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noritoshiikamo · 4 years ago

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driver’s license

cause you said forever, now I drive alone passed your street [au where suna is a doctor specialized in memory removal and his last patient of the day is his ex]

pairing: suna rintarou + fem!reader genre: pain, angst, doctor!suna + patient!reader tags//warning: medical procedure of mind erasing, slight suicide ideation, alcohol abuse note: the obligatory trio of mine: not well edited, lowercase intended, english isnt my first language im sorry if i murder it. the songs made me brawled i had to write something about it and i just so happened to finish haikyuu

“it’s odd,” he looked up from the computer screen, osamu approached him pointing to the screen, the last name listed in the appointment schedule under dr suna rintarou. please don’t say it please don’t say anything, he begged silently in his head. “she kinda has her name. haven’t heard her name in ages,” osamu shrugged, grabbing his next patient’s files, “want to get lunch later?” the doctor popped in another stick of gum, leaving before suna could even said a word.

funny that osamu said that. that is his girlfriend. he moved the cursor and clicked at the name. the birthplace, the date, her eye colour, the address and her number; it matches everything he ever memorized of her. except they are no longer together. it has been a month since their breakup.

she’s an architect. not by choice but she likes art. she’s talented and had once held an art show during school’s open day where they met. she didn’t draw him until they started dating, but she had known some of his close friends who was the subject of her drawings. her parents disproved of her ambitious and to compromise, she agreed to take architectural instead. she stopped drawing completely and suna was the only person in japan that has the largest collection of her paintings stuffed in boxes and behind shelves.

suna rintarou has been a doctor in inarizaki institute for 5 years now. inarizaki institute was different from others. it was the only medical institution that had successfully developed a procedure to remove unwanted memories. he’s one of the qualified doctors for said procedure. he had done the procedure multiple times now, even on his former high school friends and families but never his own girlfriend.

is it him she’s removing from her memories?

he didn’t remember how they broke up. maybe it’s because he was too busy. maybe it’s because she had fallen out of love with him. maybe they just couldn’t stand being in each other’s spaces, but it happened so quickly. she moved out from their apartment, returned when he left to clear out her stuff and he just threw himself back to work.

he did remember how they met. she was the miya brothers’ neighbor. one night when he came to visit them during semester break years ago, they were in their parents’ car with a girl. suna felt like he had recognized but couldn’t think of where or when. “oi, suna,” the window rolled down and asamu called him over, “come in!” despite being weirded out, he entered the back door of the car. “we are teaching our friend how to drive; can you believe it? she’s in our university and can’t drive to save a life.”

“shut the fuck up, atsumu or i’ll run you over,” she muttered angrily as she moved the driving gear.

suna saw the stick going down to reverse instead down further and he immediately reached for her hand. the girl startled at the stranger’s sudden touch. “what the fuck are you d-doing?” she choked up.

“you’re going to reverse into the wall,” he muttered bluntly, pouting his mouth to the gear. grabbing the stick through her hand, he pulled the gear into drive before letting her hand go. the light from the post shined in and he could see red flush on her face as she nodded, “oh okay, yeah d,” she muttered to herself. she started driving. she wasn’t exactly bad; she just needed a lot of practice.

so he came over every day of his semester break and accompanied them as she practiced her driving.

“i can drive you home?” she offered on the last night of his break before he returned to school.

“you don’t have too.”

“i insisted,” to which suna agreed and she glanced back at the miya brothers, “get the fuck out.” despite their disgruntlement and the it’s my mum’s car argument, she managed to kick them out. it was just two of them together. “so, i know we went to same high school and university. how come we have never crossed path before?” she questioned as she took her first turn. she memorized the roads to his home. suna shrugged as he fidgeted with the corner of the jacket’s zipper, “i played volleyball in high school.”

she chuckled, “i’ve never watched any sport matches in high school, sorry. anyway, i’m a last year architectural student by the way. are you taking the same course as osamu?” she glanced at him with a smile. his heart skipped a beat. “y-yeah. i’m in my 5th year of medical.”

“why not volleyball player?”

“i got bored.”

she let a soft exhale and shrugged, “fair enough. i took architectural to please my mother so i’m in no position to give any advice.” she slowed down in front of his house before pulling into a full stop. she pulled into parking and pulled the hand brake. she smiled and fist pumped herself, “did you see that? perfect stop!” suna didn’t expect what was going to happen next. he watched out of control as his arm reached out for her face and pulling her close. what he remembered being in control was asking her boldly whether he could kiss her.

her eyes sparkled and she smiled so widely, “yes.”

so, he did.

she moved into his apartment at the end of his graduation. she didn’t get any job for the first few months while he entered inarizaki institute as medical officer. she took commissions online and waited tables while going to a couple of interviews. he saw a decline in her motivation. when suna returned one night, he found her behind the sofa, drunk out of her mind. what spooked him wasn’t the bottles of whiskey on the floor but the stainless-steel paint scrapper she stabbed the canvas with. she could’ve hurt herself. but, putting her into therapy and pulling strings with some of her friends, she recovered, and he got her an interview. suna watched as she dreadfully shoved her portfolios and files into her bag.

“you’ll be alright,” he reassured, bringing her a cup of coffee. she sighed and pushed her bangs back, “i don’t know, rin. i just don’t feel like getting another rejection after another and then i’ll just spiral into a-” he stopped her rambling with a kiss. he tasted like coffee; she tasted like their toothpaste. every time she tried to pull away, he pulled her back into the kiss and she could feel him laughing against her lips. “this is going to turn into something else,” she whispered between the kiss and he nodded. he was half aroused. she drank the coffee and kissed him one last time. he felt her fingers slipped from his grip. she stood by the door and waved back.

“see you?” she beamed.

“always.”

suna snapped out of his own memory when an alarm blared out. he looked up past the nurses’ counter and saw a patient being pushed out of room B by a couple of nurses. he knew what goes on in that room; he helped in perfecting the procedure. osamu followed soon. he tugged the blue gloves off and shoved them into the yellow bin. “you would not believe who I met in the waiting room?” by the look of his face, osamu already got the feeling that suna already knew. osamu flipped his file and pulled out a pen. he signed the bottom of the pages and dumping it in the completed pile. “did she tell you?” suna asked.

“about?” the other doctor asked.

“the memories she’s erasing. did she tell you?”

osamu shook his head and pocketed his hand in the white coat. “she asked about you. whether you’re around. i said yeah, he’s on call and she just smiled.” suna stood up and grabbed the file. he felt conflicted. osamu stopped the man before he could enter the room. “look man, I’m sorry about whatever happen between you guys and I’m in no position to judge at all.”

suna shrugged and smiled, “it’s fine. we were just ruining each other.” the other man nodded understandingly before excusing himself. suna wanted to move but his feet felt heavy. he was glued down. room B was just a few feet away, but he couldn’t move. this is it. the end of them.

he forced himself into the room. standing in front of the panels and monitor, separating him and her was a one-way mirror. she sat on the seat, talking to the nurses in charge. his heart hurts. she had bangs now framing her face. she’s slight thinner and no longer wore the charm bracelet he gave during their first anniversary. the nurse placed a heart-beat monitor on her thumb and attached a couple more of sensors to her brain, forehead, and neck. his monitor lightened up and spitted out the information. this is it. “doctor, she’s requesting of removal of memory from 2009 up to last month,” the nurse’s words went in his ears and out. it’s of him.

all his own memories flashed through his mind.

the memories of every kisses, hugs, the late nights and the earliest of days, the coffees, the spilled paints. memories of every tear he ever wiped and for ever meals she had ever cooked. memories of all the paints of him that she had gifted to him and every night she drove down his streets. for every missed calls and unread texts. the way she touched him and the way she made him felt. he felt suffocated.

how could he ever love someone else?

“everything is accordingly. you may press the start, doctor.”

he looked at the flashing button and back to her. she was looking right at him. she might not see him, but she is looking straight at him and she looked so beautiful. a small smile appeared on her lips as her fingers fidgeted nervously. he felt tears prickling his eyes. his fingers brushed against the button and he slowly pressed it.

it took them 7 years to build this much of memories together and it took him 3 minutes to erase it clean from her mind.

she was drowsy and she had tears running down her face. the nurses rushed in after the red light disappeared and green light beamed. the alarm rang. another memory successfully. “I’m okay, I’m okay.” he heard her from the opened door. shutting off the machine, he immediately rushed out for the door, feared that he might bumped into her and lost it. he hid his shaking hands in his pocket and gritted his teeth.

“doctor?”

he stopped. the world stopped spinning and he felt lightheaded. the way she called for him didn’t change, the tone and the pronunciation were the same. it was always melodious yet painful. he turned around to see her being wheelchaired out of the room by the nurse. her eyes were slightly red, and her nose were puffy. the nurse passed her a cup of water. she smiled politely, thanking her and took the cup in her hand. she took a sip, coughing at the coldness of the water down her dried throat. it’s the side effect of the procedure.

“have we met before?” she asked, innocently.

suna shook his head and smiled weakly, “no, we haven’t.” he turned to the nurse and nodded. before the nurse could ushered her away, she called him out again.

with a smile on her face, she waved goodbye, “see you, doctor?”

“always.”

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babycharmander · 4 years ago

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Hiya folks! I thought this would be a fun little event to run, and I think you guys'll enjoy it too.

What is this? This is a Coco fandom event focused on fics and fic writers.

What's the premise of this event? So, you've probably seen fic events where people are encouraged to recommend other people's fics. And those are great! I love those and have participated in them myself. But sometimes it can kinda get you down if no-one recommends your fics, and you may be left feeling, "boy, I wish I could see my own fics appreciated here."

And... that's where this event comes in! This event will be somewhat similar to those events--you can recommend other people's fics that you really liked, draw them fanart, etc... But what you're really encouraged to do is promote your own fics!

Wait, what? That's right! The main purpose of this event is for you to promote your own fics! Talk about them, ramble about them, tell people why you're happy with what you wrote and why you think other people should read it!

But why? Promoting your own works in a space where people are recommending others' works is looked down upon--understandably so (it generally looks really, really bad and boastful). At the same time, though, we're writers, and we like to talk about our writing. We reblog askmemes hoping someone will send us numbers and emojis and we reblog posts that encourage people to ask us about our fics, because we're dying for some kind of excuse to talk about our writing. It's part of us, part of ours lives, much like music is a part of Miguel's life. Of course we want to talk about it!

So this event is your excuse--it's the permission you've been waiting for to talk about your fic. Ramble to your heart's content. You don't have to feel self-conscious about it, because everyone will be doing it! That's the point!

But what if I also want to promote other people's fics? Then do it! Ramble about other people's fics too! While it's not the main point, it's also 100% encouraged. Make a rec list, make a big post recommending one specific fic, do whatever you like.

What about art? This event is focused on fanfics, not art, but you can also draw art based on people's fics and post it for the event! Or, if you have art you've already drawn for fics, go ahead and reblog it--or even repost it! (Your own art, that is--please don't repost other people's art!)

Is there any sort of contest here? Nope, no contest! Just ramble about fics! Talk about your own, recommend others, post fanart, go nuts!

Should this all be in one post, or should we make separate posts? Whichever you're more comfortable with! I personally say flood the tags, but do whichever you like.

Can we work on writing our promotion/recommendations ahead of time? Yes! Go right ahead. That would probably be best, so that you can have everything ready to post on May 1st! Or you can just wait until the event starts if you'd rather. Up to you!

Is there anything else we should keep in mind? Yes. One thing I will ask is to please keep posts promoting/recommending not-SFW fics separate from ones promoting SFW fic! Some people may not want the former on their blog so they'll be less inclined to reblog it, and/or they may have those sort of posts filtered out, so they'll miss out on your SFW fics if they're not posted separately.

As well, please keep it positive! Do not talk about fics (including your own) negatively. Even if you felt your dialogue wasn't totally in-character in that oneshot, or a few plot threads didn't get tied up as neatly as you would have liked in your longfic, try to focus on what you liked about the fics. And while critique can be constructive, that's not the purpose of this event here, so please stick to the positives.

One last thing, but please do not promote anything as "the best fic" or "the greatest [genre/ship/character] fic" and so on. Keep in mind that when you say things like that, you're putting all other fics down, and we don't want that! (Unless you're saying your fic is your best work--that's perfectly fine!) You can promote your work or the works of others without putting other people down.

When is the event? The event will be on May 1st! This will be a one-day event, to make things simple. If you won't be around that day, you can schedule your posts for that day in advance.

I think that's about everything. There's no official blog for this event or anything--just post your stuff to the Coco tags on May 1st and have fun! But if you have any questions, feel free to fire me an ask. See you then!

#miguel rivera #hector rivera #ernesto de la cruz #coco #pixar coco #coco fic day

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lilchibi-chan · 4 years ago

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Officer Sawamura x Reader

Art by Suyohara

This has been living in my head absolutely rent free, so I decided to come up with a HC

At the moment, your neighborhood has been the victim to a string of break-ins. Nobody has been injured or severely hurt, but police have been stationed and there is a curfew of 9 pm.

Tonight, you had to work late, so you knew that would get home way past curfew. You didn’t wanna go through the hassle of showing your ID and what house you were going to, but it would give you a chance to speak to the very handsome police officer that patrolled your neighborhood from four to midnight.

He had been there for a couple weeks by this point, but you would always sneak a glance at him when you could. Even greet him with a wave when you see him, but you never spoke to him up close.

Once you finally make it home, it’s 11 and you see him standing outside of his car stretching. You start watching him, analyzing every muscle and flex.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a male voice.

“You okay, miss,” he asks, snapping you out of your daze

“Y-yeah, I’m good,” you say nervously as the large man towers over you

You look up and see the very officer, you had been admiring

“That’s good then,” he says with a laugh,”Anything I can help you with tonight?”

“N-no, just trying to head home,” you say pointing in the direction of your house

“I’m gonna need to just see your ID then and you should be on your way,” he says with a warm smile and comforting eyes

You rustle around in your purse for your wallet to take out your ID for him. You hand over the ID and you two brush hands for a moment. His hands were warm.

“Nice picture. Even mine doesn’t look this good,” he says as soon as he gets your ID

“Thanks”

He scans the rest of your ID and hands it back to you.

“Alright, you’re good to go,” he says smiling,”Have a good rest of your night Ms. Y/L/N”

“Thanks, you too Officer...”

“Sawamura”

You walk away and head to your house. He watches after you until you’re out of his line of sight.

Once you enter your home, you lean back on your door, smile and bite your lip.

‘Sawamura’ you think to yourself

You head to your bathroom to shower and get ready for bed.

