#anyway this is how his telepathy is gonna be formatted

[retiredcultistredux]

Oh that's nice, Void Termina is back. Hi Void Termina. - Lollipop anon

Void Termina: 'My friends are happy...why aren't you...?'

[mingi-bubu]

Watch “Love O2O” with Me!

Episode 7

i am watching these episodes the way that i eat m&ms

one after the other xp

my phone has cooled off v much but is not yet fully charged so shes still plugged in

i have my water, i have some ramen ^-^, the flix of net is up

as mark lee would say, lezgeddit

so we left off with september and mirror fish duking it out for who should be considered the woman in the faux relationship tht theyre only doing so that xiao nai and wei2 can practice dueling before the big event

and we open with them figting in game

wei2 and nai are just watching them off to the side lmao

THEY JSUT TOOK EACH OTHER OUT ADKJFALKSDJ

wait did nai take them out?

oh damn

they at the hard level couple shit huh

aldkfjalskdjf drag your friends lovingly

maybe not so lovingly

hes too fuking head over heels for her imHAND HOLDING

IN MY GOOD CHRISTIAN SERVER

DISGUSTING

i want it

oooh this npc’s outfit fucking sLAPS

no other in game couple has completed the quest before

damn she just got stuck in a dungeon and the disembodied voice said y’all ain’t got shit but also only have 16 hours to find each other

oh they can still chat

thats nice

why is she acting so dramatic smh

shes so upset she cant do anything

oh no instead shes gonna try to find out information for him

also i LOVE HER SWEATSHIRT

oooh rainbow

he really gonna YEET himself off that cliff aint he

~telepathy~

he’s confident apparently

i

she’s cleaning her keyboard

akdlfjak;ldsj

she said its STUDYING TIME COWARDS

love this man’s headpiece

i cant help but think about the one vine where the guy kept skipping the in game diaogue alkdfaskl

ohhhh

the game is called go

the one that we saw nai playing when we were first introduced to him

oh ok

the game disappeared

yearning formation

me while watching this fuckign show

take the scroll

smh

Y E E T

oh

booooooo

OH I TAKE IT BACK THEYRE STAIRS

THATS PRETTY DOPE

STONE DRAGONS

STONE DRAGONS

HOLY SHIT

well thats unfortunate

shut up i hate this part so muchh

oh he just killed the stone dragons

god this guy is so fucking overdramatic

the naihands again

not at how the fucking music popped off

damn this npc guy is cope

dope

not to be like harry potter but harry potter battle

oh jesus thats wht it takes

really

showing him the pendant

man got his heart broken 1 time by his master and said fuck it i hate everyone

nevermind he texted back

oh wowowowow oHES RIDING THE BIG FUCKING BIRD

Jesus she really said he looks like an angel huh

me too

wowowwowowowwoOWOWOW

ultimate fucking team

they really said we are the best huh

ia;lkdfja;lksdj

it’s not that deep

I LOVE HIM

HE REALLY SAID BITCH I SCREENSHOT THAT SHIT

KING SHIT

oh she left her clan?

damn she is bringing in everything

all the shade

all the tea

this is very awkward

he really backtracked faster than i could blink

oooohhhhhhh

this is tea

DAMN WEIWEI REALLY OUT HERE TO SAY THINGS

these girls again

oh she really do be leaving the clan

oh wowowowow

eww thats so gross and mushy

we were formally married

shut the fuck

marital status is important

SHTU THD UVLK

how long did that quest take them tho

did

did she just do what i think she did

ugh gross theses and exams

not excited to go back to that

xiaoling i want more of her shes so funny

oh so it’s septembers meeting with mr. li

e.e

me and september rolling our eyes internally

hmmmmm

mr li is gonna kill him

wHy DoNt YoU dEvElOp ThE gAmE wItH uS

stop pitting two bad bitches against each other

aaaannnnd now hes being more obviuosly snakey

monthly wage of 120k

god i wish that were me

smart kid tho

said he needs to think about it

raise that by 30%???

156,000

a month

before bonuses

and the game launching

god i need to marry rich

sorry

anyways

yiran uncle is like we need to get him on board bc then everyone else will come

snake man

yiran heard all of that

*eyes emoji*

maybe she do have a heart

she really needs to have better people in her life

her uncle is skeezy

i’d spill hot tea on him

i absolutely don’t believe in nor trust him

go and tell him

be a moral person

her hair style is cute

TELL HIM

ugh

this is why aint nobody know anything

nana that is not how this should work

stop it

stop that nana

THATS NOT HOW THAT WORKS

SOMETIMES PEOPLE HAVE OTHER INTERESTS

i will say tho that her underlying message of taking initiative and doing things to help you is good

also the background is so green screen aldkjfs

september i would marry you in that outfit rigt how

nai’s apartment i want to know more aobutFISHHH

THERE ARE SO MANY FISHHH

why does he have a phonograph im so weak

all of these guys need lkasdjfa;lksdjf;laksjd

nai is the love of my life

but anyways the other 3 guys need to think with their upstairs brain

gynophobic

jjaiskldfjwe just say gay

i know they probably have censorship laws that are different

but still

i desire kodak’s hoodie

theres a lil bear in a cap on it

cute cute cute

oh damn he really do be saying things

oh so they visited SEPTEMBER EREALLY  DID THE FINGER HEARTS IM IN LOVE IWTH HIM

damn HE IS

RIDE

OR

DIE

FOR HIS FRIENDS

alkdsfjalskdjfasl;dk not at how he was really cute looking all dorky when he was being all sweet to them

awww weiwei’s relationship with xiaoyang is adrable

al;kdsjfalsd don’t steal unless youve been falsely accused

oooh it was a bear with wings

xiaoyang is my favorite character every episode he’s in is improved tenfold

i have a similar knife as the one in this show love that for me

wh

what did she put in the bowl and why did the yakult have to go in it too

xiaoyang i would die for you

the #Squad

love them

SPARKLY SHIRT ON HIM

SARPIOEAPOIWEHFIO

ASPAEIHFALKLY SHRIT

IM LLIVOE HIM

D A M N

HE REALLY BE BUYING SHIT FO RHER

PELASE

september in clgaseselkew;jrfawioh

and dark oragne

im falignaeapowifha

i love them

jadlskfjasldkj ha;weijak

I LOVE THAT

she really changed her mf tune as soon as she found out nai put them up to it

ugh

WHEN DO WE GET TO SEE IRL INTERACIONS IM SICK OF THIS SHIT

not really i depely love it obviously

BUT IM SICK OF THIS SHIT

ok that’s the end of episode 7

ugh

truly they are otp

anyways

thank you for readign!!!

stay safe and stay healthy <333

[annoyedfanfiction]

Jim Kirk x fem!reader (18/could be read as part 1 of its own story)

“I have a question,” Bones announced to the table at breakfast. The other four of you raised an eyebrow at him. “Ooh that’s creepy. Anyway, you two–” he gestured between yourself and Spock, “–are what, distant half-cousins? How come (Y/N) doesn’t do any of the freaky Vulcan voodoo?” “Romulans and Vulcans evolved from the same ancestors,” Spock answered, evenly, “However at the time that Romulans left Vulcan after choosing to reject the principles of Surak, telepathy was highly frowned upon. It is likely that the split was clan-based in some way, given the militaristic nature of our ancient society, and therefore it is possible that none of the clans that left possessed the genetic material required to develop and pass on telepathy.” “Basically,” you shrugged, “Although, given the taboo, it was difficult to know who was telepathic and who wasn’t as no one with any sense admitted to being telepathic. There are undoubtedly some telepaths on Romulus, or at least, those capable of being telepaths with significant training, but the Tal Shiar isn’t exactly keen on difference or dissidence, so the majority would keep quiet about it.” Here, Spock turned on you, quizzically. “Undoubtedly seems an inaccurate assessment, Ambassador,” he hedged, frowning, “There is a 76.4% chance that given a clan-based split and the intrusive nature of the Tal Shiar government there would be no telepaths on Romulus.” You smiled, distantly, and sank back into your chair. “The majority of them keep quiet,” you admitted, eventually, too quiet for the rest of the table, but you knew Spock could hear you. “My mother left.”

“Fascinating.” Spock tilted his head, curiously.  “What’s fascinating?” Jim demanded, eyes flicking between the two of you. “What did you say?” “My mother was telepathic.” You picked awkwardly at your lunch. “That’s why she left Romulus.” “Are you telepathic?” Uhura inquired, as Bones delighted over Spock being wrong for once. “Strangely, yeah,” you huffed, rubbing the back of your neck. “My Dad’s side, though almost entirely human, had a weird kind of run in with Betazoids in a few of my great-great-grandfather’s many affairs. We’ve never really been sure who was whose kid, but I had a DNA test and apparently Dad passed on the Beta genes. That made me extra-receptive to telepathic genes – with and without touch. I shield all the time, don’t worry! I’m not reading anyone’s mind.” “Woah wait I’ve been kissing a telepath for three years without knowing it?” Jim interjected, incredulously. You winced, finally looking over at him apologetically, but finding only blatant amusement in his blue eyes. “Is this why you always beat me at chess?” “You are currently on an eight match winning streak,” you pointed out, not even trying to keep the relief from your voice. “And since you don’t plan your strategy ahead anyway, what would be the point of reading your mind?” He grinned, and threw an arm over your shoulders. “Hang on, hang on,” Bones interrupted the peaceful moment, yet again. “More important than your bloody chess, does this mean you’re gonna have to do the bonding shit if you ever want to get married?” “Thinking ahead as always, Bones.” Jim rolled his eyes. “Bonding is not part of Romulan culture,” you answered, simply, “And I’m not exactly the epitome of Romulan culture anyway. I theoretically could bond or mind meld with someone, but I don’t need to any further than humans bond.”

