#committing seppuku in the parking lot

[princehendir]

Once again embarrassing myself in front of the most honorable dental receptionist.

[stereocyon]

on the verge of getting adblocker banned from youtube at which point i will make a sacred pilgrimage to google headquarters and commit seppuku as sloppy as possible in their parking lot

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

"Of course, we're friends!" Kisho nodded frantically, "But…I'm not a good friend to you and any of our friends! Heck…every time I saw you put yourself on the line, it made me feel guilty because I want to help out but I keep messing.

"......But..."

"So yeah I deserved that from you! You deserve to get angry at me! Because you're right." Kisho said angrily. But the anger wasn't directed towards Megumi. It was at himself. "I should of know better and I keep going against your better judgment because I want to prove everyone wrong that I'm not a freaking loser. But things I messed on. I always look back and-I couldn't forgive myself. I had Taz and Yuji turn into babies by a curse because of me! I can't even keep Miko and Yuria safe back at that stupid party! I should of take the damn vase and exorcise it right and there. A-and...I put Nobara and Taz in the situation where they got high! I even put you guys at a disadvantage because of me! I deserved everything that's coming to me!" He laughs, now breaking down. He sobbed.

Megumi got worried seeing this but he knew it wasn't bad. True those happened but things worked out in the end.

"And now...this. I should told Reigen no but I was happy! A chance that my cursed charms did help someone but it blow up some of the parking lot! Like you said! You're right...what if Mob didn't put up the barrier in time. Someone could of got killed because of me. Today....we...we...just got lucky!"

"Next time...it won't be like that. I don't know what to do if someone got killed because of me! I commit seppuku or run myself ragged."

"........" He sees the tears but he only Megumi only stood up worried but he goes to him. "KIsho...that's enough. I get it. It was a accident....even so....I still..." He looks at him but he was unsure if he should keep talking or remain worried.

~~~~Kisho's room~~~~~

"Megumi. Stop!" Kisho begins to shake his shoulders, "I…I….the reason I should of told you or ask you when I made the crused charms for Reigen. I…I…" Kisho looks conflicted. "I thought I was doing okay but….I got too overconfident of myself thinking it's fine. Like you said, I should of known better than making the charms again. I-I just wanted to do some good. Doing right without blowing up in my face." Kisho said.

"......" Megumi said nothing but he only felt worse now hearing this. However, he was just worried even with him having overconfident expressions. Megumi knew he was always willing to keep going.

A sniffle is heard.

"???"

"I never tell you about my plans most of the time because I was afraid. Because...because...like you said...my plans get worse and worse." Kisho cries, "I don't have an excuse...because you're right. But I don't know how to deal with the problem because I am worried about messing up. But I keep messing up! I want you to trust me...but I don't have that right because I don't trust you. So...you shouldn't apologize, okay? Please...I deserved to be beat up for the crap I pulled so far."

".....K..Kisho..e..even if you say that, I still went over board. I know you....done a lot of things given the situation and yes..they were dangerous but I still should have at least tried to help you out. I know it hurts right now even after what happened. I never meant things to be like that between us." He mutters but looks down.

"I never wanted to make you feel like you should be....afraid to speak or talk to me. I wanna help you more...even after what happened. I mean...we are friends right?"

[daffodi1]

You really can't take boomers out anywhere bc they will scream and curse at the waitstaff for not having the kind of soda they wanted/being out of a particular food or make some kind of gross pass at the waittress and all you can do is look at them helplessly and try to convey to them telepathically "I am so sorry; this person is a jerk and I promise I don't agree with them, I am so ashamed to be related to/associated with them and I will proceed to commit seppuku in the parking lot after we leave as an apology"

[bakuraryxu]

can’t stop thinking abt that post that’s like I eat at hooters with blinkers on and only look down at my food. I leave a large tip and commit seppuku in the parking lot

[evilvarric666-archive]

Commiting seppuku in the parking lot after embarrassing myself in front of the honorable dental office receptionist

[inkrabbit]

Jisei - Sandayu Oda

I finally did it. The one-shot I wanted to do for Oda is complete. This story takes place after “Don’t Fear the Reaper”, and if V goes back to save Takemura. There are 2 different endings, and they are both labeled. Also, words written in italics are just Oda speaking Japanese.

Also, a bit of a spoiler for the secret ending! Especially Takemura’s part in this story’s Bad End!

Summary: A month after the events at Arasaka Tower, Oda manages to track down Takemura in order to ask him for one thing: forgiveness. The result of V’s actions have been eating away at the man, and he feels as though the last person he needs to express his remorse to is his old master.

Trigger Warning: Mentions and actions of suicide, blood, and gore

Word count: 1,732

 He failed. After years and years of trying to prove himself better than his master, he failed. Perhaps now he could understand Goro’s pain when Saburo died; that ultimate hopeless and defeated feeling. It made him ill, and as he knocked back another shot of whiskey, he grit his teeth, slamming a fist down on the table. Arasaka was in shambles, Hanako had hidden herself away to grieve, and Sandayu? Well, he couldn’t bring himself to show his face. Twice he had failed, and twice he had beaten himself up over it. V, that despicable merc, had ruined everything. All he was and all he stood for had been reduced to nothing but ruble and regret.

 He had thrown himself down to the feet of Miss Arasaka, pleading for her forgiveness. She had granted it, a gentle caress to his cheek with a sorrowful smile. But it didn’t make him feel better. He started out the first week groveling and feeling sorry for himself, contemplating committing seppuku in order regain any sort of honor to his name. But something nagged at him, and what would’ve been his final words were crumpled up and thrown into the trashcan that resided by the old motel’s bedside.

 Hanako had been nice enough to finally tell Sandayu of Goro’s fate after the general fall of Arasaka, and after he had gotten over his self-loathing. The only redeeming quality he could find in V. The merc had run through a hail of gunfire to go back and save Goro, and the man had been in hiding ever since. Oh, but that didn’t stop Sandayu from trying to track the man down day in and day out, desperate to reach out to him. Goro had always been there for him, even when he was supposed to be strict and cold during training. He needed the man’s forgiveness as well.

 It took almost a month, but he had finally done. Sleepless nights and determination had led him out to the Badlands, heat beating down on him and his hair sticking to his forehead. The motorcycle he had “found” was parked across the street in an old abandoned parking lot, and Sandayu found himself walking towards an old store. Any last traces of Goro had led back to this spot, a lone building that he couldn’t even identify. He could see why it was chosen. Walking up, however, he stops. The old dusty windows show his reflection, a broken and strange man who barely even recognized himself anymore. His dress shirt was wrinkled and open, the black tank top underneath clinging to his body as sweat made the material damp. His once nice slacks were replaced with jeans, torn in a couple places from recent fights he had found himself in when traveling out to get food. He looked horrible and felt more ashamed the more he stared at himself with tired and lifeless eyes. Shaking his head and taking a breath in, he continues into the old store.

 Cobwebs and dust clutter the building, along with trash and insects. Sandayu can feel his skin crawl as he travels deeper into the outlet, scanning all he can. Nothing comes back useful and he searches every nook and cranny. Old books, candy wrappers, cans and bottles, some paper bags that once contained food. But as he travels further back, he finally spots it. Large double doors and seem to lead to a second level. Anxiety picks up as he walks forward, pushing one of the doors open and listening intently.

