#i read comics and stuff like this out loud so i can have some confidence

[sasaleletrebol]

Posting this here too because I can

Credits to I don't know I found these in Google sorry. This is just a shitpost

[bbunnieee]

Bif Taylor Hc’s (BULLY)

(js to say this rq, i had decided to write a couple of hcs for Bully characters starting with bif because the fandom is DEAD butt i kinda have no experience in writing n stuff, so i’ll learn as i go :). )

“Not cool man, not cool.” - BT

Regular

- starting off, i do see him having brothers, not sure why i just thought of it and it seem like it fits. him being the like the second youngest or something, and having older brothers that tease him back to back (because it’s what brothers do) and younger ones that just get on his nerves fits him to me somehow. (plus goes along with another hc i have)

- He’s gotten teased/bullied since like 7th grade. and that same school year is when he’s actually gotten into boxing and started bulking up because of his more scrawny figure. and when he was confident enough, he actually stood up to his bully’s and began talking back to his brothers when they’d tease him and been left alone ever since. (besides by his brothers)

- he’s lowk condescending. like he only is really that way if he doesn’t know you. but once he does get to know you and is more comfortable being around you, he drops the attitude and acts how he really is,

- nerd.?? I only say this because i imagine him liking comics, books, video games, and star wars. now the comics he likes are just DC with his favorite character being batman,(he’s literally batman in his mind/j) but he’d read some marvel but only for spider man, deadpool and maybe hulk. and he’d like games like gta, resident evil, silent hill and just popular games with storylines. as also i imagine him liking star wars for a longg time, so he’d probably watch it for a nostalgia type feel.

- sneakerhead. At home he has hundreds of all types of shoes waiting to be worn in his large closet (i just had thought of him being a sneakerhead. i mean like he’s rich isn’t he? plus the dialogue in the game he says “cool kicks!” complementing jimmy on his shoes so just imagineeee)

- dimples.!!

- i’m not saying he’s obsessed with school drama/gossip but he might as well be. once he hears something , definitely expect derby and pinky to know.. no gossip nor drama goes untouched by him. (but according to bif you didn’t hear it from him yk)

- hes more “street smart” than “book smart”. he has average, decent, passing grades, but the other preps (besides pinky) would ask him about “slang” or terms that they naturally wouldn’t know.

- dude can be meann. like really mean, he’s heard things from his brothers and bullies so putting that stuff together is brutal. depending on how sensitive the person is he can send someone like algie crying in a bathroom stall just by his words. or if your not as sensitive, you’ll at least be thinking about what he said for a good while.

- he actually respects old people very much. literally the type to walk a old person across the street then continue to fight a guy on the street for messing with a poor old woman.

- dry ah texter. he prefers irl convos and facetime so a texting convo would definitely be something like:

y/n: heyy bifff

bif: hi

y/n: wyd rn?

bif: nothing

y/n: i’ve got plans tmr if you wanna tag along?

bif: nope, i got plans too. bye

and yea.

- usually the quiet type, but when it’s a actual conversation going on he’s pretty funny.

- randomly says his outta pocket thoughts out loud, it’s pretty much a habit for him to just be like “i wonder how many 7 year olds i can beat up” and that’s that.

- smartass

- perfect ah teeth

- snores soooo fucking loud that you wouldn’t believe it. can literally hear him 3 doors down if the walls aren’t thick enough.

- likes rap, especially 90s rap but he’ll listen to new gen rap as long as it’s not mumble rap (he js might still listen to mumble rap at times)

- batman for halloween

- i forgot to add this- but i feel like he sometimes adds his 2 cents during awkward situations, or if not already awkward, he makes it awkward

Dating

- he is a simpp. literally will do anything for you. To taking his dads credit card to spoil you, Beat up people giving you a hard time or just scaring them off, and to just sneaking in your dorm to talk for hours

- he doesn’t do PDA really, but he will kiss you and play in your hair. or even whisper sweet things in your ear just to see you giggle or just smile

- he’d literally beg his dad to get his own car just so he can take you to even nicer places for dates

- he invites you to his house for dinner often and gets his cook to make your favorite foods

- (for girls) i’d think he isn’t around women a lot besides his nanny, pinky and some classmates he sits next to. but that’s about it. so when he first started dating you, pinky and his nanny were the ones he went to for advice, and so he basically did what they recommended just because he didn’t want to lose you as you were his first real and actual partner.

- his flirting isn’t actually bad.. i mean he’d hear his more experienced brothers say all types of things to girls, and he’d just try it on you and it works.

- let’s say bif is with a greaser.. he definitely wouldn’t see that coming at all. Bif taylor dating a greaser.. he probably be a bit hesitant showing you off with the preps (derby) simply because of the things they might say to you and he wouldn’t want someone he loves to hear that. but eventually he tells them something like “that’s y/n my partner,” and leaves it at that

- definitely needs validation and affection in the relationship.

End.

lmk how i did ‼️

[iamvegorott]

Meeting A Magical Man Pt. 48

Part 1: Link Prev: Link Next: Link

Marvin appeared inside his house at the back door, peeking through the window and seeing Mad sitting on the porch, knees tucked up to his chest. He sighed in relief at Chase being correct and sent a quick text before opening the door. 

“Mad?” Marvin sat down next to him, trying to look at his face. 

“This isn’t fair to Mare.” Mad’s voice was soft. 

“Not fair to Mare?”

“I didn’t mean to take off like that, but I…”

“Got scared?” Marvin finished the sentence, and Mad just nodded. “Why are you scared?”

“What if…What if I can’t be what Mare wants? Or what he needs?” Mad let his knees drop. “You and Phantom are so loud and confident, and you know what you’re doing, and I’m just…I’m clueless.”

“You’re not completely clueless.” Marvin snapped his fingers, casting a spell to open his fridge and bring them some drinks. 

“I am. I am oblivious to anything sexual, and it’s not fair to put Mare through that. I’m not good enough for him.” 

“Being oblivious to sexual stuff doesn’t make you not good enough.” Marvin took one of the canned coffees while handing Mad the other. “It just means you need a little guidance and help if you want to have sex. You don’t even have to. Some people don’t, and they still have loving relationships.” 

“I do. Mare’s, like, really attractive, and I-.” Mad’s face went red at his cut-off confession, and he quickly opened his coffee and took a drink to try to hide from it. Marvin couldn’t help giggling before speaking.

“It’s obvious that Mare likes you, too. Nothing is holding you back from just going for it.”

“Everyone has held me back from it.” Mad’s voice dropped into a sad whisper. 

“What do you mean?”

“I’m…I’m not normal, Marvin.”

“Have you met who’s living in this house right now? None of us are.” 