“Fascinating,” Spock repeated. “You don’t need any of the telepathic connections Vulcans require from infancy?” “Not in the sense of “bonding” in the Vulcan manner. We form them naturally, the same way humans do.” The whole table stared at you, blankly. “Humans don’t form telepathic bonds,” Bones pointed out, eventually. You blinked. “Of course you do,” you frowned, folding your arms. “They aren’t as strong as those of psionic species, obviously, but natural ties form between the minds of close humans. Friends, family, crew members. You can’t communicate with one another, or even detect them, necessarily, but they contribute to your intuition, interpersonal connection, and emotional responses. Have you not experienced this phenomenon, Spock?” “I made the assumption that the formation of a bond was unique to the combination of psionic and psi-null individuals,” he mused, placidly. “Although, given the nature of Vulcan bonding, they did not form spontaneously, possibly due to my shields, but were easily cemented through conscious bonding.” “So you’re telling me the reason I can tell when Jim’s being an idiot–” Jim opened his mouth to protest, but shut it pretty quickly when Bones shot him a glare. “–is because we have a telepathic bond?” “Well, it’s not necessarily telepathic in the connotative sense we use it, but following the strict definition of telepathy as ‘a communication by means other than the known senses’, then yeah.” Bones hummed, thoughtfully, though he didn’t look convinced. “And I’m not an idiot!” Jim grumbled, as you all stood to start your shift. Bones scoffed, but refrained from commenting.

“What do you mean we’ve lost contact?” Sulu sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That asteroid storm is travelling 30m/second and if we don’t move now it’s going to hit the ship as well as the planet!” “We need to get out of orbit,” you pointed out, voice calmer than you felt. “Ze storm is producing an unprecedented amount of electromagnetic energy, sir,” Chekov added, from the scanner, “If ze ship is hit, zere will be interference with the working of ze warp core and engine.” “We can’t just leave them all down there!” Sulu protested. “That’s not what I was suggesting.” The ship lurched against an incoming wave of electromagnetic energy again, and Sulu sprang from the Captain’s chair to take over the helm from the petty officer who’d replaced him. “You have the conn,” he instructed you, taking his usual seat. “What are you planning?” “Scotty!” You crossed the room and pressed the comm on the Captain’s chair. “Wha’ can I do fer ya?” His voice was strained, but the familiar lilt was reassuring nonetheless. “I need you to try and diffuse the electromagnetic interference well enough to manage long-distance transport. I’m sending Chekov down.” Chekov stood and made his way to the turbo lift quickly. “Aye. I cannae make any promises, lass, but we’ll try.” You could hear him already tinkering in the background. “That’s all I can ask, Mr Scott,” you smiled, warmly, flicking off the comm. “Sulu, I need you to move us into orbit around the second moon.” “Aye.” He programmed the console expertly as you folded your legs into the Captain’s chair, sitting criss-cross and watching the ship turn away from the planet. “Ensign Taylor, continue trying to make contact with the landing party,” you instructed the young comms officer. He nodded, turning back to his console, and you straightened your posture in the Captain’s chair, reaching into the depths of your mind to pull out your bond with Jim.

“Nothing,” Uhura sighed, again, snapping her comm closed. “Captain, we’re completely out of contact.” “There is an unusual amount of electromagnetic interference which is not constituted by the planet’s atmosphere, Captain,” Spock informed him, tricorder beeping in his hands.  “Electromagnetic storms are rarely planetary,” Jim pointed out, scanning the dry, flat landscape around them. “Uhura, keep trying.” You pulled at the back of his mind, and he frowned, scrutinising the empty landscape once again. –Not there, in here, idiot! – you snapped, pulling at him once again. –James Tiberius Kirk, I swear– –(Y/N)?– You visibly relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief that had Sulu raising an eyebrow as he finalised the orbit. –Anything high near you? Convenient mountain? Heck, even a boulder?– you questioned, brusquely. –We’ve had to leave orbit- – “You what?” He didn’t realise he’d said it out loud until Spock looked up from his tricorder. Uhura had already noticed his sudden silence and was watching him curiously.  –Say hi to Spock and Uhura from me– you laughed, feeling him sigh. –There’s an asteroid storm headed your way, it was going to hit the ship. It’s producing a weird amount of electromagnetic radiation which is interfering with our comms - and our transporters. Chekov, Jaylah, and Scotty are working on beaming you up. I’ve gotta go, we’ve got a scanner alert coming in. Just shout if you need me. Mentally, of course, wouldn’t want to damage Spock’s sensitive ears– “Well, apparently the source of our problems is an asteroid storm.” Jim refocused on his companions, noting somewhat more disappointedly that there was no cover on this stupid planet. “Asteroid storms do not typically produce significant electromagnetic radiation.” Spock tilted his head, as close to a frown as ever. “Scans show that the electromagnetic radiation is emanating from a generator in the centre of the asteroid storm,” the petty officer – Hanson – explained. “That generator can only be artificial, but there are no known species this far out that are technologically capable of producing it. The closest society capable of that would be–” “–Romulus,” you finished, grimly. Her ponytail bounced as she nodded. “I just love family reunions.”

[chwetuan]

Voices - Kim Yugyeom x Reader (a, f)

1. Requested: Hey! I would like to request something! I hope I'm doing this right lol Can I have an angsty yet fluffy scenario with Yugyeom ? If possible, a soulmate au ? The ending is up to you but if you can, I'd like a happy ending. Thank you so much! <3 ( @jj-nyoung ) (my first official request!!)

2. Summary: Yugyeom has only ever known your voice, but he’s afraid of what life will be without it (1.5k) 

3. Warnings/Ratings: none! a mix of fluff and angst.

4: A/N - @jj-nyoung I tried to do this in scenario format, but I fell in love and had to write a fic :’(, I hope you like it all the same <3. 

All your life, your conscience has shared two voices. Not in the way that one would think — not like a devil and an angel resting on each shoulder, whispering sin and morality into open ears. No, your voices were far more complex.

There was your own voice, at first, one that echoed on its lonesome, questions asked without answers, conversations held without replies. Your own reasoning. Your own understanding.

Then, when you were five years old, you met Kim Yugyeom. And once again, not in the way you would think.

You don’t meet Kim Yugyeom at a playground, ice cream parlor, or even a movie theater. You meet Kim Yugyeom when, at the ripe age of five, his voice echoes in your head, proclaiming his foolproof idea of jumping off of his swing set.

You don’t know what’s going on, you’re only five after all. You’re only five when you learn the term soulmate.

“Yugyeom broke his arm!” You speak to your mother, voice squeaking in excitement as you color outside the lines.

She freezes. She already knows what’s happening - she’s lived her life with a string on her pinkie. “Who’s Yugyeom, sweetie?”

You shrug, attention diverting to the picture in front of you. “He likes swinging.”

~~~

Soulmates had been around for decades, all making an appearance in different forms. There were people who didn’t see color, people with shifting tattoos, even people with color-changing hair.

Your mother was relieved when you were born without the string, the little rope that bounded you to the “what if”. Your mother never met her soulmate, and the dainty purple string on her pinky served as a harsh reminder.

She was glad when you didn’t have the string, but there was no way of telling how you would be bonded. Not until you met Yugyeom.

She hopes that your fate is better than hers, because she could never imagine being able to hear your soulmate’s voice, and never meet them.

As you get older, you and Yugyeom learn to control your telepathy a bit better. You’re no longer constantly projecting your every thought, whim, or emotion. You no longer have to hear him work through geometry questions, and he no longer has to hear you recite Shakespearean monologues. You learn to tell each other what you want each other to know.

It works fine, for the most part, but there are still moments when your heart gets the best of you, and maybe you share things you don’t want to.

You’re older now, after all.

It’s late when Yugyeom hears your voice for the first time in days. He’s at his apartment, sat on the couch with the tv playing in the background. His girlfriend is there with him too, fast asleep with her head on his lap.

“Do you think we’ll ever meet?” You ask him, sat at the edge of your bed wiping fugitive tears from your eyes.

You’re crying, he knows it. Soulmates always know.

He could not answer, of course, pretend he was asleep. Pretend he didn’t hear.

“Yugyeom, I know you’re there.” You add a few moments later. Your voice is slightly bitter, tears still falling as anger blooms in your chest.

Yugyeom hates having this conversation with you.

His hand falls subconsciously to the girl’s head in his lap, fingers coming to brush through long tresses of hair. He doesn’t like thinking about it when she’s here.

“She’s there, right?” You ask bitterly. “That’s why you won’t respond.”

Yugyeom shuts his eyes, head falling against the back of the couch as your voice becomes clearer.

“I bet you’d like it if I disappeared.” You state, tears still falling and voice never wavering.

“I bet you wished you never had me,” You continue, eyes shutting tight when he still doesn’t answer. “Maybe you’d be better off with a string, or a tattoo. Something you can cover when you don’t feel like it. Something you can hide from yourself.”

“Stop it,” He interjects, finally. You know he’s upset, because you always know. “Quit saying things like that. I’m not hiding from myself or you.”

It’s your turn to not respond.

“You don’t speak to me for days, and this is how you break the silence?” He pauses, trying to collect his thoughts. It’s useless, he concludes. You know how he’s feeling, anyway. It hasn’t been pure silence, he’s had his own thoughts and worries to occupy him.

“You do disappear. That’s the thing with you. You’re gone for days and I have no clue what’s going on. You think everything is fine because I can’t hear you, but I still feel. I know you’re hurting, I can feel it. Do you get that?”

Yugyeom hates having this conversation so, so much.

~~~

“I’m sorry.”

It’s a few days later when Yugyeom hears your voice again.

It’s soft, barely a whisper, a sharp contrast from the desperate cries he heard a couple days ago.

Without your voice in his head, Yugyeom has had time to think.

It’s a weird experience having a soulmate. But he knows nothing else.

It’s strange knowing that there’s someone in the world, who’s soul matches yours perfectly. It’s strange knowing that person so intimately and delicately, when all you can hear is their voice.

It’s strange, but Yugyeom wouldn’t trade you for anything.