In the morning, you wake up around 6:45 to start getting ready for work. You head to the bathroom and take your shower, wash your face and brush your teeth and all the while, you think about Officer Sawamura. You think about how tall he is, his eyes and how sweet they were.

You bite your lip, then smile.

You finish getting ready at around 7:30 and eat some breakfast. You finish around 8:15 and wash your dishes, so you come home to an empty sink.

You make it to work on time and your best friend greets you.

“Hey girl, you look amazing today”

You smile

“Thanks”

“You dressed up for any special reason”

“Yeah. My mom set up a bling date with one of her friends sons,” you say rolling your eyes

You weren’t in a rush to get married and you didn’t really feel pressured to date. You always felt that it would happen naturally and grow over time. For now, you focused on your job because it’s something you love and are passionate about.

“Well, I hope it doesn’t bring you down too much. How about we go to lunch together this afternoon? That way you can keep your mind off tonight and we can have some girl chat,” your best friend says

“Sure,” you laugh,“sounds great!”

“Alright, well I’ll let you get to it and you can meet me in the lobby at 12:30”

“Sounds like a plan!” you say excitedly

You do the work you could get done before lunch and head to the elevator at 12:15 since you work on a high floor in the building.

You get to the lobby at 12:20 and wait for your friend to arrive. They come down five minutes behind you and headed out to a nearby cafe you frequented together.

You were sitting down enjoying your lunch, when the door to the cafe opened and you heard the bell ring, causing you to turn your attention towards the door. Your eyes open wide at who just came in. Officer Sawamura.

He was with a friend that had shining, grey hair and dark grey eyes. He looked just as good in plain clothes as he did in his police uniform. You caught yourself staring and bring yourself back to earth. When you look back at your best friend, they’re smirking at you.

“So who’s that ma’am” they ask still smirking

“Well ya know how I have curfew in my neighborhood cause of the break ins that have been happening. He’s one of the police officers that’s on duty when I get home” you say trying to hide yourself

“Well why don’t you say hi to him”

“I don’t wanna bother him, especially since he’s with a friend”

“If you don’t say anything, I will. He is fine” your best friend says laughing

Daichi hears your laughter which causes him to look towards your direction. As you’re laughing, you turn towards his direction and you both lock eyes.

He starts walking towards you and you get extremely nervous.

“He’s walking over. Why is he walking over,” you say frantically

“Cause he’s coming to say hello like a normal person. Stop being weird”

“Hey Ms. Y/L/N”

“Hello Officer Sawamura”

“I’m off the clock, please call me Daichi”

“Are you sure”

“Yes, I’m positive” he says with a warm smile

“Okay, then call me Y/N”

“Okay...Y/N, it’s nice to see you. You look really beautiful today”

“Thank you,” you say blushing

“Special plans or just cause”

“They’re plans, but they’re not special. My mom set me up on a date and-”

“Do you two want a minute” your best friend says

“Yeah seems like we’re third wheeling here, Daichi” the grey haired boy says

“I’m sorry, this is Y/BSF/N” you say introducing her to Daichi and his friend

“Nice to meet you, this is Sugawara” Daichi says in response

“Hey, nice to meet you both” Sugawara says with a bright smile

“Would you like to join us” you ask

“Y/N, We actually have to get back soon, our break is almost over,” your best friend says

You look at the time and you’re shocked. It didn’t even feel like time had went that fast.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize,” you say frowning

“It’s okay, we actually have to head back too. We just came to grab a quick bite,” Daichi says,“but uh don’t be too late tonight Y/N, I might have to write you up” he says with a smile

You let out a small laugh

“Yes sir” you say saluting him

You all say your goodbyes and go your separate ways.

You sit at your desk and just wait for 6 o’clock to arrive, so you can get this date over with.

You were meeting the guy at a restaurant not too far from your job’s building, so you decided to walk there.

Once you get to the restaurant, you look around and see him sitting at a table by himself. You and him had been texting before hand because he thought it would be awkward if you just met up. You knew him, but you barely ever spoke prior to him texting you.

You walk over and greet him.

“Hey Kuroo,” you say with a smile,”It’s been a while”

“Yeah, it has. You look beautiful tonight. I mean you are a beautiful in general, but tonight you look-”

“Thank you, Kuroo,” you say laughing,”You look really handsome tonight”

You go to pull out your chair, but Kuroo rushes up and pulls it out for you.

“Wow, what a gentlemen” you say teasing, but in a nice way

“Yeah, I try” he says laughing and brushing off his shoulder, joking back

‘Maybe, this isn’t gonna be so bad,’ you think to yourself

For the rest of the date, you and Kuroo basically play catch up because you haven’t spoken since you moved in middle school. The date went surprisingly well and you were open to see if anything could come of this. You liked the idea of new beginnings and open to doing new things.

You and Kuroo walk out of the restaurant together and slowly walk up the block. It was currently 9 o’clock which means you will be get home after curfew. You didn’t mind at all because even though your conversations have been brief, you like talking to Daichi and he seems really genuine.

Kuroo suddenly stops and grabs your hand. You turn to face him and look down at your hands.

“S-sorry, I uh just wanted to know if you wanted a ride home. It’s kinda late and my mom would have my head,” he says shyly

You look at your phone again and it’s 9:15. You figured it wouldn’t hurt, especially since it’s so late.

“Sure, Kuroo. That’s really nice of you”

“Well, I’ve always been a nice person”

You let out a small laugh as he opens the door for you to get in the car.

“Comfortable?” he asks bending down to your level

“Yeah. Thank you”

“No problem,” he says before closing the door, making sure all your limbs and belongings are in the car.

He makes his way to the other side and enters the car.

You make it to your neighborhood at 10:30 and Kuroo gets out the car to open the door for you.

“Thanks for tonight, Kuroo. I actually had a better time than I thought I would,” you say honestly

“I’m glad, I was really hoping I wouldn’t come off as a jerk or something,” he says relieved

“No,” you say laughing,”it was actually quite the opposite. I even liked your little rambles about chemistry.”

“Really?! Girls are usually put off by that,” he confesses

“I enjoyed it very much. I’d much rather see the real you than get the phony, trying to impress me, you”

You start walking away from the car, then Kuroo speaks up.

“Would it be okay if I walked you? It doesn’t have to be all the way. I’m just not ready to say goodbye yet.”

You smile

“It’s fine Kuroo. Let’s go”

You and Kuroo start walking into your neighborhood and Daichi is there, as usual.

“I thought I told you not to be late tonight,” he says jokingly

“I’m a big girl Dai-I mean officer Sawamura” you say joking back

“Wow Daichi-san, it’s been a while and you’re a police officer. That’s quite a noble profession, when done by the right people and you’re a real noble guy, so”

“Thanks Kuroo, it’s nice to see you too” he says smiling

“Wait, you two know each other” you ask shocked

“In high school, we played against each other on different volleyball teams. We had a great rivalry and even became friends,” Daichi answers

“Wow, so you guys go way back,” you say surprised

“Yeah, it’s nice seeing you again Kuroo,” Daichi says with a smile

“You too,” Kuroo says smiling,“Y/N, seeing as you have Daichi here protecting your neighborhood, I feel like it’s safe you to get home. Have a good night”

He hugs you and you hug back.

“Thanks again, Kuroo”

“Anytime. Hopefully I get to see you soon Y/N”

You and Daichi watch as Kuroo walked to his car. Once he gets there, you turn and face Daichi. You notice a glint in his eye, but can’t make out what it is.

Daichi turns his attention to you, his eyes still filled with warmth.

“So, it went well huh?”

“Surprisingly, yes” you say with a soft smile

“You gonna see him again?”

“Maybe, I don’t know...this whole dating thing is still new to me. I haven’t had a boyfriend since high school and even then, we didn’t really go on that many dates. I’m looking forward to see where it goes though. I’m open to new experiences.”

“Well, that’s a good outlook to have. It’s very attractive,” he says smiling at you

You blush, not knowing how to react.

“Uhh thank you,” you say nervously

He let out a small laugh

“Have a good night, Y/N”

“Y-you too, officer Sawamura”

He watches as you walk away and smiles to himself.

I hope you guys enjoyed this first part of my new series. I will still be doing siren song, so don’t worry for those who are waiting or looking forward to it. I’m working on about a bagillion things behind the scenes for this blog, so please be patient. I love you all and thanks so much for the support 💖

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sunnnfish · 4 years ago

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Rambling about tbhk thoughts & theories n stuff

Hi I’m thinking too much about how much is still unanswered in tbhk :) this is all over the place but i tried to organize it a little bit but it is very very ramble-y and it might not make much sense. Please feel free to talk to me i have so many thoughts (but also not many answers)

I also bolded some of my favorite thoughts for maybe easier reading

(Also crazy spoilers about literally everything watch out)

Gonna put it all under a cut bc its long but please read 🥺 i talk about like straight up everything and everyone (tsukasa, Sakura, natsuhiko, amane, tsukasa, nene, kou, mitsuba + what is going on with them)

Tsukasa, Sakura, natsuhiko:

Okay so like why did tsukasa only recently appear after supposedly being dead for like 50 years cause like hanakos been around yknow ? Does it have something to do with the seal? Cause like tsukasa is clearly very clingy to hanako so you’d think he’d stick by him as soon as they died but they apparently hadn’t seen each other in a long time. and how did Sakura get into like a contract or whatever with him ? and why can natsuhiko see and interact with supernaturals ? Natsuhiko is so weird what is his deal. why in the world does he know how to turn into a supernatural ???

GASP i just had a thought so like tsukasa says he only grants wishes for the dead so like how would Sakura get into some kind of deal with him if she’s alive? She could be dead but idk it kinda does and kinda doesn’t work.

Hanako, tsukasa, seals:

And as for hanako and tsukasa like when did they get those seals and why ??? And like during the part where kou asks yako about rumors being changed hanako at the end like touches the seal on his cheek and ?????? What does that MEAN ??? Did he have to get sealed because his rumor was changed ? Like what was that about ??? Also why in the world are hanako and tsukasa so powerful? They are so strong and its crazy. Also I REALLY wanna know what hanakos boundary and yorishiro are and what purpose his boundary serves.

Tsukasa, plans, rumors:

Also why is tsukasa changing the rumors ? Is he trying to like kill the 7 wonders or what ? Or remove them from power cause like yknow breaking their yorishiros removes their control over the boundary and like he did straight up kill number 3 to put mitsuba in control so does he want to do that with all of them? He also keeps messing with nene and like why.... i just wanna know his plan...

Also how come they haven’t like put anyone else in charge of the boundaries after their yorishiros got broke? Also also why is hanako the leader despite being like the youngest like what did he do ??? He is also pretty bent on breaking the yorishiros too like couldn’t they just change the rumors instead of breaking the yorishiros? Like they did with the mokke? I think hanako has some other agenda too.

Amane:

Also thinking about if tsuchigomori knew about tsukasa ... like when amane was alive yknow like where was tsukasa ? Did he go to school? Was he in a different class or what ?? Also did amane immediately kill himself after he killed tsukasa or did he like go on for a bit afterwards ?

I’ve also had a little theory about the whole “I’m not going anywhere” scene, so like amane gives his lunar rock, that he has had and treasured since he was 4, to tsuchigomori and that seems a little odd to me, but its seems especially like su*cidal behavior yknow? If someone’s got a plan to, yknow, die, then they sometimes start acting different and start giving away things that are important to them. I’ve also seen recent theories about how maybe tsukasa got them involved with something supernatural while they were alive so maybe amane was like planning to die or something... and I’m also still super intrigued that amane was the only human to defy what was written in their book, and it makes me wonder about what was written in tsukasas book, like was he supposed to die? Was it written in amane’s book that he killed tsukasa or was that different too?

The severance:

Also thinking about the whole lead up to the severance and like how that went down—like number 6 shows up and kidnaps Aoi of all people and like sacrifices her and stuff and it all makes me wonder if hanako planned it? Like he clearly thinks the severance is a good thing and that aoi being sacrificed extended nene’s lifespan so like did he plan it? Did he ask number 6 to do a sacrifice cause like they haven’t done that in YEARS like why would they suddenly do it again? Number 6’s rumor hadn’t been changed or anything so there was no reason to do that (unless i missed something).

Red house, mitsuba:

And then there’s the freaking RED HOUSE like my goodness like what does it have to do with mitsuba??? Why did he have a picture of it? Why was the picture black until nene found it? Like the house is cursed and it seems like the picture might be too, since nene and kou mysteriously showed up at the house. There’s of course all the theories that its probably the yugi family and that it might be connected to Nowhere now so that’s fun but I still really wanna know what this has to do with Mitsuba

OH i also just remembered yknow like at the beginning of the hell of mirrors arc mitsuba is like different mitsuba and doesn’t remember anything but at one point nene mentions hanako and he like reacts like “hanako?” Like he knows the name but like stuff keeps happening so that’s quickly forgotten BUT like what does that MEAN !! Why does he know hanako !!! When he’s not supposed to remember like anything !!!! Zdfghgjhfdhfj

Oh also also what in the world happened to mitsubas arm and why does he keep it hidden?? It clearly still works cause like he grips things but he still keeps it hidden so ??? Also like his eye too idk if something happened to it or if its stylistic but its only shown vaguely like once or twice, and in scenes where he’s alive it’s much more visible so ?

Nene:

I also think nene is totally gonna die or at least turn into a supernatural somehow because like so much official art and stuff really points to it. With like pictures of the four (nene, hanako, kou, mitsuba), nene is always tied in with hanako and mitsuba while kou is shown separately or with different motifs. The ones that really come to mind is the one where nene, hanako, and mitsuba and tied together with a rope, it being tied around mitsubas neck, hanakos chest, and nenes leg, while kou is positioned away from them. With the recent chapter with that dolls leg coming off and like the references to dolls n stuff like i think something crazy is gonna happen to her leg at least. The other one that comes to mind is the one with the four pictures of their middle school entrance ceremonies, where hanakos, mitsubas, and nenes families faces are scribbled out, while kous is fine. At first you think it’s because teru and tiara are like actual characters, but in amane’s and tsukasa’s, one of their faces is scribbled out too so its not about whether or not we know the character. So like nene is continuously shown with the same symbolism as the supernaturals soooo....

Kou:

Also thinking about how kou was WAY to ready to die for mitsuba like he’s 14 !!! And do y’all realize he ACTUALLY for REAL fell off the building right then and there, not expecting mitsuba to save them ! He was fully ready to die at the drop of a hat and as much as it shows how much he cares about mitsuba like that is not healthy babey. Like think about yourself for once kou, stop hurting yourself to help others !!! People care you !!! (I’m people)

Misc:

And then i still have thoughts about the minamoto family but mostly i just wanna know more about their family and history like where are their parents ? Also that reveal that teru like protects the whole town was like crazy.