“That’s not…I…I’ve been surrounded by people who’ve treated me like hearing the word ‘sex’ would make me explode. Even back in school, during ‘the talk’, I was taken out of the room because they were worried that I’d get messed up learning about where babies came from. I had to learn all of that on my own. I didn’t even know what a condom was until after I graduated from high school.” Mad was staring off as he spoke. His words came out on their own, like he had no control over them. “I had no friends because they all thought I was weird. I didn’t get their jokes, so they left me alone. I just focused on school when I finally accepted that no one liked me and never would. I knew math equations that made my teacher’s heads spin. I’ve had the entire periodic table memorized since the fifth grade. I know pi up to the thousandth digit. And yet I just learned who Spider-Man is because Jackie was reading one of his comics on the couch the other day.” Mad’s voice cracked, and he finally looked at Marvin. “My own mother only ever kissed my cheek before she passed. I never met my father, so he was no help. I was kept away as a child, and I continued to hide even after I went out on my own because I don’t fit in.” He sniffed as tears started to form. “That was my first kiss. My first kiss happened because I was scared of being seen trying to learn about love and sex through fictional books.” Mad tried to put his coffee down but missed the edge of the porch, and it fell to the ground. That seemed to be the final straw before the tears finally started rolling down his cheeks. “I don’t want to hurt Mare because I’m a fucking mess.” 

“Oh, honey.” Marvin set his drink aside, and he pulled Mad into a hug. “You’re not going to hurt Mare. He likes you because he likes you.” 

“I don’t even know who I am.” Mad wrapped his arms around Marvin and hugged him back. 

“Yes, you do. You’re stubborn and smart and got one hell of a sassy mouth.” Marvin listed with a little chuckle, gently rubbing the top of Mad’s head, fingers going through his hair to help soothe him. 

“I’m a danger to everybody whenever I have emotions.” 

“No, you’re not. You’re a magic user that needs a mentor that doesn’t suck literal ass. I was the same and ended up with Dark, but that’s not going to happen to you. You’re getting the help you deserve, and you’re going to be happy.” 

“That last part sounded like a threat.” Mad weakly chuckled. 

“It’s a promise. I’m also stubborn, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure everything works out how it should. We also have Chase and Mare to help, so we’re already at an advantage.” Marvin looked down and smiled at seeing Mad looking at him. 

“Thank you,” Mad whispered, and Marvin felt like he was about to cry as well. 

Maybe he’d be a fine mentor after all. 

“They’re out back. They’ll be here soon.” Chase’s voice came from inside the house. 

“Is all okay?” Henrik asked. 

“It’s complicated.”

“Looks like Henrik’s here.” Marvin patted Mad’s head before letting him go. “Are you going to be okay to go in there? Do you want to see Mare?” 

“I do.” Mad sniffed and tried to clean his face with the back of his hand. Marvin giggled and pulled a handkerchief from one of his pockets. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t you ever forget that you’re strong and smart as fuck. Have some confidence and show Mare that you like him too.” 

“Confidence,” Mad repeated.

“Let’s go.” Marvin stood up and offered his hand. Mad smiled and let Marvin help him to his feet. They went into the house and saw Henrik, Edward, Robbie, Chase, and Mare in the living room, all talking to each other.

“Confidence,” Marvin said when he saw Mad hesitate. Mad swallowed, took a deep breath, and did a quick nod before going into the living room and straight to Mare. 

“Mad, I-” Mare barely got any words out when Mad grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. 

“Get it!” Marvin cheered while the others looked very confused. Chase turned to Marvin and just gestured as his question of what happened. Marvin just mouthed ‘later’. 

“Hi,” Mad said when he pulled away. 

“Hi?” Mare echoed with a shocked laugh and smile. 

“So? Is this what the important thing is? Them finally getting together?” Henrik asked. 

“It’s probably about the whole Chase threatening to shoot Anti, us getting out of our contracts, and me almost getting choked to death last week,” Mad said casually. 

“What!?” 

----------

Tags: @brokentimewatch @bookwormscififan @d-structive @rainymae523 @ashtonisvibing

[writernopal]

Get To Know My OC - Pt. 5

I was tagged by @dogmomwrites here, thanks so much!

Hoo boy it's been a while since I've done this one! Yeah, you read that right, this is part 5! I have parts 1-4 from forever ago that I did for the main cast of AASOAF, Mariel, Axtapor, Fay, and Wilkes. You can find their posts by clicking their names if you're curious to check them out!

SO this time we'll go with the cast from M.O.W, starting with Lexlar!

There are two loud voices in the hall just outside. They banter to each other with ample familiarity and in a language you’ve never heard before. Curiously, though, you only hear one set of footsteps. Was the other voice perhaps coming from a listening stone or some other similar device? No, that wouldn’t make any sense. That second voice is too loud for it to come from something like— The door flies open and your eyes widen as you see the man that steps through. He’s a giant! Tall, broad, admittedly top-heavy, and probably three times as thick as you, constructed of pure muscle and scars. He throws his arms wide and beams the brightest smile in your direction. “Oi, look at ye! Nay know ye proper, but I reckon I’ll take a shine to ye just fine!” His voice thunders around the room as if he’s completely unaware that he’s not in some kind of arena or other loud outdoor equivalent. He strides over, an impressive confidence in each step, dropping his arms to slap the sides of his legs loudly before extending a hand to you. “Been Bosun Lexlar. Pleasure to meet ye!” You put your hand in his after giving him your name and you wonder if it was some kind of mistake to do so. He nearly crushes it in his grip, completely unaware of your pained grimace. He gives you a satisfied slap on the shoulders and takes his seat across from you, eager to begin.

1. Are you named after anyone?

Nay nothin' like 'at. He replies with a pleasant smile.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Ah! Why talk 'bout the somber, ey? Give me 'nother.

3. Do you have kids?

Nay, gotta gift wi' 'em though. Tykes take a shine to me like because I act as they do. He replies with a sheepish look.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Oh aye. He responds with a comical sort of frown. Get's a rise right quick outta Hartim! He laughs, as he fetches a few leaves from his pocket and stuffs them in his lip.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Mmm. He thinks as he chews. Their mouths, 'haps? Ye can spot a lie right quick if ye look close 'nough.

6. What’s your eye color?

Bronze. Color o' strength! He declares proudly as he flexes a single bicep and gives it a few slaps.

7. Scary Stories or Happy Endings?

Oh, happy endin's. He replies almost immediately. Life nay been long for most, best to gather what joy ye can from yer years.

8. Any special talents?

If'n a wager been at hand, then aye, I have any talent ye can imagine!

9. Where were you born?

City o' Hantaph in The Heartlands o' The Empire proper. He says with a measure of pride but there is something melancholy in his tone.

10. What are your hobbies?

Gamblin'! Been a right thrill. He nods to himself, very pleased with his answer by the looks of it.

11. Do you have any pets?

Had a jungle cat when I been a recruit in the Reserves. Near bit my finger off. He raises his right hand, pointing to his crooked pinky. Let the fucker go 'fter 'at.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

Never been one for sport. 'Less I be placin' a wager on it. He laughs, pushing the leaves to the other side of his mouth.

13. How tall are you?

6’10”. Colossal thin' as my Pa, Kava rest 'im.

14. Favorite subject in school?

Ah, I been shite at books. Nay liked any o' it. He laughs.

15. Dream job?

He thinks for a long while, rubbing the spot on the tip of his snout between his nostrils. Suppose it nay matters, long as there been adventure promised.

Tagging (gently): @tabswrites @void-botanist @writingmaidenwarrior @pheita and anyone else who wants to do this!

M.O.W Taglist: @moonluringfrost @writeblr-of-my-own @illjustpretend @sparatus @outpost51

Join/leave the taglist using this Google Form.