He’s always loved you, he thinks. How can you not love someone who knows your deepest, darkest thoughts?

It worries him—how much he loves you

He feels empty when he doesn’t hear your voice. He’s scared he’ll feel that empty, forever,  if he meets you.

All he’s ever known is your voice. If you meet, you’ll no longer hear each other. It makes him nervous, the idea of having to truly live alone with his thoughts.

But you and he have different opinions on meeting.

You’ve read everywhere that when soulmates meet, their connection doesn’t just fade. It’s a bond from birth. People use words like electric and magnetic to describe it, so euphoric it makes you feel outside of yourself. The connection grows stronger.

“It’s fine,” He responds.

~~~

Yugyeom and his girlfriend don’t last much longer. She gets a job in a new city, and they break things off peacefully. Her last words to him linger in his mind as he walks in the cool night air to the convenience store.

“Yugyeom,” His ex calls before closing the door. “You should go.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “Go where?”

“Go see her.” She continues. “Don’t be afraid to.”

Before Yugyeom can respond, she’s closing the door.

He hopes—prays, that he’s not projecting to you. His mind is whirling with her words. Maybe he should.

Maybe he should meet you.

~~~

When Yugyeom books a flight to two cities away, his hands are shaking, and you hear him voice “I can’t believe I just did that.”

You’re a little far away, but Yugyeom thinks the cards were in your favor when he finds out how close you are.

He’s dragging his suitcase through the airport exit, heart pounding and palms sweating.

You’re supposed to be there, holding a sign with his name written on it. You shared a few details beforehand, since neither of you were completely sure when your bond would register.

After giving him your number, you voice. “I’ll wear blue and stand by the exit. You literally shouldn’t be able to miss me. I have a sign.”

His heartbeat rises every time he sees someone in blue. But he swears to god, it almost stops when he sees you.

You’re on your phone, eyebrows furrowed. The sign is held in your free hand at your side, and for a moment Yugyeom scoffs, remembering your earlier words. He knows it’s you, though. He can feel it.

As he steps closer, his body suddenly feels cold, and his head begins to buzz. He can sense you’re in discomfort, too.

It feels like he’s malfunctioning, and god, you’re right there.

When your eyes look up to meet his own, he doesn’t know what emotion washes over him. The buzzing in his head halts. He feels frozen, or like he’s in a movie, or that perhaps, he’s had too many drinks. He can’t describe it, but he feels something entirely like nothing he’s felt before.

“Well,” You start, tears beginning to well in your eyes. “Are you just gonna-“

He can’t help himself when he practically scoops you up into his arms and kisses you with everything he can muster in his being.

Relief washes over him.

He’s heard your voice all his life, but when he hears the squeak of surprise that leaves your lips as he embraces you, he feels as if he’s been deaf all along, and you’re the first sound he’s heard.

When he places you back down, hands resting against your waist, a completely different emotion washes over him.

He’s embarrassed. You’re gorgeous, and he can’t handle the way you’re staring into his eyes, giving him your full attention.

“Oh my god, I-I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened but I just could-“

You kiss him again, hands coming up to lock at the back of his neck as you cut off his ramble.

“You’re here.”

In the end, Yugyeom doesn’t know why he was so scared to meet you. In fact, he’ll never forgive himself for putting it off for so long.

He doesn’t feel empty without your voice. Your presence, being able to see you, touch you, actually hear you, makes up for it.

You make him complete.

.

.

.

(mlist) 

[portalford]

So Come What May (Long Live Us)

AO3

this one’s based off that headline “scientists fight crab for mysterious purple orb discovered in cailfornia deep,” because it’s hilarious and also very Stan and Ford.

Stan can already tell that this is going to be one of those occasions he looks back on and laughs at.  Something to use during an argument to one-up Ford, something to tell the kids about over a hot drink and feel proud when he makes them laugh.  He’ll be happy about it, later.

Right now he’s just pissed off.

He woke up to a glowing purple orb hovering in the galley (he just wanted a cup of coffee in peace, or what passes for peace with Ford around), and the day hasn’t improved since then.

“Ford, I swear if you got assimilated into an alien consciousness again I’m gonna leave you this time.”  Talking to himself, great.

(He doesn’t even mean it; he’s just worried, and that pisses him off more.  He spent thirty years working to get Ford back, and his brother seems absolutely determined to get himself killed anyway).

Stan is too old for this.

‘This’ includes, but is not limited to, early mornings, purple orbs, and idiotic brothers.

Ford has been missing for almost an hour with no calls or texts or signs of returning, and if he has another near-death experience in the next four hours Stan’s heart might quit.

The orb is also missing, and that doesn’t bode well for Stan’s heart or Ford’s general wellbeing.

Stan takes a deep breath, because he can’t drop dead at least until after he’s found his brother, and thinks.

He’s got two theories (god, Ford is rubbing off on him):

Ford was attacked by the orb and taken away.  Not likely, because Ford would have put up a fight, and Stan definitely would have heard that.

Ford saw the orb at some point after it floated out of the kitchen and went after it.

Yeah, it’s probably number 2.

Either way – Stan leans over the rail, and yep, those are bootprints in the sand leading away from the ship, so either the orb grew legs or Ford’s gone AWOL again.

They’ve been docked here three days, and while Ford hasn’t shut up about the magic mumbo jumbo readings he’s getting from the island for more than one of those seventy-two hours, they haven’t seen any actual signs of life so far.

Stan knows better than to trust ‘so far,’ so he digs up his knuckledusters before he hits the beach.

It’s an easy search, until the tracks disappear up the beach where the sand turns to some kind of rock.

All right, plan B.

“Ford!”  Stan cups his hands around his mouth for better volume and shouts again.  “Stanford!”

Nothing.

The anxiety he’s been trying to ignore redoubles its clamoring.  He does his best to shove it down.

Why, why does he have to be the responsible sibling sometimes?  He’s not even getting paid for this.

“Right,” he says, just for the sake of hearing something other than his too-rapid heartbeat.  “If I was a floating purple orb, where would I go.”

Ford would throw a fit about rhetorical questions, and maybe offer a story about how he’s actually been a floating purple orb at some point in his life (Stan thought he was jaded after ten years on the street; he hadn’t heard nothin’ until Ford shared some of his portal stories), but he’s not there, so the only answer is the rush of the waves.

Unhelpful, but the caves up on the shoreline look promising.

Stan uses the time-honored decision-making method of eenie meenie miney moe to pick a cave, and walks in.

He’s immediately greeted by the sound of a scuffle.  Good thing he brought his knuckledusters.

He rounds a rock formation and pulls up short.

It’s Ford all right, but Stan can’t decide if he wants to laugh or scream because his brother is wrestling a nightmare crab.

Not a crab like the kind you catch and eat; those things can’t do much more than pinch your fingers a little.  This monster's eyestalks are almost on level with Ford’s nose, and it’s thrashing at him with a claw big enough to snap him in two.  The other claw is holding the orb that caused this whole mess, and Ford seems hellbent on getting it, regardless of crabs with footlong claws.

It’s absurd, and definitely something he’s going to laugh about later, but right now he’s tired and irritated and overwrought and he’s got about eight things he wants to say, but all that comes out is “what the hell?”

Close enough.

Ford and his opponent both startle, but the crab’s got a better grip on the orb and comes away victorious.  It immediately shows its street smarts by scuttling further into the cave instead of staying to gloat.

Ford finds his footing as fast as he lost it, shaking sand from his hair and clearly half a second away from sprinting after the crab, so Stan lunges forward to snatch at his sleeve.  

“Ford, I’m serious, what the hell?  What is that?  What are you doing?”

“Let go, Stanley!”  Ford yanks away, rounding on Stan.  His eyes are fever-bright, that look he gets when he’s within reach of an answer but can’t quite grasp it. “It’s got the transmission bubble, we have to–”

“We?  Ford, you ran off!  You didn’t even leave a note!”  Stan’s aware that he sounds like a nagging parent, but he feels entitled to it right now.  Ford does it often enough to him.  “I thought that orb thing had hurt you or somethin’.”

Ford at least has the grace to look penitent.  “I’m sorry, Stanley, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I wasn’t worried, I was just–”

“We can argue about this later, I promise.”  Now Ford’s tugging at his sleeve, imploring.  “Please, can you just help me catch that crab?”

And as frustrated as Stan’s been all day, there’s really only one answer to that.

“You mean all this time I’ve spent tryin’ to get you to go fishing and all I had to do was suggest we catch crabs instead?”

Ford’s grin looks a little manic – he’s in fine form as he immediately bolts down the tunnel, shouting, “It can’t have gotten far!” over his shoulder.

Stan grumbles, “Moses, Ford, where’s the fire,” but he’s right on his brother’s heels.

Ford’s correct, as usual; the crab isn’t more than twenty yards ahead of them

It doesn’t get two more before they’re on it, and the thing doesn’t stand a chance.  A left hook to the eye from Stan and a solid thump to the claw from the butt of Ford's space gun (which Ford won’t fire because he doesn’t want to kill the thing, probably) and it drops the orb with a screech.

Like clockwork, like a team, Ford dives low to snatch the orb and Stan straightens up to cover him.

Times like this are what make all the glowing orbs and monster crabs and magic junk worth it – just him and Ford working together, each trusting the other to do his part, just like when they were kids.  It makes Stan feel like he could take on the whole damn world.

Or a giant crab.

The crab makes a halfhearted effort to get past Stan to Ford and the orb, as if that’ll ever happen.  It seems to realize this pretty quickly, making a noise that’s like nails on a chalkboard before rushing away into the dark.

Stan laughs, shaking his fist at it.  “Yeah, run away!  Tell your friends not to mess with the Pines twins!”  He turns around, high on adrenaline and a successful fight.  “We sure showed– Ford!”

Excitement flash-freezes to shock, then fear, at all the blood on his brother’s face.

Ford, of course, shows his usual amount of respect for his own wellbeing by scowling and pulling away when Stan tries to grab his head for a look.

