#i hope i keep having these moments. of euphoria of discovery of wonder of belonging of fun

[tokitooth]

ok this ended up quite long so i will put this under a cut. cw for brief suicide mentions

the last time i changed my pronouns i was 16 which is why i specifically am feeling this way. i switched from he/they to just he/him and like not very long after (for reasons unrelated to the pronoun change and more related to just being a trans teenager in general) i kinda . developed an unhealthy relationship w my trans identity. my dysphoria was soooo bad i didn't want to be seen in public most days so i would skip school, getting misgendered was enough to ruin my entire day, and i was quite morbidly depressed and very seriously considering ending it all bc i was miserable. and this also manifested in other ways that i am not proud of, i remember feeling at one point like even the sight of the trans flag made me sick bc it felt like a constant reminder that i'd never be who i was supposed to be. but relevant to my current situation specifically i was against the idea of anyone using it/its for themselves ever. LUCKILY i was good at keeping that shit to myself (i was scared of alienating myself from people i was close to online) so this never turned into taking things out on others unjustly but the belief was very much there.

and even after i managed to dig myself out of the discourse poisoned dysphoria induced depression hole, after i learned how to be more normal about neos and xenogenders and it/its users, and after i started t and began to arrive at a place where i felt more comfortable in my own body, i still thought for the last 5 years that he/him was the end of it. i was content enough with the idea of being Just Some Guy. but. i did look at people who used xenogenders and neos and even just people who clearly felt secure enough in their identity to tell you adjectives they identify with and felt a sense of envy. i wanted to have that kind of fun with it, but nothing ever really felt like it fit, so... i didn't really want to be Just Some Guy (emo edition), but all things considered, "Just Some Guy" is a better place to be at than we were a few years ago, so count your blessings i guess? we don't want to die anymore so let's just celebrate that victory for now!

and that's just like. how i lived since i was 18. i didn't really think there was anything more out there for me when it came to my identity because even in the last year whenever i've tried floating the idea of neos for myself there was nothing that felt right so i just continued w this mindset of of "i guess i'm Just Some Guy now. i've tried and i've tried but there's just nothing. which is fine! i wish there was more out there for me and i wish i was having more fun like those other guys but it's not the end of the world." and CLEARLY i'm seeing now in hindsight that that was my gut telling me there IS something more out there that i just hadn't found yet.

so anyway that's why i think it's so fascinating that i landed on it/its to add alongside he. it's like i've let the testosterone marinate for long enough. i'm able to explore the idea of other identities, specifically nonhuman identities, and realize i like being a bit of a Thing. and i like being a cat specifically. it's strange to think about arriving at this point when there was a time i was against it. i can't even fathom what 16 y/o me would think of me now but i just wish i could go talk to him and SHOW him that things will be okay for us. i wish he didn't have to carry all that stuff around that we did at that age but i also know time is a straight line and i wouldn't be me now without me then. so since i can't show him i'm just going to be happy for him and be grateful that i've gotten to a point where i don't carry that around anymore and where i can actually have Fun with it. bc it was unthinkable to me then.

it's sorta like . idk. i can only imagine it's like the feeling of moving out of a corporatized apartment building and becoming a homeowner. i've gone from hating my body to tolerating it, and i spent a very long time tolerating it, but now that t has changed my appearance enough that i feel confident enough to present as a man, i'm realizing i can have fun with it. i can decorate the place how i want to. i can hang up photos and repaint the trim if i want. like i'm going from just living in my body to actually making it mine. and admittedly it does make me excited to think about what my identity will look like in another 5 years. maybe i'll have painted the trim back to its original color or maybe it'll be another new color. maybe there will be different photos hung up or maybe something completely different will be on the wall instead. who knows! only one way to find out tho. i have to be here to see it

can i get . can i get emo about identity stuff

[haikyuuhimbosandhypebeasts]

>I have no idea how the fuck to format this on mobile. Also yes this is another Anisylum collab! I love doing them because the prompts are 👑. This time the prompt was Eavesdropping!

>This is the part two to “As An Object”

>Pairing: Ushijima x Reader

>1.4 k words.

>Content Warnings: Morning After, Reader has a mental breakdown, angstish, hurt-comfort, Wakatoshi says sex so I mean have fun, Tendou is a supportive best friend, not my best writing tbh but my beta reader said everything sounded fine, Mina from the last part is mentioned.

>Masterlist?: Right here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morning came burning in your senses. You woke up in a bed that did not belong to you- a bed occupied by both you and-

Your left hand roughly slapped the warm figure by you. Your bedmate rolls over to reaffirm who you are as well.

Unfortunately for you, it wasn’t someone easy to process bedding the night before. There was a half-asleep Ushijima Wakatoshi. You struggled to place your feelings bubbling up like scalding broth to your unprepared chest as he sleepily blinked at you.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, moving one of his warm hands to cup the side of your face.

Your face grew hot, and you immediately bolted out of the bed, not caring how the lack of blanket left you bare. Ushijima watched your face with widened eyes, finally waking up himself.