Good End:

The sound of soft footsteps catch his attention as he travels down the old stairs. His heart leaps when he sees Goro at the bottom, standing in front of a counter, his back facing him. He looked in better shape than Sandayu, his own dress shirt still pristine as he picks up a shot glass, knocking back the contents. Gathering his courage, Sandayu stands at the bottom of the stairs, hands in tight fists as he inhales deeply.

“Takemura-sama!” he calls out. Goro jumps, eyes wide as he whips around, pistol at the ready. His stance falters as he eyes at the younger man, who’s bowing deeply before him. “Please, forgive me!”

“Oda…?” Setting down the weapon, Goro straightens himself, even daring to walk a few steps forward as Sandayu picks himself back up.

“I have not only failed Hanako-Sama,” he continues, “but I have failed you as my mentor. Please, forgive me. I was not enough.”

 The two stand in silence, Sandayu searching Goro’s face, desperately trying to find out what was going on through the man’s head. Finally, Goro sighs, coming forward to gently grasp his shoulder.

“You should not apologize, Oda-san,” he sighs. He gets ready to fire back, insist that he did, but Goro cut him off. “When Saburo-sama was killed, I was filled with deep regret. To have failed my only duty when I could have prevented it. I think about everything I could have done differently every day.”

 Sandayu stands there, listening intently. They hadn’t spoken since their last meeting at the docks, and he had never heard of the man’s anguish until now. How he described everything… it’s exactly how he felt now.

“Sometimes, things happen. And we cannot stop it,” he goes on, leading him over to the counter. An opened bottle of sake sits next to the shot glass, and Goro fills it up, offering it to him. “Saburo-sama was to be killed, and I could not stop it. What happened at Arasaka… you could not stop it, Oda-san. It was, how one would say, “the hand they were dealt”. And we must accept that.”

“Arasaka was everything to me…” He stares down at the contents in the glass, his grip tightening. “And it just-”

“I understand,” He glances up, though Goro’s gaze is focused on the bottle in front of him, staring at it with distant focus. “I have… been reading a lot of jisei as of late, and have found peace in some of them.”

“Takemura-sama,” That’s when he notices it. A small wooden box a few feet away, the top open to reveal an old looking tantō. He feels his blood run cold.

“Just like you, Arasaka was all I had,” he continues, finally bringing himself to look at the younger man. “but you have nothing to apologize to me for, Sandayu. You were the most brilliant outcome of my entire career.”

 With one last glance to the tantō, Sandayu slams the glass down and envelopes Goro in a tight embrace. The man catches himself, steadying his balance as he slowly brings his arms up, wrapping them around the younger man. They stay like that for a while, the silence almost deafening.

“What do we do now, Takemura-sama?” Sandayu finally asks, his voice soft as he slowly pulls away. Goro sighs, but gives him a small smile.

“We take time and heal,” he tells him. Turning, he shuts the lid of the box before picking up the shot glass, knocking back the sake. “I believe it would be easier to do it together. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes.”

Bad End:

 There’s nothing but the sound of his own footsteps, and for a moment, he’s worried all of his hard work had gone to waste. Maybe Goro wasn’t here? Maybe he had made a mistake somewhere, his exhaustion causing him to be faulty in his search. But as he reaches the bottom of the stairs and starts for the next set, he stops. No.

“Takemura-sama!” Sandayu’s voice is shrill as he cries out his master’s name, nearly falling down the cement steps as he rushes over to the man. Goro was here, alright. And Sandayu was too late. The man was laying on his side in a puddle of his own blood, a few pieces of paper sprawled out around him. He sobs as he kneels beside the man, pulling him up and into his lap, his eyes glazed over and his body limp. He caresses his face, incoherently speaking to the man, pleading for him to come back. The only person he felt he had left in this world was currently laying dead in his lap, his hair having been taken out of its bun and the ends soaked in the crimson water.

“Goro, please!” he cries loudly, shaking the man, slapping his cheek, trying anything to make him come back. “Do not leave me! I need you! You have always been there for me, so why not now?!” He stops for a moment, unable to look away from the older man. His body was still warm. Had he been sooner… “… Why couldn’t I be there for you?”

Taking Goro’s hand in his own, he gives it a tight squeeze, trying to calm himself. He finally looks around at the papers that were scattered across the floor, scanning them. All appeared to be jisei and it made his stomach churn. The bloody tantō lies a few inches away from him, and it just fuels his slowly burning rage. Why couldn’t he had been faster? Was he already dead by the time he parked the motorcycle? Should he have called out for the man?

Instead of getting up and trashing the place like his body screamed to do, he instead leans his head down, pressing his forehead to Goro’s and closing his eyes. He speaks internally, and he speaks fast, stumbling over words as he still heaves shaky breaths. He hopes the man can, somehow, somewhere, hear what he’s saying. How he asks for him to forgive his failures and how he thanks him for all he had taught him. He apologizes for their last meeting, and he tells him how he longed for them to just a day together.

Finally, he gently lowers Goro back to the ground, closing the man’s eyes and admiring him. He finally looked like he was at peace, his muscles relaxed and for once his eyebrows weren’t knitted together. He picks up one of the poems, wondering what was going through Goro’s head in his last moments. None of the poems resembled his handwriting, leaving him to wonder what his jisei would’ve read. Setting the paper down, he looks over to the tantō. All throughout his apprenticeship, he had followed in Goro’s footsteps exactly. And as he stands here now, he wonders: Should I continue to?

[goldenlaquer]

May I request a one-shot hijikata with a female s/o who is gintoki's sister? Maybe he likes her but he thinks she likes sougo or someone else. Thank you!

In which Sougo’s words affect him a lot more than it should have. 

Thank you for the wait! This is cheesy and probably has a lot of mistakes (I should probably look for a beta-reader or something), but I hope you like it anyway. 

untitled for now (Hijikata Toushirou One-shot): 

Hijikata-san.

Hijikata-san.

Hijikata-s

What.

Do you like her?

What the hell are you talking about?

Her.

Like I said, you idiot, what the hell are you talking about?

——-

The two siblings always stand next to each other, on the corner of the convenience store the morning of Monday.

The older is not worth mentioning. He is scum. And as for the younger,

she is not

not

worth mentioning either.

The older has the latest copy of the Shonen Jump magazine in his hands, obsessively rifling through the pages as the younger stands on her toes to peer over her brother’s shoulder.

From where he stands, he can hear them squabble:

You turned the page too fast.

I didn’t. You just read slower than Sadaharu can take a stinkin’ dump.

Yeah? And it stinks just as much as your breath.

My breath smells great, like flowers and angels. You must be smelling your own breath, you dirty brat.

Am not.

Are too.

Am not.

The volume is astronomical. Other passersby are looking, disturbed by the childish back and forths in front of the store. A small dog barks at them, frightened by the racket. An old lady clucks her tongue and swishes her cane, hitting Hijikata’s ankle. She gives him an expectant look, take care of it, and totters away, still clucking her tongue at today’s youth.

He is a policeman. It is his duty to take care of the troublemakers. So he takes a step towards them, then another, then another to cross the road. His fingers twitch, before curling into a fist, before relaxing because he’s relaxed, alright?