Oh also gotta wonder like why so many of the ghosts are attached to the school ?? Like i dont think any of them actually died at the school so why do they haunt the school? Shijima died at a hospital, mitsuba died like in the town supposedly, and we dont know about the yugis but idk how they would have a knife at the school unless they were doing some kind of after hours ritual. Also no adult ghosts.... all the adults are pure supernaturals.... hm.

Anyways that’s all i can think of right now and its a lot :) I’m so sorry

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jesshq · 4 years ago

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Hey guys I need to get something off my chest....

I have multiple issues when responding to art and etc. And will end up accidentally saying something that ether: angers, annoys or upsets the artist....

I even have a short train of thought....problems speaking...I rambled all the time (ether of art or not even just my own headcons or ships)....

I have even got blocked for reasons because of my issues...

Some people claim I’m immature, annoying and not acting my age but it’s hard for me to do anything:

1. I have had to have a EA with me for every thing in school even easier classes due to my learning issues. Due to that I kinda was separated with learning like my class mates (sometimes the only one)

2. Due to my issues the minute I get criticized for something I did, or I did something wrong, get called names and etc. I get upset very upset to the point I wanna punish myself when I upset someone.

3. I never had friends, no seriously.....kindergarten to grade 12 I had NO one but a small handful and even then me and them never hung out due to my interest except one...who is currently in collage during these times (COVID-19)

4. My family is a hard one to get along with and anything done: mom works home care in the evenings (2-3pm to 10-11pm) and has back issues, dad works at a hog barn mornings (6am to 2-7 pm (depending on what he’s doing shipping or drawing blood from pigs), my little sister tends to downgrade me a lot...calling me names like: annoying, dumbass, bitch, retarded and many more (parents have tried to stop her) and her boyfriend has moved in...

5. I do a good amount of chores and I’m the first one my family calls to do something, I have really no time to do things...and imagine my life since COVID-19 hit...(in March 2020 was when lock downs started happening where I live)

6. So I’m basically just a 19 yr girl trying to find and make some friends online who have common interests with me to talk to and give ideas to....but they end up coming out wrong and people take it the wrong way and sometimes instantly block me before I could apologize due to my issues

7. due to my issues what I think doesn’t come out of my mouth or text right then, I hit send before it registered I miss worded or my phone’s auto correct fixed it wrong of what I said

8. This goes for those I follow or follow me (and have messaged me) I actually worry when you guys don’t post especially during these times... as it a way I can see your doing well/ok despite COVID-19 or anything that is happening on your end

9. I will Admit I’m horrible at asking requests for art and etc. nicely...once again it’s due to my issues, and well I hope I can fix that...so I’m sorry to anyone I upset or felt like a bother when asking for art requests (especially when you have commissions)

10. I’m 19 yes but I have no job (due to my issues I would get fired instantly...), and the only money I get is from selling my cow’s boy calf’s from the family farm, and babysitting (which I can’t do due to COVID-19) to ask for commissions, heck my parents don’t even like online shopping, but if I ask for a request plz explain why in a slow manner (do to my brain can’t process things without seeing why) you need the money from the commissions...I actually feel helpless unable to help people with commissions for things example: like collage or certain classes in college (I wanna go for animation/design), or a laptop. Just say no and tell me why I’ll then leave you be but still cheer you on for whatever your doing and like your art (which I can’t do if I get blocked due to a stupid thing I said or did...)

11. I hate myself whenever something goes wrong example: I get blocked...After I didn’t realize I did something wrong. Or I get called things behide my back (which happens a lot).

12. ALSO! to those who claim I guilt trip when I go ‘.....’ I don’t know what to say! I’m not acting sad or anything it’s because I know know the right words to say

13. I’m actually developing anxiety (which honestly I shouldn’t be but I have social anxiety in RL or online (unless that person has the same interests as me)) whenever I commented on someone’s art (where it’s Disney or Casper, and many more of my interests) because I feel like I might accidentally hit a nerve or upset the artist, even just asks I’m worried on doing

That’s all I just wanted to let people know, so if people/artist claim I’m just an annoyance, or immature or anything like that that, I have abit of a reason for it...

But look at me like this: I’m person/artist that love your art and just offering comments or ideas trying to see if you wish to be friends, even if I bring in my headcons and ships I’m curious on how you would think of them. And if I’m upsetting you I’m abit of a understanding girl, and if I’m explained abit of whatever it is a ask or comment of mine. if we talk it out about it with no hostility or threats of blocking as I never block (unless your a porn bot).

Like I said before I’m a slow girl so talking to me and downgrading me from something I did to upset you like:

Calling me an annoyance due to one of my comments about mentioning one of my ships when it has really nothing to do with the character

That actually upsets me even when I try to apologize for it and when I apologize I ACTUALLY mean it and it won’t happen again.

This isn’t A vent thing it’s just a thing to let people know I have issues with interacting with people online, I’m not mad or anything as I do the ‘forgive and forget’ thing (also I tend to forget about things randomly) I don’t really hold grudges

So if I make a weird ask or something just look at this plz it’s due to my many..MANY issues that I have had since school till now with COVID-19

#I have issues...#my life #plz help....

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stansrichie · 5 years ago

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how do you sleep when you lie to me?

summary: reddie soulmate au where when you write on your skin, it’ll show up on your soulmates skin as well so eddie started wearing long sleeves… until one day, he doesn’t.

read it on ao3 here! :]

pairing: richie and eddie

words: 3.3k

warnings: eddie is big dumb, mild angst, mainly pining/fluff, college au, soulmate au, they’re like 19

a/n: i haven’t written in a while so PLEASE bear with me i tried- i also didn’t prooread this yet so ignore typos its 5am :[

Eddie had just drifted to sleep when he felt a faint tingle on his arm; his soulmate writing something.

Sitting up in bed, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and turned his head to look at the clock on his desk. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he mutters frustratedly to himself, flopping back down on his bed and curling further into his comforter, trying to be as quiet as he can since Stan was sleeping less than 5 feet away from him in their shared college dorm. “Why the hell is he up at 4 a.m. when we have class in the morning?”

Eddie had always been a light sleeper, so it was at times like this when he was awoken at the ass-crack of dawn, watching silently as Richie wrote on his arm, waiting and hoping for a response; a response Eddie was, quite frankly, too afraid to give him.

It had only been a few days after he turned 18, the age where you can finally start seeing and writing messages on your skin to your soulmate, that Eddie figured out Richie was his soulmate.

It was their senior year of high school and they were sitting in English class, zoning out while as the teacher continued rambling about some summer reading project they were supposed to have done, when Eddie felt it. He was wearing a sweatshirt, so he lifted the sleeve a little, watching as his soulmate started doodling what looked like an intricate rose.

He smiled as he watched for a few minutes, thinking the flower was beautiful, and moved to tap Richie on the arm to show him the design but paused as soon as he started. His breath hitched as he looked over his shoulder and saw Richie drawing a rose on his arm. The exact same rose that was currently being drawn on Eddie’s.

Up until that point, Eddie had never written a message back to his soulmate, afraid of saying something stupid, and after figuring out it was Richie, he knew he could never write anything back at all. At least not until he figured out what the hell he could say to him because, in reality, what was he supposed to say to his best friend that has shown no romantic interest in him before? ‘Hey, Richie, it’s me, Eddie. I know you’ve said a thousand times that being around me makes you nauseous because I constantly smell like my mom’s cheap perfume, but maybe that’s karma because we’re kinda soulmates. Life comes at you fast, huh?” Absolutely not.

Not only could Eddie not convince himself to tell Richie, but neither could the rest of the Losers. Not Bill, who sat Eddie down and held an impromptu intervention with Mike after Richie had come to them a hundred times, crying about how his soulmate probably hates him already since they never respond to him. Not Stan, who nearly decked him in the face for running away when he was given the perfect opportunity to fess up when Richie asked him why he had drawn the exact same smiley face he had on his hand. And not Beverly or Ben, who cornered and sat him down just last week after his last lecture of the day, telling him it had been almost a year since he found out and had yet to talk to Richie.

Now here he was, lying in bed at 4 in the morning, curling tightly into his comforter as he tried to ignore the guilt he felt in the pit of his stomach and watching Richie write what was probably the fourth message he had gotten today.

I’m sorry if I’ve been annoying you for the past year. Part of me hopes I’ve been writing on the wrong arm this whole time and you’re just not right-handed, but I know that isn’t really it. Just please say something, anything, so I at least know you’re out there and I’ll stop. I promise.

More than half of his forearm had been covered. He could only read over the message once, feeling tears well up in his eyes before shoving his arm back under his blanket and shutting his eyes as tightly as he could. He hated that he was hurting him, but he was scared. He was so scared. Scared that Richie would hate him by now. Scared that Richie didn’t return the same feelings for him that he’s had since freshman year. Scared that this will ruin their friendship if Richie doesn’t. He’s so scared.

“Eddie, it’s the middle of September. It’s like 600 degrees outside. Why the fuck are you wearing a jacket?” Richie asks, furrowing his eyes brows and staring at the smaller boy in front of him, his head slightly tilted as he waited for an answer.

After locking the door to his and Stan’s dorm, Eddie pushes past Richie, nearly knocking the boy over, and throws his backpack over his shoulder as he leads them down the hall and out of the building. This is what they always did. Richie woke up early, got dressed, walked to Eddie’s room, and waited for him outside so they could walk to class together. That’s what best friends do, right? “Because I’m cold, Richie, why else would I wear a jacket, dumbass?” he retorted, tugging the jacket tighter over his body. Ever since Eddie started wearing long sleeves around him, Richie asked the same thing all the time, and got the same response every time. Only this time, it really did feel like it was about 600 degrees outside, and Eddie could already feel his forehead start to get damp as they walked, yet he had no intentions of removing the jacket.

“Whatever, weird ass. I feel like I’m fucking melting out here, and you’re still dressing like there’s a blizzard barreling down on us. Are you okay?” Richie asked, his previously sarcastic tone of voice turning to one of genuine concern, catching Eddie completely off-guard with how fast he switched up.

“Y-yeah. I’m okay. Just been feeling weird. I’m fine, though,” Eddie tumbled over his words, keeping his eyes on his feet as they walked. “I didn’t get to ask you earlier, but how was the trip?” he asked, peering up to meet the same pair of concerned eyes he had been avoiding the entire walk. Over the weekend, Richie was forced to go to some art museum two hours away with his class for an exhibit, and instead of making it a day trip, they left Saturday morning and didn’t return until Sunday afternoon.

Richie knew good and well that Eddie wasn’t as okay as he was telling him, but they were best friends. He told Eddie everything and Eddie told him everything too. If he wanted him to know, he would tell him. Why would this be any different? “It was alright. Kind of boring, but it was required. I know it was only one weekend, but I missed you,” Richie replied nonchalantly, shoving his hands in his pockets. It wasn’t until a few moments later that he realized what he’d said, and frantically tried to backtrack and save himself. “You guys. I-i missed you guys. You know… it was weird not hanging out with you all. Like... all of you. Not just one,” he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the nape of his neck, and Eddie noticed a faint red tint had taken to his cheeks that couldn’t have been from the heat.

“Yeah…y-yeah. I got it,” Eddie stuttered back, feeling like the combined heat the jacket and the heat from his own cheeks were about to suffocate him. “I bet it was. Didn’t have anyone to fuck around with and call ‘itty bitty Ewok” the whole time you were there.”

This pulled a loud laugh from Richie, who completely stopped in his tracks to grab his chest dramatically at the nickname he had coined for Eddie. “Come on, Eds, if anything you missed me calling you that,” he replied in-between chuckles, wiping a single tear from his eye.

“Fuck you, Richie, you already know I’m insecure about my height and Ewoks are actually pretty badass. They could kick your ass in a heartbeat just like I ca-” Eddie stops himself, sighing and shaking his head as Richie had only been probed to laugh harder. “Fuck you,” he spat, squinting his eyes at the other boy before speed walking ahead. However, he didn’t get very far before he felt himself being tugged backwards into a hard chest.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. I was just kidding, I promise,” Richie grinned down at him, though Eddie wasn’t paying much attention to what he was saying. What he was paying attention to, though, was the hand on his waist that was pressing him firmly against Richie’s body, only separated by his backpack. “Forgive me?” Richie whispered, leaning right down to Eddie’s ear and making him shudder a bit at the feeling of his breath fanning his skin.

“Whatever,” Eddie breathed out, shoving Richie away and fixing his bag on his shoulder, continuing to walk ahead as he heard Richie continuing to chuckle behind him.

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, getting closer and closer to their classroom building before they finally arrived. It wasn’t until Eddie pulled the door open and held it for Richie that he spoke again.

“Is that something your soulmate wrote?” Richie asked, pointing to the marks peeking out from Eddie’s jacket that had slightly risen up on his arm as they walked inside.

At the question, Eddie’s eyes widened, and he immediately pulled the fabric of his sleeve down, averting his eyes from his best friend. “Yeah… yeah, it’s nothing important. Just a doodle or something,” he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders and silently praying that Richie would accept his answer and change the subject.

“Must be nice. I don’t know what I did to my soulmate or--or if I even fucking have one at this point, but I can never get a response. I’m starting to think that maybe I should just…give up? I mean it’s almost been a year now and all I’ve gotten is radio silence. I can’t keep begging for nothing, you know?” Richie asks, looking over at Eddie with dark, heavy eyes as he finished. His shoulders were slumped in defeat and his head hung a little lower as he walked.

“Yeah. I-I’m sorry, Richie. You don’t deserve that… you really don’t,” Eddie replied, fidgeting nervously with backpack straps and quickly glancing at Richie before focusing back on the ground and walking into the classroom.

He hadn’t been lying. After a while, the messages on Eddie’s arm started coming in slower and slower before stopping altogether.

There were times when he thought Richie had started trying again, feeling the familiar tingle on his arm, only to look down and see a grocery list or a homework reminder.

By now, it had been nearly two months and there hadn’t been a single message from Richie for him to read. Richie had also become a little quieter when they all hung out. Acting a little out of character for his usual self, and the entire group noticed. They also knew Eddie was the one that could fix it, and they’d threatened him at least 3 times this week to tell Richie before they did. To say he felt guilty was an understatement. He didn’t think it would come to Richie completely giving up he just¾he just needed more time, was all. More time to come up with something to say to him.