“... sorry, (y/n),” his voice was soft. The tense grit of his jaw, perhaps the hint of a crease to his brow- something about the expression on his face echoed hurt and you felt hesitation. Unbidden, you felt some part of yourself flourish to life past your normally viscous “mean girl” mask.

“It’s… okay. Can I use your bath?” You looked away, not wanting to show vulnerability to someone you thought you hated.

“... it’s past the kitchen, opposite of the front door.”

“Thank you.”

And with that, you left the bedroom in all your naked glory, a hair less confident than you’d hope to be around Ushijima.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ushijima sat at his dining table and gazed aimlessly at his phone, fingers absentmindedly drifting over the tablecloth.

As soon as his phone jumped to life with a call, he answered it so quickly Satori on the other end had to mentally recollect himself.

“That serious, huh, Wakatoshi,” he said, trying to keep some ounce of humor in his voice.

“I had sex with (y/n).”

The coffee Tendou was sipping rocketed itself out of his sinuses like lava out of a cartoon volcano, thankfully away from any innocent civilians of Paris and significantly away from his phone he *just* finished paying off.

“D-did you now?” A small disbelieving giggle bubbled out from the redhead, “You wanted to call me so seriously because you lost your virginity?”

“... No.”

“Eh?”

“She is… upset. She said she hates me.”

“Ohh… well, Wakatoshi, I’m sure you know after years of playing beside her that she’s pretty complex, right? That’s the vibe I got right away from her. Complex… and obviously in love with you,” Tendou mused about, unconsciously wiggling with happiness in his seat from hearing his best friend look over his romantic options. He just wants the best for Wakatoshi and he thought to himself that a relationship would certainly help with some of his lacking social skills.

“I still don’t see that.”

“Eh? She has to like you! She told me!”

“That was years ago.”

And Wakatoshi was right. It *was* years ago. You would know, you’d spend every year bitterly waiting for a time when he would look less busy or maybe a moment where you thought he could see you as an equal. But you could never tell that, and it hurt much less to villainize and hate him than recognize someone you saw everything you wanted in someone just wasn’t interested in you. It was a way to protect yourself from abandonment… that’s what your high school counselor had said. You wondered, as you stood around a corner with your towel clad back to a wall, listening in to a conversation you shouldn’t be listening to, what she would say now about the situation you were in.

“Wakatoshi, you’re not being yourself. The Wakatoshi I know doesn’t beat around the bush, yet for the past few months you’ve been either avoiding confronting her or you’re avoiding how you feel,” Tendou squinted into his iced coffee, scrutinizing it for an answer.

Ushijima traced an absent-minded pattern into the tablecloth again, “I am. She hates me, she told me.”

“She’s keeping herself safe since she’s waited so long. I almost understand- it’s easier to hate someone than get rejected in her eyes, I think. Mina told me something along the lines of a personality disorder? She said it sounds like one of those.”

Of course Mina and Tendou had a little confidant powwow to discuss your private feelings. What was this, gradeschool? See if you’ll ever talk to her about anything like this again. Still… you listened in, waiting for the call to end.

“Wakatoshi, it’s still a better bet to just tell her.”

Your heart hammered in your chest. Certainly your hopes were getting up about this…

“I can’t.”

“How about you acknowledge it, then? Just acknowledge how you feel and it should feel better. I do that sometimes and it makes me feel great!”

“... I am attracted to (y/n).”

Your breath felt heavy, this couldn’t be real. He can’t feel this way.

“And?”

“And… I want her to not hate me and be my partner.”

You grip your towel harder, legs growing a bit weak hearing those words.

“So?” Tendou pushed, humor never leaving the edge of his voice.

“So… I’ll tell her… that I don’t want her to hate me,” Ushijima managed out, not hiding what hurt and emotional exhaustion he could portray in his voice.

You clapped your hand over your mouth and gently slid to the floor, guilt gripping your chest in a vice and twisting it so harshly you thought you would pass out. He *did* see you as an equal. He *did* find you attractive. And you told him you hated him and saw him as nothing more than an object.

You did your best to hide an unattractive choke of a sob behind your palm. The rest of the conversation was hard for you to focus on as burning tears trickled from your eyes and down your face. It took years to build these walls up and to make a perfect façade others found attractive and yet it was being torn down and destroyed violently before you. Your other hand knotted itself in your freshly washed hair and pulled to alleviate the yearning for some form of penance for making someone you loved so much go through enough pain that they needed advice.

The euphoria of this acceptance- this discovery- was burned into you through the unforgiving blade of your self-hatred and inability to properly understand others. You hated what you did to Wakatoshi. You hated that you made someone better than you suffer. And you hated that no matter what, you had no idea how to make it better. The thrum of blood rushing to your head is deafening and your eyes are squeezed shut to hopefully make this episode end soon. Your breathing is so heavy and shaking, you feel dizzy and like you might pass out soon…

Your lean form was tugged into a strong chest. Your eyes shot open as you realized you were caught.