They notice him immediately; The brother groans in dismay and promptly starts hacking up phlegm to spit at the ground like the caveman he is.

And the sister sees him and quickly turns away.

Hijikata falters for a millisecond.

——

You like her, don’t you?

Sougo, take today off and go see a psychiatrist.

You don’t?

…

If you don’t, then

Can I have her?

The pen in his hand snaps.

——

The brother insults him as always. Tax evader. Tax waster. Tax thief. What’s new? Hijikata’s used to dealing with ill-mannered monkeys. Plus, he knows that the brother has no basis anyway— the damn fool doesn’t even pay taxes.

He’s also used to scanning his surroundings. One can never be too careful. So he scans the area as he insults the brother right back, eyes swiveling to the side to look at the sister. You still have your body angled away from him, hands playing with the edge of your worn hoodie, your tattered flip flops kicking at the ground. He hears each kick like a gunshot.

Rotten bastard.

You won’t look at him.

Disrespectful, rotten bastard.

Still.

Permheaded, disrespectful, rotten bastard.

You spare him a glance then. Hijikata meets your eye for a split second before snapping back to the brother, as if he had been burned.

——

Ink flows over his fingers, dropping down to blacken his report. Hijikata jumps up and cusses.

Sougo stares at him, face carefully deadpan. Hijikata knows him enough to see the hidden smirk tucked underneath the layers of his face. He always hated that about Sougo.

What the fuck are you looking at?

An idiot.

——

Your brother runs off. The coward. You stay for some reason.

It is unbearably awkward.

He doesn’t know where to look. The ant next to the pebble. The tuft of grass breaking through concrete. The miniscule scuff on his boots that he’ll have to buff out later.

Hijikata glances up. Right as you gaze at him.

It is so quick. The way the both of you look away at the same moment.

——

Okita stops at the door, turning back to tell him:

Oh yeah, I asked her out on a date.

He pulls out two tickets to the local amusement park and flaps them up and down like a fan.

Hijikata does not even dignify that with a proper response. Instead he calmly tells Sougo that why the hell would I care? and also tells him to get the fuck out.

Once the door shuts, Hijikata rubs his face. He needs a smoke. The whole pack.

——

“How was the date?” He hears his voice ask before he can realize.

“Date?”

Hijikata stares at a spot between your eyebrows. It's just small talk. Like the weather or favorite sports teams. Just small, small talk. “With Sougo.”

“Sou-kun? Oh, on Saturday night?”

Sou-kun.

The familiarity of the name doesn’t escape his attention.

“Yeah,” he hoarsely says.

“It was more fun than I thought it would be! He and I—“

Ah, now he kinda wants to kill himself for even asking. He doesn’t want to hear the rest of the answer.

“—and the rest went to the—“

Hold up. Hold up. Hold up.

He frowns. “The rest?”

You tilt your head at him. It’s so goddamn adorable.

“Yeah?”

Sougo, what kind of date did you take her on?

“I thought it was just you and Sougo.”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head furiously. “No, no, no, not like that! I went with Gintoki, Kagura, and Shinpachi too. I don’t really get why, but he took us all to the amusement park.”

“Oh.” Of course. Sougo lied to him. He should have seen this coming from ten miles away. Everything in him loosens from its tight grip. “Okay.”

He leaves then. A curt goodbye and that’s that.

And he doesn’t know that you watch him go, eyes trained on the solid, black wall of his back. He doesn’t know that you ruefully sigh and wish that you weren’t wearing such an ugly ensemble this Monday morning and that you had said more words to him before he could leave. He doesn’t know that you’ll go home and scold your uncaring brother for being such a rude-ass. He doesn’t know that you take another longing gander at him before walking back to the Yorozuya.

And what you don’t know is that Hijikata is sort of smiling at the sky, feeling his steps a lot more lighter than for the past few days.

——

Sougo.

Yes, Hijikata-san?

Go commit seppuku.

[bi-naesala]

Failure

Fandom: Yakuza

Rating: T

Warnings: Major Character Death

Relationships: Kiryu Kazuma & Nishikiyama Akira, Kiryu Kazuma & Nishikiyama Yuko

Characters: Nishikiyama Akira, Kiryu Kazuma

Additional Tags: Hurt No Comfort, Bad Ending, Suicide, Angst, Yuko isn't directly present but she gets mentioned, Kashiwagi also appears, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Summary:

What if Matsushige hadn't shown up when Nishiki was about to kill himself?

(Also on AO3)

Fic under the cut

It’s raining outside, a perfect match for how Nishiki’s feeling.

His eyes are fixed to the small shrine on the table in front of him, on the name that has been engraved on it: Yuko.

 He still can’t believe she’s not in this world anymore. To think that he was so hopeful about this surgery…

It’s his fault that she couldn’t make it: if he hadn’t fucked up, the doctor wouldn’t have skipped town. All because of his incompetence.

 Mistakes must be punished, this is what he thinks as he reaches for the knife that he’s been keeping beside him. It’s almost like it’s calling to him, a siren chant that Nishiki can’t resist.

He unsheathes the knife, observing his sad reflection on the blade. Eh, he can almost hear Kiryu teasing him about how bad he looks…

 Kiryu.

His thoughts go to him, who’s wasting away in a cell because of him. It should be the other way around.

Nishiki wanted to carve some space for himself so that he could welcome him with open arms; for once, he would’ve been the one depending on him, and not the other way around.

 Not even that he was able to do right.

He’s pathetic.

 What does he have left? Why should he keep wasting space and resources?

Yuko, Yumi, Kiryu… They all deserve so much more than what they’ve got. They should be in his place, while he’s dead on the ground.

Well, he’ll soon put some remedy to that at least.

 In his final moment, he thinks about Kiryu, of how much he’s letting him down.

He’s in prison for a crime that he committed, and he’s not even able to make sure that he’ll be welcomed back with open arms; and yet, a malignant voice whispers to him, won’t he be welcomed back no matter what? Because Kiryu is Kiryu, while Nishiki is…

If he were the one in prison, it wouldn’t matter, because he’s not Kiryu. He doesn’t matter. For all they care, he could die without making a difference.

 It’s not right…

 Realizing what he’s thinking, all Nishiki can feel are guilt and shame.

Kiryu has sacrificed his freedom for him, and all he can do to repay him is to think badly of him for something that, he knows, god Nishiki knows, isn’t his fault.

Envy has always been something he’s had to deal with since the first time he and Kiryu met, but to think that after all this time he still hasn’t managed to control it, that sometimes - no, more than that - it still manages to get under his skin…

Truly shameful, and ain’t that another good reason why he shouldn’t be here anymore?

 His hands are trembling as they hold the blade that will do the deed, but soon they still as a weird sense of absolute calm washes over Nishiki.

It’s like a sort of enlightenment, something that he’s never experienced until this very moment. Now, he can only lament that his mind has never been this clear before; it would’ve certainly helped way before now, but he supposes that he can’t control this kind of stuff, can’t he?

 At least he knows what he has to do now, and he’ll do it, without hesitation.

  It hurts way less than he thought it would. Actually, it almost feels good, because he knows he’s doing the right thing.