Eddie was just about to sit down and start on his homework when he felt it again. Writing on his arm.

Study group for comp sci in library @ 6

He stared at the note on his arm for a few minutes before looking at the time on his laptop. It was 3:45 now, so he only had a little bit of time to decide if he would show up or not. This was the first time Richie had written a complete sentence, whether it was for him or not, let alone with something as specific as his afternoon plans. It would be the perfect time to reveal himself to Richie, but he couldn’t help but doubt himself. “Jesus fuck, I’m gonna need a Xanax after this,” he muttered to himself hiding his face in his hands and exhaling loudly.

It was currently 7:30pm and Eddie was standing outside of the library entrance, looking like an absolute idiot. He had gotten to the library over 30 minutes ago, but every time he made the move to walk inside, he walked right back out.

He peered through the glass doors of the library entrance and saw Richie packing up his bags at a table in the back corner of the bottom floor and waving goodbye to a few other students. Panic started to rise in him because it was literally now or never, and he didn’t even use his time standing around outside, let alone the entire year he’s kept this secret, to think of what the hell he’s supposed to say when he walks up to him.

His body starts moving before his mind can get it to stop, and he suddenly finds himself pushing through the front doors and walking right up to Richie, who was seconds away from leaving.

“Hey, Richie,” Eddie called as he neared the table, internally cringing at how awkward and nervous he sounded. Richie looked up from shoving his last book into his backpack, his eyes widening in surprise and his mouth opening to say something before Eddie cut him off. “H-how did your study group go?”

“How did you know I had a study group? I never mentioned it to…” Richie trailed off mid-sentence as he took in Eddie’s appearance. He was shifting nervously from one foot to the other. A faint blush was set on his cheeks, tinting them a pretty pink color over his freckles, and he was completely avoiding Richie’s eyes. Other than that, there was nothing significantly different about Eddie that caught him off guard; that is, until he noticed Eddie’s shirt. For once, he wasn’t wearing anything long-sleeved, and Richie noticed a few familiar scribbles on Eddie’s arm from afar.

Stepping away from the table, Richie started moving closer to the other boy and Eddie felt like he couldn’t breathe. He stood completely still, frozen in place, as Richie stopped right in front of him and took his arm in his hand, holding it up so he could read what was written.

“Study group for comp sci in library at 6,” Richie read out loud quietly before looking up and meeting Eddie’s eyes, causing Eddie to meet his gaze for the first time. They were both silent for no more than 3 minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Eddie was still barely breathing, waiting for Richie to react, and Richie was looking at the message on Eddie’s arm again that was identical to his as if everything was hitting him at once.

Eddie had just looked away from Richie’s face when he spoke up again.

“Why?” he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of hurt and desperation. “W-why would you …hide this from me for so long, Eddie?”

When Eddie looked up, he realized just how upset Richie really was. His eyes had already begun to water, and he knew he was completely overwhelmed with the situation. He felt terrible once again; not that he didn’t deserve to. “Richie, I-”

“Do you realize how hard I tried? Eddie, I didn’t even know if there was someone out there or not. I-I waited so long hoping to get a response, and you--you were there the entire time? You knew the entire time?” Richie cut him off, looking like he had been completely defeated.

“I-I’m sorry. I just- I didn’t know how you would react. You’ve never shown any real interest in me and I didn’t want to ruin anything I-I was just scared of… of losing you,” he replied, feeling his own tears start to slip down his cheeks. “I know I’m the fucking worst and I had so much time to say something but I couldn’t-”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Eddie? Like are you bullshitting me right now? This entire time, you haven’t stopped to think even once that I might have feelings for you? That I might have been in love with you since we were prepubescent 13 year-olds in high school? Not once?” Richie continued, shooting questions at Eddie every chance he could. “Not when I asked you to prom senior year, even if I did try to play it off as a friend thing? Not when I kissed you that one time when we went to the drive-in? Or not even now when I wake up early every morning to walk you to class, even when I don’t have the same classes? Not once?”

Eddie was speechless. Absolutely speechless for at least 2 minutes before his mind finally started working again after that confession. “I really am sorry, Rich, I know I should’ve said something a long ass time ago I was being stupid… I had no idea you felt that way, but I-I feel the same,” he replied nervously, peering up at Richie through his eyelashes, his bottom lip between his teeth. “And to be fair, you told me the kiss was accidental and that you only did it because you were trying to wipe butter off of my lip and slipped-”

But he’s cut off when he feels a pair of lips against his, and he barely has time to react before Richie’s pulling him closer against his chest and deepening the kiss. Eddie feels like his entire body is fire, and even though they’re kissing in the middle of the library, it feels like they’re the only people in the room, as cheesy as that sounds. It was a fairly chaste kiss, but it was desperate and needy, something they’ve both wanted for years, and they were both breathless when they pulled apart.

Eddie’s lips were red and a bit plumper, and when Richie’s eyes flickered down to them and noticed, he couldn’t help but pull Eddie in for another quick kiss.

“That one wasn’t an accident,” Richie finally spoke after a few moments of them trying to catch their breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re such an idiot,” Eddie chuckled breathlessly. He felt like a thousand weights had been lifted off his shoulders. His insides felt like jelly, like he couldn’t believe that had just happened, but it felt good. He felt good.

“Yeah? Says the one that kept being my soulmate away from me for an entire fucking year,” Richie countered, squeezing Eddie’s hip and making his breath hitch.

“Not an entire year just…close,” Eddie murmured under his breath, hiding his face in Richie’s neck.

“Too long,” Richie replied, his voice slightly muffled as he pressed his lips against the side of Eddie’s face.

“M’sorry,” Eddie responded, which he’d probably said a thousand times tonight. But he meant it. He meant it every single time.

“I know. I’m just glad you’re here now,” Richie sighed in content. Of course, they’d talk more about the situation later, but for now he was just happy he had found out who his soulmate was. Even better, it was Eddie.

Eddie knew it too. Knew he’d have a lot more explaining to do, and a lot more apologizing to do, but for now he wanted to stay just like this for a little while longer because he wasn’t afraid anymore. He didn’t have to be; he never had to be, and he wished he could’ve convinced himself of that earlier because being in Richie’s arms felt like the safest place he’d ever been in his life.

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colonel-insomniac · 4 years ago

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Heather— Conan Gray

And we are back! sorry for the long wait, i graduated, I’m getting ready to start uni, ive been a little busy. Anyways, read other Spongebob One-shots HERE and if its a while before i release another one, pls read my book The Other Planet HERE because I aim to publish it after rewriting. "I still remember, third of December, me in your sweater, you said it looked better on me than it did you…"

Bobby was slumped in a chair, chin resting on an arm that was propped up by a cafeteria table. Prom was a bust, that's really all he had discovered tonight.

Everyone always says prom is a magical night, and bonds are formed that will never break, and maybe Bobby is being a little over dramatic about this, but this dance turned out to be a total waste of seventy-five bucks.

Truthfully, he'd wanted to be asked to prom, and by Patrick. But when it became clear that wasn't happening, his mom had insisted he still go, despite his lamenting about not wanting to. She'd promised him that he would later wish he had gone. Bobby supposed it would be better than being sprawled on the couch, watching movies.

Now, however, all he wished to do was watch movies. Since he'd walked through the doors of the high school gym, Bobby had a flighty feeling gnawing at his insides. And he knew it was heartwarming when Pat walked through the doors with his mom, but he couldn't help wishing he was walking through that entrance with Patrick.

Bobby had ducked into the bathroom—accidentally into the girls first, where they asked why he looked upset after their initial shock—the boy's bathroom, where he locked himself in a stall, and sat for a couple minutes.

His heart was beating fast, so he pulled out his phone and played some Subway Surfer's in an attempt to calm down. It was just Pat after all, his best friend for life. There was no reason to be nervous.

And that's when he wound up at this table. He'd weaved his way through the throng of dancing kids, chatting with a couple of them before moving on. Bobby had managed to catch a couple of glances at Patrick, who was seated at a table with his mom. But they weren’t talking, he was looking around with a frown.

“Only if you knew, how much I liked you, but I watch your eyes as she walks by…”

Bobby had a sneaking suspicion that Patrick liked Sandy, a really smart Texan. He had no proof of this, of course, besides how much they seemed to hang out these days. Bobby felt bad about that thought. She’s not a bad person, Sandy, that is. She’s really smart, and shes’ pretty, and nice, and all good things. But Bobby had been missing his best friend recently. He’d tried talking to Edward—or Eddie, as Bobby called him, despite Edward’s scowls—but it was evident that the tall, clarinet playing, art adept boy was consumed with work, and consequently had no time to talk.

Bobby had sat down in the chair he’s now in, spinning stories out of the pattern on the table to keep himself occupied. Even he was aware how pitiful that sounded. Sandy and Edward had come up to him, separately of course, and chatted for a bit each. He’d grinned when Eddie voluntarily sat next to him, but Eddie had made sure Bobby knew he was only talking to him tonight because of how Bobby had been one of the few to treat him kindly. At that, Bobby’s mouth fell open in shock. Eddie was such a fun person to be around in his opinion. He’s going to have to talk with people and tell them how awesome Eddie is.

Bobby half listens to what Eddie is telling him, nodding his head in agreement as he thinks of how he can help the talented man. Soon enough, Edward decides he’s talked enough, and excuses himself. That’s when Sandy practically leapt out of the almost non-existent shadows, nearly giving Bobby a heart attack. He jumps a little, and Sandy smiles, apologizing for startling him. “You? Scare me? No, no, I was just getting up!” Bobby tries, knowing that Sandy knows it’s a lie.

“What a sight for sore eyes, brighter than the blue sky, she’s got you mesmerized, while I die…”

“Mhm, sure.” Sandy gives him a knowing look. “Why are ya camped out here anyhow?” Bobby shrugs, not wanting to explain. “Patrick has been lookin’ for ya, he seems worried ‘bout somethin’.” Bobby looks away, feeling guilty.

The ever-perceptive girl takes note of the expression on Bobby’s face, and in one motion, pulls out a chair and sits down. Bobby keeps his head tilted towards the table, hoping she won’t want him to talk about it. “Now, what’s wrong Bobby? You’ve been actin’ stranger than a cow dancin’ at a disco rodeo.” Bobby’s eyebrows scrunch together, a little confused by the saying, but then he shakes his head and thinks up a response.

He shrugs, “Nothing, I just don’t wanna be here anymore.” Sandy’s own eyebrows shoot up, and she asks what he means by that.

“Why would you ever kiss me, I’m not even half as pretty, you gave her your sweater it's just polyester, but you like her better, wish I were Heather…”

Bobby lifts his shoulder again, not sure of what to say or how to say it. He blows air out, watching a strand of his hair float up and fall down again while he thinks. Sandy see the discomfort on his face, and drags him outside, into the quiet. The air out here fills Bobby’s lungs, pleasantly warm. It smells like spring, hope, rebirth, renewal. “Now talk.” She orders, and he has no choice but to admire her persistence.

“I kinda like Pat.” It’s a low whisper, and Sandy’s face brightens. Bobby frowns. “What’re you smiling about?”

Sandy quickly irons out her face, assuring him that there’s nothing going on, gesturing for him to continue. “But I think he likes you, not me.” Bobby stares hard at a tree, watching as the moonlight pokes through the holes in the leaves.

Sandy makes a sound in the back of her throat, and Bobby can’t quite place an emotion to the sound. “He’s a great guy, I would know, I did spend the past 17 years of my life with him.” Bobby continues, turning to Sandy and plastering a bright, fake smile on his face as he grabs her hands. “Pat’s a lot of fun to be around, he’s also really soft.” Bobby stares up and away from Sandy, trying to keep his emotions under control.

“Bobby, you’ve got it all wrong—” Sandy starts, and Bobby numbly thinks how she does look pretty ethereal right now, and kinda all the time. How could someone not like her?

“Watch as she stands with her holding your hand, put your arm 'round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder…”

“Trust me, Sandy, it’s okay. If you like him too, you should tell him. You guys will…have a lot of fun together.” He’s trying to work himself up to be happy. He should be happy for the two anyways.

He hardly hears himself as he continues on, rambling, Sandy watching him with eyes that keep getting wider. It’s when he’s starting to turn to go back inside, and turning her too, that Sandy seems to snap out of her shock, and grabs Bobby’s shoulders. “Listen Bobby,” Bobby opens his mouth to ask something, confused, but Sandy shakes her head, so he nods. “You gotta trust me on this one. Pat doesn’t like me. I know who he likes, and this person is at this party. Patrick’s plannin’ on tellin’ them tonight, so you oughta at least go and see him.” Bobby shakes his head, once, before Sandy frowns at him. “He’s itchin’ to talk to you, been missin’ you all night, and y’all are both actin’ pretty dang stupid.” Bobby’s too confused, puzzling over that last part, and before he can protest it, Sandy’s grabbed his hand, and drags him inside.

“But how could I hate her? She's such an angel, but then again, kinda wish she were dead, as she walks by, what a sight for sore eyes, brighter than a blue sky, she's got you mesmerized, while I die…”

“Sandy…” That’s all Bobby can get out. The cold of the air condition raises goosebumps on his arms, and okay, maybe that isn’t the only reason. Because now, he’s going to be face to face with Patrick, and only Sandy knows why she’s doing this.

He didn’t think he was wrong though, about Patrick liking Sandy. But now that she’s said that it isn’t her, Bobby feels almost like he’s been thrown into an existential crisis. His stomach clenches, and he desperately tries to stall by any means necessary, but Sandy doesn’t buy any of the excuses he’s giving her. She just tells Bobby to trust him and keeps moving.

Bobby sees Pat sitting with his mom. His back is towards Sandy and Bobby, but he nods his head at whatever his mom says. Sandy deposits Bobby in a corner, and tells him to “wait there and don’t move,” before making her way over to the pair.

He debates slipping away, now that Sandy’s back is turned, but he’s frozen instead, helplessly watching the scene unfold in front of him. From what he can see, Sandy puts a hand on Pat’s shoulder, greeting his mom, who smiles at her. Patrick’s looking up at her, and she briefly addresses him before pulling him up. Bobby’s heart is beating wildly in his body, and he swallows as Sandy brushes off the shoulders of Pat’s suit before leading him toward Bobby.

“Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty, you gave her your sweater, it's just polyester, but you like her better, I wish I were Heather…”

Patrick catches sight of Bobby before the pair is in front of him, and Bobby finds himself mesmerized by Patrick. When they stop, Sandy waits for a beat or two, and exits, aiming a pointed glance at Bobby, the meaning of which he is able to immediately decipher. She’s telling him to confess. That thought sends him into a state of panic, and he blushes, not sure what to do or say.