“... I’m sorry. I made you cry again,” the rumble of his voice soothed the burning static of your brain. You’d do anything to make this episode stop, but when you open your mouth to tell him how sorry you are, it comes out as a hysteric sob. You grip onto his shirt as it becomes incredibly hard to get your words out.

He gently rubs your back, eyes closed in a flinch at how you responded and the fear that you may never even look his way again choked him slightly.

Finally, you managed to speak again.

“I’m sorry, I’m so-“ you couldn’t even finish your sentence without hiccuping. He doesn’t stop his soothing movements.

“I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” he states, unsure of how he should start explaining himself.

“No… I’m glad…” you wiped your eyes and tried to pull away from him, still trembling a bit from your episode, “I’m glad you like me. I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

He makes a sound of affirmation and holds you even tighter, hiding his face in your shoulder.

“If you want me to be your girlfriend, I will,” you clarify. His movements stop.

“Ah… it would make me very happy if you were, (y/n),” he said into your bare nape. You were unfamiliar with his newfound shyness, and you attempted to soothe him back by scratching the back of his head softly.

“Then I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine.”

[my-writings-and-musings]

For the bot reader sparkling prompt what about Swerve and or Whirl? (I’m especially curious about Whirl’s reaction if the (or one) of the sparkling(s) resembles him pre-empurata) I would toss a possible Misfire in there too but I don’t think he’s a bot you usually do.

Hope you're ready for FEELS and CUTE SPARKLINGS because that's absolutely my favorite combo anon! Plus I'd always liked the Scavengers but never really looked into their appearance in the comic until now, and thank you for giving me the impetus to learn about the chaotic but still lovable gaggle of misfits.

Swerve

·He's admittedly been on a whole new level of euphoria since the two of you started dating, but the moment he found out you were gonna be Creators he more or less ascended. Every scan nearly brings him to tears and he keeps all the pictures on him wherever he goes, so any bot that comes near will be ambushed by a flood of bragging and a veritable album of a bitlet that hasn't even been born yet. Suffice to say that when it was finally time to meet your little bundle, he was emotional, though for your sake he remained a surprisingly steadfast and supportive partner through the entire emergence. But the moment he laid his visor on that squawling little bitlet...

·"Tears" aren't quite sufficient to describe the waterfall that poured from his visor, but thankfully the staff was quite accustomed to such reactions and smoothly checked over the newborn before handing them back to their new parents. As a metallurgist for a species made of metal that's at it's most vulnerable after birth, he's actually been present for a few sparklings entering the world to provide potential care for those considered high risk, but nothing could have prepared him for seeing your beautiful new bitlet in person.

·Between praising you and the beeb he can hardly get a coherent word out through the blubbering, but his awe and adoration is still clear as day. You made a whole new bot, and now they're here, and they're the most amazing little sparkling the planet has ever seen! Every feature of yours or his that he sees gets him crying anew, and he can't possibly fathom what he's done to deserve any of these blessings. Countless photos of their first few hours are accumulated to join his collection in addition to being shared via intergalactic Wi-Fi to every friend you have.

·When your chosen visitors arrive he's absolutely effusive with his praise of you and the beeb. Do they see this bitlet? Have any of them ever seen anything this precious in all of history?! His Conjunx made them isn't that the most amazing thing in the entire galaxy like how did they even do that?! Even bots who know him well are amazed by how genuinely tender and affectionate he is, as there's not a joke to be heard from him even once. Truthfully he can't think of anything funny about this at all, except maybe how even the tougher bots that visit absolutely melt when they see the sweet little face of a newborn amidst a bundle of blankets, but he can't really blame them now can he?

·Despite all of his joy for the two of you being Creators, when it's just you and him and the sparkling again, he's quite hesitant to ask if he can hold them. He's held them before in the rush of the moment, but here in the still and calm... It worries him. There's so much caution in his grip when he takes them into a gentle cradle, his bulky arms easily supporting the tiny weight despite how unnaturally heavy they feel. There's a flash of worry for all the chances he'll have to mess up, but that disappears when a little fist pops free of the blanket and into the bitlets mouth, where they contentedly suckle on it in the most adorable display he's ever beheld. Somehow he knows it will be okay in that moment, because he'll never let anything happen to you or your new little addition.

Whirl

·His reaction to his own prospective sirehood was a near perfect example of internal screaming beneath a veneer of calm. Of course he wasn't necessarily surprised, and he loved you more than anything in any universe, but... you've met him, right? Sure, you fragged him, but have you paid attention to the kind of bot he is? Do you really want any of this around a sparkling, or remixed into one? Admittedly he hadn't had an argument for your simple "yes" in reply, and to the day your little bitlet arrives he still can't think of a rebuttal, beyond how his claws don't give you much of a hand to hold or provide good massages.