“Stanley–”

“You’re bleeding Stanford!”

Ford looks genuinely surprised, swiping at his forehead with the back of his hand.  He glances at the impressive read smear and makes a soft noise that might be a ‘huh.’  Stan kind of wants to smack him.  “It’s not serious, Stanley,”  Ford says, and he’s using that tone he gets when he’s trying to soothe or cajole, and Stan’s really not in the mood right now.  “Head injuries always bleed a lot.”

“Yeah?  Did you eat this morning?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Your blood pressure, genius.”  Ford is the smartest person Stan’s ever known.  He’s also the dumbest person Stan’s ever known.  Contradiction, thy name is Stanford Pines.

Ford looks genuinely embarrassed about that one.  Good.  “Well–”

“No, don’t answer that, I’ve had enough for today and it’s only–”  Stan checks his watch.  “11AM.”  He takes Ford by the elbow and pushes him back toward the mouth of the tunnel.  “You’re gonna let me look at that cut, and then you’re gonna eat something, and then we’re both gonna sit down do nothing for the rest of the day.”  That last one’s probably pushing it, but Stan’s going to milk this situation for all it’s worth.

Ford seems to understand that Stan isn’t screwing around, and only nods.  Besides, he’s got what he wants.  Whatever that is.

“What is that thing anyway?”  Stan asks as they make their way back to the ship.

Ford lights up.  “It’s a communication device of some sort!  I believe it’s a language or code made of different lights or pitches, and I think there’s a puzzle component, or maybe–”

Stan tunes out most of Ford’s nerd babbling, listening only for the gist and the rare occasions his brother takes a breath to offer an encouraging noise or a nod.

There is no way Ford’s gonna sit and do nothing, not with this orb to obsess over.  At least he’ll probably be sitting, when he’s not pacing with frustration or fidgeting with concentration or jumping around with excitement.

Ford doesn’t do the still and quiet thing very well.

Stan suddenly has a thought, and he butts in on something about telepathy.

“Wait, how’d that crab get ahold of it?  You followed it off the ship and then a crab just grabbed it from under your nose?”

“Not exactly.”  Ford tucks the orb protectively under his arm.  “I’d caught it to get a closer look–”

“You touched the floating, glowing mystery orb?”

“How else was I supposed to study it?”

Stan doesn’t know why he bothers (that’s a lie, but he’s lied about more important things so he’s gonna keep on telling this one).  “Forget it.  So you were holding the potentially dangerous orb, and…”

“I set it on the ground so that I could draw it and the crab snatched it when I wasn’t looking.”  Ford’s looked embarrassed more times in the past twenty minutes than he has in the two months they’ve been traveling previously.

Stan’s grinning now.  He can’t help it.  “So you got into a wrestling match with a crab that weighs as much as you do.”

“Well I wasn’t going to just let it take this.  Besides, it was probably going to try and eat it, and that might have killed it.”

“And you still thought it was a good idea to touch it?”

“I’m not going to eat it,”  Ford says, exasperated.

“Damn right you’re not, because I’m making lunch when we get back, and that’s what you’re going to eat.”

“Spare me.”

“Stanford.”

Ford’s scowling again, but he hasn’t got a leg to stand on here and they both know it.  And he still has that orb, which is what he wants, and he’s going to eat and leave Stan in relative peace for the rest of the afternoon, which is what Stan wants, so everyone’s a winner.

Maybe this day can improve after all.

At the very least, it’s definitely an occasion to look back on and laugh.

[fourteenfifteen]

⭐ for unforecasted?

hi dr waveridden congrats on figuring out long distance telepathy 🎉

ig the other thing abt that fic is like it really is a case of writing smth in a constrained format bc i have a lot of thoughts on something and don’t necessarily want to invest the energy into writing something that goes all the way in. i feel like u can kinda tell reading it like i have a lot of ffs s9 election thoughts and i like hint at most of them but don’t go all the way in

anyways for the caleb and isaac stuff at least: the place where that comes from is me thinking abt them both getting permanent modifications for the first time. i’ve talked abt this in lofi but mods are so cool to me within fiction as like a signifier that that player has Changed in a substantial and irreversible way. i think that esp if you’re just a normal ass person that’s gotta be extremely upsetting like the idea that even if u feel the same way u did that you’ve been personally and profoundly altered by the game is like. that’s gonna fuck with your head !!!

so anyway if unforecasted did exist as a longer thing (and if the justice parts were separate) i would want to hone in on like. the ways that all of that is really disturbing to caleb and ike and how they bond over like trying to deal with that mental load ykwim. like i think both siphon and foc are hard for the rest of the team to deal with at first but they have each other they see what the other is going through

[yuutao]

Sempiternal

my gift for @maaxon for the bnha secret santa! I went for a kiribaku space war au (which I thought happened in the future and quirks are a rather weird thing in here) and soulmates au at the same time (I wasn’t sure what you liked and such so I tried to make it interesting. I don’t know whether I succeeded, though). There’s angst and of course hurt/comfort! For the soulmate thing, they can hear each other thoughts. 

Anyway, I’m rambling so Merry Christmas!! I hope good things happen to you, thank you for existing! <3

Sempiternal

/ˌsɛmpɪˈtəːn(ə)l/

Adjective

Eternal and unchanging; everlasting.

“Green leader, on position!” Deku informed through the radio communication. Bakugou had to take a deep breath in order not to scream because it didn’t matter how useful Midoriya could end up being, Bakugou couldn’t really stand him.

“Don't forget to focus.” A voice, Kirishima’s, said in his head. Bakugou grumbled before murmuring, “yeah, whatever.”

“Red leader, on position,” Bakugou said with a smirk, informing everyone that he was ready. He loved piloting, and he took pride in the fact that he was one of the best pilots. His father taught him a lot about spacecraft when he was little, along with some useful tricks and well, you could say Bakugou took it to heart.

He heard a laugh in his head, “you sound ready.”

Bakugou’s smirk widened, “Well, yeah. I am fucking ready.”

“Alright, alright. Follow my commands as always.” The red-head said with another beautiful laugh and Bakugou had to fight the need to roll his eyes. Being able to communicate with someone outside of his small spacecraft was a relief, but it was a pain in the ass too. Kirishima could hear his thoughts, just like Bakugou could hear his’. Both of them should be more bothered than they were, but Bakugou guessed it wasn’t the time to give a shit. Not in the middle of the war at least.

Since Bakugou was seven, he could hear Kirishima’s voice inside his brain. There wasn’t any real explanation for it, although doctors and psychologists had said some shit about some soulmate bond. In any way, Bakugou had managed to find a way to communicate with Kirishima when he reached 13 years old and after some years, 8 to be exact, they met, in the middle of the space war, fighting for the same side. It had been a surprise, especially for Bakugou, when he realized that Kirishima was not only really good in hand-to-hand combat, but he was also in a really high position.

“Earth to Bakugou,” Kirishima said, and Bakugou realized he had been spacing out. Didn’t know for how long, though. “I think you’re about to take off,” Kirishima concluded.

It was quiet inside of the spacecraft, the only sound being Bakugou’s breathing and some weird sounds the control panel made. Finally, Aizawa talked through his earphone, “All units, take off. Take the first formation.”

Bakugou started initiating the engines, and it was done in only a few seconds. He pressed a few buttons, to make sure nothing would go wrong, and he was finally ready to take off. He waited for the blue and purple units to leave, and then he was next. He could feel the excitement coming out from him, making his insides tremble with adrenaline, even if he knew this could be his last time flying.

 He left the base and started flying upwards, knowing the rest of his unit was behind him, taking their positions too. Bakugou was also aware of the fact that, even if he was known for being bad-tempered and unfriendly, they all trusted him with his life. He’d had enough proof of that, and deep down he wished nothing would happen to them. Not like he was going to show that to them.

“Enemies to the left! All units, ready to attack.” Uraraka said as soon as they had reached outer space, and Bakugou turned his spacecraft and prepared the shooting mechanism by pressing a pressing a button, which consisted of special made-for-firing glasses. He collocated them on, and Bakugou licked his lips while adjusting to them. The glasses had special graphics and such, and it turned red when the objective was in the right position for Bakugou to finish them off with a clear shot. It took time to get used to, but to Bakugou it was like a simple 3DS Nintendo from when he was a child.

Bakugou saw the enemies’ spaceships and he smirked, ready to start shooting. “Remember to stay calm,” Kirishima recommended, “and make it quick.”

Bakugou’s excitement rose, “Don’t tell me twice. Can I attack already?” The blonde could feel Kirishima sigh, and he waited until the order was out. If he had been in this situation years ago, Bakugou was sure he would have just started shooting and killing them all. However, he knew there were people following him, and he wasn’t risking their lives for his own impulsiveness. Aizawa had told him he had started to be more mature, but the blonde wouldn’t have stated it so soon. He was still prone to fucking up.

“You can now, Blasty!” Kirishima ordered, and Bakugou complied, ignoring the nickname for once. Kirishima was the only person Bakugou would follow with his eyes closed; it felt like they’d known each other forever.

Bakugou waited, aimed, shot and dodged. He also listened to his comrades; their yells, their instructions, their panic. If there was one thing he hated about being a space-war pilot, it was certainly the fact that he had to hear them in the moment before they were gone. Truth was that he didn’t know half of them, not being the most popular or whatever Kirishima was, for instance, but it was still shocking to listen to them. Bakugou knew the train; anxious screams about not being able to avoid the enemy behind them, quiet and finally a really loud sound. It was true that they were recognized as heroes after that particular battle was over, but Bakugou knew the dead couldn’t celebrate it, so it was useless.

“Bakugou! Careful from behind!” Kirishima screamed, and Bakugou averted just in time. However, the shot reached his left engine, so that was an issue. An important one if you asked him.

“Fuck.” Was all he could murmur, and he looked at the panel, thinking of a solution. He spoke through the radio, “Here spaceship 1, red unit. I’ve got” Bakugou looked at the sensor, only to find there were three enemies behind, “a few of those dicks behind.” He continued, taking a deep breath, “Asking for assistance.”