As his strength abandons him, he can’t help a sad smile from appearing on his face. He almost feels like crying; whether it’s from happiness or sadness, that much is unclear for his hazy mind.

There’s only one thing he can think, only a few words that ring loud enough for him to still hear them.

“Bro… Kiryu… I’m sorry…”

  Kiryu betrays no emotion as he walks inside the graveyard.

Of all the things he expected to find out after being released from jail, Yuko and Nishiki having died was the last of them.

No, Nishiki didn’t just die, he committed seppuku. Those are two very different things…

Kiryu still hasn’t processed it. In prison, life was like in slow motion for him, stuck in a miserable routine, so now he’s unused to this speed.

 When he got released, Kashiwagi-san came personally to greet him, saying that Kazama-san was waiting for him. It was him, while driving him to the Kazama family office, that broke him the news of Nishiki’s death. It felt like a stab in the heart.

Kiryu was so cold as Kashiwagi-san kept talking, voice low, almost apologetic. There were so many things that he wanted to ask: how could it have happened? How could they have let it happen? And yet, he said nothing, knowing that if he tried to speak, he would’ve just screamed, and that wasn’t something he wanted to do at the moment.

 He did make one request though: to stop by Nishiki’s grave before going to Kazama-san. He’s sure the old man has something important to tell him, but… He needs to do this first.

Kashiwagi-san looked about to try to dissuade him, but something - maybe guilt, who knows? - made him change his mind.

“Alright Kiryu, as you wish.”

  Nishiki’s grave is right beside Yuko’s. At least they haven’t been separated after death, although the knowledge is little to no consolation.

As Kiryu kneels down on the ground, uncaring that he’s going to get his suit dirty, he imagines Nishiki and Yuko - a healthy Yuko - walking together, hand in hand, laughing and joking around like nothing’s wrong. Ah, what he’d give to see this…

He closes his eyes, narrowing his brow, lips quivering. He wants to say something, but he has no idea about what. What would even be appropriate in this situation? Would saying “I’m sorry” be enough?

 Yes, Kiryu is sorry, so very sorry: he feels like he’s abandoned Nishiki, left him to fend alone for himself.

Had he been there with him, would things be different? Would he be alive? Would Yuko be alive? He still doesn’t know exactly how she died…

In the end, despite how much he wants to, he can’t change the past. Besides, if he hadn’t been the one going to prison, Nishiki would’ve, and who knows how that would’ve gone, not to mention that Yuko would’ve been left alone… Well, not alone, because Kiryu would’ve stuck with her of course, but he doubts the news of her brother going to jail would’ve done wonders to her health.

No matter what happened, it feels like someone would’ve been lost either way, but is it really? Was this destined to happen? Were Nishiki and Yuko to die, without any chance of changing things for themselves?

… It’s useless to wonder about these things. After all, it’s not like Kiryu can change the course of fate.

 When he opens his eyes, he almost expects - hopes - to wake up, to find out that this is only a nightmare, but unfortunately that’s not the case.

It’s real. All this is real, and there’s nothing he can do to make it better.

 He gets up, going first to Yuko’s grave, stretching a hand to touch the stone surface, brushing his fingers against where her name has been inscribed.

He can’t hold back a frown when he notices how dusty - and generally dirty - her grave is. He’ll bring that up to Kashiwagi-san and Kazama-san, because he finds it unacceptable.

“I’m sorry, Yuko…” he murmurs, as if the grave can hear him.

After a moment, he turns to Nishiki’s grave, managing to move the necessary steps to get closer to it. Uh, there’s dust on here too…

Is there anybody tasked to keep them clean? Apparently, no. Kiryu tries his best to remove some dust with his hand, though there’s still so much even after he’s done; he makes a mental note to bring some cleaning supplies next time he visits; if nobody wants to do it, he will.

He gently rests his forehead against the cold stone; for a moment he imagines it’s Nishiki and not just a grave.

���Nishiki… I’m…”

He’s managed to hold back until now, but he can’t anymore. He’s silent in the way he cries, mourning the loss of someone that has always been so dear to him, his friend, his bro…

“I shouldn’t have abandoned you,” he mutters, opening his eyes, staring at the stone surface. “I’m so sorry…”

 The wind begins to pick up, a gentle breeze that almost caresses Kiryu’s body, making him wonder if it’s Nishiki doing this, if it’s his way to talk to him, now that he can’t anymore. Is it forgiveness, or is there something else he’s trying to tell him?

 For a vain moment, he hopes that, once he opens his eyes, he’ll be greeted by Nishiki telling him this was all just a joke - a tasteless one, but a joke nonetheless.

Unfortunately - though he expected it - when he does it, he’s met by the same grave from before.

“I promise you, I’ll raise to the top,” he vows, then, brushing a hand against the stone, remembering what he and Nishiki had promised each other - it feels so long ago. “I’ll make you proud, Nishiki. I’ll do it…”

 There’s nothing else for him to say, or at least there’s nothing else that he can bring himself to say, not with all the thoughts swimming inside his head. Keeping up with them is proving to be a harder task that he thought.

As he takes a few steps behind, Kiryu feels lightheaded, a very similar feeling to when he’s drunk, even though he’s sober - for now, because later he plans to get as smashed as he can. He shakes his head, trying to get it together, and he manages to succeed, at least from an outside perspective.

 He feels bad about abandoning Nishiki and Yuko again, but Kiryu needs to go. He knows this was just a detour, and that he can’t stay here for too long, not when he knows there’s something Kazama-san needs to tell him.

This doesn’t mean though that he feels good as he begins to walk away, towards the parking lot where Kashiwagi-san is waiting for him.

Now that he’s seen Yuko and Nishiki’s graves, a heavy burden has settled upon his shoulders, but with it, also comes conviction.

 Yes, he’ll raise to the top, just like he and Nishiki had promised to each other so long ago.

He’ll do it for them.

[ritsukafujimaru]

the blow to my ego the devastating hit to my image if I made a post and someone rbed it and added “op likes Gilgamesh lol” I’d commit seppuku in a target parking lot

[lainpsx]

wizards be like i love images. you know like "i mages?"

i am going to commit seppuku with my samurai sword in a home depot parking lot.

[rayandpenny]

Tokyo - Day 1

first stop the belly of the Japanese beast, Tokyo. After a flight from Macau to Narita, a train ride into the city and our first taste of the subway system we made it to our hotel in Akihabara and set off on a guided walking tour

Akihabara is known as “Electric Town” and it’s the place to go for the latest gadgets, anime and maid cafes... box ticked

Japan has 3 widely practiced religions - Confucianism, Shinto, and Buddhism - but they exist very easily alongside each other, their beliefs blend together and it’s sometimes hard to tell whether you’re at a temple or a shrine. There’s a Japanese saying that you’re “born a Shintoist, live as a Confucian, and die as a Buddhist”. This is the Yushima Seido Confucian temple - easy to tell you’re at a Confucian temple because of the statue of the man himself

these statues are at the Kanda Myojin Shinto shrine... the orange colour is very typical of Shinto, along with the Torii gates (lots more of those later)

our walk took us through the Ameyoko market

and ended at the statue of the Last Samurai in Ueno Park. The Last Samurai was Saigo Takamori, one of the leaders of the Meiji Restoration that ended the Edo period of isolation and restored imperial rule (1868 for the history buffs). He later distanced himself from the government over their refusal to declare war on Korea and established a miltary academy in Kogoshima that became a power base for other disaffected Samurai. The Meiji government then attacked the Samurai, defeating them at the Battle of Shiroyama in 1877. Legend has it that Saigo committed seppuku (ritual suicide) after being wounded on the battlefield. So not Tom Cruise after all...