·Somehow the entire process manages to be Unicron levels of unthinkable horror and awe inspiring beautiful wonder at the exact same time, and his attitude is even more varied as a result. There are moments he's the calm partner whispering sweet nothings, the aggressive coach shouting for you to kick labor's ass, the panicking wimp who refuses to believe the body parts he's seeing belong where they are, and the petrified but dutiful sire-to-be frozen in horror while you hold onto him for dear life. Thankfully he manages to reign it all in once the two of you have a newly minted bitlet wailing in the real world.

·He'd expected to be awed, but also knew to brace for seeing a bundle that... didn't much resemble his current self, due to Empurata not affecting genetics, but he never could have prepared himself for the reality. One look at this tiny and flawless little accident and he comes embarrassingly close to fainting, his long legs folding into a chair some brilliant medic was smart enough to push beside the bed, and his optic growing misty as he beholds you and the whole new person you made. There's awe at the fact he contributed to making something unbelievably perfect, happiness for a million reasons he doesn't care to comprehend, but also... sadness. A face he'd never thought he would see again is looking up at him with the biggest and most innocent pair of optics, all while a tiny mouth nibbles on a pair of servos so like the ones he had taken from him.

·He should be... angry, maybe? Old Whirl would have been angry, furious at the Functionists for ruining so much, but he just doesn't feel it. The sadness in his spark isn't even for him, it's for this little one who will grow up and eventually figure out why his sire looks the way he does, and all the pain that may cause a bot who never did anything to anyone... But that feeling is so small it's quickly swept away so he can feel what he actually wants to feel, and he wants to feel happy damn it! You and he have a bitlet, and a pretty good one as far as bitlets go! Heavy stuff can be addressed later, the two of you get to enjoy this with friends! There's precious few bots he trusts enough to visit, but those that make the cut are welcomed and invited to pay respects to the cutest sparkling ever born and the bot who squeezed them out. He has to fight incredibly hard to keep from shedding happy tears, but seeing so many of his friends coo over this tiny miracle strains his emotional reservation to the limits.

·For all the love he has for the little one, and all his progress in accepting himself, he still hasn't held them by the time night is settling and you're in need of rest. Only your obvious exhaustion and his protective nature compels him to finally accept the sleeping sparkling, and even then he's a wreck on the inside, his spark all but crackling with anxiety as the delicate beeb is laid in his arms while he stays carefully seated. Nothing could have made him understand just how tiny this little guy was until this moment. As you drift off, he tempts fate and holds out the tip of a careful claw, not daring to ventilate as he gently adjusts some blankets for a better look. Something like abject terror shoots through him as a stubby hand takes hold of him, but he doesn't move, and the little one only coos and keeps his solid little grip. At that he lets himself cry just a little. Nothing will ever hurt you or this tiny gift so long as he lives, and he won't let anything past present or future ruin the happiness you've made together.

Misfire

·His whole life he's had a soft spot for things that need caring for, but every time he's found something or someone to take care of he's told himself all he really cares about is the potential benefit for him. Recent events have forced him to admit that there's a soft spark under his... business savvy ways. Finding out he'd be a sire though? That was an entirely new level of self discovery, because he's absolutely thrilled and has no logical reason why. He quickly has to tell the rest of the Scavengers, which becomes daily updates on everything sparkling related, so even his close collection of friends is admittedly a little relieved when the bitlet finally arrives and they can meet them. Thankfully none of them were there to see him faint on more than one occasion during the delivery, but he does have to make up a story about the dents on his head when he calls to give the announcement that their newest Scavenger has arrived, claiming that he got them in a heroic dive to save the bitlet when they were still slippery and dropped by a medic.

·While never one to be too mushy, he's made incredibly sappy just by the sight of the new little bitlet when they finally end up clean and swaddled in your arms. All across the little one's features are pieces of him that he recognizes on the spot. Blended perfectly with those are obvious signs of you, creating a whole new being who's got some of you both while still existing as their own unique little wonder. It defies all logic and yet he's so happy he can't really bring himself to care. From their optics to their stubby hands to their impossibly cute little pedes they're already the most perfect being to ever come into existence, making them tied with his Creators for perfection, and no bot is ever going to be able to convince him otherwise on that undeniable fact. But, for the sake of the moment he does have to wonder; does this sparkling yet realize how attractive they're going to be?

·The group is getting a million messages a minute from the new sire as they head over to see the newest addition, and when they finally arrive he does everything he can to present the little beeb with a proper introduction but can't stop getting misty optics and sniffling the whole time. Thankfully the Scavengers are an understanding bunch. Every one of them welcomes their new teammate with a carefully observant Misfire there to ensure they don't risk any kind of damage to the bitlet. Not that he doesn't trust them, but he does know them, so... None of them take it personally. Nickel is spared this oversight, of course, being a responsible bot and a medic more than capable of holding even a proportionally sizable sparkling. One she informs the new Creators is very cute in her proffesional opinion.

