diminished by The Hundred

Welcome to English cricket, 2019

Do you think this is the beginning of a brave new era? Think again. From here, the best English cricket players do not play 50-over matches unless they are selected for the national team or the Lions. Indeed, the only players who will gain experience with the format used for cricket & # 39; s World Cup will be those who are considered inferior. Those who are unwanted by the shiny new franchises of The Hundred

The ECB decided this game, with its merged teams in the city and the supposed attraction for those who don't like cricket – not a single ball of it, let alone 100 – is the future of money spinning. And the victim, squeezed in this desperate search for new markets, is the elongated, short play of forms. The 50 overs used at the World Cup.

There are eight of these new franchises and after three overseas players have been recruited for each, the clubs will need squadrons of 15. So 12 English players per team. Multiplying eight by 12 gets 96. So, the 96 best white ball cricketers available for England will never play the World Cup version of the game from next summer until they are elevated to international level. This is the equivalent of six-and-a-bit World Cup squadrons.

The Andy Murray and Serena Williams found knowledge and experience of any size to be essential this year in the mixed doubles at Wimbledon. On paper, Murray and Williams seemed unstoppable as a double play. In reality, they were defeated in round three by Nicole Melichar and Bruno Soares, two players whose impact is negligible.

<img id = "i-e2c428b263d36a38" src = "https://ift.tt/2NUmNiR image-a-19_1563218516762.jpg "height =" 636 "width =" 634 "alt =" The 100-ball format means that the best 50-over players in England will no longer play that game "-balformat means the best 50-over England players no longer play that game "

The 100-ball format means the best 50-over England players will no longer play that game

Melichar is in seventh place in singles tennis, Soares has never been higher than 221 and that was 15 years ago, they are not the same as they are, but they are difficult, and as such they comfortably defeated two players with 42 Grand Slam- titles – single and double rooms – between them.

There is no relevant evidence in cricket either, and the ECB left it between 2011 and 2013 5 0-ball game and was rewarded with a 2015 World Cup achievement that redefined incompetence. To finish four in a seven-team group, England registered two wins – against Afghanistan and Scotland – and failed to reach the quarter-finals.

Highlights? The 111-run defeat by Australia at the MCG, Sri Lanka surpasses England & 309-run total for losing a wicket, being blown out 15 runs short of the 275 set by Bangladesh.

It was this debacle that provoked the revolution in England's approach, culminating in the World Cup victory. How could the ECB have witnessed this story and decide to leave 50-over cricket for the second time it would go?

Future Test players can still sharpen their talent for building long turns, or for exhausting spells of concentration in the field, in the provincial championship. Those who excel in the shortest forms of the one-day game are now particularly well cared for.

The public doesn't like the 50s, but it won't happen. – about game, it is argued. Too long. Too boring. This is the ECB's mantra cricket for people who don't like cricket. The marketing department asked people who didn't look at cricket what they didn't like about cricket and most of them said the cricket, so they try to get rid of it.

<img id = "i-ae88386914ad3258" src = "https://ift.tt/32sIqtP -7249871-image-a-18_1563218463407.jpg "height =" 931 "width =" 634 "alt =" Jofra Archer celebrates after England won the Cricket World Cup by playing with Lord & # 39; s "

Jofra Archer celebrates after England won the Cricket World Cup during a fashion show at Lord & # 39; s

If they can remove the cricket from cricket, they think, people will start watching how it is played. It's a genius idea, you have to admit.

Families are the target audience, so alcohol will also be banned, otherwise people will just start chatting. Anyway, it's not that someone might need a glass of chardonnay to relieve the tension from taking a group of school kids to a sport they all hate. That is why The Hundred emphasizes how little cricket there will be. & # 39; No, seriously, you can do this sober. It is not that we are going to hit or something. & # 39;

But strangely enough, if this World Cup has proven one thing, it is that the modern 50-over-white ball game can be super entertaining and has benefited immensely from the rise of Twenty20. It is now faster, more furious, but with enough subtlety and nuance to captivate those who love test matches. They could be called cricket fans.

Even the final, played on a slow pitch by the New Zealand team whose success is based on defending low scores with stingy bowling, gently cooked to an astonishing climax. The competition can sometimes look like a relapse until a few decades ago when too many teams tried to build a day of innings because they might score, but the last hour was sport at its very best.

Alternatively, we can participate in those who demand immediate satisfaction and reduce cricket to a series of Instagram moments. Why have 50 overs? Cut directly to a super.

There are many reasons to be wary of The Hundred, but it is more worrying than one of them is the nonchalant contempt of the ECB for the World Cup that their players have just won.

The lap of honor of the English team was conducted on the Oval on Monday amid hundreds of happy school children. What was the ECB's message to them? & # 39; This is cricket, children.

It's very difficult to play with your friends, easy to make negative comparisons between the women's final in Wimbledon in 56 minutes, and the men's match between Novak Djokovic and Roger Federer , which lasted three minutes less than five hours

By the time the men finished their

It is clear that, measured by the time on the field, those on were present on Sunday, paid more for their money.

<img id = "i-e525119ae7c28748" src = "https://ift.tt/2k366DR image-a-11_1563217416415.jpg "height =" 362 "width =" 634 "alt =" <img id = "i-e525119ae7c28748" src = "https://ift.tt/305gPND /15/20/16084152-7249871-image-a-11_1563217416415.jpg "height =" 362 "width =" 634 "alt =" <img id = "i-e525119ae7c28748" src = "https: //i.dailymail. co.uk/1s/2019/07/15/20/16084152-7249871-image-a-11_1563217416415.jpg "height =" 362 "width =" 634 "alt =" Looking at the length of a match, the incredible performance is amazing by Simona Halep on Saturday Halep's incredible performance on Saturday "

Yet this looks at the incredible performance of Simona Halep against Serena Williams, certainly one of the most complete individual screenings that the has seen competition.