after a (surprisingly reasonably priced) lunch we went to the Buddhist temple at Senso ji

but you’ve got to wonder who designed this on the roof of the nearby Asahi brewery... it’s billed as the “Golden Flame” but is known locally as the “Golden Poo”. Tokyo Skytree in the background

[sweetbirdlittlebird]

The Everclear Machete Story

Boy howdy do I have a yarn to spin for you motherfuckers. 

So I have this friend, Sally. She’s my best friend and she’s super little and I love her. She’s from a tiny redneck village in the Midwest that for the purposes of this story we’re gonna call Fuckville Nowhere. Fuckville Nowhere is like two+ hours away from the college we’re dicking around in. One night, she asks me if she’ll drive her home for her friend’s graduation party. I didn’t know her super well, but she was nice and literally everybody else bailed on her, so sure, fine, why not, let’s go to a party.

I, by the way, had only been to one actual party. It was in an on-campus apartment and consisted of booze, Super Smash Bros. Melee, and exactly one knife. I have not, by any stretch of the imagining, ever been a partier. I had like one one-thousandth of a solo cup of sangria and I thought that was lit. 

So we drive out there, we go to IHOP with her friends who just graduated high school, everybody’s psyched, we ate crepes, it was super. And eventually they say the magic words (manic whisper: “alcohol”) and we go back to this one dude’s house to get cRuNk. I had to park my tiny city person car in a church lot and get Captain Mochismo to take us up the awful gravel roads in his Truckstosterone vehicle to Casa de Crunk. The roads go up and down a bunch, it’s total dark, and after like ten entire minutes of driving through the most cursed looking forest I’ve ever fucking seen, we pull up to this decent little house on patio stilts. It’s surrounded by trees and there’s no other houses in sight, so this is definitely where I’m getting murdered. 

So we go in, Sal starts up with the boys in the kitchen pretending they know how to make screwdrivers (there was like a millimeter of vodka for every entire glass of orange juice) and I sit with the girlfriends on the couch and start nursing a lemonade bitch beer. A few of the guys go out on the back porch to get high, because this is Grady’s house and he doesn’t want the whole place to smell like weed when his parents come home, and everybody’s settling into their Party Places. I know exactly one of these people, but they seem nice. We’re chilling. We’re having a grand ‘ole time. 

And one of the guys is like “DUDE LOOK” and takes out this upsettingly large bottle of Everclear. 

Everclear is 100% alcohol. This isn’t just the good shit, this is the Platinum God of All Booze. This is how Russians commit seppuku. 

So Dude #1, let’s call him Simon, who is this spindly little Barbie Doll of a dude, fills a shot glass with this liquid insurgence, knocks it back, and crumples to the floor like he’s been shot. 

And I’m like, I’m sure he’s fine. 

Dude #2, Grady, who is only slightly larger, takes a shot of Everclear. Then he takes another one. Two full shots of arsenic’s bastard child, and he looks like he just mainlined lemon juice. 

Something like five seconds goes by and he’s almost gonna take another because he “isn’t feeling it yet”, and there’s this shift, and suddenly he’s this huge drunk caricature of a human person. He’s smiling and his eyes are mostly closed and he’s taking off his suit jacket. He starts reciting passages from the Bible in fluent and dramatic German, because this dude is deeply Lutheran, and it’s all slurred and abandoned-snow-cone slushy. He stops, he looks around, says, “I wanna be a pastor”, wobbles, and hits the floor like a sheet of metal. 

The level of chaos in this house exists in direct proportion to how much clothing Grady is still wearing. 

The Parent of the Party, Parent Dude, gets him off the floor and into a chair. Next to this chair, there is an ashtray. In this ashtray is a cigar that had been confiscated from Grady sometime during his ramblings. This cigar is out. Grady sees this cigar and thinks, yes, mine, and he picks it up and sticks it in his mouth. A solid ten minutes pass before he realizes it’s not burning. 

So somebody else, the Parent Dude, looks at the Everclear and is like, this is the stuff that ends the world, we’re putting this away now, and Grady pounces on him like a pissed-off cat. Parent Dude is holding the bottle in one hand and trying to push Grady off of him with the other, and Grady screams, “Is it with a kiss, Judas, that you betray the Son of Man?” while trying to kiss him. He takes off his dress vest. 

Meanwhile, Simon is on the couch in the corner, watching TV, and let me tell you, you have not seen somebody properly dissociate until you’ve seen someone drunk on Everclear watch 2001 Space Odyssey on mute in the dark. 

But eventually they get the booze away from him and they start piling all the bottles over by me and the Parent Dude, because this is Grady’s house so there’s no cabinet we can hide it in that he can’t reach. And it’s suddenly my job to watch the alcohol so Parent Dude can make sure Grady doesn’t set the house on fire. 

Time passes, Grady stands up, says some more stuff in German, and he opens his shirt. It’s not off yet, but the buttons are undone. He does a couple of passes by the alcohol stash and scoops up some booze, and Parent Dude has to keep chasing him down to get it back. Eventually, Grady gives up and wanders off and by now Simon has moved over to my couch and he’s playing with my hair telling me how soft it is, so I don’t notice that Grady’s gone. I’m babysitting the Bunny Drunk, the Disaster Drunk isn’t my problem yet. 

Yet. 

So he’s gone for a while and Parent Dude eventually is like, where the fuck did the apocalypse engine go, so he goes looking. And before anybody can find him, this bitch-ass German comes prancing out of the laundry room with a goddamn bag of Tide Pods like, “I found a snack!” and goes to put one in his mouth.

We get the bag away from him and he’s like, awwwww, and we decide to put him the fuck to bed because this is getting out of hand. 

So we grab his girlfriend and she helps us get him into his bed and we leave them in there to pass out. 

Except he doesn’t pass out. 

This is Grady’s house. Grady’s parents have lots and lots of really cool toys in this house. We are in the middle of Fuckville Nowhere in Redneck Ravine, in the middle of the night, in the middle of the woods. 

Two minutes later, drunk Grady comes tumbling out of his room, shirtless, with an entire fucking shotgun. 

And everybody still in the house is like, fuck, fuck, fuck, and Sal and two of the dudes rush him and grab it and Grady falls back giggling like the Joker on laughing gas. I’m still on the couch watching this all happen, and it’s fucking surreal, my dudes. At some point, the girlfriends yeeted out, so I am now the only sane person on this property with maybe the exception of Sal. 

They get him back in bed and hide the shotgun in one of their cars or something,. We think we’re clear. Then Grady’s girlfriend comes running out, giggling, to get Parent Dude because Grady’s trying to eat something. They go back, and Grady has locked the door from the inside. They lure him out with the promise of his naked girlfriend and Parent Dude rushes in to stop him from literally biting a bullet.

They take all the ammo out of the room and lay him down with a glass of water. They watch him drink it, they make him promise to fuck his girlfriend and go to sleep (her idea) and he’s like, sure my dude, no problemo. 