·Grimlock gets a special little moment with the new Sire, specifically one in which he gets to truly see how far he's come with his little adopted family now that it's started to grow. Misfire is fully trusting as he hands over the snoozing bitlet, and while the Dinobot is beyond touched, he does indeed hesitate just the tiniest bit. Gigantic servos absolutely dwarf the sparkling when they're settled within. Despite what any bot walking into the room might think, Misfire knows that at this very moment his bitlet is more or less in the safest place in the universe. They seem to be at least somewhat aware of this, as their little tubby cheeks lift up in a smile when they behold the gigantic bot looking down on them, a sight so unimaginably adorable it makes every bot present shed at least a single tear.

·When the rest of the group heads out after leaving a mountain of gifts in their wake, Misfire happily takes the beeb so you can get some sleep, because he at least got some rest when he passed out during emergence. Holding his little one with just the tiniest hint of uncertainty, he spends the night mostly chatting with them in a fully one sided whisper conversation, though he does occasionally get a tiny sound from the sparkling he'll swear is a coherent reply. Understandably, this little one has a lot to catch up on though. He can't help smiling at the thought of all the adventures he's going to be able to brag about to them, and how many you'll all have together once this little one is up and finally walking. There's so much he'll have to teach them too, and somehow that excites him more, knowing you and he will get to help shape this little wonder into the most amazing bot that's ever lived...

[stellacolletore]

08.21.2020

though i would hide it, in my face it still appears (it is true i love) anime: chihayafuru characters: oe kanade, mashima taichi/ayase chihaya summary: with a love like theirs, Kanade’s sure Taichi and Chihaya will be alright. note: covers the events from season 1 (had to rewatch a looot, taichi/kana brotp still the best), seasons 2&3, and my post-queen’s match headcanon (see 7 wonders of mizusawa for details)

i.

President Mashima swipes block over the stalker’s number, and suddenly, Kanade feels things fall into place.

He’s in love with Chihaya-chan.

There isn’t enough room for celebrating her newfound discovery as she laments over the fact that she’s the only one around with eyes that see this. Ergo, she’s the only one who would be knowingly standing along the sidelines, watching wherever the depths of love would take two of her dearest friends. Surely, there’s nothing more frustrating for a lovestruck girl than that.

Chihaya-chan gapes at her phone, totally lost on the purpose behind Prez’s gesture. Kanade sighs.

This love will really take its sweet time, won’t it? 

ii.

He’s just won his most important match to date and still, they find him only thinking of her.

“Chihaya, get up. Let’s go,” Prez is tugging Chihaya-chan’s limp arm, voice tinged with unusual urgency. Dazed at the turn of events, Kanade’s mind is unable to make sense of what’s happening in front of her. The match had gone most unexpectedlyーopening with Prez effectively losing the unnerving level of concentration that has kept him unbeatable throughout four straight games, continuing with the tension (and fault)-filled Class B finals that kept her, Chihaya-chan, and Hanano-san on edge until the last card, and ending with him donning a worried expression in place of a happy one after reaching the long-elusive Class A title.

Her inner voice spells the situation out for her. 

He’s taking her to Wataya-san. Prez thinks Chihaya-chan’s been watching the wrong match, the wrong boy, all along.

That certainly explains the oddly messy game he played with Yamamoto-san. 

But that’s not right.

Kanade’s about to shake him out of his self-sacrificing behavior when Chihaya-chan beats her to it.

“Omedetou, Taichi. Y-You’re Class A now. Congratulations.”

Like mirror, President Mashima’s eyes reflect Chihaya-chan’s glassy ones. Euphoria washes over him as he finally acknowledges his achievement. Kanade wishes she could capture the moment like a photograph, could mark it in long-lasting verses of poetry.

See, Prez? She cares for you just as much. It’s Wataya-san’s big match, too, but she’s only thought of you.

iii.

Prez is playing the game with his heart on the line, and finally, she’s looking at him.

Hanano-san sees this, too. Beside her, Kanade once again admires her kouhai’s pure love, steadfast in the face of heartbreak. It bears the same signature as the President’s, and a twinge of bittersweet feeling swirls in Kanade’s heart. She prays for Hanano-san’s own happiness before bringing back her attention towards the final and most personal match of the Yoshino tournament, sincerely hoping.

Please keep looking, Chihaya-chan. He’s there because of you. President Mashima’s made it there because he loves you.

iv. 

When President Mashima leaves the club, he takes a part of Chihaya-chan with him.

Kanade’s well-aware of what it is, and so she picks up the fallen microphone on the ground, abandoned in the wake of Chihaya-chan rushing out after him. Even though she’s equally left in the dark about Prez’s decision, she understands. That is why, with tears brimming in her eyes, Kanade holds the microphone to her lips, wills her voice not to waver.

You can leave this to us, she thinks, it’ll be alright. 

Needless to say, things are the opposite of alright after that, and soon enough, Chihaya-chan parted ways with the club as well.

Doubt, fear, and helplessness cloud over the remaining members of the Mizusawa Karuta Club now that their sun and moon are missing. Still, Kanade learns to find comfort in the fact that the string of fate tied between President Mashima and Chihaya-chan won’t easily give way. 