“Hey.” Is the first thing to come out of his mouth, and he considers literally face-palming. Instead, however, Bobby watches Patrick’s face scrunch up.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” Bobby flinches at the emotion underneath the question. He never meant to hurt Patrick, never thought he was.

But now he knows better. “I thought you liked Sandy, I was trying to stay out of the way so you could tell her.” Pat looks taken aback by Bobby’s confession.

“I don’t….” Pat starts to say something, but trails off, looking slightly confused.

Bobby breathes in, stomach knotting and unknotting over and over as he debates saying it. He closes his eyes. “I like you.” Those three words stop everything. Bobby’s mind goes still, and he knows it’s impossible, but he swears it feels as though his heart has stopped.

His hands drop to his sides—funny, he didin’t remember lifting them to begin with— and looks to the side, away from Patrick. He struggles—and fails—to keep a couple of tears from escaping, and he brushes them off, sniffing. “It’s okay, though. You should talk to the person you like.” He starts to back away, back hitting the wall behind him.

“Wish I were Heather, wish I were Heather…”

“Bobby, you should’ve told me—” Pat starts, grabbing the shorter of the two and wraps his arms around Bobby. “I was trying to figure out how to tell you that I liked you.”

Bobby’s confused. Patrick likes him? “Wait what?” Bobby smartly asks. Patrick breathes in, and exhales before responding. Bobby supposes he’s thinking about what to say.

“I like you too. I’ve been hanging out with Sandy to get advice on how to tell you. I–we—eventually decided I should do it tonight, at prom.” Bobby doesn’t realize how tightly he’s holding onto Patrick, he’s too focused on listening to what’s being said.

He breathes in, and is surrounded by the scent of Patrick, Hot Topic’s Sugar Cookie scent. Bobby knows Pat would never admit to shopping there, so around the holidays, when they release the scent, Bobby buys a ton for Pat just in case he should run out. “I would never just stop hanging out with you.”

“Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty…”

“Sorry,” Bobby mutters, knowing Pat will hear it. “I should’ve asked if everything was alright instead of assuming and hiding. Especially since we've been best friends since birth."

Patrick shakes his head, and after a minute, both feel as though the hug has branched into the awkward category.

Bobby decides it's probably rude to not say hi to Patrick's mom, and when he brings that up to Pat, his best friend (who likes him back?) offers an arm with a goofy grin. Bobby takes this in stride, placing his hand on the inside of Patrick's elbow, trying to match with an equally enthusiastic grin. The pair set off towards the table Mrs. Starr is sitting at, finding Sandy chatting with her.

"Hey Mrs. Starr! Hey-a Sandy." Bobby leans down to hug Patrick's mother.

"Bobby and I were gonna dance." He tugs Bobby over to the floor, and Bobby waves at the two, sending a smile their way.

"Pat, I can't dance." Bobby mutters, but he wraps his arms around Patrick's neck anyways. In return, the taller of the two places his hands at Bobby's waist, tentatively, as though not sure whether Bobby was fine with it.

The contact sent a shiver down Bobby's back, stepping closer to Patrick. "Sure you can, anyone can dance, really." Patrick snorts softly, and Bobby elects to leave the matter, leaning his head on Pat's shoulder.

"You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester..."

"So," Pat begins saying something, and Bobby peacefully listens. "Would you like to go with me tomorrow and get ice cream in the park?” Bobby leans away, playfully grinning at Pat.

“Is that a date?” Bobby laughs a little, knowing the answer already. Pat punches Bobby lightly on the shoulder.

“You know it is.” Bobby can’t resist leaning up on his toes and placing a chaste kiss on Patrick’s cheek. When he pulls back, he’s delighted to see the faint pink blush on his companion’s cheek.

And if anyone were to ask him, he definitely did not squeal when Patrick picked him up and spun him around.

“But you like her better, wish I were…”

#patbob #spongerick #spongebob #patrick #sandy #mr krabs #squidward #spongebob the musical

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flowermist7432 · 4 years ago

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What about bubby is happening???

Hwjhhgggggggg E v e r y ThIng,, its a long one but please read if yah do wanna understand my thoughts tho its long cause i ramble!!

Ismhd okay so i made art a LONG while back that was like, Bubby and Coomer! Right? I love their ship, infact the way they are drawn is so specific and it REMINDED me of..idk..Crowley and Aziraphale.

The logic behind that is how the fandom draws them like Crowley. Little mean with a soft heart, and wears cool black stuff and stylish, TALL AND VERY SKINNY while Coomer is drawn as chubby, lil man who's nice but also a little bastard. So i was like "Hah! Oh man! Reminds me of another ship! Infact i wanna draw em like that! >:0" then i drew them dressed AS them!

Now, i wanted to kinda re draw that piece cause its old and my artskills have MAJORLY improved. But folks loved it! And MONTHS later when ive already forgotten about the post some..person was like "this is so antisemitic to draw Bubby as a literal demon"

Now obviously as someone with RSD i choked, first of all. SECOND of all this person CLEARLY missed the mark that??? Of course i drew him as Crowley thats the part of the joke- COOMER IS AZIRAPHALE it doesn't work the other way around tho maybe for a joke it can cause that would be funny ("Gordon! Im a demon! And i require your soul as debt~❤"). Third, this...this art was made way long before this whole ENTIRE THING WITH him being called jewish suddenly and his new rules.

The reason he's concidered jewish is because Gir used one of the random scientist old man npcs which aparently later on in the games was turned into Dr Kliener? And the name Kliener is a name of jewish origin. And even tho the fandom had decided.

"Okay were separating Half Life from Half Life Vr AI. Cause the two things are so..SO DIFFERENT from eachother at this point its not even funny" the fandom ALSO decided because Gir used that model it intern makes Bubby jewish. And that means Bubby's sharp teeth the fandom did before that or just, aspects of how he might look a BIT monster-ish cause he was canonly made from a tube was gone! No more! You cant cause now everyone decided he's jewish!

I legit had no problem with it cause "oh dang" cause well im not jewish what do i know, i mean if you headcanon that, thats cool! ❤💖❤💞💖 Also im sure folks can live with not drawing him a few fish-like! I mean maybe he just came outta the tube lookin like a regular white old man which is always funny tbh. Also as i said im not jewish so i have no say really it wouldnt be fair >:0. Infact I love the connection but artists getting accused of antisemitism because Bubby was being drawn alittle off like pointy teeth or using the sharp triangle body shape theory kinda sucks cause to me it was clear it had nothing todo with jewish themes and also lets be honest Dr Kliener and Bubby are two seperate entities to me.

But its actually one of the biggest reasons i stopped fandom interacting cause..idk. it got to much with the "Dont draw/write a character like this" and stuff. It was the stick that broke the camel's back with realising this fandom turned great wonderful wholesome headcanons to implimented FACTS of the community and if you are tripped up even alittle unknowingly even before hand yer FUCKED. Which is actually my number one fear so it certainly did the trick! I just..left! I got to scared of doing something wrong or even asking. Cause its a bit feral even if you wanna genuinely ask why. And btw this isnt "UHG STUPID RULES" and more like "oh god oh fuck--"

I..look i'll always have a special place in my heart but im gonna be vulnerable fer' a sec and say so, SO scared of lettin folks down. 😥 i dont wanna be a antisemitism artist! Or a racist or a homophobe or any of this! Its scary and makes me wanna cry even at the very thought someone MIGHT think that even tho i know im certainly not. But its also made me not wanna interact cause..what if i accidentally draw something or say something that came across the wrong way or broke "fandom rules" i was unaware about like god holy shit thats TERRIFYING!!!

So i just, stopped drawing em. I even have poc characters or stuff ive wanted to show to tumblr but im scared of getting facts wrong or someone getting angry i did something so i just hide em all away. Its too intimidating and the chances of having yer ass handed to you by one accident and being shunned for life is so possible in my head and i never wanna risk being a terrible person. Even if that means stop drawing hlvrai and not showing original work in fear of messing up

#theres some fandom rules that are 100% true tho like...just..dont draw them having the 'horizontal mumbo'#like thats a no brainer please dont do that the creators said it makes them UNCOMFY #but im scared of doing anything cause what if i get fuckin attacked at the age of 17 for stuff i didnt realise? was bad?#or even like a simple thing is misinterpreted by the other party?#ismshd idk..#i also dont wanna be seen as a person who crys and whines when they cant be a bad person like UH..#I RAMBLED SO HARD today is a venting day HUH?

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gross-gal · 4 years ago

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yo!! i dont know jackshit about Darkstalkers!! What's it about?? What do you like about it?? What do you NOT like about it?? Tell me alll!!!! (@gamer-gremlin-gf-ships)

AAAAAA THANK YOU @gamer-gremlin-gf-ships

SO. I’LL PUT THIS UNDER READ MORE BECAUSE THERE’S A LOT.

Darkstalkers is a fighting game developed by Capcom. The main gimmick is that, most of, the fighters are based off of horror archetypes. So ya got vampires, zombies, frankensteins, fishmen, ghosts, all that shit.

There isn’t really much story wise I can elaborate on since, fighting games don’t usually have that much of a story to begin with. BUT, in Darkstalkers 1 and 2, main story is that this big bad dude named Pyron kinda wants to determine if the Earth is worthy to be ruled under him or if he’ll destroy it. Pyron is a shape shifting alien dude from the planet, Hellstorm and he’s really looking for a good brawl so he goes and fights the most powerful Darkstalker, which is whoever you choose to play as.

Now then, to avoid confusion, Darkstalkers 1 and 2 (or Vampire Hunter/Night Warriors: Darkstalkers’ Revenge) are basically the same game. 2 is more of an updated version of 1, has two new characters, better gameplay, and it also changes some part of the story because Demitri (the vampire dude) actually was the one who originally started the whole tournment thing in determining who was the most powerful and I think? Pyron kinda ends up in the way. In 2, it basically is changed to Pyron is the one that starts the tournament, and that’s the canonical version.

So 2 isn’t really that much of a sequel, while Darkstalkers 3 (or Vampire Savior) is an actual sequel to the series. This introduces the antagonist, Jedah Dohma, whose plot is that he wants to collect all the powerful darkstalker souls and put them into this big demon baby, which then be used as a vessel for him. Jedah’s whole thing is that he’s basically disappointed in what has become of the demon world (makai world) and decides that he’s going to annihilate both the demons and humans. He sees himself as a savior, and while there really isn’t a protag, Jedah kind of is considered to be one in 3.

NOW. WHAT IS A DARKSTALKER? It’s literally just...fucking monster? I guess? There really isn’t a specific definition but just know, everyone, besides B.B. Hood because she’s the only true human in the series, is a Darkstalker.

Just gonna get my problems out of the way. Obviously, the series has some sexual stuff, which is fine but it can get uncomfortable. Demitri is a pretty big example since he literally has an ability that just involves transforming the opponent into a younger, more desirable person so that he can drain their blood? I won’t go to into it since it’s gross but yeah. Then of course there’s Lilith and yeah...REALLY WISH THEY DIDN’T MAKE HER LOOK LIKE THAT BECAUSE SHE’S A PRETTY COOL CHARACTER.

Darkstalkers also doesn’t offer much as far as a story, this is sort of good because it offers a lot of freedom as far as writing, but to be honest? A lot of stuff which tries to elaborate on the Darkstalkers lore or whatever, KIND OF SUCKS. I myself, am not into the Udon comics or the mangas, the OVA also doesn’t offer much of a great story. Which is a shame because Darkstalkers has a lot of potential but so many attempts, just kinda fail because they miss the point in the series. Udon and the Vampire Savior manga in particular because they take the series way too seriously or just characterize really strangely? The OVA probably offers the best in terms of story but it’s not even much because the only actual good and satisfying one, is Donovan’s story. His is the only one that actually has a conclusion. Otherwise, the OVA suffers from poor pacing, lots of exposition, or just OOC moments. LIKE??? REALLY DOESN’T MAKE SENSE AS TO WHY FELICIA GETS ALONG WITH ZABEL OR MORRIGAN ENDING UP WITH DEMITRI?

And then I guess a more minor complaint. Darkstalkers has a very specific style, I really think the series look best in the first two games and in the OVA. I personally am not a big fan of the character art in 3 jdskal

NOW FOR THE POSITIVES.

I CANNOT EMPHASIZE ENOUGH HOW MUCH I ADORE THE ART AND ANIMATION IN THE SERIES????

The main artists for the series are Bengus (Gouda Cheese) and Daigo Ikeno. Bengus really fucking nailed how the series should look. It’s got that perfect balance of the gothic, sensual aesthetic with exaggeration and fuckin weirdness of the series. Darkstalkers is a series that completely embraces it’s wacky side and just how campy it’s influences are. I mostly love Bengus’ earlier works from 1 and 2. Daigo’s stuff is much more casual and less elaborate compared to Bengus’ works but I kinda love that, he’s really great at showing off the characters in more casual situations and showing off their goofier sides. I’ll share some of my favorite pieces at the end.

OH GOD. AND HOW CAN I NOT BRING UP THE ANIMATION???

While I wouldn’t say it’s as fluent as Street Fighter Alpha 3′s sprites, because Darkstalkers is able to be more creative with it’s moves, the results are some super wacky and fun animation. Darkstalkers animators heavily referenced old Looney Tunes and Hanna Barbera cartoons when it came to animating. I really don’t know a whole lot of fighting games, especially from Capcom, that look the way Darkstalkers looks. And a lot of that comes from the fact that Darkstalkers isn’t very limited. Characters can launch missles, fireballs, fucking blood?. Characters can extend or manipulate their body. Or just do weird shit like transform characters into basketballs, make characters perform in a rhythm game?, A CHARACTER STRAIGHT UP USES HIS ASS CHEEKS TO GRAB YOU AND SUMMON LIGHTNING?? Everything is super fucking wild and that’s what makes the series.

A lot of people say Darkstalkers needs to be gorey and sexual but that’s really not what the series is about. Yes, Darkstalkers is def sensual but it also really doesn’t take itself seriously. That’s what so many people miss. And honestly? Even though it was terrible, the American cartoon ends up being the most accurate to the source material because it gives no fucks and so much weird shit just happens.

Another thing I love about Darkstalkers is how much it subverts it’s characters and just how creative they got. You have an Australian zombie rockstar, a catlady that’s also an idol and a nun??, a demon possessed samurai ghost armor guy. The character design is genuinely fucking brillant and not at all what you’d expect to get when given the idea for monster characters. I would talk about the characters but you see how long this post is starting to get.