“On my way!” Kaminari answered, and Bakugou’s attention was once again focused on the panel, “How the hell do I fix this?” he murmured again, while poorly avoiding the shots the attackers were aiming.

“One of the enginers broke?” Kirishima asked, and Bakugou could already tell he was going through mechanic and technologic shits on the computer data.

“Yeah, the left one," Bakugou answered, trying his best to ignore the anxiety bubbling up in his gut. He had been through worse. All he wanted to do was turn around and destroy them. Destroy everyone, in fact.

“Bakugou, I shot one down! Sero’s coming along to help too.” Kaminari informed, and Bakugou was about to open his mouth when Kaminari interrupted, "Oh, fuck."

“What the fuck is it now?”

“Look ahead”, was all Kaminari answered, and Bakugou did. His mouth opened when he saw an enormous spaceship with an even bigger canyon. Bakugou barely thought that it was probably the contrary’s base. If they dared to use the weapon, it could easily annihilate the whole damn fleet.

“Message to Aizawa,” Uraraka said, her voice tense, “permission to retreat all units.”

There was a long silence inside of the radio then, one that probably wasn’t terribly long, but it felt suffocating. All Bakugou could hear was Kaminari and Sero killing the enemies behind him, and his own fastened breathing.

“Permission granted.” Bakugou let out a breath before he turned around, and he prayed his left engine wouldn’t give out now because he really didn't want to become space rubbish.

“You think you’ll make it?” Kirishima asked, and Bakugou could feel he was trying to put on a brave facade, even if Bakugou could hear his real thoughts. What a dumbass.

“Yeah. Even if I don’t, I’ll find a way to survive. I’m not fucking dying here.” Bakugou answered determinedly, “and we’re connected anyway, so it’s gonna be just freaking fine.” Bakugou smiled when he noted a weight on his chest leaving, one which belonged to Kirishima.

“Kacchan!” A voice said in his ear, and Bakugou grabbed the movement controls even harder, “Are you going to need help?”

As much as Bakugou hated Deku, he was aware that he wouldn't make it back alive in this state. He ate his precious pride and answered, “Yeah.”

However, and before he could hear Deku’s answer, he saw a light hitting him from the front. All Bakugou could do was blink. He barely had time to consider the fact that hell, his spacecraft was so broken it hadn't even been able to turn around.

“You’re telling me we can’t go and get him?” Kirishima repeated to Aizawa angrily for probably the hundredth time. This had to be a joke.

Apparently, the League of villains had taken Bakugou as a hostage. They hadn’t demanded anything in return though, and that was probably what was bugging everyone the most. He felt Kaminari put a hand on his shoulder, “Kiri, he’ll be okay. It’s Bakugou who we're talking about.”

Kirishima shook his head, “I haven’t heard him.”

Not many people knew about the whole telepathy thing, but Kaminari had always been one of Kirishima’s closest friends and well, he deserved to know.

 “That doesn’t mean he’s dead. He’s probably unconscious. He was hit.” Kaminari tried reasoning.

 Kirishima bit his lower lip, and immediately groaned when it made contact with his sharp teeth. He still couldn’t help it, though.

“I’m going after him.”

“You're what?” Kaminari said, his eyes widening, “you can't just enter the enemy's base and rescue him. That's madness.”

Kirishima brought his hands to his face, taking a long deep breath. “Kaminari’s right, Kirishima. It’s a suicide mission.” Aizawa answered. Kirishima was already opening his mouth to argue, but Aizawa was quicker, “I am not saying we are going to leave him behind. We just need a bit more time.”

Kirishima nodded weakly and left the room, saying a quiet goodbye to everyone inside. He started walking through the white and black corridor, and he bumped into someone. “Ah! I’m sorry!” Kirishima looked up to see Midoriya. Kirishima blinked and shook his head.

“It’s fine!” He said, putting on a cheerful facade and smiling at the green-haired boy.

Midoriya saw right through it, “Are you okay?” His brows furrowed.

At least he tried. “Yeah. I’m just a bit worried, but it’s probably okay.”

Midoriya nodded, smiling shyly, “Kacchan’s tough. They won’t do anything to him.”

They looked at each other for a few seconds in silence, before Kirishima broke it, “He actually doesn’t hate it.”

Midoriya sent him a puzzled look, “Hate what?”

Kirishima smiled, “The nickname.” Kirishima’s left hand reached up and started scratching his neck. “Y’know, Kacchan.”

“Wait, really?” Midoriya said, astonished.

The red-haired couldn’t help laughing, “Don't look so surprised.”

“That's just... Wow.” Midoriya said, before laughing too. “I gave him the nickname when we were kids but I always thought he hated it. Although he didn’t exactly tell me to stop using it, so...” Midoriya started rambling while Todoroki came through a door. 

“Kirishima, Midoriya.” He greeted and nodded to both of them politely. Kirishima watched as Midoriya’s eyes lighted up at the sight.

“Hello, Todoroki!” Midoriya said cheerfully while Kirishima smiled at the bicoloured-haired boy, “Hey there!”

Midoriya pleading gaze returned to Kirishima, who shook his head and waved his hand to send them both away. Midoriya nodded happily, took Todoroki’s hand (who was barely able to say goodbye) and left. Kirishima chuckled before walking to the dorms. He needed rest, that much was sure.

Two days passed until he felt a tug in his brain. Kirishima groaned, sitting up in bed, for he had been sleeping, or trying to. Suddenly, a strong headache hit him, and Kirishima closed his eyes strongly. He felt his body leaving to an unknown place, and when Kirishima opened his eyes and looked around, he wasn't in his room anymore. He was inside a dark room, and when he looked around, he could see a chair which was being illuminated with a blinding light and it vaguely reminded Kirishima of a dentist. He tried making out just where he was or why he was here when suddenly there was a scream. A pained known scream, as if someone was being tortured. For some reason, Kirishima felt panic rising and he felt like throwing up. He moved slowly towards where the scream came, outside of the dentist-like room. The closer he got, the better he could hear: it was indeed screaming, but he could make out someone swearing too. Kirishima gulped because he knew who the voice belonged to.

He followed the voice through the creepy-empty corridor and when he heard an even louder scream, he started rushing. His whole body was aching to get there, to help the person in pain, to help him. He reached the room, finally, and opened the door. His mouth opened when he saw what was inside. He watched as a weird man, with hands all over his upper body, put a hand on Bakugou’s arm. He watched as a scream left the blonde’s mouth, even when blood was coming out from his lips from trying to keep them closed. He listened to Bakugou saying, in between the screams, “I’ll kill you”, over and over again. He watched as the part the hand-man was touching started disintegrating and that was the moment when Kirishima knew he couldn’t take it. It’d been so long since he last used his quirk it felt unnatural to feel the way his skin hardened as much as his bones, if not more. He moved forward and took the hand-man dude by the neck, pulling him back harshly until he was laying on the floor. He then moved to where the blonde was and cupped his cheek, “It’s okay.” Kirishima murmured, expression worried while he took a look at Bakugou. He was breathing heavily and his eyes looked exhausted.

“I’m fucking fine.” He answered weakly. Instead of rebutting, Kirishima nodded.

The red-haired’s hands moved to the parts of Bakugou which were handcuffed, and he easily broke them. Bakugou touched his wrists and his ankles, moving them, making sure they still worked. Even if Kirishima knew this place was hell, he also felt his heart at ease. Kirishima heard Bakugou taking a deep breath and turned around.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” He said, red looking into red, “You’re gonna have to explain to me how the hell did you get here, ‘cause I honestly don’t get it.”

Kirishima smiled, “Me neither. Looks like I teleported here or something.”

“What do you think are you doing here?” The hand-man said while getting up from the floor. His face was bleeding from the force that Kirishima had used.

“Helping him.” Kirishima pointed at Bakugou and blinked. “What does it look like?”

“You should just let us go, Handy. It's no use fighting against us.” Bakugou said, smirking. Kirishima chuckled at the nickname.

“Damn it!” Handy screamed. He took out a walkie-talkie and Kirishima and Bakugou took this as their chance to escape.

It felt like they were children, running through the corridors trying to escape. “They have this super cool base with the best technology, but they have walkie-talkies?” Kirishima was laughing and Bakugou was smiling. It felt odd, honestly. They had managed to kill or, as Kirishima put it, left unconscious, all the soldiers they’d found so far.

They were running towards what they hoped was the airstrip but, of course, it couldn't be that easy. When they reached the middle of the room, they found themselves surrounded by a thousand soldiers which appeared from a purplish void, they all looking the same. However, Kirishima’s eyes were focused on one of them which was different, with blue eyes which reminded him tremendously of Todoroki and black hair. His pale skin had large purple patches which seemed to have been sewed.

The guy smirked, “Well, well. What do we have here?” He started walking towards Kirishima and Bakugou, who were back to back. Kirishima was in the position to harden his body if the situation asked for it whilst Bakugou had a sharpshooter in his hand, all ready to shoot. Everything was silent for a few seconds, the only sounds being the footsteps of the man walking and before any of the boys could react, they had been pinned to the floor. Bakugou grunted and tried fighting, and he managed to send one of the soldiers to the floor, only to be replaced by another one. “I’ll fucking kill you!” The blonde screamed while fighting again.

Kirishima watched as the man stood in front of him and took him by the collar of his clothes, which were still his pyjamas. He then felt warm coming out of the guy’s hand and, before he could notice it, he was on fire. Literally. Kirishima bit his lip to avoid screaming and, even though it hurt, it was nothing compared to how his whole chest felt. His direct instinct was to harden himself to avoid getting seriously burnt and that caused half his clothes to split. When the fellow noticed him hardening, he let him go and Kirishima hit the floor, breathing heavily.

“Just... Who even are you?” The man said with widened eyes.