A wave of loneliness sweeps her with the chilly night air on the road home. Kanade draws warmth from a poem that sympathizes with her deepest hope of the moment:

Swift waters Parted by jagged rocks Are joined By the river’s end.

v.

Chihaya-chan is a formidable force, poise unbent and passion blazing just as strongly, even in the middle of unmet promises and a missing loved one. 

She pulls them in the classic team huddle. And talks about the fear and the hope she’s been avoiding since he walked out on the club and out of her life. 

“Mashima Taichi, a person who made the karuta club with me, quit the team, but… I believe he will be back someday, maybe years later, or tens of years later. In the meantime, I will become the queen. And...while I wait for him, I will make Mizusawa into a karuta powerhouse like Hokuo Academy…”

The karuta she plays against Wataya-san is one they’ve never seen before, but feels inexplicably familiar. 

It takes Kanade a remainder of the match to realize why. 

Poem 16. 

vi.

President Mashima comes back to fight for the place closest to Chihaya-chan.

In the end, the match went in Wataya-san's favor; leaving everybody in tears at President Mashima’s defeat and Wataya-san’s sincere display of gratitude at the Prez’s valiant effort in playing karuta. 

Kanade just dried her own tears off when she turned towards Chihaya-chan. “P-President Mashima gave it his all, did he not, Chihaya-ch…”

At the sight of the girl before her weeping with strong, bitter tears, Kanade’s thoughts come to a halting stop, untilー

If her tears are indeed for President Mashima,

Then he may just have reached the place closest to Chihaya-chan after all.

vii.

Nobody could believe it.

Chihaya-chan is going for the win, as if she hadn’t been on the brink of losing two matches ago. Taking Wataya-san’s advice of entering her own “arena”, Chihaya-chan played the third and fourth games as Mizusawa’s Ace, pushing the limits of her hard-earned skills and natural talents to get cards for her team. Kanade feels honored to be a part of Chihaya-chan’s strength.

Chihaya-chan swipes the last card at Wakamiya-san’s formation, and just like that, they’re down on the luck of the draw.

Kanade checks the two remaining cards on Chihaya-chan’s side. 

No way. 

There are a hundred cards in karuta, a hundred poems in Hyakunin Isshu, and yet those two cards remained. If this isn’t fate, Kanade doesn’t know what it is.

Kanade looks over at Wataya-san, watching Chihaya-chan’s match after claiming the Meijin title a game ago, and her suspicion is confirmed. The se card belongs to Wataya-san. 

And, of course, the tachi card is Mashima-kun’s.

This is more than sending a card, Kanade realizes. 

Fate is asking Chihaya-chan to choose.

She remembers a strategy Chihaya-chan has always followed as Harada-sensei’s star pupil. 

“Since I’m an offensive karuta player, I would send my special cards to my opponent, and it’s because I want to get some things badly that I would part with them. And I would go into the fight with the resolve to get them no matter what.” 

Chihaya-chan moves to pick up a card.

“Challenger Ayase-san sends ‘tachi wakare’...”

viii. 

“‘Let’s play karuta forever, Taichi’ーSince when?! Ayase-senpai, since when did you like Mashima-senpai? What do you just mean by ‘play’? Is it play, play or play as in let’s date and get married and live happily everーhmhm, mph!” Kanade cuts off Hanano-san’s tirade, noting Chihaya-chan’s rapidly reddening cheeks and startled eyes. “Hanano-san, shouldn’t you congratulate your senpai before anything else?” 

Hanano-san recovers quickly enough, her own cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and says, “Omedetou, Ayase-senpai. You’re incredible.” 

Chihaya-chan merely blinks at them in reply, and Kanade’s instantly worried that her brain has gone haywire after being cornered with Hanano-san’s frank questions. She lays a comforting hand on Chihaya-chan’s arm, thinking about what to say to divert her attention. “Chihaya-chan, Harada-san’s waiting at the break room for you. Shiranami Society’s already throwing a party there, why don’t we goー”

“I just don’t want him to disappear again.” Chihaya-chan’s looking straight at Hanano-san, a mixture of desperation and determination swirling in her eyes. “Apart from chiha, the card that I won’t absolutely let go of is tachi. I want to show him how much I want to get to him by sending and getting the card butー” her eyes start to glisten, her voice shaky, “ーbut he didn’t see me, didn’t he? He’s not here, he’sー”

“Chihaya-chan,” Kanade tries to conjure a warm, reassuring tone. “Don’t worry. If he hadn’t seen youーwhich I highly doubtーthen you’ve just got to show him again, right? You’re an offensive player, Chihaya-chan, I’m sure you won’t give up without a fight.”

Thankfully, those words are enough to quell Chihaya-chan’s despair. She fixes her posture, her resolve following suit, and her eyes twinkle with a newfound passion. She smiles, “Thank you, Kana-chan, Sumire-chan.” 

Kanade beams. President Mashima might have been MIA as of the moment, and Wataya-san is fast approaching with a look that tells he’s about to have a long, overdue talk with Chihaya-chan, but it’s all right. 