And I haven’t talked that much about gameplay but Darkstalkers feels fucking great. If you’re curious about which game to get into, absolutely go with 3/Vampire Savior. It feels great, combo inputs are relatively simple, you can straight up beat the game just by button mashing, and no character really feels too similar. It’s also a very fast game too, if you ever watch tournaments, they go by so fast and when you play it, you’re very much engaged. It’s a game that requires a lot of attention and I enjoy that. I also have to mention this but, pretty much every character has their own unfair, bullshit tactic that, if you plan on getting good, will require you to figure out how to avoid depending on what character you use. There’s a sorta popular joke with the game that, it’s balanced if all the characters are broken. I’ll admit, probably not the best game for someone like me that sucks as far as remembering stuff and being able to plan ahead, but I still have lots of fun with the game!

I really didn’t expect to become as engaged in the series as I did but there is a lot to appreciate about Darkstalkers. It’s unfortunate to because, sadly, Darkstalkers likely will never get another game.

While the series is technically popular, it’s still way too niche compared to most fighting games. It just never had the same impact as other fighting games, and ultimately, no matter how good those games feel to play, there’s always shit like Marvel vs Capcom that just is more well known and features more stuff that just is what people prefer going to. I think Capcom will pretty much stick with having Darkstalkers characters appear in crossover games vs actually giving the franchise another game

They tries reviving it with Resurrection, which was a re-release of the games on Xbox and Playstation, but it hardly even sold that many copies. Which is where the phrase “Darkstalkers are not Dead” originated from, a phrase that has become a joke now in the fighting game community. Even if they were to revive the series, it’d be difficult recapturing that same vibe since most of the original crew are working on completely separate projects. There’s also a part of me that does fear the idea of another game because of how it’ll be handled. I’ve heard people mention possibly having the Skullgirls team develop or maybe Arc Systems, I just don’t want a lot of the charm to be lost in a sequel.

Since a fighting game isn’t really possible, I do hope for maybe a show or comic series that explores the characters and story more.

My brain is kinda blanking rn but yeah. I just fucking love this series a lot. I hope maybe someday I can contribute something great to this franchise and I hope you listened to me ramble about it.

#i am so fucking sorry #but thank you djsakljdskalda #Anonymous

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impcratore · 4 years ago

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alrighty! so it’s that time of the day where i start analyzing characters for no fucking reason ( i do have one, as yusuke is my baby ).

DISCLAIMER: this comes from a personal and professional point of view. your headcanons on yusuke are as valid as mine but please take into consideration that this analysis will also show how my portrayal on yusuke is going to be. also please note that this is going to be a long post.

yusuke has been confined almost all of his life. he was a victim of abuse and plagiarism since a very young age, not to mention that he was also lied to regarding his mother’s death. all of these factors can impact HEAVILY on a person’s mind, especially when the trauma was developed during CHILDHOOD, many consequences will happen in adolescence and adulthood. in this analysis i will be explaining the presence of ASPERGER’S SYNDROME on yusuke’s character.

let’s start with asperger’s syndrome. what is it? usually a syndrome that has been OVERLY and MISTAKENLY diagnosed. as well it has been combined with the autistic spectrum though there have been many controversies as many professionals ( including myself ) believe that this should be a separate syndrome due the differences in both conditions.

now, first of all let’s start clearing stereotypes. asperger is a condition that can easily pass unnoticed in a person’s daily life. of course, patients with this condition do STRUGGLE with a lot of situation, but contrary to the popular belief, they can easily merged in society. Therefore, having asperger does represent a different way of thinking but that doesn’t mean that it can be stated as “defective”. in fact, people with asperger are considered extremely intelligent and the different perspective that this cognition causes on them has helped them in their professional lives. though, it’s my responsibility to explain that asperger syndrome mostly affects social interactions on the patient, as they have pervasive and absorbing interests in special topics. and here is where yusuke enters.

we can notice his passionate ( and kinda unhealthy ) obsession with art. art is mostly what yusuke knew from the very first moment he learnt to speak. his life always surrounded around art so it’s easy to say that it is all he knows. being confined in that old shed with shitty madarame who only ( secretly ) cared for money and not for art was something that yusuke grew up admiring. madarame was his paternal figure, was his ROLEMODEL and because of this he denied every red flag that appeared on madarame’s behavior. though, don’t get me wrong, asperger syndrome is genetic but the environment surrounding the patient can also affect to the circumstances and symptoms.

some characteristics of asperger are the increased ability to focus on details, capacity to persevere in specific interests without caring about other people’s opinions. the ability to be independent and work independently, recognition of details and patters that might be missed by other people, intensity regarding specific subjects or people and of course, an original way of thinking. if you notice, all these traits are visible on yusuke’s character which solidifies the headcanon.

now, if we talk about symptoms that might affect his daily live we have the lack of interest in socializing. it’s something that yusuke had stated many times ( especially in the mementos skits ) that nobody really approaches him, but he says it normally not in a sad tone, not disappointed. he just doesn’t care, as his train of thought go directly to “this person doesn’t want anything to do with me, and that’s okay because i don’t really care”.

gazing too intently is another symptom/behavior we notice a lot on yusuke. he stares at people, i mean like hell his hobby is people-watching on shibuya and this of course, might be considered WEIRD in a social context, but yusuke doesn’t really understand that this might make the other person feel uncomfortable, which goes to another behavior that is the inability to infer the thoughts or feelings of others. most of the times he is impulsive and would INVADE your personal space as he only takes into consideration his own interests without realizing that could be uncomfortable for others. his facial expressions are also important on this discussion as people with asperger tend to use exaggerated facial expressions or even having a lack of changing the expressions, something that happens with yusuke during his meltdowns over art or well, he is usually deadpan there is no in between.

we also have the perception, yusuke is a perceptive person and like i mentioned before, people with asperger are able to notice some details some of us can’t, but as this syndrome affects directly your social skills it’s difficult to him to understand the use of some gestures or lingo, being unable to understand some conversations, not to mention that being confined also prevented him from learning things and words that someone his age should. then, the social skills get heavily affected when it comes about interpersonal boundaries, yusuke doesn’t respect these because he is not aware they exist. he just doesn’t get it and he thinks it’s normal to be over someone, so he needs to be told DIRECTLY for him to understand and even after that, it will take him a while to do it.

now, this is one of my favorites because it was a newfound canon fact of yusuke that i gathered from the mementos skills. he mentions how he has a tv at his dorm, and that he doesn’t mind commercials but they hurt his eyes after a while. you might find this weird, like why would it hurt his eyes? people with asperger tend to be unusually sensitive to noises, touches, tastes, odors or visual stimuli. and this explains why it hurts his eyes.

the motor patterns also get affected, and on yusuke we can see that he usually frames everything or simply puts his hand over his chin. something normal but that it is affected by the same syndrome. the interests also become repetitive and intense, causing an obsession over certain topics. in yusuke’s case it’s not necessary to say that it’s art. he is obsessed with it, it’s everything he knows, art is basically his life and he does not care if it’s of someone’s interest or not. he is going to ALWAYS ramble about art and is going to relate EVERYTHING to art as long as he can and it’s hard to redirect his attention unless you talk to him about something that is equally interested to him.

i mentioned before that asperger is not the same as autistic behavior. this is mostly coming in the language part of both conditions. usually people under the spectrum have difficulties when it comes about language and vocabulary. asperger usually get a normal development with some things that differ:

focus on a defined area of interest, switching topics for no reason to make sure their interests are being discussed.

change in the tone of voice, like speaking too loudly or dramatically.

language could be interpreted LITERALLY and this leads to difficulties with the understanding of irony and sarcasm.

this is common on yusuke, as most of the time he doesn’t understand jokes and he always tries to drive the conversation towards his own interests. his voice might change to a dramatic tone sometimes and legit, everything is interpreted literally by him. despite of this we can see that yusuke is sometimes sassy and sarcastic ( as a canon fact in severe conversations ) but this is a behavior that is usually enabled by a second party. however, despite of this he is able to merge in a group of friends, he doesn’t really care about what others have to say unless they remark that he is eccentric ( which most of the times makes him mad ).

in summary, atlus actually made a great job introducing these characteristics to yusuke ( even though i don’t believe it was intentional ). however, this is something that i want you to take into consideration when we write:

YUSUKE IS NOT DIAGNOSED YET.

he is not aware of this, and i would really appreciate it if your muse actually encourages him to check it. considering his situation with madarame i doubt he ever cared about yusuke’s conditions. however, canonly we can see the interest yusuke gets on maruki takuto and that it’s an open door for me to write him in a situation that allows him to learn about himself.

#⌜ *¨*•.¸ this is the truth of the human heart┊ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴ⌟#long post #sooooooooo #this is my analysis on yusuke #i had been meaning to write it for so long but i finally dared myself to do it #yet again this comes from a professional perspective #i have seen many hc portraying him under the spectrum and thats valid too #but i believe asperger is more fitting to his character

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immawritethat · 5 years ago

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Missed Connections

(Somewhat connected to this piece I half-wrote last year and have been thinking about since) Anyhow, this the workshop draft of a short story I wrote for class, and I just think it’s v neat and wanted to share!

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Dolores Lopez spent much of her free time inside museums, but today she was here with a purpose. The building was much younger than many of its contents—an oblong Art Deco styled building, trimmed with golds and chevron and all those other lovely elegant things. The atrium stretched to the full height of the building, dwarfing all patrons as if to say “You are inferior in the grand scheme of history; there may be no one to tell your tale lest ye gain the wealth and notoriety seen here!”

Or perhaps Dolores was simply projecting.

The first time she’d visited this particular museum was in the second grade, back when she wore her dark brown hair in two simple plaits—well, until two of the boys in class decided a few months later it was a stroke of comic genius to cut one off with a pair of scissors during class—back when her complexion still held a rich, golden undertone to it instead of a sickly yellow tinge, and back before she had to squint through thick, round glasses that later had her teased for looking far too much like an owl. It was so long ago she couldn’t remember exactly what they had been there to study—maybe something about the Native Americans or Columbus or vaqueros, but that wasn’t what made an impact.

She remembered, once they had been given time to look about the museum freely, taking one glance at an old World War II nurse’s uniform from the travelling exhibit and bursting into tears. A grief she had never been introduced to flooded forth, having seen no death in her lifetime, and pulled her underneath its tide. Something had been sitting inside her, buried deep underneath everything she knew of herself. The chaperone overseeing her had ended up taking her outside to calm down, asking what had happened. She had never quite been able to explain it, and lied that her stomach hurt when pressed for an answer.

As she aged, Dolores noticed more and more of her life out of the ordinary.

There were the vivid dreams, showing flashes of lives both mundane and horrific. They varied in topic, but often continued on at some point or another, as though a new episode had finally aired. Sometimes there were flickering shadows of a cobblestone hearth, and other times the sparking battlefields on the edge of the Euphrates. The most common ones brought Dolores into a living room decorated with floral wallpaper, a gramophone playing a song she later discovered was Vera Lynn’s “We’ll Meet Again.” In some dreams, she sat with another girl, a few years older, playing with rag dolls whose threads unraveled and only just remained stitched together so they wouldn’t have to hear the wailing of an upset child. In others, they were older, seated beside the radio, listening to whatever the statesman had to say on the state of drought and war and the economy.

Sometimes she sat alone, patching up old skirts and trousers, with little more than the hum of the wind to bring her company.

Only now was she beginning to understand what those dreams meant.

“Dolly Lopez?” The silvery voice came from behind Dolores, along with a gentle tap on the shoulder, pulling her focus back to the present. She turned, and an aged tension lifted from her body. Remington Siegel stood half a foot taller than her, dressed in a rather interesting combination of neon prints which stood out even more against his dark skin, looking nothing like the person that she had missed, but feeling every bit the same.

Dolores swiped the tears from her face, clearing her throat to compose herself. “You kept me waiting,” she said.

“I never meant to.” Remy put his arms across her shoulders, pulling her into an awkward side-hug. “Should we sit somewhere? Or is there an exhibit you’re fond of?” He paused for a moment, face screwed up with thought. “You weren’t the one with a stamp collection, were you?”

Dolores scrunched her nose. “I don’t remember much, but I definitely don’t remember that.”

Remy only shrugged. “Another lifetime, then. It’s tough to keep them all separated, you know.”

Dolores’s gaze fell down to the messenger bag hanging from his shoulder, stuffed with loose, crumpled papers on the verge of falling out. The weight of the binder in her arms seemed to double.

“Maybe the café?” He suggested, in hopes of breaking the silence. “It was a long flight from Newcastle, and I haven’t eaten much since—too busy trying to get a hold of myself.”

“Of course! Sorry, I got lost in my own head.” Dolores stepped to the side, gesturing forward. “Honestly, I’m just still a bit shocked you’re really here—five months of Twitter DMs and now? Bam! You’re just…here.”

“Well, that’s one of the many plusses of being the only grandchild of wealthy grandparents—they’re willing to spoil me at the drop of a hat. Well, that and I have spent far more time doing this.” He gestured his bag forward. “Maybe I’m not half as organized, but I’ve got it mostly-kinda-sorta figured out. Seeing me in action should help you out a lot.”

Dolores nodded, offering a soft mm-hm, but her eyes were clouded and far off. He hadn’t brought it up. She knew they had talked about it plenty through their messages, but it felt strange to not mention it. Wrong, even. But this was the third time he’d done this—he’d even approached her about it all. Maybe there was some taboo about it she was unaware of.

Maybe it didn’t mean as much to him.

She listened to Remy ramble on about his research methods preferred databases through the halls, around the line of the café, and even for the first few minutes seated at the table. She asked questions from time to time, but ones which were only half engaged—Oh really? How long did that take? How did you come up with that? She spent far more time shouting in her own head to get over her worries and ask something with more meaning.

“You’re dying to ask something.” It was a statement, rather than a question, delivered between a mouthful of muffin and a sip of tea. “The hesitant look in your eyes—go on, don’t be shy. I didn’t come all the way out here to buy five dollar muffins and be half-listened to.”

Dolores averted her gaze, focusing on the instead on a photo of an aged Victorian doctor, apparently one of Remy’s most notable memories, who looked up at her with a stern warning to mind her words carefully. She wiggled the straw in her tea aimlessly. “No, no, I’m alright!” She forced out a laugh, the way she had practiced on plenty of bad dates throughout plenty of lifetimes. “I’m just a little—”

“Look, Dolly—If you tell me you’re star-struck again, I’ll just have to ask you what’s wrong and that’s never a fun conversation.”