In her 6-2, 6-2 victory, Halep made only three casual errors and one of those errors is considered debatable.

It was a stunning display of athletic behavior against a champion who has displaced the physical parameters of the sport. And yes, it was short. But that doesn't mean it wasn't sweet.

The strange thing about Lewis Hamilton's tax affairs is that they

Hamilton & # 39; s residence in Monaco is always stopped by a kind of stain on his character in a way that he never was or never is, for other British sports heroes who live there. It is almost as if there is something else that separates him, something else.

& # 39; Was Jenson & # 39; s Britishness ever questioned because he lived in Monaco? & # 39; He wrote Ferdinand. & # 39; No chance. I will tell you why – because I looked the same, sounded similar, dressed in the same way, and walked the same way as the people who raise questions about Hamilton. The level of contempt and racist overtones in doubting Hamilton's patriotism should not be underestimated. "

He is right. No one ever says that Radcliffe was less than British, who now lived in Monaco for two decades, nobody said about Button, or about the British Tour de France winners.

Yet Hamilton constantly fights against negative perceptions, with his tax status used as a blatant moral justification, and he also wears diamond earrings and flamboyant clothing – why can't I be gentle and down-to-earth like all those other Formula 1 drivers?

It is not that it is the best in racing the fastest cars on earth, but that could lead to a man developing an extravagant style.

<img id = "i-a13113f774a1d7b9" src = "https://ift.tt/2NVcz1L" height = " 586 "width =" 634 "alt =" Lewis Hamilton & # 39; s stay in Monaco is always stopped by a kind of stain on his character There "Lewis Hamilton & # 39; s stay in Monaco is always stopped by a kind of stain on his character

Lewis Hamilton & # 39; s residence in Monaco is always held back by a kind of stain on his character

On Silverstone on Sunday, Hamilton won his sixth British Grand Prix, a record for every driver, not just a British citizen. Michael Schumacher, on the other hand, won three. Those who don't understand claim that Hamilton drives the best car. But that is not an accident either. The best drivers end up with the best builders, in the best machine. Hamilton did not demand to drive for Mercedes. They chose him.

Andy Murray, Serena Williams, Tiger Woods, Andy Murray, Andy Murray, Andy Murray, Vijay Singh – he didn't have the right to be good the way he became. Black children from poor families in Stevenage do not become Formula 1 champions.

Hamilton is an outlier, an unprecedented willpower and that is an inspiration, no matter where he puts his hat. & # 39; I am going to all these races and I proudly lift the British flag & # 39 ;, he said. & # 39; There is no one else in this sport who has raised it that high. & # 39;

Indeed.

Bruce Bruce did not play in the era

Bruce & # 39; s exit appears on EFL financial foolishness when Premier League wages exploded. Still, as a former captain of Manchester United and a manager since 1998, now working at his 10th club, he is unlikely to fall short at Christmas. In other words, he is not about the money.

Karren Brady says that Bruce was alone during his stay in Birmingham

So the job in Newcastle will in part be a labor of love. It was his youth club with personal ties.

[bewerken] External links [bewerken] See also

<img id = "i-7724172c526b5e11" src = "https://ift.tt/2UINeHc /2019/07/15/20/16084146-7249871-image-m-14_1563217458753.jpg "height =" 448 "width =" 634 "alt =" <img id = "i-7724172c526b5e11" src = "https: // i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/07/15/20/16084146-7249871-image-m-14_1563217458753.jpg "height =" 448 "width =" 634 "alt =" Steve Bruce & # 39; s move to Newcastle shows the tension that FFP laws put on championship clubs

Steve Bruce & # 39; s move to Newcastle shows the tension that FFP laws put on championship clubs

owner of Sheffield Wednesday, Dejphon Chansiri, almost certainly has more ambitions than Mike Ashley in Newcastle. I would like to invest more – and Bruce knows this – but his hands are bound by a gentle transfer and the fear of punishing further penalties for violating EFL spending rules.

That is why even a low-wage club, an exhausted team, a reputable stingy recruitment policy and a president who would sell in the blink of an eye if a serious offer were to come – we can probably now consider the lord of Abu Dhabi as the last in a long series of pretenders – being viewed by Bruce as the better bet.

The Wednesday fan who confronted him on the sidelines during Saturday's friendship with Lincoln would like to file his complaint with the top managers of the division.

Worldwide glory no warning for Brexit

Jacob Rees-Mogg fourth the victory in the World Cup in a foolish way by trying to make a connection between England's success to Brexit.

& # 39; Clearly we don't need Europe to win & # 39 ;, he brayed and set fire to fire.

Players such as Ben Stokes and Jason Roy were born abroad – New Zealand and South Africa – but came to this country as students and progressed through the English system.

<img id = "i-767b6f72d35f33e" src = "https://ift.tt/32sv3dl image-a-15_1563217679748.jpg "height =" 423 "width =" 634 "alt =" This team from England represents the global nature of modern life and its need for openness.

This team from England represents the global nature of modern life and its need for openness

This article is licensed under the GNU license for free documentation The material used in the Wikipedia article "

Still arrived Jofra Archer a few months ago as an international international cricket player from Barbados and Trevor Bayliss, the trainer who owes the huge improvement to England in the one-day match, is very much an Australian who will return home after the Ashes series

Indeed, what this England team and their victory To represent more than the petty nationalism of Rees-Mogg is the global nature of modern life and its need for alliances and openness.

if this is the level of understanding of those who hijacked the conservative party and therefore our next government does not venture too much into days like Sunday.

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#MARTIN SAMUEL: We win the World Cup… and now the ECB sideline 50-over game"

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