[runninguplenorahills]

Hi!! I was wondering, if you could hang out with any Stranger Things character for a day who would it be and what would you do? I hope you have an awesome day!!!

Ohhh, thank you so much for this ask <3🌟

This is such a tricky question because:

Will

Will and I would probably paint together. It’d be all nice and quiet and relaxing because I literally cannot multitask hahah. I’m too distracted to talk. But we’d listen to music for sure! Anything Will likes because his taste in music is elite! And afterwards we’d tell each other more about our paintings, read comics, play a board game together and maybe also catch a movie.

Mike

Mike and I would definitely write something together! He loves writing fantastical dnd campaigns and I love to write silly fairytale parodies with my friends as the main characters so this is the perfect activity for us! We could maybe write two separate stories and read them to each other afterwards which will probably be hilarious! We’d have a sleepover so after our story writing session we would play super mario (I’m gonna lose so bad) together and watch Star Wars.

Dustin

Dustin and I would 100% go on a curiosity voyage together! We’d get hooked on a topic and race our bikes to the library to get all the books we need to learn absolutely everything about that topic! We’d also make a detour to the grocery store to buy anything nougat and then we’d literally spend the whole day researching stuff. As a reward for our hard work we’d go get ice cream afterwards.

Lucas

Lucas and I would without a doubt play basketball together! I always loved basketball and I’m pretty good at it too, still I wouldn’t stand a chance against Lucas hahaha. We’d also play different variations of the game and come up with our own games. Afterwards we’d go to the arcade together and basically spend all our money.

Max

Max and I would probably go to a skate park together. I’m really good on inline skates, good on roller skates and ok on the actual skateboard so I’d have some options to choose from haha. I’ll probably go with the inline skates. And we’d skate around Hawkins as if we’re going for a walk (only definitely faster) until we arrive at the skate park. Max would be doing some tricks while I’d almost die on the half pipe but yeah, it’ll be fun! And we can switch too so Max helps me with getting more confident on the skateboard and I help her with the inline skates. Afterwards we’d 100% have a sleepover together! Play boardgames, talk about comics and watch some movie that Max would never admit she likes.

El

El and I would have a self care day together. We’d make our hair, paint our nails, go shopping, pick out weird outfits for each other and have a blast bothering every other customer with being too loud, go get milkshakes, go get smoothies, go for a walk, rent a movie, eat triple decker eggo extravaganzas, watch tv, read magazines, take those quizzes in magazines, and that’d conclude the day.

I’m only putting the party as options for this one but even with only the six of them it’s difficult to decide!! I think I’ll choose Max or Mike though tbh!👀

[aranarumei]

i'm still reeling over this. at least now i'm reeling with... let's call these annotations, but they're not that highbrow. commentary? commentary. read at your own risk. all typos are my own, as are all failures of comprehension and/or eloquence.

he kind of doesn’t know why he does it, didn’t really take the time to think about it. all he knows is that the time read 2:41 a moment ago and changed the second shirahama’s voice crackled over the phone, “what?”

first sentence and so many things to say already. tashiro immediately so strongly characterized by acting before he thinks, and the moment itself happens in this cluttered, scattershot sentence, bridging together the reflection the action and shirahama’s dialogue all in one. Full approval to the disregard for conventional dialogue tags. not only does the lapslock allow you more leniency just by being what it is, keeping all this stuff in one paragraph really sells the surprise and fluidity of the moment. 

tashiro squeezes his eyes shut, groggily rubbing a thumb over quick-drying salt at the outer corner of his eye. “just dreamed about hanzawa senpai dying on me.” 

“…” shirahama breathes in; tashiro can hear him hold it. similarly, the sound of his hand being dragged over his face is crisp and loud.

finally, he says, “fascinating.” 

this exchange is so awesome. not just saying this because shirahama saying fascinating like that is totally how I talk, but it’s like. there’s a deliberate casualness to the whole situation. The way tashiro phrases it like it’s something weird, nothing more. The way he’s not crying, those aren’t tears—we’ll just reference “quick-drying salt”. shirahama’s silent but exasperated in a kind of comical, gag-like way. it just manages the tone so well. it’s serious, in some senses—in a lot of others, they’re just highschoolers. it’s kind of a comedy. that doesn’t make it any better or worse. 

could go for a vending machine drink, yeah, but he hasn’t had the chance to yet. hard to sneak out of club when you’re the president. harder still when you’ve got a nosy little ghost creeping over your shoulder about it.

not that anyone’s dead. that was a metaphor. the ball’s put back in play. tashiro’s mind wanders back outward.

placing all this introspection in the context of playing ping pong is SO good. also hanzawa as a ghost. really good. love how tashiro’s maybe inherited some of that sadism but he’s still very himself as club president. points to tashiro for the correct usage of the word “metaphor”.  

started keeping a personal score of how many piercings he’s got to compare against the cagey answers he gets when he asks the question, Hey, senpai, how many piercings have you got now? 

just feel like letting u know that when i first read this at 4am or whatever my insomniac self opened it’s mouth and replied, Hey, Tashiro, why don’t you bite his ear and find out? 

tashiro gonzaburou is curious about hanzawa masato and wants to know things about him. 

this sentence is so good like. you’ve showed this already but just saying things so plainly is. it’s good. hits hard, because it’s a sentence that’s so simple it’s almost over-sincere. 

someone who had piercings before and more piercings after, and likes milk tea, and will not turn down a favor asked of him no matter how many other favors he’s doing already. 

such a choice thing to pick as tashiro’s last hanzawa description. like, the other stuff we know, but it’s like… all those details, the 100-person groupchat, the milk tea, the piercings… we, the audience, know it because of tashiro. and like this thing about favors is… it’s implied, sure, but the confidence in which tashiro states this suggests some kind of like. personal involvement. his voice message about wanting hanzawa to sleep. of course you know this, dirtbra1n. you wrote it, and you’re a genius worthy of any inner circle. 

a weird senpai who decided out of the blue one day to finally hammer in that last nail in tashiro’s custom-made president-shaped coffin. 

i feel so crazy about this description. like, as far as weird senpai go, tashiro has two. the coffin is custom-made, like it’s meant for one person, but it’s president-shaped, which isn’t just the one shape. but it’s a special, unique kind of coffin nonetheless. like i know you address this at the end of the scene, but it’s so awesome how this sentence so perfectly leads you into thinking like… oh, that’s hanzawa, tashiro’s special senpai… sike! 

ping—pong—ping-pong-PING—PONG. “ha-HA!”

so obsessed with this. like the formatting conveying the increasing intensity of a volley in ping pong, and then crucially, that rush of excitement as a win. it’s so like—in the middle of a really introspective bit, tashiro’s natural charm and excitement spark into sight. 

tashiro, spooling thought back up as neatly as he can the table’s net, clocks two corrections to make.

yeah this line fucks. that spooling phrase, that’s so awesome. how’d u know I like zeugmas. 

sat with his legs criss-crossed on unfinished stone, knife getting weaved through idle fingers, tashiro watches up the river. 