Kirishima opened his mouth to reply, but Bakugou cut him off, “None of your business, firey.” Bakugou then kicked the guards around him and rose, moving to stand in front of the villain. Before any of them were able to do anything, a voice came through the whole base, “Attention, Yuuei’s spacecraft is getting near. Everyone ready to…” It was cut by an explosion, which soon turned into chaos. Everyone started running around, collapsing with each other, reaching their respective places.

Kirishima finally stood up, his whole upper-body aching.

“How do we do this?” Kirishima yelled through all the noise, locking eyes with the blonde, who shook his head.

“There’s a spacecraft at my right. You go and make it work, I’ll cover your back.” Bakugou screamed back.

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” An explosion happened to his right, only a few feet away.

“Don’t you dare die, hairs-for-brain,” Bakugou said, ignoring Kirishima’s comment.

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Kirishima answered before he sprinted. Even if his body hurt, he hardened and started kicking everyone he found, making sure they didn’t interfere. In front of the spaceship, however, was the black-haired again. He had blood coming out from a wound in his head, but Kirishima guessed he wasn’t in a better form.

“You again!” Kirishima exclaimed, locking eyes with him. The man had the nerve to smirk back, before moving his arm. Kirishima watched as the blue fire came out of his hand and he gulped, his own arm hardening in response.

“You know, I never properly presented myself. I go by Dabi.” The guy, Dabi, said. In the background, Kirishima heard a “The fuck are you doing here again? Die!” and he couldn’t help laugh before letting out a sigh.

“Nice to meet you!” Kirishima answered, before dodging the flame his current enemy had created.

They did just that for a few minutes. Dabi attacked, Kirishima avoided and then attacked. Both of them stayed at a safe distance, breathing heavily, “You know,” Dabi commented, while playing with his wrist by turning it around in different manners, “geologists say that all rocks have a melting point.” His eyes locked with Kirishima’s.

Kirishima blinked, “Oh! I didn’t know that!” he exclaimed, “Are you a geologist?”

All Dabi did was roll his eyes and smirk before Kirishima felt surrounded by flames. The red-haired started coughing due to the smoke, and the burns started hurting once more, this time in every part of his body. Kirishima felt to his knees as he looked around frenetically, searching for a way out, anything. He faintly thought of one time where Midoriya had told him about how burning was the most painful way to die.

The pain started becoming unbearable; only a few flames had touched him, enough to cause pain but not to kill him. However, Kirishima was suffocating. He closed his eyes and tried to stay calm, and not panic because it really was not the moment. Except that it definitely was.

He wished. Kirishima wished they were both back at their base, with their friends and allies. He wished to see the stars with Bakugou once again, to feel the snow under his feet when they went into a cold planet and were doing a snowball fight. He wished it didn’t have to end, not like this. Fast thoughts were racing through his mind, a mix between Bakugou’s and his own, and both of them focused on one thing: death shouldn’t be coming for them. Not this soon.

Sometime later, he couldn’t really tell, Kirishima opened his eyes, looked around and saw that the fire was nowhere to be found. He could faintly hear voices, known ones, and he tried to stand up and turn around. His legs failed him once again, and so he dragged himself across the floor, next to Bakugou. The blonde was only a few feet away, but it felt like a lifetime.

Even if defeated and on the floor, Kirishima knew Bakugou was breathing. He felt it in his inside, in his heart, in his mind. Kirishima managed a small smile before finally giving up and closing his eyes, laying right next to Bakugou.

“I don't know how it happened,” Kirishima said to Aizawa. “I woke up with a strong headache, and then I was in their base.” The red-eyed shrugged.

Aizawa rubbed his eyes before sitting down, letting out a long sigh. Kirishima felt a bit guilty, but apparently, they had managed to take down many of the enemies’ official. However, that of course meant that they had lost many comrades in the process, so he didn’t really know how to feel about that.

They told Kirishima that Todoroki and Midoriya had been right on time to help both Bakugou and him. Midoriya fought with the hand-man who was apparently named Shigaraki, and Todoroki had fought Dabi. Many things were discovered, good and bad.

There was one thing that surpassed them all, though. “Can I see him?” Kirishima asked, a bit anxiously. It’d been a few days since the whole attack happened, and only one day since Kirishima regained consciousness. Many people had come to visit him, and even if he and the blonde had communicated with each other through their minds, Kirishima wanted to see him, hug him, kiss him.

Aizawa sighed again, “You’re going to do it anyway.” He stood up, “You can walk, can’t you?”

Kirishima nodded. His whole body was covered in burns, but they didn’t really cause pain. They just made scars. He did feel a bit weak, but he hoped it was from laying in bed for so long.

They made their way slowly into Bakugou’s medical room, who was laying on his bed facing the ceiling. From what Kirishima could tell from the door, his arms were covered in bandages, but it didn’t look too serious. At least, that’s what he hoped.

Kirishima watched as Bakugou’s eyes turned slowly to him, and the red-head smiled softly, making his way. He listened as the door closed, signalling Aizawa had left.

Bakugou slowly sat up on the bed, and right in the second Kirishima finally reached the bed, Bakugou pulled him into an embrace. Kirishima breathed shakily, taking in his scent. He smelled of Bakugou, explosions, hospital. But above it all, he smelled of home.

“Hello,” Kirishima said quietly onto Bakugou’s neck, pressing a quick kiss there. They stayed like that for a few minutes, memorizing the way it felt, taking advantage of the fact that the other was still alive. Kirishima separated a bit from Bakugou, breaking the hug, only to link their lips in a slow, sweet kiss. They felt each other, they tasted each other and when they broke apart, Bakugou pressed a kiss to Kirishima’s jaw before Kirishima embraced him.

Bakugou rested his head on Kirishima’s shoulder and breathed deeply. Kirishima’s fingers moved on instinct to the top of Bakugou’s head, playing with his hair. His other hand was around his waist, absentmindedly rubbing circles there.

Bakugou was the one to break the silence, “How’re the burns?” He asked, quietly. It was a thing Kirishima loved about Bakugou, the parts of him that not many people could see.

Kirishima grinned at him, “They’re good. They make me look badass.” Kirishima watched as Bakugou rolled his eyes, and Kirishima’s eyes softened, “The doctor said there’ll be scars which probably won’t fade.” Kirishima stopped talking, looking back at Bakugou, “What about you?”

Bakugou shrugged, “‘Course I’m fine.” Kirishima shook his head, raising an eyebrow.

“Is that so? You haven’t forgotten I can hear your thoughts, have you?” The red-head said with a laugh.

“Whatever,” Bakugou responded and looked to his side, trying to hide his smile.

“Oh, c’mon Blasty! Don’t be mad.” Kirishima pouted, and Bakugou’s red eyes locked with his. The blonde sighed before cupping Kirishima’s check with his calloused hand, making circles slowly and Kirishima closed his eyes, leaning into the touch.

The red-haired smiled and linked his hand with the one Bakugou wasn’t using. He joined their fingers and hummed softly, enjoying Bakugou’s presence. He was glad to be back home, with him.

“Let’s go ice-skating someday.” Kirishima blurted and Bakugou blinked at him before smirking.

“You don’t even know how to skate, dumbass. It’s obvious I’m going to win.”

Kirishima raised an eyebrow, “I’m a quick learner!”

“Not quick enough to beat me.”

“We’ll see that!” Kirishima managed to say before bursting out laughing. Kirishima was feeling a lot of things in that moment; happiness, gratefulness, adoration, and above it all was love. However, Kirishima’s gaze widened before turning soft when three words appeared in his brain, “I love him.”

They had told each other, or thought better said, those words a lot of times, yet it never ceased to warm Kirishima’s heart with peace. Bakugou was smiling, a really small smile which Kirishima knew it was just reserved for him.  

Kirishima hummed before thinking, “I love you too.” And he had to bite his lip in order to avoid laughing at the sight of Bakugou blushing.

Kirishima wasn’t sure how this war would end, or how the news of the quirks would be taken by his allies, but he knew that he would fight the whole galaxy to stand next to Bakugou.

[ask-justin-and-angel]

Jag: Surprise! New format time! (also an actual story post) That speech/action alternating style has been holding me back for a bit. I'll still use it from time to time, but story posts are gonna actually contain some STORY now. Time to let my inner writer out of its cage. So let's go. Time to get this story rolling again. Let's dive in where we left off!

"* *" signifies communication via telepathy or some other nonverbal means.

I'm so, so sorry about the length of it ahead of time.