Time-lapse, twenty minutes. I’m sitting with Simon and talking to Sal about her certifiably insane friend group. It’s like five, closing on six in the morning. Simon is playing with my hair and he’s about to fall asleep on me, which is fine, he weighs like half an ounce plus the shot of Everclear. I’m chatting with Parent Dude about the woes of babysitting drunk rednecks. It’s all fine. We’re fine. He gets up to go check on Grady, make sure’s he’s either fucking or sleeping, leaves me to guard the booze, etc. 

And he comes back all pale like, “Guys where’s Grady?”

So they start looking, Parent Dude and Sal, and they go out to the back porch to ask the crossfaders if they’ve seen him. Crossfaders say nay, they come back, sit down, reason he’ll come back when he comes back. 

And within minutes of them sitting down again, the front door bursts open and Grady, with his tie wrapped around his head like he’s a goddamn pirate, runs in waving the biggest fucking machete I’ve ever seen. He’s singing something in German that might be a pirate shanty and might be something from Lamentations. I don’t know. The important part is: knife. Drunk man have big knife.  

Sam and Parent Dude charge him, Sal gets the machete out of his hands, and Grady is slurring like his life depends on it. “Chill, dudes, I just wanted to scare you guys,” and we’re like “congratu-fucking-lations, you did it, now for the love of everyone who’s ever been drunk, go to sleep.” 

So we get Grady to actually go to sleep, and then we passed out, and me and Sal get up four hours later to drive two hours back to the college because she had a rehearsal to get to at like noon. 

And that my friends is the Everclear Machete Story. 

(reblog with the dumbest thing your drunk friends (or your drunksona) have ever done)

[letterfromajax]

I only interact with the fate fandom so much bc they’re very easy to make fun of if they get on my nerves if I did this with other things I like someone could be like “on April 26, 1784 you posted that you thought Lucifer was sexy and should do unspeakable things to you” and then everyone would be like “lmfao Lucifer stans” and I’d have to commit seppuku in a parking lot

[spider-moon-princess]

Time Travel CH 18

Omg, 18! I’m having too much fun writing this! 

Part Seventeen

Masterlist

----++----

Shinpachi, Heisuke and Sanosuke had gone back to the gym to work out some more.

 “Yosh! Let’s work on some crunches now!”

 Sanosuke set his weights down, grabbing a towel from the bench. “Shinpachi! Haven’t we done enough today?” Heisuke flopped on the floor. “I’m with Sano-san! I can’t do this anymore!”

“Pshh, you two have such little stamina. Let’s take five and run on the treadmills then!” He sat down next to Heisuke, grabbing his green water bottle to take a swig of water.

 The little click-click of heels had Sanosuke snapping to attention. There was a reason that Shinpachi was so eager on dragging out his gym time, and this only made it clearer. He pretended not to see her as she approached the trio. He wiped his brow with his towel.

 Finally, the click-click of heels stopped right behind Shinpachi. He stiffened a bit, hesitant to turn around.

 “Shin!” Hands on her hips, a pout on her pink glossed lips, and her were eyebrows furrowed in displeasure.

 Shinpachi immediately stood up to face her. “A-ah, Etsu!” His heart skipped a beat, looking at her. She was wearing a flared red dress that hugged her curves that reached above her knees. “Wh-what brings you here?”

 “You know exactly what, Nagakura Shinpachi!” She crossed her arms. “You went to the club again, didn’t you?”

 “Just for a bit…just for a drink with Sano!” He knew he was better off telling the truth. Yeah, he liked going to the clubs, but it was mostly for the bar and ambiance. He had no interest in other women, only her. “Na, Sano?”

 Sanosuke gave her a sheepish smile. “I was watching this idiot the whole time, once he was drunk off his ass, he was listing things that he loved about you. I had to listen to him during the car ride home.” He chuckled.

 Etsu’s expression softened. She knew Sano-san never lied to her. Though she trusted Shinpachi, she couldn’t help but be doubtful once in a while. He was an attractive man, women and men looked his way when they walked out in public holding hands. She trusted he wouldn’t cheat on her, but she certainly didn’t trust the majority of girls at a club or bar. “Really, Shin?”

 “Maa, I don’t remember much, but I guess I can repeat it for you…” His cheeks were dusted with pink.

 “Ooooh, Shi~in!” She lunged forward, tackling him in a hug. “Tell me over dinner!”

 Shinpachi chuckled, giving her cheek a peck. “Okay, okay, let me get changed and I’ll meet you in my office.”

 Giggling, she nodded happily and tip-toed to kiss his cheek. Even with her three-inch heels, she still couldn’t reach his cheeks.

 “Geez…” Heisuke watched her leave for his office. “You two fight and make up over nothing.”

 “We do not fight, we have small disagreements from time to time. Besides, Etsu’s such a catch.” Shinpachi grinned like a fool in love, which was what he was. “She knows how to cook, she’s kind, beautiful, she’s got curves, she’s a D, and thick thighs for me to rest my head on-”

“Oi, oi, Shinpachi, save it for dinner.” Sanosuke shook his head, clapping him on the back as they went to hit the showers.

 --

Chizuru and Hijikata-sensei had agreed that he would bring Okita-san as soon as the discharge papers went through. She decided to go home after changing to set things up for him.

 Souji was alone in the room. He closed his eyes and tried to take a nap, but little flashes of what he wanted to call memories came to him.

 Chizuru cooking, their first kiss, studying with Chizuru, Hajime-kun, and Heisuke-kun, little bits of things here and there he didn't understand.

 Just what the hell was going on? These thoughts, memories, weren't his, but they were in his head.

 "Oi, Souji." Hijikata-san opened the door.

 Souji chuckled, "The Hijikata-san I know also never knocks." He stood up and stretched until his back popped a bit.

 "Let's get going, the papers went through." He grabbed the file folder and opened a bit to check its contents. A birth certificate, an ID, even a high school diploma...He really did not want to know how Sannan-san got a hold of these documents.

 Souji followed him out to the parking lot, grimacing slightly when he heard a loud roar. "Hijikata-san, what are all these machines?" He looked around them. The machines were similar shapes, but different colors. They all were in neat rows, though some here and there were placed crookedly.

 “Cars. They’re like our modern horses.” Toshizō opened the passenger door of his black sports car. “Come on, Souji, I don’t have all day.” He glanced at his iPhone 4, smiling lightly as he got a reminder from Satomi to come home for dinner. He didn’t forget, but she knew to send him little reminders in case he did lose track of time. He shut the door after Souji and quickly responded that he’d be home after dropping Souji off at Chizuru’s.

 “Modern horses?” Souji mused, looking around the car. He had the urge to press buttons that lit up when Hijikata-san brought the modern horse to life. What had he called it, a car?

 “Souji! Don’t touch anything! It can be dangerous if you press the wrong thing while I’m driving.” He had spotted that devious glint in his eyes. Sighing, he started driving out of the parking lot, the car picking up speed once he was out on the road.

 Souji grasped the seat for support as Hijikata-san started to go faster. He didn’t like this car thing, though it was more convenient than a horse or walking. He had to admit that when Hijikata-san made the turns rather harshly, it made him a biiiiit scared for his life. He chuckled nervously. “Are these cars meant to go this fast?”