thinking about this. tashiro’s the butcher. he’s the one with the knife, but he’s not like… ruthless. he’s idle. you’ve used the term weave—like butchery is a kind of domestic work. (skipped the playlist forward to put on butcher vanity for this one. just for fun. will borrow a lyric from that song and call this an “aortic work of art”.) the stone is unfinished, because they are. he’s looking upstream, for something to arrive towards him. not for something drifting downstream and away. 

he’s sat for three more blinks before he hears one solitary CRACK, maybe a musket, some kind of old-timey gun for sure, and falls back with a hole in his forehead. 

this just makes me think of tashiro buying that gun on his school trip. it also makes me think of. well. that taisho era au, but… well. won’t that kill me, too? oh also perfect sonic description as always. i love how your writing utilizes sound and onomatopoeia in particular. 

hanzawa senpai, spoken of by the devil, is here in front of him, and he looks… 

wordless feelings about the way you’ve decided to mess with the phrase “speak of the devil” into spoken of by. it’s doing untold damage to me. it’s also a decidedly sinister kind of descriptor, which contrasts with the following description in a painful way. 

scared. big shoulders shuddering a little, strong arms connected to shapely, masculine, trembling hands, toned legs tense enough to break into a run, handsome face almost hidden in full, half-dozen piercings in his ear, at least, glinting.

this description is SO. tashiro’s assessment reveals so much. the way he describes hanzawa as attractive all while cataloguing his fear. the way he specifically does this in a way that highlights hanzawa’s masculinity, and we know tashiro’s kind of got some gender things going on— 

and you pull back from all of that with the hiding, of the face, and the assessment of his ear piercings once again; he’s keeping score. 

“tashiro-kun,” he says. tashiro startles. feels a little stupid after. hanzawa senpai raises his head enough to look at tashiro’s face, sort of. “how are you?” 

this is something i have to steal (learn) from again. tashiro’s actions are neatly caught between hanzawa’s dialogue instead of breathing in their own paragraph. it makes the moment feel tight, intimate. 

it’s not really an answer to his question when hanzawa senpai says, plainly, lightheartedly, his eyes sliding shut and that smile pulling at his lips, “I’m doing bad.” 

would love to know what tashiro means by that smile. the fact that i don’t know is proof of tashiro Knowing things, though, and that’s really cool. Neat to see how they unintentionally mirror each other, though. like, hanzawa’s saying this like it’s a drink order. tashiro recalls hanzawa dying in his dreams like it’s a bit of whatever, too. both are a kind of non-confrontation. 

“I like someone.”

oh, wow. “I didn’t know you could do that.” 

this is fucking hilarious by the way. like i laughed out loud in sharp delight when i read this line. tashiro describes the silence before this statement like a black hole and once he gets the words he goes oh, wow. it’s comedy. tears in my eyes. 

he’s home and wearing one less shoe than he was a second ago when a big long reel of spooled memory barrels over him.

he’s wearing no shoes when he says, out loud, “Wait.” 

this is also so funny. I mean the reaction is vague, but seeing where it’s placed, i have to imagine this is tashiro going: wait, hanzawa senpai likes someone. the recurring use of the spool, and the mundane of taking off his shoes as he’s grappling with something potentially catastrophic—it’s amazing. 

embrace it. go into the water, take hold of his wrist before he plunges under, go down with him. pull him into your chest before you can think better of it. 

[head in hands] there’s two different kinds of embracing going on here. also really good usage of the second person. it makes everything feel so instinctive. like it’s a command from the soul. 

senpai’s warmth clings stubbornly to your chest—he’s far from small, so the temperature feels like a botched seam in your subconscious; pressure from the inside and out, water pressure compressing you to one single, massive point of contact. 

“botched seam in your subconscious” what an incredible turn of phrase. the way you’ve used this water pressure to both obscure and amplify the language of touch and sensation of temperature… there’s water pressure, and then the pressure of contact, the warmth of someone against yourself… 

you won’t see the glossy stone you rocket into; only hear the sickening crack. 

love how this mirrors the previous. the CRACK of a gunshot and now the crack of glossy stone. 

I’ve played a game like this before, you know. girl insists on cleaning up all on her own and she gets—

shirahama undercutting this situation is so. it’s like. the way it’s a game, like something that can be gamed, and solved. the way mr. dating sim is referencing like. a horror event. the way the horror event is what gets mentioned, here, alongside the drowning and the dead. that’s what it is. also i love that you introduce this here and not at the moment of tashiro in the classroom, which is debatably more relevant. 

sopping wet, tashiro says, “this is so gross.”

worse than wet, a gnarly broken… everything, replies, “you’re telling me.”

they’re soooo funny. twirls hair. gross, tashiro says. I’m reading this as that crack of stone. hanzawa’s probably bruised/bleeding to death. probably already is, but he’s dream-talking. gross, because they’re children, and because tashiro is blunt like that. 

jolts, pitches, watches his heart plummet. watches himself plummet, too.

love how this mirrors the dream, with the plummeting… makes the horror feel real for us, too. 

he gives the classroom a courtesy sweep. 

love the wordplay in this. sweeping like looking for intruders but also sweeping because he’s holding a broom so might as well sweep the floors. it’s what those things are made to do. 

the cold has a numbing, vicious bite to it. the sound of his shoes on cement and old, dead, dry grass is deafeningly loud cutting through the still. 

just. really good words. can you tell i’m having a hard time getting the proper words to appreciate it. because i am. it’s just like… the words you use are so cood at conveying a feeling of death… apart from the dead grass, it’s dry and old like a skeletal thing, and the cold is numbing, cement is unforgiving, and there’s a still. it’s just such a good job in terms of evoking non-motion. 

it’s not his or shirahama’s genre, but tashiro feels eerily like the protagonist of one of those first-person horror games. crunching and slipping, no good foothold. he swallows stiffly; his collar, pressed up against his adam’s apple, is too tight. 

noted tashiro girlisms enjoyer is not going to be normal about the collar pressing against his adam’s apple. that protagonist shirahama mentioned was a girl. 

shadow of the moon, not much else to look at. he takes a picture to send shirahama, accompanies it with a text that reads have u gone outside today

they’re so friends. absolutely the type of people to make fun of each other like this. love how quickly shirahama reads him in response. also “not much to look at” yeah i’m going to go crazy about how it’s just the shadow you see. 

still unstained, tashiro squints wearily at his reflection in the cleaver’s face. 

tashiro as butcherrrrrr. really good. again i love how its unstained, and not like. no blood. you’re so good at being vague in a really pointed way. 

ta—shi—ro—kuuun. tashiro cradles his phone in his hands as he goes back down the hall. are you free? I know it’s late.

hanzawa drawing out tashiro’s name like this will never not get me. it’s the stringing out of the name and then the consideration, the admission of the time. why is he so weird!!!! like the way he says that name, it suggests this kind of… play, playfulness, right, like he’s yanking tashiro’s chain, and then he moves right out of that space but the past doesn’t disappear. 

at one point or another, he takes the cleaver to old wood.

you know. this doesn’t make me think butcher. this makes me think woodcutter. like a folk hero. 

tashiro’s looking down at hanzawa senpai standing in a dried up waterway with a trash claw in his hand. 

really good line. waterway—river—dried up and dead. last uses of the word “claw” have been used to describe the creeping edge of paranoia. now it’s just this mundane thing hanzawa’s holding. if I’m crazy I say it’s representative of how he keeps distance. you can’t touch the trash with your hands. 