Justin starts to go down the stairs, but hesitates a few steps down. Angel puts her hand on his shoulder. "*Come on Justin, you can do this. I'm here.*" Justin takes a deep breath, then keeps moving. As he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he looks over to see Nick and his father Daniel, a tall man with an impressive moustache, talking, while his mother plays with Mimi, the family Eevee. He can hear his mom making silly sounds at her, while Mimi runs around making small, trilling sounds. In the back of his mind, he can hear an approximation of what she's saying, something along the lines of "Play play play play play fun yay wheeeeee!" He chuckles despite himself, causing Nick to turn around. "Hey little bro. 'Bout time you came down. Mom said you wanted to talk to all of us 'bout somethin'?" "Um, yeah. She asked me how the trip to Johto was, and I told her that I wanted to wait until I could tell all of you. "Well then son, come sit down and tell us then." "Okay dad." "Come on Abigail, Justin's ready to talk to us." "Oh, okay, I'll be there in a moment dear!" As they all move to the dining table, Mimi follows closely behind Abigail, still going "Play?" Justin smiles, then sits down next to Angel. Once the rest of his family has finished sitting down, he takes a deep breath. "Okay. So. Um... How to begin... Well, first off, as you can see, both Angel and I are okay, so please keep that in mind while I talk, because this is kinda... complicated..." He is greeted with silence. "I think you freaked them out Justin." He turns to look at Angel, surprised she isn't using Telepathy. "Okay, so maybe that wasn't the best way to start, but still. It's not like I can really start on a happy note, is it?" "You still could have handled that better." "I get that. But how else was I supposed to start?!" "Please don't yell at me." "Well what am I supposed to-" He stops, noticing just how quiet it is, then looks over to see his brother with raised eyebrows, his father with a stern look on his face, and his mother with her hands over her mouth. "Um...." "Bro, were you just... talking to Angel? Without Telepathy? Care to explain?" "What makes you think she wasn't-" "'Cause her eyes weren't glowin'. I'm a Pokemon researcher kiddo. I notice this kind of stuff. It's kinda my job." Justin closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. "Okay, yeah, I was talking to her. Please don't ask how. Not yet. It's... kinda part of the story." "Well now I really wanna hear 'bout your little trip." "Okay. So, the actual story doesn't really start until Angel and I were already heading back home." He then proceeds to tell them about how, when they stopped to have a quick snack, they were greeted by an unknown man, who then proceeded to attack in an attempt to kidnap Angel, when he was interrupted by his father. "I take it that you beat this ruffian then?" Justin rubs the back of his neck. "Actually... no, we didn't. He attacked with all of his Pokemon at once, which wouldn't have been as bad if he hadn't also taken the chance to attack me." At this point, his mother lets out a small gasp. "I'm fine though! I'm fine! See? Still here." "Not gonna tell them you were poisoned?" "Of course I'm going to tell them Angel, I just..." He shakes his head. "Anyways, he attacked me with Toxic, then followed up with a Venoshock, which had me floored pretty fast. Only reason he got Angel was because she turned her back on him when I got hit. Ricky was the only one still up at that point, but the poor guy got taken out as well. Then he grabbed Angel and..." He falls silent, clearly upset. "Anyways, a nearby Picnicker ran over to help me up and give me an Antidote, then she helped me get Ricky, Sandra, and Luffy to the Ecruteak Pokemon Center." "At which point you got medical help and called the police, right?" His mother asked, clearly terrified. "Um." Angel just shakes her head. "Maybe if I had been in the right state of mind, I would have. As it was, the Antidote had only dealt with some of the poison, and I was a bit loopy. So, I might have, in a delirious state, climbed one of the towers nearby in an attempt to get a better view, hoping to see her, while simultaneously leaving all of my Pokemon at the Center?" He said, rather sheepishly. His father just puts his head in his hands. "You've gotta be kiddin' me bro." "Sadly, no. And it's about to get, well... impossible. Strange and impossible." "I'm listenin'." "So, um, you're a scientist, I'm sure you've heard about the Ecruteak towers and the legends around them, right?" "I have once or twice, yeah. What of it?" "Well, what about the legendary trio? The ones brought back to life by Ho-oh?" "...Yeah. Where you goin' with this kiddo?" "So, um, don't ask me why or how, but once I reached the top of the tower, I may have succumbed to the poison and... died?" "...What." "Heh, that's how Angel reacted." "Focus Justin. Keep telling them the story before your mother has a heart attack." Justin looks over to his mother, who has gone a bit pale. Mimi is whining next to her, clearly worried. "Anyways, that's obviously not the end of the story, right? So... why I brought up Ho-oh and the trio is, well, that may have kinda happened to me?" "Son. What exactly do you mean by that? Justin says nothing, but rather gets up from the table, steps back, then summons a glowing blue bone. Nobody says anything, until Nick breaks the silence. "Is... is that a Bone Rush?" "Um... yeah?" "You can use moves now." "Yeah?" "How." "I have no idea." "Wonderful." "So, that's not all I can do. I can use Bone Rush, Flare Blitz, Protect, and Metronome. Oh, and I guess I have an ability too, I think it was Magic Guard? And to top it off, I can understand Pokemon now. Like, they talk, I hear the normal sounds, but I also hear a kind of translation in my head." "That's... impossible." "Didn't I say that?" Justin sits back down, having released the bone. "Anyways, I died, and then I woke up in the forest to the north. From what I understand, Ho-oh returned to the tower, picked up my body, took me into the forest, then revived me. When I woke up, I couldn't remember anything, then to top it off, I was attacked by a group of Magnemite. Long story short, I got upset enough running from them that I used Bone Rush without meaning to, knocking out one of them. When I realized I could fight, I stopped running and dealt with the rest of them." "*It was around this time that I woke up in a dark room with a metal collar around my neck." Everyone turns to look at Angel. "*I had no idea where I was, but I, unlike Justin, had not died, and remembered what had happened just fine. After thinking about it for a few minutes, I decided to do that broadcasting trick I used to do whenever Justin got lost, the feelings one.*" "While I wandered around the forest confused, I felt the broadcast, and it sparked my memories back up. I ran off in the direction of the thought, while the rest of my team was apparently not far behind, having also felt it. It wasn't long before I came up to a small mansion in the middle of the forest." "*At this point, I could feel him, so I opened my mind and told him where I was.*" "That was when I learned I could use Flare Blitz. I kinda football tackled the door down to get in. As well as to open her cell door." "Wouldn't that have left ya fairly hurt though? "...Yes?" Nick sighs. "Go on." "So, after checking on Angel and seeing that she wasn't in any immediate danger, I sat down next to her to catch my breath, since she had told me the others were on their way. Sandra broke the collar, and we all started to leave. We had just reached the exit when the guy attacked us again, this time telling his Tyranitar to use Hyper Beam. That's when I learned I could use Protect. Also, what kind of scorch pattern a Hyper Beam leaves on the ground. Anyways, I told the others to take Angel and run, which she wasn't happy about, but she followed." "Bro, this sounds like a comic book or somethin'." "You're telling me. So, the guy tells me that his name is Midas, and that he's a Team Rocket executive. Go figure. He then sends out all of his Pokemon again, and he tries to poison me yet again. Quickly learned I have Magic Guard. He then tried to send half his team to chase down the others, but I used Metronome for the first time in a panic, which turned into a Magnitude 10. He only has his Tyranitar now, which attacks with another Hyper Beam, I use protect again, Midas pulls out a gun, and I throw him off balance with another Flare Blitz, though I'm almost out cold myself at this point, then I use another Metronome, hoping I get a good one. I used Fissure, which split the land in front of me in two, collapsing part of the mansion." He stops, looking around the table. "I... think I might have killed him. When I made the fissure, he fell down it. He shot me in the shoulder on his way down, but still. I couldn't see the bottom. I never heard him hit the bottom. And he had a servant of some kind in the mansion, who was helping keep Angel hostage. I don't know what happened to him either." He stops talking, unable to look up. Angel leans over and puts her arms around him. He just leans against her, silent. "*Not long after, Officer Jenny found him wandering through the forest, with a bleeding shoulder ready to pass out. She had gone out there due to both the news of the attack on us and because Justin had caused at least two local tremors and set the mansion on fire, causing some concern. She brought him to the Center, where the doctors took care of him, though we didn't tell them everything. Just what they needed to know. And Justin's new... abilities... they didn't need to know about. Nothing else of note really happened beyond that.*" Everyone at the table is silent, still trying to process what they just heard. Daniel is the first to speak up. "Son. It sounds like... like you did a good thing. Well, maybe not a good thing. But I don't think any less of you for what happened. What's done is done." Next, his mother, trying hard not to cry. "I'm just glad you're okay! I... I don't know what I would do if I lost you..." Finally, his brother. "...Justin. This is a lot to take in. For multiple reasons. I'm sure you can guess some of 'em, so I won't bother you with 'em now. But... know this. I'm not sure what I would 'ave done if I was in your place. So I've got no room to judge. However, once your feelin' better, I want to talk to you. 'Bout several things. 'Kay?" Justin is silent. He doesn't move, though he does take a few shaky breaths, trying not to freak out. Nick gets up and heads outside. Angel shifts slightly, then stands up. "Come on. Let's go upstairs." She helps him up, then guides him towards the stairs. As the two of them head up, she can hear Justin's parents talking quietly. She opens her mind, curious. "Sometimes Abigail, I'm not sure if that Pokemon is the best thing to ever happen to our boy, or the worst." "Daniel! You know how much he cares about that Pokemon! He absolutely adores it!" "That's what I'm worried about." "Well, she was his first one after all." "I know that, I'm just sayin' that-" She closed her mind off. She had heard enough. Looks like their decision not to share everything was right. Not that Justin could know. He was having a hard enough time as it was.

Jag: So, for those of you who actually slogged through this, thank you. Question though, did you have any trouble reading it? Anything style-wise you want me to change? Cause I want to make sure people can understand what's going on when I write large amounts like this. Anyways, hopefully this is the start of me being more active again. Thanks to everyone who's stuck around till now, and welcome to any new readers I have, of which there are several (according to my follower count). Toodles!

P.S. Christ this is bigger than I thought. I am so sorry. XD

[thanhvietanhdavidvo]

Theory of Writing: Final

Hi Dr. Kt,

Since we usually do a reflection in the form of a letter, I’ve decided to use it again on this one. First of all, thank you for making this class as amazing as it was. Although there were times I was struggling and frustrated with the assignments, I think they taught me a lot about myself and my character. Again, I thank you for that. Anyway, let’s do our final reflection for this class. 

So, I have chosen my four topics that I would be focusing on presenting in this reflection, and here they are:

1.     Predict the future – based on readings, discussions, projects, and so on, what might the future look like for literacy practices?

2.     Based on the NCTE definition, please define 21st century literacies. You should revise your position statement that we’ve worked on a few times based on how you understand 21st century literacies. Please make sure to ground your definition in at least 2 theorists, 1 of which must come from this class.

3.     Define your theory of writing.

4.     How might your theory of writing transfer to other writing situations both inside the classroom and outside the classroom? 

Let’s begin:

      I.         What is the future for literacy going to look like?

I predict in the future, writing and reading will remain similar to today. We will still have physical books to read. The only main difference is that we will use new technology more. For instance, we will use e-books more often (or something equivalent), and we will use digital pens or keyboards to do writing. In a more distant future, I can imagine a case where technology will record people’s lines, meaning there might be a possibility where writing will go extinct; however, I’m not committed to that future, and therefore, I’m not going to talk about it. I think writing will remain, probably in different form compared to our generation.