 Toshizō smirked, pressing down on the accelerator, passing other cars by. He wasn’t a reckless driver, but he certainly was a speed demon. “Oh sure, this one is built to go rather fast. She’s meant to drive fast.” He could see Souji was scared shitless by his driving, and he was relishing every moment of it. He smoothly parked the car near Chizuru’s apartment. “Well, here we are. Didn’t take long at all.” He probably broke over twenty traffic laws, but it was so worth it, especially when Souji crawled out of the car on all fours.

 Oh, sweet solid ground. Souji took a few moments before he stood up. He’d gotten a little nauseous with the car moving at such high velocity.

He never, ever wanted to get in the same car as Hijikata-san again.

 --

 Toshizō led him to Chizuru’s apartment. “I can’t stay, but you’re going to tell him, right?”

 Chizuru nodded, looking over at Souji; he was busy staring at pictures she had up on the wall. “Yes, Hijikata-sensei.”

 “Good. Here’s his medicine, the file from Sannan-san, and the journals. Good luck, Yukimura.”

 Chizuru bowed and set the box inside, next to the coffee table.

 His jade green eyes stared at a few pictures on the wall. There was one of him, Heisuke-kun and Hajime-kun. They were wearing some type of uniform, Heisuke had his arms around the both of them, grinning, and even Hajime was sporting a slight smile. His future self was smiling so happily, it made him a little jealous.

 There was another picture that caught his eye of his future self, Hijikata-san, and Shinpachi-san. The three of them wore lab coats, making funny poses in front of a crowd of children.

 Chizuru came behind him, staring at the same picture, a smile spread instantly. “That’s one of my favorite. Kondō-san was out sick, but he was supposed to read to the children in the hospital, so he asked Hijikata-sensei, Nagakura-san, and Souji-kun to read it in his place instead.” She laughed at the memory. They had ended up doing a rather unorthodox version of Momotaro, thanks to Souji.* Hijikata-sensei and Nagakura-san chased him around the halls for deviating from the story by bringing in a gorilla instead of a monkey that Nagakura-san had to provide the voice for and the rest of the characters, and making Hijikata-sensei the demon. She’d been in the back, laughing with the rest of the children. They’d loved it so much.

 “Hmm, sounds interesting.” Souji stepped cautiously towards the living room as he looked around. This is where he would be living now. With Chizuru.

 “Ah, Okita-san…” Chizuru went to sit on the couch, taking out a packet from the box that Hijikata-sensei had given her. “…You probably have questions about the Shinsengumi, don’t you?”

Souji took the seat next to her, crossing his arms. “Many.”

 “...This packet of information should clear a few things up.”

 Souji took it from her, quickly scanning the first page. He skipped ahead to find out about Kondō-san.

 He nearly tore the damn paper in half. His jade green eyes furiously looked over at Chizuru. “Ne, Chizuru-chan, this is a lie, isn’t it?” His voice shook slightly. “Kondō-san would never surrender!”

 Chizuru remained silent as Souji reread the end of the paragraph that described Kondō-san’s death.

 “The fucking bastards didn’t even let him commit seppuku?! They beheaded him like some animal?! Where the hell was Hijikata-san?!” Souji threw the packet down, bowing his head. “Tell me that’s a lie, Chizuru-chan…tell me that he at least got to commit seppuku like the warrior he is…”

 They sat there for a few moments, Souji waiting for Chizuru to tell him the truth.

 “...He deserved that honor…He was…He…” His voice broke, unable to say anymore. He hated showing this side to anyone. He was Okita Souji, Captain of the First Division of the Shinsengumi. He didn’t shed tears. 

 Chizuru gently pulled him into her arms, burying her face into his hair, feeling his tears on her arm. There was nothing she could say to him that could ease the pain of losing a loved one in such a horrible manner. If her Souji had the same relationship with Kondō-san that Okita-san had with the Kondō-san in his time, he thought the world of him. She couldn’t do anything to ease the pain in his heart, so she just held him, hoping that her presence could be of even of even the slightest bit of comfort to him.

Part Nineteen

----++-----

*This is actually from one of the Hakuouki SSL drama CDs, I seriously recommend listening to it LMAO, although idk if it has any translations out. 

On another note, I’ll slowllyyyy be adding in the OCs and interactions! I started with mine, since I know her the best LOL, but they’ll get their time to shine, I promise! 

 AND FEELS, I KEPT SEEING SOUJI BREAK DOWN IN CHIZURU’S ARMS AND I JUST- ToT ToT 

[j-writes-and-suffers]

NaNoWriMo Day Eleven

Wandering around the top floor of the library, Philip took a minute to explore before properly searching for Lucien. He discovered several nice alcoves for studying, as well as a large collection of dictionaries, thesauri, and other writing resources surrounding a big desk. He was busy snooping about for anything else cool when a voice murmured in his ear.

“Finding everything alright?”

“Fuck!” Philip jumped about a foot in the air, spinning around to glare at Lucien. “Dude, I swear, you’re gonna be the death of me…”

Lucien chuckled. “Sorry. I can’t help myself. You’re so easy to scare.”

Philip rolled his eyes. “You’re an ass.”

“Perhaps so,” Lucien shrugged, “but you came to visit anyway.”

“Yeah, I guess I did.” Philip’s cheeks were tinged pink, and he tried to change the subjects. “That Kyle kid is a piece of work.”

Lucien sighed deeply. “Oh. You met him, did you?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s something.” Lucien grumbled, “Sadly, no one but Heather and him applied, and I need the extra hands.”

“Jeez man, if you’re that desperate, I’ll chop off my hands and you can have those instead.” Philip jested.

Lucien’s resentful scowl faded, and he chuckled warmly. “I appreciate the offer, but I think you need those.”

Philip shrugged. “Nah, it’s fiiiine. Voice typing is getting pretty good. I’ll just learn to open doors with my foot or something.”

Rolling his eyes, Lucien dropped into a nearby chair. “You’re ridiculous.”

“The world needs a little ridiculous.” Philip replied, sitting next to him.

“That it does.” Lucien smiled. “You do make for some nice entertainment in my incredibly bland life.”

“Oh! Speaking of entertainment…” Philip remembered what he had actually come to the library for. “Do you want to go see a movie this weekend? I hear the newest superhero one is pretty good.”

Lucien paused to think, “I haven’t seen a movie in theater in years… It sounds nice, though. Dinner and a movie or just a movie?”

“How about a movie and a walk in the park?” Philip suggested.

“That sounds excellent.” Lucien smiled, but his cheeriness faded at the sound of bickering from downstairs. “I have to go deal with my lackeys… see you Wednesday, perhaps? Hopefully, by then, I’ll have them more under control.”

“Yeah, sure.” Philip nodded, following Lucien down the stairs and heading out the front door.

Wednesday afternoon, Philip returned to the library as promised. He and Lucien spent a few hours talking, with Philip helping carry stacks of books so they could actually stay productive. The evening drew to a close when it started raining outside, as Lucien urged Philip to get home before it got bad. As much as he wanted to stay, Philip knew that he’d be royally boned if he waited to leave and the rain got worse. With a reluctant goodbye, he hurried home, getting misted the whole way by the growing precipitation.