tashiro’s been calling so long his voice has gone raw, rumblier, and hanzawa masato hears it through the din of blood in his ears and static behind his eyes and he croaks, so quiet, reverent, out of his mind, “god?” 

god… i love how blurred everything gets here. they’re texting, tashiro’s alone in the school, hanzawa’s there, he’s the cleaver, and all of it works even though it darts around reality. dunno how you always do it so effectively. also insane sequence of description words. you’re so good at prose… 

hanzawa senpai, with something like a dozen cuts in each foot, is leaving a bloody trail; it makes tashiro wince. senpai won’t let him wrap the—he’s not gonna admit it but he won’t let tashiro touch him, damn it.

just going to essentially repeat what i said first time i saw this. the way you’ve chosen to omit tashiro calling the injuries what they are—a wound, damage, cuts, scars, slashes, anything—and cut into touching really enhances that this frustration’s core lies at intimacy and not injury. it’s really good i love how the blood is not really the problem here. 

you’d think, running from a flood—taxing, tiring, kind of pointless, a massive pain in the ass—that you’d take a leg up when it’s offered to you. 

I love how that description of a flood is also a really good way to describe hanzawa. 

senpai, though. he’s running like—tashiro swallows around that something again. he’s running like he’s not bleeding out, first of all. like his eyes aren’t foggy. like you can’t nearly see straight through him—this would be funny irony if anything funny was happening at all. 

tashiro, thinking something is ironic: wow, this is like, funny irony, but like not-funny irony. wonder what word that would be.

anyways. something interesting about the clear vision of this. hanzawa without foggy eyes, but he’s seen straight through, but also nothing is clear. 

laughs as he apologizes to the faceless people he blusters past, even though they haven’t heard one single objection. 

thinking about this. he’s smiling he’s laughing. he looks like he’s having fun. he has to apologize, almost compulsively. guy who’s so scared of everything. that’s what I see. 

“tashiro-kun,” hanzawa senpai manages, pulling the less mangled arm, the one tashiro moved to take hold of, up to his face to wipe at his eyes. 

I’m very delicate. are these not-tears again. or is that fogginess. is that fogginess tears. probably I won’t survive the answer. the way he’s laughing through all of this but has to manage dialogue. 

another peal of rough laughter sees old blood spat onto the stone. “no. you go.” 

yeah this fucks so hard. laughter bites into some kind of violence with your description… the rejection here. Like… you know the hit is coming, but you can’t really brace for it. [head in hands] OH MY GOD… i was like “hm that expression sounds familiar” and i think it might be from an mtv interview stephenie meyer gave soon after the release of the book, breaking dawn. I’m so cursed forever. fuck butchery hanzawa i have worse horrors than you dude

tashiro watches senpai’s throat bob. old blood gets older, looks like it’s been there forever. “you’re going to see me cry.”

GUY WHOS INCAPABLE OF VULNERABILITY!!!! GUY WHO’D RATHER DIE!!!!!!!! man. the usage of dreamscape is so good here… it magnifies the feeling so deliciously. you’re so good at. is the word surrealism? the following exchange just slaps so much. the frustration tashiro’s feeling, the forced defeat, the lack of humor in the situation. even though hanzawa’s, well. who’s to say that it’s laughter. 

he’s lying down in bed when he says, “oh, my drink.” 

this gave me whiplash. that vending machine drink? from ping pong? i saw like three deaths or some shit, what do you mean, your drink— 

why shouldn’t he get mad and frustrated and have cracks in his composure spilling over each other. why shouldn’t his face fall when he sees someone he cares about dying all over again for the— 

the spilling here, cracks… it aligns interestingly with tashiro describing himself as some kind of human kettle. also this makes that plaintive statement about caring for hanzawa and worrying for him have so much more weight. Like, man, of course it’s something he has to introspect deeply about and state. of course he has to state it, if someone keeps acting like he won’t believe it. 

why shouldn’t tashiro crumple when the moon drops out of the sky. 

“just” the shadow of the moon, huh. 

why shouldn’t he stare up at it when he’s fallen on his back, hard, with a stupid, smoking hole in his forehead. 

a witness, mourner, undertaker. the only person around to look the corpse in the eyes. 

well. butcher also looks at corpse, i say, super intelligently (not). dunno about the eye contact. I think it might feel like that. but eyes… well, hanzawa’s tend to be closed or obscured quite often. eye-smile, you know. 

tashiro got brought into it. all of it has hurt. it can’t be helped; if you see someone drowning, you try to pull them up. that’s all. that’s interesting. 

gasping, grasping, coughing, free fall. three beats: CRAAACK.

CRACK. crack. CRAAACK. you’re so good at sounds db

“sorry,” says shirahama, raspy. “can’t use my hands right now. talk.”

“wh—what are—”

click. click. br-ri-ring!

ah. “never mind.” 

[EXTREMELY DELIGHTED LAUGHTER]

“oh, I see. ‘another one’.” 

tbh if my friend texted me at odd hours of the night, telling me about the homoerotic dreams he’d been having, even if they were kind of serious, I would be razzing him. shirahama you’re so funny.

isn’t that because you did a bad job!? “st—” 

so like. I think about this comment a little. that’s the frustration here, I think, that tashiro wants to be able to do something. that this should be a case of doing, like, a bad job, instead of an unskippable cutscene. 

shirahama weeps, “mysterious older girl.”

a crease forms between tashiro’s brow. “I think… I probably can’t help.” 

who else is mysterious older… not-girl, I suppose, but like a coffin, that isn’t custom-made. there’s more than one shape that fits there. part of me is also like. sooo curious to know what kind of game mechanics are involved in this galge that’s not real. i think shirahama & tomoda should kiss. 

he closes one eye and goes blind in the other.

oh just kill me. the fact that this sentence is placed in the middle of mundane dialogue makes me feel like i’m devouring my skin. also the fact that the dialogue sounds mundane but it’s shirahama’s ambiguous vote of confidence regarding tashiro’s continued survival. so that’s also kind of insane.

a note of longing floats from one bedroom to the other, “mirai.” 

wonder if that’s supposed to mean future…? fascinating. also really good prose, that drifting longing. the way it establishes connection between shirahama and tashiro, but also suggests like… tashiro’s longing, too. 

shirahama sobs.

tashiro’s throat closes up a bit. “shouldn’t have said that, sorry. I’m sorry. give the book back, return the bracelet later.” 

something really tender about how this gets a bit too real, even though it’s a game and what’s going on with tashiro is… well, i don’t actually know what that is. 

a screenshot of the game menu reads, ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO RESTART?

OH FUCK OFFFFFF. <- thing i said when i read this line. then i opened up my DIE OVER? playlist because of course tashiro post is going to make me have dating sim au feelings. of course that’s a normal fucking thing i should be expecting, because you want me dead— 

tashiro climbs back under his covers and throws an arm over his eyes. swallows hard. an echo of words he wanted to hear just once: I want to. 

way too many things to say about this scene but i truly don’t have the words. literally just look at that conversation. the overflow of want, imbued in that whole thing. the fear and the trepidation and the unknown of it all. I want to live. shirahama’s maybe too attached to the game. tashiro’s attached it with—the river, i guess. I don’t know whether I’d describe him as too attached. he just is. but I personally don’t want to say he’s too much. don’t really wanna call shirahama that, either…

tashiro’s still flat on his back when he hears hanzawa senpai’s voice say, dull and rumbly and cracking, “please, god, just make me clean.” 

trash claw. that reverence, when he saw tashiro. tashiro, reflected in the cleaver, but still unstained. clean. I am putting things together without proper conclusions except for like. tears. from my eyes. ha. you can’t see my cry, though. 

he’s set flat on his back when that stupid gun shoots him, too. 