Dolores took in a short breath and sighed, deflating in her chair. “I was just…hoping maybe we could talk a little more about…” She pressed her lips together, failing to hold back her true thoughts. “Us? What we were, what we went through. I mean, God, it’s hard enough to find someone who remembers at all, let alone someone you shared that history with! Let’s talk about the fact that you were Betty and I was Judith and that we’re only seeing each other again now nearly eighty-goddamned-years later in two totally different bodies and from two totally different places!”

Ceramic clinked against the table. Dolores pulled her fist back towards her chest, face flushed from her outburst. She hadn’t meant to get that worked up, hadn’t meant to hit the table.

Remy leaned back in his chair, stretching out his long legs, and drew out a sigh. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, frowned, and then fixed his gaze back on Dolores. “You know that fun little saying War is hell? It’s not too far off.”

Dolores scooted her chair closer to the table, so that her belly pressed against the cool laminate. She hunched forward, so that he wouldn’t have to speak any louder than was required between the two of them.

“I try not to remember being Betty. I know you remember a lot of the good things, but you were the little sister. It was my job to make things seem fun and happy for you, even when Dad lost his job during the Depression and when the neighbors started getting shipped off left and right when the war started.” Remy paused. He suddenly found the particular soda stains on the floor particularly interesting, and focused his gaze there. “I know I signed up to be an Army Nurse because I was exhausted playing nanny for you. You were thirteen, I figured you’d be fine if I was gone for a bit. I could see the world, and meet some boys.”

He let out a whistle, low and long, like the groan of a dropped bomb. “Boy, oh boy did I meet plenty. You see things you couldn’t imagine happen to a human body treating a warzone. They kept me with diseases, mostly, not trauma.”

Dolores nodded. She knew how the story ended—Betty had contracted TB, died before the war even ended, and left her sister—had left her—without so much as a final goodbye.

Remy shrugged his shoulders, and returned to his previous position. “I’d love to say I remembered the good things, Dolly, but I’ve got all the ugly. Well, mostly.” He pulled an envelope from his bag, yellowed with time and creased with deep wrinkles. “I barely remember writing it, but I guess it was never posted. It was found in a box with some other nurse’s stuff, some old friend of mine—er, Betty’s—who’d passed, apparently.”

Dolores’s hands shook. It was so worn it had become soft, and the half-finished address was hardly legible at this point. “And it was definitely from…?”

Remy nodded. “It’s yours. Sorry it took so long to get here. But, hey, look at it this way: we got to say hello again instead of goodbye.”

Dolores’s lips quirked up into a smile. She left the envelope closed, and placed it inside her binder for later. She’d waited for it this long, anyway. “Hello is much nicer than goodbye, isn’t it?”

#my writing #original writing #speculative fiction #modern fantasy writing #tw death #tw disease #tw war mention

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oops-prow-did-it-again · 4 years ago

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Pokémon Retold: Hidden Grottos - Whispers in the Dark (1)

Pokémon Retold (series) on AO3

Consider tipping/supporting/commissioning me on Patreon? :3*

*Note that I haven’t updated the tiers yet - I no longer post fanfic work 2 weeks in advance on there, I only post original writing, art, and fanart there 2 weeks in advance! The Patreon is mostly still under construction, but commission info on there is accurate.

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Some conversations between Hil and N.

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Timeline: ~5 years after Black 2

Setting: Unova

Notes: So I had a few ideas that I wanted to write, but none of them really had a plot, it was more just “hey I want these characters to talk about X thing,” so that’s what “Whispers in the Dark” oneshots are gonna be. No real plot, just two characters rambling at each other. This particular one is fluffy again, though there are some mentions of blood/violence (recollections of the past on N’s part). And of course, it’s a little long since I just kinda let myself go and write as much as I wanted lol.

Characters: Hilbert (Hil), N, Noodle and Hil’s other pokémon, N’s Zoroark

Prerequisite Reading: Black, Black 2

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It was only about seven in the evening, and as such, N was finished with all tasks he had piled up for the day. He and Hil were back in Unova for the time being, and would be for quite a while, thanks to turbulent disagreements over some new laws that he and Hil had fought to get into place (regarding the breeding and keeping of shiny pokémon… that entire process had been headache-inducing, and N had gotten angry about it more than his fair share of times, so he didn’t particularly want to think about it anymore that day). All he really could think about was how depressing it was that pokémon rights activism—the kind that simply pushed for better living conditions for pokémon with humans, not to treat pokémon exactly like humans or whatever ideals Team Plasma had shoved down his throat for him to spew back out at the populace—had been so severely damaged by Team Plasma’s name. The public was suspicious of proposals aimed at bettering the lives of pokémon and could be vocally distrustful of their proponents, as if instinctively convinced there had to be more to it than simply wanting to help pokémon.

He knew he wasn’t innocent in the cause, either; sure, he had never wanted to hurt anyone, and had been raised in a veil of lies to make him see the world in such a light, but he had been the one to raise the castle from the ground around the Pokémon League. There were still entire routes around it that were closed due to rockslides, and the area immediately surrounding the main Pokémon League building was off-limits due to fears over the instability of the ground, despite the country’s efforts to restore its integrity. It hurt to call it what it was, but that had been a terrorist attack on the Pokémon League. The physical and mental scars from his stay in Team Plasma as their ‘King’ were very just that: scars that would always be visible, even if they faded over time.

He jolted upright in the chair he was sinking into when he heard the front door click. Hil had left earlier that day to talk to Gym Leader Drayden, as well as other high-ranking officials in Opelucid City, as it was one of the most vocally displeased with the new laws. He had told N that he had just wanted to see if he could see what exactly the people there had an issue with, or if it was just flat-out paranoia causing the issues. When the door opened, Hil staggered in and then slammed it behind him, leaning back against it and groaning. “Opelucid’s still such a mess,” he whined. “Yeah, Gym Leader Drayden had actual concerns, but I still have no idea what the police chief woman, whatever her name was, was trying to tell me. I had to get her to write it down to see if Church or Nathan or somebody can decipher her language.”

“Mm,” N laughed softly, “it was that bad, was it?” Truthfully, he was elated that Hil was back, and he restrainedly got up out of the chair to go greet him. He really just wanted to dart over and hug him, but he had difficulty allowing himself not to be so mindful and composed of his own movements (even after so much time, proper ‘etiquette for a king’ was still instinctual to him, beaten into his head by the various Sages as he had gotten older. “A King does not run around like a child,” he remembered specifically being chided at one point. At another, after he had excitedly pumped his fist at finally grasping some concept that had been eluding him in a math workbook, “Stop that. People don’t respect someone that so childishly celebrates themselves.”).

At his approach, Hil casually leaned forward and wrapped his arms around him, leaning against his chest, almost. “Yes. I’m ready to be done thinking for the day.” The sight vaguely amused N—Hil was quite a few inches shorter than he was, the top of his head barely coming past his chin—and he stiffly moved his arms to lazily loop around Hil. Before he had a chance to say anything, Hil added resignedly, “Also, Cheren called me about something.”

Frowning, N tilted his head slightly. “About what?”

“Amber’s not doing great,” he sighed, clutching N a little closer. “Apparently, her job in Accumula sent somebody to go knock on her door because she’d missed like four days in a row without calling ahead and wasn’t responding to anything, not even voicemails. Nothing was wrong, really, just she was in her bed and wouldn’t get out of it except to answer the door, and so that person went and told Cheren and…” he trailed off and shook his head against N’s chest. “I don’t like her. At all. I haven’t forgiven her for all she did. But I don’t want anything bad to happen to her… I think I’m gonna head down to Nuvema tomorrow. Cheren said he left one of his Watchog with her, and he said that if anything goes wrong,” Hil laughed halfheartedly, “the whole town’ll know.”

“You will need to head there alone, won’t you?” N asked, though it came out sounding more like a statement. He felt a small pang of guilt for that—it wasn’t like Hil wasn’t allowed to go places without him, after all, and he certainly didn’t wish Hil any heartache over his mother—but he couldn’t help the almost childish desire to want to be by his side no matter what. Not to mention, he hated being stuck at the Pokémon League without him… Rarely did their duties require them to be separated, since the Consul position had been built around the idea of the two leaders operating as a team, but it seemed to N that just meant whenever for some reason they did have to separate, it was that much more difficult.

“Yeah,” Hil answered softly, loosening his grasp on N some and backing up a step. With a goofy smile that he was so good at, he shrugged. “It shouldn’t be too long, though… I’m just gonna try to talk to her and see what’s up and see if I can’t suggest something for her to do.” With that, he gingerly took N by the hand and led him over to the couch in the living room, letting him go only to flop down on the left end. His voice hardening some, Hil remarked, “I’m gonna see what I can do to help her, but if she’s just gonna act the victim and try to guilt me, I’ll leave her there. I’m not her bargaining chip anymore. So, either way, it’s not gonna take long.”

Awkwardly sitting down on the opposite end of the couch, N briefly looked for the remote, only to jump when Zoroark rushed up to him with it in her mouth. At his quizzical raise of an eyebrow, she snorted and dropped it in his hands. You were busy with paperwork and whatever else it is you do most of the day, she reminded him. What did you think I was doing all that time?

Watching TV, apparently, N teased. I don’t know how you watch that thing alone. I hardly understand any of it unless it’s a documentary or I’m watching with Hil. And I’ve tried!

With a shake of the head that was followed by an eye roll, she limped away from him and her attention was drawn to Noodle as Hil released the Serperior from his Poké Ball. Upon spotting Zoroark, Noodle trilled and shook out the leaves over his body, waving the very end of his tail at her tauntingly. She moved like she was going to chase him, and he zipped around the couch and out of sight, far faster than it seemed a ten-foot, legless creature should have been able to move.

Watching them go, Hil snarked, “Y’know, I’d release the others, but I feel like they’d crash the place.”

“Can always ask them not to,” N chuckled. “My other friends are around here somewhere…”

“Around here somewhere, he says,” Hil laughed. “My guess is… Archeops is in the ceiling fan in our room, considering Klinklang hasn’t fought him over it today, Carracosta is outside trying to catch the sun before it goes down, and Vanilluxe has probably abandoned her funny ice enclosure and decided the freezer was more appealing.”

“You say all of that like it’s a bad thing,” N coyly replied, a tiny smirk playing at his lips. Just in case he was incorrect in assuming Hil was joking, though, he not-so-smoothly added, “Also, Vanilluxe’s enclosure might be fine, but it’s only natural she’d want to explore some like the others…”

“I know, I know,” Hil snickered, “I’m just kidding. Though, I am glad you managed to convince her to learn to shut the door after her… That was fun when we had everything melt into the floor that one day… And also am glad that we found out Archeops was doing that before he completely ruined the fan motor by trying to catch it while it was on…” Shaking his head in amusement, Hil tossed the other six free (N had learned a long time ago that the ‘six pokémon at a time’ rule only applied when people were participating in League matches or, in battle, a person was disallowed from using more than six pokémon maximum), including his Musharna, Zebstrika, Liepard, Simipour, Watchog, and Druddigon. Sleepy, Prada, Lucky, Crest, Roadie, and Shay.

N had never given his pokémon nicknames, but through talking to Hil’s, he had found the pokémon didn’t mind, or in some cases, even enjoyed theirs. An interesting discussion with Lucky had revealed that although she hadn’t understood the name at first, she had heard Hil explain multiple times it was because he felt ‘lucky’ to have caught her at all. Over time, she had come to understand most humans didn’t see Purrloin or Liepard as lucky creatures, or even good pokémon at all, and she had come to appreciate the name so much more. Every time he says it, she had purred as she had rubbed against N’s legs, I’m reminded of how glad I am to be with a trainer that appreciates me, even if I am not a powerhouse compared to other pokémon… He’s seen the power of a legendary, and still appreciates me. I think that’s really something special. Following that conversation, N had talked to his pokémon and asked if they had any thoughts about nicknames or wanted any. The consensus from his partners was that while they wouldn’t have minded, they weren’t hurt by the lack of nicknaming. They even appreciated that N had respected them so much that he hadn’t wanted to saddle them with a name that might have meant nothing or even been annoying to them. That all had happened not too long after he and Hil had started staying together at the Pokémon League, and it was one of many eye-opening experiences since then. While he had previously believed nicknames were made by callous trainers that couldn’t have possibly known what their pokémon wanted, he then learned they could be something special, and represent something so much more than a mere label.

“N?” Hil called, in an almost sing-song voice. “You home?”

Jolting out of his thoughts, N blinked at him. “Yes?”

“You’re staring real hard at that remote,” Hil teased. Despite the smirk, his voice dropped to something more tender and he asked, “You okay?”

Setting the TV remote down within Hil’s reach, N nodded. “Oh, yes,” he answered quickly, “sorry…” Pausing, he then shook his head. “I was just thinking about how much I have learned since we started doing… this. Consuls.”

“Yeah?” Hil musingly asked, and although he picked up the remote, he didn’t press any of its buttons and had his eyes squarely trained on N. “What about it?”

“It just amazes me sometimes,” N reluctantly went on. “How much I thought I understood about pokémon and how I spent so much time in that castle learning about them and the world, and yet… I knew practically nothing at all,” he almost laughed, a pained chuckle. “Something as simple as nicknames seemed like such an evil and scary concept back then… I bought so easily into that, where if I had just simply spoken to someone and their pokémon about it sooner, I would have seen how silly that was… Of course, that isn’t the only thing I was led wrong about. It just… is amazing how so many little details I was given to train me against reality.”

Bringing his arms to cross over his chest, N almost hugged himself, even moving so he tucked his legs up on the couch at a slant, his knees pulled partially up to him. Of course, remembering the lies that came with his past was a slippery slope, and the next thought that crossed his mind made him want to cringe and shake. Ghetsis had, at one point, personally brought him a Snivy to his bedroom. The pokémon was wrapped in a white sheet splotched with dark green, and shut the door behind them, signaling to N nobody else would be joining them in that moment. N had immediately dropped the basketball he had been playing with and stiffened his back. Zoroark—a Zorua at the time—had wedged herself between his feet, instinctively cowering in that way she always did whenever Ghetsis was around. N didn’t remember how old he had been exactly, but he was sure he had been somewhere between eight or ten, and Ghetsis had limped over and leaned down, moving the sheet just enough to show N what was wrong with the Snivy in his grasp.