With a love like theirs, Kanade’s sure Taichi and Chihaya will be alright.

[thesinglesjukebox]

HATCHIE - STAY WITH ME [8.08] The album's called Keepsake, and it's one we might want to hang on to...

Ian Mathers: I don't care what the lyrics say when you look them up, in the moment of listening I cannot decide each time whether "Stay With Me" starts with "it's all better, now you're gone" or "it's no better". I don't think the song can decide either. It's far from the first song to have that sort of power, just like the drum machine-and-synth, loop-and-swoop approach, while beautiful here, isn't exactly new. But I've heard dozens of songs like this (some even by Hatchie) since the last time one made me feel the way "Stay With Me" is making me feel right now. And isn't that maybe the only true miracle of pop music: that mere human beings can make "just another song," one that on the surface isn't that different than a bunch of others we merely like, and yet it can hit us just as profoundly, as heartwrenchingly bittersweet, as hopefully, as this one is hitting me right now? I could write an essay about the things in my life "Stay With Me" connects up to, people and times and places and songs, but it wouldn't make much sense to anyone else even if it wasn't incredibly, tiresomely self indulgent. But the experience I've been having with "Stay With Me" is among other things a reminder of the worth of staying connected and engaged with the world, in art as in all things, and not just going back to listen to all the things I already love instead. The chances of any other given human being having this reaction to this particular song today ("if I met you in a different moment/if I met you would I be this broken?") are small, sure, maybe even tiny. But god, I hope we all get to keep having those moments, and that we recognize the wonder of them in each other. [10]

Katherine St Asaph: I know this was written as a deliberate experiment in writing a pop song (or so they say; I too have claimed my paychecks as experiments), and thus I know the exact places the mechanics are there to get you (unending wistful chords, the yearning "Everything Is Embarrassing" vocal, with an octave jump exactly where it needs to happen), and the places the mechanics clank a bit too loud (the ending sags before the [perfect] bridge; "I'm not done / I've come undone" is kind of circular, kind of on its own nose). It's also been out for months. But the second time I heard this song it just happened to catch me at the exact moment of flood of memory, of accreted stupid unrequited crushes and breakups and failures and regrets, until I was in tears in a cab, which is really the ideal setting to hear this song. [9]

Edward Okulicz: Oh god, this hits me so hard in my heart, it hurts. "Stay With Me" would have been incredible had it been sung by someone like Foxes as a glass-shattering EDM epic, and it would have been incredible done as a shoegaze number by an alternative universe Lush, but it's also perfect as it is, midway between those two extremes. The lyrics are simple, but they're no more complicated than they need to be. It's some heavy-duty yearning but at the same time it's as light as air. I want to go dancing somewhere this is playing and stare down at my sneakers all night. [10]

Ashley Bardhan: This feels like pretty straightforward dream pop. Super soupy, drowsy vocals over a synth loop. It's very fine, very reminiscent of making out with a 23-year-old mattress boy named DYLAN. [6]

Julian Axelrod: Hatchie's ability to craft grand, immersive synthscapes is impressive, rivaled only by her commitment to pushing semi-formed lyrical conceits past the four-minute mark. [6]

Will Adams: There's a heartbreaking circularity to the lyrics ("you're the one who's won"; "I'm not done/I've come undone") that nails the sense of uncontrollable spinning that comes from an unrequited love. The vacillation between confidence and doubt, the paper-thin façade of indifference, the endless what-ifs and agonizing of what could have been had the cards fallen differently: they all add up to a devastating crush song that, despite never resolving, nonetheless sounds like a massive, necessary release. [9]

Alex Clifton: Drenched in reverb, gorgeous synths and a lovely vocal line, and feels like a beautiful dream. It sounds like the end of a movie where there's a montage of the main characters heading off into the sunset, unsure of their futures but exchanging significant looks with one another. I hope this blows up, makes it big, becomes as iconic as it sounds -- everyone needs to hear this song. [8]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: With a sturdy and prominent drum loop, "Stay With Me" brings to mind My Bloody Valentine's "Soon" and the sped-up Zeppelin sample on Chapterhouse's "Pearl." The key difference is how Hatchie's vocals are always front and center, clear enough that each word can permeate every synth pad and twangy guitar line and snappy kick drum with a melange of hopeful desperation and knowing despair. That spacious, ever-comfortable void that her voice rests inside reveals itself to be a place of unnerving contemplation. Despite this, Hatchie convinces you that this purgatorial dream state is far more desirable than the living Hell that is life spent all alone. [9]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The art of the fadeout is an intentionally obscure one. It's the art of making the encroachment of silence into an instrument of its own, of stretching a song's end into a beautiful eternity. "Stay With Me" has a gorgeous fade-out, ending in a heartbeat of a drumtrack as its shoe-gaze-leaning guitars depart, but it in itself feels like a fadeout, taking the dying hopes of some vaguely sketched relationship and letting them sprawl out before you. It takes a while to get going (it didn't click for me until the bridge), but it's the kind of song that deserves your patience. [7]