“those dreams you’re having are your dreams, and generally I think it means something when you get into these… situations… over and over with one person in those dreams.”

[EXTREMELY DELIGHTED LAUGHTER PT. 2] 

tashiro, someplace between bored and enraptured, and able to stand on two feet, is carving notches into rotting wood. 

love this line. it’s like, the constancy of this dream. of course it’s boring in a way. but hanzawa, voice worn anew, that’s gotta be something special. also the “able to stand on two feet” is such a good way of conveying the magnitude of how injured hanzawa is. I’m glad it’s not easy for him to die. 

“ta—shi—ro.” he felt warm breath on his ear and jumped. “d’you wanna free pass to say my name?” 

THIS IS EVIL. the—the same way hanzawa says it, minus a honorific. but that three-syllable stretch, that’s all… well, if anyone’s copying, it’s probably not prev pres. 

tashiro caught his breath enough to say, “what would I want that for?!”

“oh, you did.” 

this dialogue arrangement is so… the way it’s like, oh, you did hear my question, but visually it sounds like hes saying you did about the wanting. which… I remember love & passion. that was a wanting that did until it didn’t, all of a sudden. 

tashiro looked up at the president. the president was looking down at where tashiro was rubbing the space over his heart. 

the height difference here, and the sort of like… physical tension that it creates here. really good setup for the [GUNSHOT] later. it’s just such immediately good characterization, though, of a kind of unreachable existence. he’s imposing and a tease and unknowable and knowing. 

tashiro paused to take a sip of his water. “…mm?” a little dribbled out the corner of his mouth. 

[head in hands] you knowwwwwww i get fucked up about water bottles. you KNOW!! whatever. I’m going to delude myself into thinking you used the word “dribbled” because shirahama plays basketball. “why would linking that be relevant right now—” I didn’t say I was smart, okay? 

two long strides; he crouched right in front of him. brought his glasses up to sit atop his head. went over the corner of tashiro’s mouth with his pinky, like tashiro didn’t already wipe the water there. 

[GUNSHOTS] this doesn’t qualify for laughter. I’m like seigi handling richard’s… hair. pinky finger, like it doesn’t mean anything. glasses off, to be… I don’t know. eye to eye. I asume that’s why he crouches. the way this emphasizes his like… height, physically, and also just the. largeness of his existence. 

he smiled knowingly. “break’s over. up we get.”

choked. just remembered tashiro fervently wishing for hanzawa to get up. 

hanzawa senpai, from the storage room, called back distantly, “one more round!”

the distance of this gets me, like… they didn’t fully know each other, yet. not that they know each other now, but—the stuff is different. one more round! tashiro’s hollow emptiness when the prev pres leaves. one more round, and he’s locking eyes(?) with hanzawa. 

another lifetime, maybe, when tashiro through the throbbing in his forehead hears a low voice—electrifyingly familiar—ask liltingly, “do you want to be clean or don’t you?” 

the bathhouse… taisho era au strikes with a vengeance. anyways. why does this dialogue sound like he’s asking, do you want to be alive or don’t you? also the idea of prev pres existing in this au is going to have me killed. 

“tashiro.” his name jolted through him, and another ball went flying past him, closer this time. tashiro’s gaze fell back across the table just in time to see hanzawa senpai reloading the president with another missile.

they’re so weirdddd. it’s like. the way with how you’ve constructed the paragraph, for a moment one might mistake this dialogue for hanzawa. you get to just in time to see hanzawa senpai and then you lead into reloading the president with another missile, and so you recenter, tashiro recenters, and hanzawa moves into the background. what’s wrong with everybody. 

tashiro’s whole mouth feels kind of numb, actually. “what?” 

oh? like, say, cotton mouth?

he saw a smile tugging at the president’s lips out of the corner of his eyes. “‘that so? why not? practice against me off the record… thought you’d do more with it.”

tashiro’s brow furrowed. “your arm’s like a gun.”

loud laughter hit him at the back of his knees. the president’s arm drew back. “hey, tashiro,” he said gamely. tashiro dropped his weight into his feet. “incoming.” 

oh first time i read this i knew the gun was something but on the second time around I am Realizing something. let’s connect prev pres to a gun for a moment. let that linger. 

instead of confronting it I will think about the subtleties of calling something off the record. Of, once again, the emphasis of prev pres’ strength. that bigness, it’s unavoidable. it’s like it creeps into every bit of tashiro’s narration, like he’s incapable of not noticing it, not commenting on it. 

an arm holds him up by the waist; tashiro’s head rolls limply onto a broad shoulder. warmth drips low in his ear, “guess you’ve got sharper ears than I gave you credit for after all, huh?”

I don’t even want to place this into context. brain isn’t working enough to do so. can’t delighted laughter about it either this is like. sexy-threatening. 

tashiro figured it out a while ago. that he wants to win, but not the way everyone else does. this much time spent playing against the old folks at the bathhouse, more time spent in club without him than with him, and he still gets a taste in his mouth, once in a while, that says, I want to beat him. 

this is just a really well-constructed paragraph. like not really any analysis here, but this just says the thing in the most correct way to me. it’s just so good, but in a way where it’s just plain effective. 

hungering for the chance. hungering for the chance to get one over him. 

[hollering] and on top of him!!!!

the entire thing feels like tashiro’s got this unfulfilled something, playing out this game of cat and mouse. because they saw something in you.

he saw something in you. you don’t even realize you’re idolizing him until—

the they -> he shift might’ve done me in. 

yet.

shirahama’d amended his statement: 

I’m trembling. I couldn’t think of what statement this was and then all of a sudden I remembered that thing about bucket lists and then I really started shaking. 

tashiro doesn’t recognize the cleaver but he knows it’s his hand holding it because he sees the trembling of the blade and feels the trembling in his wrist and forearm, bicep, shoulder, chest, ribs. connective tissue being sheared by the fiber. he doesn’t recognize the cleaver but he still sees his reflection in the metal. 

love the disconnection of tashiro from this idea of a butcher, because like, he is that, he’s holding the knife and everything, but he’s not quite… all of it. 

some time ago—he doesn’t know, it doesn’t matter—tashiro pinched his lips together. “uh.” wet them. 