In my post, “Reading is Inevitably Changing!,” I wrote (in the perspective of a Vietnamese elder): “When I was young, I used to be able to read all day without any struggle; however, my grandchildren seem to be incapable of doing so.” I believe our reading ability is currently becoming worse, but I think this is because we haven’t perfectly adapted to our situation yet. Hundreds of years ago, when humans first learned how to read, they were slow readers; however, through time people’s reading skills improved, till the point where our grandparents were/are. Computers and new technological devices have been around with us for less than a century. I think in the future, probably not in this century, people’s reading skill will become better again. Then, they will “be able to read all day without struggle.”

In “Orality and Literacy,” Ong mentions how Plato view writing as a harmful tool, one that messes with our brain and memory, and thus keeping our society from prosper. By now, we know that he was more incorrect than correct. Practice makes perfect. By relying on writing to keep our records, we practice memorizing less than people in Plato’s time; therefore, our memory is not as good as them. This Plato got right. However, he was wrong to believe writing would affect our society in a non-beneficial way. Writing has let us do our jobs (i.e. how many jobs are there that do not require writing?), store information for long-term use, communicate (e.g. King’s telepathy). Plato’s part in Ong’s book is an example of how history of literacy has shaped. Literacy did not stop spreading, nor did it become a bad thing; literacy has helped human civilization prosper, benefiting us in many aspects of life (i.e. jobs and pleasure). No matter how unpredictable the future is, unless humans go into extinct, literacy in the form of writing and reading will not be easy to get rid of.

    II.         Definition of 21st literacy practice

So how can we define literacy in general? The NCTE’s definition of 21st literacy practice (found on http://www.ncte.org/positions/statements/21stcentdefinition) can be summarize as that a literate person needs to be proficient in using new technology, to make cross-cultural connections and share information across global to solve problems, to analyze information, texts and give critques on them, and to take responsibilties for doing so. Based on this definition, I believe a good definition of 21st literacy is that a literacy person should be able to handle tasks connecting to communication issues, which includes analyzing and critiquing other people’s writing in a proper and accurate manner, communicating efficiently across cultures to either solve a problem or satisfy a need, and taking some kind of responsibility in handling the task.

In my “Literacy Statement #1,” one part of my definition of 21st literacy was: “Communicating at present through oral, and preserving and protecting (i.e. memories and history) through writing.” This I believe can be improved by saying that communication does not need to be grounded in oral alone, but also in writing. In fact, like King said in his “On Writing,” through the use of writing, “we’re not even in the same year together, let alone the same room�� except we are together. We’re close. We’re having a meeting of the minds.” Writing is a great way to communicate through time. Oral is another great method of communication, especially when speaking in front of others since oral creates an inspiring environment when one knows how to speak persuasively. Literacy is about communicating effectively, about knowing and understanding the audience.

In my first project, I talked about how “literacy saves lives everyday.” One of my examples was that mothers who are more educated are better at raising their children since they are more knowledgeable on health care system, compared to mothers who are illiterate. Like in my definition above on 21st century literacy, a literate person is more likely to solve everyday problems through communicating with, e.g., doctors or medical personnel who can give them what they need.

In TEDxManchester “Creative writing, why bother,” late-20th, begining 21st century creative writing specialist Anthony Lishak says that writing is “to speak through your pen” and “to put your voice onto paper.” A literate person needs to be able to communicate indirectly through papers in a concise and accurate description, effectively expressing their beliefs, thoughts and opinions. Literacy is a form of expression, a part of communication; being able to communicate well does not mean only to provide accurate information and data, it is also to successfully give the audience a (new) perspective, and to give them the speaker’s or writer’s own personal opinion on those information and data.  

Literacy is also about power, in which one has to take a responsibility for it. In Lindquist’s “Literacy,” she asks about “whether the first responsibility of a writing teacher ‘should be to help students accumulate the things they need to gain entrance into cultures of power and access, or whether teachers should encourage these students to learn to exert some control over those cultures in the first place.’” We need to take some kind of responsibility, and in this case, it is the writing teachers who need to take responsibility when making the decision that affects the future of their students. In the past, a literate person is only found among rich and high social status families; however, in the 21st century, this is no longer the case. Education is about creating literate people, and in developed countries in this century, most people are now literate.

  III.         My Theory of Writing

Having said that, when talking about education and literacy, an interesting topic arises which is the “Theory of Writing.” When I first heard the term “Theory of Writing,” I got confused since even though I knew the meaning of each word within that term, I could not link them together to get a sense of what that term meant. That said, you must have heard the word “theory” in your science classes, e.g., Newton’s theory of Gravity, Einstein's theory of Relativity, and so on. But what exactly is a theory? In general, I say a theory is a well-tested and have-been-proven to be correct explanation of a phenomenon. A Theory of Writing, therefore, could function as a way to explain what or how one could write, and thus why one should write. My Theory of Writing is divided into three ideas, which are presented below:

For starter, what or how can one write? To say that one can write anything that he or she desires to write is a naive statement, a statement that does not tell us much. Personally, I think one can only write what he or she is taught to write. By taught, I mean in either taught by someone else or self-taught through books and observation, or both. A person can only write a poem if he or she knows what a poem is, i.e., what makes a poem a poem and not something else. This is important since one cannot write, e.g., a law book without the knowledge of what the format or the structure of a law book is. Same with a lab report in a science class, one cannot write a lab report without knowing the instructions on how to write them. I implied this in “My (seuss) Theory of Writing” when I wrote: “My planning is the creation, for doing things needs duration. Even if you have a perfect mentation, you ain’t gonna produce a masterpiece without a good preparation.” Preparation is basically the part where I ask myself: What am I writing? If so, what is my plan? “Proper planning and preparation prevents poor performance” (quote by Stephen Keague). It is about reconstructing the image/goal beforehand, and we do it in our writing all the time (e.g. writing a draft, writing out ideas, making a mind map). The first part of my Theory of Writing is therefore: Before writing something, one needs to know how to write it. 

So, why do we write? In my post “My Theory of Writing = “Why do We Write?” (WWW),” I gave a quite simple explanation and that was we write because we can. We, those who are capable to write, are blessed with having the ability to communicate through writing, compared to those who cannot do so due to illness or disease. Therefore, it is quite wasteful and disrespectful not to utilize such an important skill, especially since it helps one uses it as a memory tool (i.e. write it down to remember it) and/or as a general efficient communication device (i.e. emails and letters). The second part of my Theory of Writing is that: The particular reason why one writes is often different for each of us, except the fact that for those of us who are capable of writing, what should motivate us to write is simply because we can.

The last part of my Theory of Writing is that: One should write for content, but in a way that fits for the chosen readers. One of the facts which Brandt mentions in her book “The Rise of Writing” is that good writers think before they write. They think about the audience, the ones who is going to read their writings. This part of my Theory of Writing emphasizes on the importance of those who is going to read your work. Writing is a powerful tool for influencing others, one that can change people’s opinions; therefore, a writer must consider who her audience is. For instance, if her audience are children, the author needs to consider which words to use in accordance to social standard. A writer should think about the word choice, the content, and the aim of her writing in a way that “fits for the chosen readers.”

IV.         Application of my Theory of Writing

If one wish to, my Theory of Writing can be considered as an universal Theory of Writing. I personally find the theory fits in many cases both at school and in life. Below are the three parts in my theory of writing:

(T1) Before writing something, one needs to know how to write it.

(T2) The particular reason why one writes is often different for each of us, except the fact that for those of us who are capable of writing, what should motivate us to write is simply because we can.

(T3) One should write for content, but in a way that fits for the chosen readers.

Within a classroom such as literature or history class (where writing is required a lot), one usually applies T1, T2, and T3 most of the time in his or her writing. (T1) When we write lab reports in science classes such as in physics class, we have steps to follow, e.g., introduction, hypothesis, methods, data, and then conclusion. (T2) Students in physics class write for the purpose of showing what they have done and got from the experiment, and these students should be fully capable of writing it (using the instructions given before hand). (T3) It is obvious the content is about what they have done and the results they have acquired, and that the chosen reader will be their physics professor or TA. 

One of the first questions asked in this WRIT class was whether there is a job that does not require writing; the answer we could all agree on is that there is but not a lot. Most jobs require some type of writing. Even if those jobs are not specialized in writing, the individual who performs the job is required to be able to write in some ways. Especially in the 21st century, people from any social status should be given a chance to learn how to write (and read). T1, T2, and T3 can be applied in jobs outside of classroom. For instance, a secretary’s job requires a lot of writing. (T1) Before he could start being the secretary, he needs to learn how to do the job properly, including how to write in an acceptable way so that his boss does not fire him. (T2) The reasons for him to become a secretary varies, but no one can deny that all secretaries can and need to be able to write. (T3) Again, the content of his writing serves his boss, and his audience is no one but his boss or whom his boss refers to.

In addition, I did not mention this above, but preparation also implies revision. One needs to be able to know how to revise his/her paper if he or she wants to produce a well written paper. In Sommers’ “Revision Strategies of Student Writers and Experienced Adult Writers,” we have learned how students should revise their paper. Taken from T3, one not only write for content but also revise by looking at the content, and not just grammar and equivalent. In any type of writing, one should never consider revising a waste of time, since one cannot improve their writing without revising (a form grounded by T1). In “My (Seuss) Theory of Writing,” I wrote: “Rethink about what you have done, be cautious, be simple, don’t have things undone. Have fun, but don’t get stunned. Since your audience might be everyone.” Revising is not only for the writer to put/take information in/out, it is also to successfully give the audience a good presentation of what one wants to give.

I believe this is the end of my reflection. This is basically a summary of what I have learned through this WRIT class. Thank you for reading my reflection. I wish you a wonderful year ahead.

Best,

Thanh Viet Anh Vo (David Vo)