Alfred Soto: So THIS is the synth pop bauble that Chvrches have failed to write for six years? It stinks of the past, peeks through v-shaped fingers at the future, and in Hatchie's sweet lies ("It's so better now you're gone") an ever-present present. [8]

Joshua Copperman: The tedious, nearly bass-less first half of "Stay With Me" surprised me, especially as so many TSJ colleagues were raving about this song. The lyrics are concise without being cliché, the production is a mostly interesting mix of Madchester drums and modern dream-pop, but I'm left living someone else's nostalgia. Like Snail Mail and other, similar acts, I'm an outsider for not having the same childhood as every other music writer. That doesn't make this a bad song: Once the live drums and harmonies kick in at 2:51, it becomes difficult not to fall in love with the song. But even that is probably because it evokes my own nostalgia -- it sounds like "Wake Up," and not the "Wake Up" indie rockers used to reference. (A bit like this pre-"Radioactive" Imagine Dragons song too, which I loved when I was 15.) And I still remain locked out; the YouTube comments claim that "listening to this song feels like being in a club on ecstasy in the 90's." But really, this feels like hearing someone else remember that oft-reminisced-upon time period, reminding me once more that things were apparently better before I got here. [6]

Vikram Joseph: From sixth form through much of my twenties, I thought I didn't really like dancing; far too late, I realised I just hated having to fake it in bleak, sticky-floored provincial or university clubs, damp with straight machismo and broken dreams. These days, I can lose my shit to "Dancing On My Own" and "Make Me Feel" in queer spaces I feel safe and happy in, and that's wonderful. It stings, though, to have missed out on a kind of transcendence I feel like I should have experienced on the cusp of adulthood, and "Stay With Me" speaks directly, powerfully to that part of me. Those "Born Slippy" synths feel soft-focus and hazy like inebriated happiness itself; Hatchie's vocals in the middle eight feel like they're grasping for something intangible and impossible, chasing every lost night and doomed love into the first glow of sunrise. This is slow-motion, tear-streaked disco-ball euphoria to remind you of nights you're not quite sure belong to you or to cinema; a fever-dream summer dance anthem that makes me believe that the perfect places we have always aspired to are eminently real, flickering in spaces that our younger selves could never have imagined existed. [9]

Iris Xie: When I review songs, I repeat them in order to sink in their atmosphere and be flooded into their sentiments, because otherwise, it doesn't come clear to me. In this discovery process, I often find myself compelled to sing and ad lib along. For "Stay With Me," at 2:50, I found myself unconsciously singing the bridge when the midpoint of the kicks off into the instrumental, specifically these two lines: "If I met you in a different moment/If I met you, would I be this broken?" I kept singing these two lines over and over again as each repeat occurs, and then I realized that the bridge is the verbal personification of the instrumental, and it is the underlying sentiment that drives all the stark, urgent confessions, so naked in their desperation and knowing that it is futile and they won't be heard, but nevertheless, they must be said. This stands in contrast with the first two lines, which put on such a brave face that contains a bitter heart: "It's all better now you're gone/It's all better on my own." When you sing these lyrics over each other, the synths are so lively and comforting in this melancholy and blend together with warm guitar strums, and solid drums to illuminate these sentiments. Hatchie is in pain from having to deal with such a broken void, and the vibrant singing of the bridge contrasts with the reluctant, forlorn sentiment of the initial verse, so it actually reads: "It's all better now you're gone/If I met you in a different moment/If I met you would I be this broken/It's all better on my own." Even though Hatchie acknowledges it feels wrong, saying "stay with me" is the balm that she settles on to ease this pain of her lover's departure because she's responsible for this pain. The beautiful part about the instrumental is that it reminds me of why music, and art overall, is so deeply important: when one is able to access the space of these heartfelt emotions, and to use the tools at your disposal to create the specific weight and textures of those experiences, it also can help give shape to those who are also feeling these certain ways, and allowing them to release and transmit it. I've shied away from my own private embarrassment and shame about this exact situation for years, and have only recently started talking about it with my therapist and supportive friends, but yesterday, I allowed myself to look through old journals and communications about that relationship. In reality, I never allowed myself to feel comfortable with the endless weight of these emotions and regrets, for I never wanted to be haphazard about the textures of this experience, even in making art about it. I feared it'd only sour the reality and aggravate my anxieties about people not taking the level of pain I had seriously and mocking it. Putting myself in that impossible situation for not wanting to mar those moments, I shut it down for the past few years. But I've had to let those similar feelings wash over me in the past few months to create art and even give justice to the reviews that I want to give on TSJ and elsewhere, so now I have to acknowledge that buried sadness. I no longer feel shame about that plaintive way to express my emotions about those situations, for this song's fuzzy, warm haze of disorientation is so familiar, and now I trust myself to just go, which is what I did with this review today. I guess that's one reason why pop is so lovely -- a salve for private hearts, not ready to debut, until they are. It's clear now. [8]

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