[despairingly] so, like, tashiro, there’s this thing called chapstick, and they come in some pretty like, fun flavors, which maybe, well, I don’t know if you’d be into it but others could be, I guess you both could be—

senpai closed his eyes.

senpai covered his face.

something about this strikes at me, because it’s exasperation, but also like… obfuscation. he’s hiding. 

senpai has got that damn look in his eyes now, too many moving parts; self loathing and good humor, anger and pity and hurt. he asks skeptically, like it’s been weighing on him, “you couldn’t use a normal knife?” 

don’t know why this specific section made me cry, but oh boy, I cried. badly. madly. just. they’re both kneeling, looking at each other, but it’s still too much, to get all the words out, to really do much of anything. hanzawa’s hurt—he looks like he’s hurt, and not just ‘cause he’s bleeding. he for-real looks like he’s got negative emotions up in his noggin. 

tashiro wants to tell him, you don’t trust me. I’m better with this thing than I look, I’ll show you. it’ll tell me something, so give me the worst you’ve got.

and this, the weird begging of it… this dialogue makes we weepy

“man,” says shirahama, muffled, distressed, “do you remember ‘hey’?” 

I am also so distressed right now. The way shirahama’s still keeping that faux-casual veneer though even in that there’s this sense of distress. it’s fucked up!

“look at you, tashiro,” the arm curling just under his hip trembles for a second. “tall enough now that I have to really hoist you to keep you off the ground.”

now I’m frustrated. really good way of keeping this height emphasis fresh, by the way. now I’ve remembered that tashiro’s taller than hanzawa now. still not as tall as prev pres, I bet. 

all he sees is skin. he heaves a sigh and feels a jolt run up the body carrying him so vividly it pings in his brain as plain electricity. 

and, of course, the way it’s electricity mentioned in the taisho era au, with that nameless person… the way it’s all skin. that’s suggestive. that’s a tease. 

bullet hole be damned, tashiro drops his head back onto its perch.  

[frenzied stillness] it’s the gun again. 

the quarter of a face he can see smiles a little. “you can handle a little cruelty from me, can’t you?” 

not only is this line killer, i love that he can’t see prev pres fully. 

talking to the train tracks, tashiro announces, “I think something is really wrong.” 

what train tracks. what train tracks— 

shirahama only replies, “congratulations on finally hitting puberty.” 

[EXTREMELY DELIGHTED LAUGHTER PT. 3] shirahama thanks for being my buddy thru this all… 

—

lasts only until he emerges with a little kid’s wet cough before laughing hard enough to push tears out his eyes. 

thinking about how this is how we see hanzawa cry, first time. he’s laughing here, too. 

“now then,” tashiro and hanzawa senpai watch him reach over his head to tug at the neckline of his uniform shirt. it comes off in one motion after that. “should be for the best that you two make way…!” 

[broken laugh] do you want to be clean or don’t you? 

[faintly] I am not addressing the. the rest of that. I don’t have words for it. 

there’s a sign over hanzawa senpai’s head. if tashiro squints—it’s a dusty ditch-sign and the evening’s only getting dimmer—he can barely make out the words NO DIVING.

ignoring the fact that they totally failed that, i love how kind of mundane the sign is. it’s just placed well, this bit, in the whole of everything. 

tashiro’s head is lying on—

[...]

—the president’s forearm. there is the occasional muscle tremor. tashiro feels no particular way about this. 

WELL I DO. 

hanzawa senpai has got his wide eyes on when tashiro turns his head. 

tashiro’s bangs just got brushed down. If I’m having a crisis, hanzawa better be having one! 

long pause. tashiro squints an eye to see hanzawa senpai pinching his lips. “…hold still for a second.” tashiro’s eyes fly open as hanzawa senpai takes his more busted hand to brush up tashiro’s bangs. “I suppose so.” he takes a finger and flicks tashiro’s forehead dead center. “you’re back in one piece, after all.” 

hair fixation. I respect that. I am also thinking about holes, now. Specifically a kind of, say, “a yawning, lonely feeling of loss” and then I don’t get it. What happened to the loneliness? tashiro’s back in one piece. 

a snapshot: tashiro’s wrist, between jaws, and a crunch. 

read this and thought to myself: man. I have got to get weirder. 

shirahama sits up to look at him. he has tears in his eyes. “can you give me like twenty minutes to pretend I’m dead.”

“I think I’m just really touch-starved.”

“Please.” 

[EXTREMELY DELIGHTED LAUGHTER PT. 4] yeah i also pretend i’m dead for like twenty minutes each line i read. shirahama and me, we get each other. kinda-sorta. I think I’m actually prev pres, which is a terrifying line of thought to go down. 

he doesn’t look down at it to swing it right again. sheepishly, he coughs, “cosplaying the meat guy at the supermarket.” 

HE’S THE BUTCHER!

“ain’t enough for you to just let me haunt you, huh, tashiro?”

tashiro shifts his feet, squints, exasperated, across the table. “I can’t just take it lying down forever, you know.”

the table rattles. tashiro hasn’t ever felt his heart pound like this. he’s asked: “spoiling for a fight?”

the weird romantic of all of this… it’s crazy! not enough to be haunted… what, does he want to be hunted, too?

dull teeth grin sharply at him.

taisho era au strikes again… shining, dull teeth. really good way to give prev pres character, again. 

“get home quick. and, ah, good luck tomorrow,” he says. 

looming feeling of danger. good luck for what, I think to myself. there’s also something about ceilings and sky and looking up that i haven’t quite pinned down yet. perhaps it’s for me to get another time. 

—

miyano, to his right, looks at him with massive doll eyes. kuresawa, to his left, fixes him with a stare over his glasses before going back to his phone. 

I know they don’t get much space here, but you perfectly pin them down here. It’s so great

hanzawa senpai, dead center, looks down at him, hands ghosting over his neck where he was ‘evening his complexion’ a second ago, before tashiro went and opened his mouth, and he says, “really?” 

yeah. perfect use of the word ghosting, there. thank you so much. also great it’s the cultural festival i’m going to be sick. sure, go even his complexion. go cover up a bruise. i’m kidding. don’t. tell someone how to, though.

fingers poke lightheartedly where bone juts. tashiro’s in a glass jar, and he flinches.

he’s getting studied. he should learn, though. if he’s going to hold a cleaver, he better learn.

probably bl. tashiro poses with a hand on his cheek and says, “thanks, miyano.” 

and once again i’m haunted by miyano saying it’s “too easy” to imagine tashiro in a BL situation. 

the picture he takes of his feet, hovering as he sits on the windowsill and clad in black crew socks—he left the shoes somewhere else, he figures miyano will chase him down about them later—is waiting to be sent with incomplete text suck i when he spots someone out the very corner of his vision.

like tashiro, I want to delight at the way he and shirahama bicker, but like him, the slightest bit of prev pres is going to divert my attention. and kill me. I really do love shirahama and tashiro though. They bicker in a really fun teenage way, but also a way that’s like, elegant in a way that fiction can achieve over reality. It’s so cool…!

funny thing about crossdressing, see, is the worldview shift. that broad back looks broader, a piece-of-work senpai haunting his memory like a grief-hallucination. 

oh i just straight up want to highlight this whole thing. It’s all explosions. grief-hallucination, like somehow that hyphenated compounded noun fucks me over because it’s so succinct, because you could use more words but you really, really, don’t have to. as always I admire your creativity with the writing format. and here that constant emphasis of like… broad back, of height, intersects with the specific gendered context tashiro’s in, and things get so crazy I feel dizzy.

how many people in the world could possibly look like that. 