Philip spent most of Thursday bouncing around, his energy increasing as date night grew closer. He practically jogged to the library on Friday, wanting to iron out the details of their plans for tomorrow. Bolting in the front door, Philip was relieved to see Heather, rather than Kyle, on circulation duty.

“Hi, Heather.”

“What’s up, blondie?” She asked, looking up from her bio textbook.

“Uh, where’s Lucien?” Philip asked, “I wanted to talk to him.”

“Then you’ll have to call him, cause he’s not here. Sick or something.” Heather shrugged, as if this didn’t worry her at all.

“What?” Philip’s jaw dropped, heartbreak shining in his wide, dark eyes.

She shrugged again. “He’s out sick a lot, it’s probably nothing.”

“B… but we had a date tomorrow.” Philip was trying to hide his distress, but his voice wavered audibly.

“That sucks, man. I’m sure he’ll make it up, though. Luci’s loyal. He’s just also sickly as hell.”

Philip didn’t seem convinced. “But what if he’s not sick? What if he doesn’t wanna see me, and he’s just too nice to say so?”

Heather rolled her eyes. “You’re being paranoid.”

“Or maybe I’m being realistic. I was always suspicious that he wasn’t really into me. I’m too young and dumb and annoying. I don’t know why I ever thought we had something.”

“Dude, calm down. Go drink or something. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.” She snapped, losing her patience with Philip’s nervous antics.

“Sorry. I don’t mean to bother you. I’ll… I’ll go now.” Philip hung his head shamefully, hurrying out of the library and heading for home. He only made it about ten minutes before tears started dripping down his cheeks. His already sluggish pace slowed further, and he sniffled softly, rubbing his eyes as he trudged off campus, heading for his miserably empty apartment.

Philip curled up on his couch as soon as he got home. Though he was normally hungry after such a long walk, today the pain in his stomach was a gut-wrenching sadness. He felt rejected, unwanted, pathetic. He’d known somewhere in the back of his mind that he wasn’t good enough, but he’d convinced himself that Lucien didn’t mind. Why was he such an optimistic idiot?

He buried his face in the couch cushions, sobbing loudly now that he was in private. As the night dragged on, he finally quieted down, sitting up and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. Maybe Heather was right. He should drink or something. That would cheer him up, or at least distract him. He went searching through the kitchen, wondering if he even had any alcohol around at the moment. All he could find was a bottle of blueberry wine; it must’ve been a gift or something, because he never drank wine and he fucking hated blueberries. However, he was in no mood to go out shopping, and decided he’d rather drink some gross wine than be sober.

Philip woke up on Saturday morning with no memory of the night before. His phone was on the floor by his bed, dead as a doornail. He groaned in dismay, plugging it in and praying that he hadn’t drunk-texted Lucien. The screen glowed with life, and he narrowed his eyes against the brightness. His heart skipped a beat as he saw a heartfelt plea sprawled out across the screen complete with typos and a confession of love. Philip cringed, ready to commit seppuku just to restore his dignity from this disaster, when his eyes wandered to the name at the top of the screen.

Team Snapchat.

For a brief moment, Philip actually believed there might be a god. He sighed deeply, relieved beyond words that he hadn’t spammed Lucien with an embarrassingly badly-written sob story. He set his phone aside, pulling a pillow over his face; he was feeling pretty rough after the previous night, and didn’t really want to do anything. Luckily, it was a Saturday, and his date had cancelled, so he was perfectly free to spend his night on absolutely nothing.

The weekend dragged on in a consistently boring and somewhat depressing fashion. When he finally found the will to get out of bed, Philip made himself a dinner of cinnamon toast crunch and ice cream, curling up on the couch to watch romance movies and cry. When Sunday evening rolled around, he started to get anxious. Should he go to the library tomorrow? Would Lucien even be there? Would Lucien want to see him if he was there? Should he even go to work tomorrow? His thoughts grew overwhelming, and Philip forced himself to stop caring. He curled up, ready to go to sleep. He’d just roll with the punches tomorrow, and let what happened happen.

Monday morning rolled around in its usual sluggish manner. Philip had no desire to be up before noon, but he crawled out of bed in time to lead his morning lecture nonetheless. Even less awake than usual, he grabbed an extra large coffee between each lecture, as well as a muffin from the coffee shop. By the end of the day, he found himself bouncing off the walls from an overload of sugar and caffeine. The excess energy only lent to his anxiety, and Philip paced around the lecture hall as his last class let out, contemplating whether or not to go to the library.

He’d told himself last night that he would relax and do what felt right, but he wasn’t anxious and caffeinated when he said that. Now he absolutely had to know what Lucien thought of him, even though he was nearly panicking just at the thought of outright rejection. He made a few more laps around the room before finally gathering his courage. He had to go to the library.

Philip’s legs were shaking as he walked up the old stone steps, but he took a deep breath and yanked the door open anyway. Kyle was manning the front desk, too busy with his cheetos and anime to even look up. Philip was honestly grateful for that; Kyle was the last person on earth he wanted to talk to right now. Nervously creeping into the library, he looked around, scanning every aisle for signs of Lucien. Instead, he found Heather re-shelving books. She looked up at him, giving a brief nod of greeting.

“Luci’s in the lounge.”

“Oh… uh… thanks.” Philip forced a smile, shuffling off towards the door in the back. It was slightly ajar, and he peeked nervously inside. No one was visible in the sliver of the room he could see, so he tentatively pushed the door open. “Lucien?” He squeaked, his voice breaking front sheer anxiety.

“I was wondering if you’d show.” Lucien was tucked into the corner of the couch, tea in one hand and a book in the other. His voice was incredibly scratchy, as though he’d just gargled with broken glass, and he honestly looked more like a week-old corpse than a live human. He was paler than a cartoon vampire, with deep shadows under his eyes. His face was startlingly gaunt and thin, as though he hadn’t eaten all weekend, and his normally-impeccable hair was slightly disheveled and more grey than ever.

Philip’s jaw nearly fell to the floor, and a pang of guilt struck him for ever thinking Lucien was lying about being sick. “Of course I’d show… I wanted to talk to you. Are you okay? You look really rough. What’s wrong?” He asked, stepping closer to get a better look at the older man.

“It’s a chronic illness I’ve dealt with for years. It’s not deadly, it just… gets the better of me sometimes. It’s not contagious, so you’ve really nothing to worry about.” Lucien seemed intent on calming Philip down; he could tell that the younger man was stressed. “Come sit with me, and we can talk.” He patted the couch cushion next to him, motioning Philip over.

Philip plopped down next to Lucien, frowning in concern. “You don’t seem to be feeling that good. Why come back to work so soon?”

“If I skipped work whenever I wasn’t feeling well, we’d need a new librarian.” Lucien quipped, “I learned to manage years ago, you really needn’t worry so much. All that aside, I do apologize for missing our date on Saturday. I told Heather to tell you that, but I don’t know how well she relayed the message…”

“Nah, it’s fine. She told me.” Philip lied. “Anything I can help you with while I’m here? I don’t want you overworking yourself.”

“Don’t be absurd. That’s what student workers are for.”

Philip couldn’t help but laugh, and he leaned against Lucien, a smile spreading across his face. “I’m glad you came back to work. I missed you on Friday.”

Lucien smiled back, some of the life briefly returning to his face. “I missed you, too."