N had recoiled in horror and nearly tripped over Zorua as he backpedaled to his bed, the shock forcing him to take a seat, all of which had made Zorua yelp as she dove under his bed to get away from whatever was going on. Breathing heavily, N had gawked at Ghetsis with round eyes. The Snivy wrapped in the sheet was bleeding profusely and N could only just barely tell that it was alive at all, with the way its eyelids fluttered (though its eyes were rolled into the back of its head). Its tail was in tatters, missing huge chunks, and its lower body had deep, jagged slices cut into it, meaning it had no legs, either, and half of one arm was missing. It had taken a moment for N to finally choke out, “What—what happened to him?” It had never dawned on N until he retroactively looked over the memory that Ghetsis had remained perfectly quiet until N had asked that question. He had kept deliberately quiet because he intended to shock N.

“It was lost by a careless breeder, from one of her prized Serperior’s newest broods, and hit with a lawnmower,” Ghetsis had matter-of-factly explained, then unceremoniously dumped the pokémon in his lap, blood-soaked sheet and all. N was forced to catch it with his shaking hands to keep it from rolling off his lap and into the floor.

“A-and what do I do?” N had asked in a sheer panic. “It’s—it’s going to die, if we can’t get it help!”

“Oh, N,” Ghetsis had almost crooned. “There is no helping a pokémon that injured. You see, that careless breeder didn’t even notice she was missing one of her pokémon, because humans breed pokémon carelessly for profit and for battle. Why bother counting or keeping track when you can always produce more? Moreover, the person that hit this pokémon didn’t even notice, because it could not hear it over the sound of the engine of their lawnmower, and Snivy, as you can see, bleed green. It was the Shadow Triad who brought that poor thing to me. I brought it to you because I want you to see how careless people can be with living creatures, even as defenseless as a two-week-old Snivy.”

“What about the Pokémon Centers?” N had puffed through suddenly very dry lips. His throat had felt coarse and it had been difficult to swallow. Shivering at that point, he had withdrawn his legs and arms to the bed, much like he was currently doing on the couch there with Hil. He had cradled that dying Snivy close, unable to catch his breath, desperate for anything to do to save it or end its suffering, at the very least… The way its eyelid had kept fluttering had made him want to vomit.

“Pokémon Centers are made for healing pokémon after battle,” Ghetsis had nonchalantly informed him. Again, N hadn’t even realized how dissociative Ghetsis had sounded until so many years later… “Pokémon this severely injured are left to die or are euthanized. People see pokémon as easily replaceable. To them, investing time and energy into saving a pokémon this egregiously injured, which may be crippled for the rest of its life even if it did survive, just isn’t a priority, when you could just as easily breed another.”

“N? Hey, you’re scarin’ me a little…”

N blinked and shook his head vigorously, glancing back at Hil. “Hmm…?”

“I tried saying something back to you and you spaced out…” Hil frowned, concern etched all over his face. Brushing a dark, brown curl of hair out of his face, he gently asked, “Did you hear anything I said before I called you just then…?”

N swallowed hard and looked down at his trembling arms, crossed tightly over his chest. “No…”

“You know it isn’t your fault, all those things you didn’t understand or have been relearning…” Hil repeated himself calmly. He didn’t make a move to get any closer or to touch him, and N silently appreciated it. Although Hil loved physical affection whenever his mind spiraled somewhere less than pleasant, N found that he usually didn’t, at least, not when it came to remembering his time in the castle. Usually, once he calmed down some, he would quietly or wordlessly ask for a hug or something, but during, close physical contact had a way of merely stressing him out…

“I know it isn’t… But it still is… unpleasant to think about sometimes,” N mumbled.

“Then, maybe we shouldn’t think about it too much, eh?” Hil looked up thoughtfully for a moment, and then said, “Maybe it’d help to think about when you did start to learn some of that stuff better, huh? I know you still had all of them in your ear while you were traveling Unova and beating the gyms…” As he trailed off, N almost snickered at the way Hil had said ‘them.’ He said it with such animosity, and he seemed intent on never mentioning Ghetsis’ name nowadays if he could help it. Although he didn’t realize it consciously, N did find it cute, how Hil could sound so protective of him when badmouthing Team Plasma and everything they had done. Sure, N had seen firsthand how dangerous Hil could be when he needed to be, but for the most part… Hil was a kind-hearted, anxious, delightful mess, and his threats could come off as childish in idle conversation… Somehow, that just felt even more endearing. “…But when you were fighting the gyms and traveling, you had to have learned some new stuff that made you think… What do you think was the first time anything really seemed to challenge what all they taught you?”

“You should already know that answer,” N laughed, his posture loosening a little at the much more pleasant memory flooding him, instead of that horrific one. He gave Hil an expectant look, still amused when the other’s cheeks dusted red and he nervously smiled.

“Ah… I should?” Hil asked dumbly.

Rolling his eye—N had ultimately decided to get a glass eye to replace his missing one, and the doctors had done such a wonderful job, it was only whenever he did something like this that it was apparent his other eye was false—N mused, “Well… There was this time in a little town named Accumula where I was stocking up on supplies and preparing to go ‘free’ some pokémon from some trainers that had just been given them by a professor in Nuvema. My intention was to set them free and then head to Striaton to challenge one of the triplets. I believe then that I ran into two boys, one with a Snivy and the other with a Tepig, and a girl with an Oshawott.”

Picking up on the game, Hil’s face lit up and he tauntingly pressed, “Are you sure…? I dunno, might’ve been the girl with the Snivy,” he laughed.

N all but groaned. “Anyway,” he pointedly huffed, “that was the first real experience I remember where something… really conflicted with all I had been taught.”

As if on cue, there was the sound of clattering from the kitchen. Hil peaked over the back of the sofa. “They knocked over a chair,” he reported. “No damage, but…” He then tried to articulate in something of a trill, Noodle, careful!

Despite the questionable execution, Noodle hissed back after a brief pause, She did it! She’s using illusions! I didn’t see it there!

And you were using vines, Zoroark chimed in smugly with a chuff. If you use vines, I get to use illusions.

On what planet is that fair? Noodle moodily huffed.

Just… don’t break anything, Hil resignedly called after them in something mixed between a growl and a trill, before shaking his head and slumping back down on the sofa. He rubbed his throat. “Yeah, that still hurts a bit,” he chuckled. “Anyway… as you were saying?”

Seeing Hil try to talk to pokémon like that still was so thrilling for N. Despite years of practice, he could still struggle at times, but that didn’t matter at all. N had been told for so long that his ability was hated by humanity and even Ghetsis had hated it when he said anything about speaking to pokémon around him… It had been beaten into his head to never repeat what a pokémon had said to him, or to even acknowledge his ability unless absolutely necessary (and yet, Ghetsis loved to rub it in the faces of any who would listen that N was King because of his ability to understand pokémon…). Still, smiling like a fool after listening to Hil talk to the pokémon, N continued his story at a faster rate, his words naturally kicking up in speed in his excitement, “You had let Noodle out of his Poké Ball during Team Plasma’s speech, and when you did that, he said something… something about how he really liked you already. And even when I tried talking to him briefly before I approached you, from a distance, um… using my ability, I had told him that I was there to set them free. That I was sure all he, the Oshawott, and the Tepig knew was a room in a lab and the confinement of Poké Balls. And after that, he had said that he liked you, that he was going to see more at your side, and that he was done talking to me… unless I could best him in battle. And that was why I wanted to battle you to—”

“Hear my pokémon’s voice again?” Hil cut him off, grinning practically from ear to ear. “Y’know, I always did wonder why you wanted to battle me that day… For someone that hated pokémon battling and all that, you sure were ready to throw hands that day.”

“Even after beating him, he didn’t talk to me anymore,” N snorted. “Well, he did, but all he said was that he wanted me to go away.” He shook his head. “I had… never in my life, until that point, heard a pokémon claim to like a trainer and resist my company over it… At the time, I told myself that pokémon didn’t know any better, that it was little better than Stockholm syndrome, or that Poké Balls somehow brainwashed some pokémon into believing their captors were good unless the person actively abused them… Then, I kept traveling and kept running into pokémon that claimed to like or even love their trainers… Even if I didn’t change right then, looking back on it does feel good… I always knew there was something wrong, even if I couldn’t place it…”

“See?” Hil cheerfully insisted.

N nodded, then wryly added, “But I also kept running into that boy and his Snivy, or Servine… and oh, how he made me think.” Dramatically making a show of huffing in irritation, he then scanned Hil’s expression to ensure he was understanding his teasing. N thought he was replicating how Hil sometimes sarcastically joked, but he still couldn’t be totally sure, so he was relieved to see Hil cackling at him, flushing darker red as he spoke.

“Oh, thinking!” Hil played along. “The horror!”

“You laugh, but to me at that point? It was,” N chuckled. “Every single time I ran into you, more questions were raised about Ghetsis’ plans and all of that, and I just had to stuff them all down and believe I was correct, because I was the ‘Hero of Ideals.’”

“Now that you mention it,” Hil coyly mused, “I remember running into this green-haired dude all the time that loved to show up and drop bombshells, almost every time. But my favorite thing he ever said to me was, ‘Maybe if the world were simply different, we could have been friends.’”

N blinked. “What, really? That?”

“Well, for one,” Hil snorted, “the main reason I was half-obsessed with you, before I knew how wrapped around his thumb he had you, was because of you saying that. How you decided right away that we couldn’t be friends. I didn’t understand you and, uh, 14-year-old, hormone-riddled brain decided, ‘Oh, we can’t be friends, huh? I’ll show you!’ And now, well…” Hil slyly put his hands behind his head, lazily kicking his feet out to the floor. “Wouldn’t you know it, we are friends, aren’t we?”

Opening and shutting his mouth for a second, N then frowned and cocked his head. “Why yes, we are, aren’t we? I had barely even remembered saying that… You took that that seriously?”

“Maybe,” Hil abruptly pulled his hands from behind him and crossed them tightly. A smirk betrayed his amusement (not to mention the still-raging blush over his cheeks). Teasingly, he raised his chin back at N. “Why, you wishing I hadn’t?”

“What? No, not at all,” N uneasily responded as he had difficulty parsing Hil’s reaction, then scooted closer to him. The discomfort from earlier had waned and he wanted to be closer to the other now. Almost purring as he inched his way nearer, N tried to smoothly comment, “I have no idea why you took that remark so seriously… But I am glad you did…”

“I’m just teasing,” Hil softly whispered as he hooked his right arm around N’s left and gently pulled him a little closer, leaning his head down onto his shoulder. “Honestly, I don’t know why, either.”

“That just seems to be how you are,” N chuckled after he relaxed in Hil’s hold, eventually awkwardly leaning his head over onto Hil’s. “You… are so kind to a fault. I don’t know if anyone else would have been able to fill the role that you have… I’m glad that Reshiram recognized that…” Closing his eyes and sighing contentedly, he then had an evil idea pull his lips into a broad grin. “I certainly can’t imagine sitting here and doing this with Cheren.”

Sputtering, Hil finally incredulously gasped, “Where did that come from?”

“Remember how I was insistent on him being the ‘Hero’ for a while?” N teased, though a small pang of anxiety flared as he wondered if he had gone a little too far with his attempt at humor…

“Oh,” Hil laughed away N’s nerves. He wrapped an arm around N and rubbed his back reassuringly. “Mm, wouldn’t you like that, third wheeling it with him in Nuvema while that wild two-year-old of his tries to eat your hair.”

“What is it with Jessica and my hair?” N complained as he remembered their last few visits to Cheren and Bianca’s. Although their daughter wasn’t old enough to go without supervision that long yet, she could walk, and she had taken a keen interest in N during their visit. Which, despite everyone’s best attempts to keep her away from N, had resulted in her yanking on his lengthy hair more than a few times. Having never interacted with a young child in his entire life, N had already been anxious just by being around her, and that experience certainly hadn’t helped at all. Why did something so cute and small have to be so intimidating…? She seemed fearless, too, for one of the times she yanked on his hair, he hadn’t been expecting it at all and had hissed in surprise, and she had just laughed!

“It’s pretty,” Hil replied simply, stroking some of it for emphasis.

“Well, I’m glad you think so,” N almost purred again as he leaned against Hil’s hand. Having someone he trusted and knew didn’t want to manipulate him in any way showing him such affection just felt so nice…

Thumbing the TV remote at last, Hil flicked his thumb across the button at the top. “You wanna pick something while I figure out something for dinner?” he asked gingerly.

“Like what?” N asked distractedly, still focusing more on the soft strokes of Hil’s hand over his hair. It dawned on him that what Hil had said meant he intended to get up in a moment and he frowned at that thought, but more than that, he genuinely didn’t know what to find to watch… He didn’t really tend to watch much of anything without Hil there, so he didn’t know what he would have ‘found’ for them to watch.

“There’s a new comedy or something that came out the other day. Would you wanna watch that?” Hil suggested, as if sensing his uncertainty.

“That sounds nice,” N agreed blithely. He usually still enjoyed whatever Hil picked, so he was happy with letting him do that.

With a hum that served as all the answer N needed, Hil located whatever the movie was with a few touches to the buttons on the remote, and then left it hovering over the ‘play’ button. “I’ll go make something and make sure Noodle didn’t break the kitchen,” he yawned as he slowly unraveled his arm from around N, eliciting an involuntary whine from him. N immediately scrambled to sit upright and cleared his throat.

“I mean, alright,” he flatly covered up his whine, hoping Hil wouldn’t comment on it. Not that he understood why he felt embarrassed and didn’t want Hil to comment on it…

Hil hopped up and snickered, then rubbed the top of N’s head, messing up his hair some more. “I’ll be right back,” he promised. “I swear.” Loping off into the kitchen, he heard Hil then hiss at Noodle, Will you get off that? That rack is for pots and pans, which you definitely are not!

Giggling to himself, N heard Noodle sulkily growl back, Well, I was playing hide and seek… and now you just gave me away.

And you can play it somewhere that’s not in my kitchen, Hil retorted without skipping a beat.

Don’t mess with him and his kitchen, N thought amusedly to himself. Hil has a thing for his kitchen… (Which, admittedly, was a good thing—N had discovered when Hil had tried to teach him to cook that he not only was gifted with the ability to talk to pokémon, but also with that of somehow burning water, and Hil had subsequently decided that perhaps it was best if he cooked from then on.)

Noodle slithered back out into the living room and Zoroark suddenly materialized with a flash of purple from beside the reclining chair in the corner of the room, lunging at him. They played in the floor for a moment before Noodle complained that he was tired.

For as uncomfortable as it sometimes felt to stay at that house for too long, N had to admit, over time, it became easier and easier to stay there for longer stretches of time as long as Hil was there.

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