I think I might’ve said this already but it bears repeating: you do such a clever job of having tashiro describe people in a way that shows he thinks they’re attractive, all without him really ever needing to really confront that fact. it’s so obvious but it’s also subtle and that’s amazing, to pull that off, and do it with such variety. 

it’s a second of stirring in his stomach that bridges the space between shoujo manga and violent murder. his feet are back on the ground but they might as well be dangling out the window; an impulse in the shape of today you are a girl has him gripped by the shoulders, nearly chasing after a living ghost and using strangers as stepping stones to do it. 

yeah this paragraph just fucks in its entirety. once again another perfect set of words that just lays out the situation with the words that are just the correct ones to use. love is violence. 

thundering resonance. tashiro croaks, “what?” 

it’s electricity again, I see… 

“—this vision of a lost lover. and she goes running after him, obviously, because he moved away when they were kids or whatever. and she missed him sooo bad, so she’s really hoofing it down the stairs and out the front gate and she’s only delicately out of breath, after the whole thing, which I thought was kinda stupid, but whatever. he’s standing a block away, staring back at her over his shoul—tashiro what are you doing?”

we CANNOT be talking about lost lovers at the moment of prev pres’ approach. 

the president’s voice carries like it’s nothing, “you look pretty cute today.”

I think I’m being like. Strangled? sure his voice carries. it’s big and booming or whatever. of course it’s like. inescapable.

tell me your name for real this time. it’s not really fine with me either. “have you, uh. been dreaming about anyone lately?”

the president’s shoulders shake, lips splitting impossibly wider. his eyes shine. tashiro hears thunder. “nooope.”

okay so I think this might be totally out of left field. but like. nooope. but he’s also there, of course, if i’m tracking places and universes right. I think I am. there’s a dream bathhouse, right? “thundering resonance,” I remember that, that line was recent… but I was thinking, really thinking, about that gun. his arm like one. the one that shot tashiro and opened a hole in his chest. got him flat on his back. a bullet hole, like a yawning kind of emptiness in the center of your chest. like you’ve lost something. 

well. I sure feel like I’m being shot at. I sure feel like he’s that gun, too. 

he kind of doesn’t know why he does it, didn’t really take the time to think about it. all he knows is that the time read 2:41 a moment ago and changed the second shirahama’s voice crackled over the phone, “what?”

“gonna tell you something weird.”

“…mhm…?“

tashiro squeezes his eyes shut, groggily rubbing a thumb over quick-drying salt at the outer corner of his eye. “just dreamed about hanzawa senpai dying on me.”

“…” shirahama breathes in; tashiro can hear him hold it. similarly, the sound of his hand being dragged over his face is crisp and loud.

finally, he says, “fascinating.”

—

thing is that tashiro could go for a vending machine drink, right about now.

not that he’s bored. the underclassman sweating and fighting for his life across the net is putting up a solid fight, and sweating enough to really make you believe it. tashiro’s having a lot of fun just watching the kid’s expressions alone.

he returns the ball, hard; there’s a sour taste in his mouth all of a sudden. he wonders if the president position makes sadism into a contagion. the ball floats back in his direction. he sends it back with spin.

his point. his chest inflates with fresh air.

could go for a vending machine drink, yeah, but he hasn’t had the chance to yet. hard to sneak out of club when you’re the president. harder still when you’ve got a nosy little ghost creeping over your shoulder about it.

not that anyone’s dead. that was a metaphor. the ball’s put back in play. tashiro’s mind wanders back outward.

somewhere between here and there, points a and b, aka kinda always aka from the beginning, tashiro started worrying about hanzawa senpai, started thinking about him a lot. started keeping a personal score of how many piercings he’s got to compare against the cagey answers he gets when he asks the question, Hey, senpai, how many piercings have you got now? it’s really not about the words that come out of his mouth, see. there’re more of them now than there were a year ago than there were two years ago. eyes on the prize—sharp eyes pay big dividends. you get the idea.

tashiro gonzaburou is curious about hanzawa masato and wants to know things about him.

it’s hard not to. right? he spent so much time seeing this guy who had a network of something like one hundred people in one single group chat to snitch on tashiro when he tried to play hooky. someone who had piercings before and more piercings after, and likes milk tea, and will not turn down a favor asked of him no matter how many other favors he’s doing already. a weird senpai who decided out of the blue one day to finally hammer in that last nail in tashiro’s custom-made president-shaped coffin.

ping—pong—ping-pong-PING—PONG. “ha-HA!”

tashiro gonzaburou notices and notices and notices, hears and sees and gathers and wonders and thinks thoughts that unspool into these big long tangents of thought that might start with ‘You should sleep more’ but end up right back at ear piercings again.

he also wins games of ping pong.

tashiro, spooling thought back up as neatly as he can the table’s net, clocks two corrections to make.

“see the lot of you tomorrow!”

he wasn’t worried about senpai from the beginning, not the way he is now. and that coffin isn’t custom-made.

—

sat with his legs criss-crossed on unfinished stone, knife getting weaved through idle fingers, tashiro watches up the river.

he’s sat a long time before a massive, shuddering, foreign boat appears there.

he’s sat for three more blinks before he hears one solitary CRACK, maybe a musket, some kind of old-timey gun for sure, and falls back with a hole in his forehead.

—

figures that he spends this much time being curious about hanzawa senpai and, out of the blue, as his reward, goes and finds him sat on hard concrete with his back against the wall, his eyes wide open, his hands at his face.

it’s kind of so far removed from the enigmatic senpai tashiro got used to seeing and wondering about that it’s—like—a bucket of cold water dumped over his head, maybe. waking up out of real deep sleep because of an alarm he didn’t remember setting. another last step on a staircase, followed by another followed by another. or something.

hanzawa senpai, spoken of by the devil, is here in front of him, and he looks…

scared. big shoulders shuddering a little, strong arms connected to shapely, masculine, trembling hands, toned legs tense enough to break into a run, handsome face almost hidden in full, half-dozen piercings in his ear, at least, glinting.

hanzawa senpai, who tashiro didn’t know he could describe so well, is sitting on the ground, against the wall, and he looks scared.

“tashiro-kun,” he says. tashiro startles. feels a little stupid after. hanzawa senpai raises his head enough to look at tashiro’s face, sort of. “how are you?”

how are you? “alright, I guess.” tashiro swallows, looks around a little. “are you, um. what’s up with you, hanzawa senpai?”

it’s not really an answer to his question when hanzawa senpai says, plainly, lightheartedly, his eyes sliding shut and that smile pulling at his lips, “I’m doing bad.”

“oh. why?”

the lull that follows feels a little like what tashiro thinks a black hole would feel like. like it’s sucking all the oxygen out of the air and the breath out of his lungs and the words out of his mind and the everything out of the everywhere. the words that follow throw all of it back out, mach speed.

“I like someone.”

oh, wow. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

hanzawa senpai’s eyes are back on tashiro’s face. “neither did I.”

—

he’s home and wearing one less shoe than he was a second ago when a big long reel of spooled memory barrels over him.

he’s wearing no shoes when he says, out loud, “Wait.”

—

embrace it. go into the water, take hold of his wrist before he plunges under, go down with him. pull him into your chest before you can think better of it. let the water carry you down,

down

down

down

down

down,

cold in your ears and eyes and nose and lungs.

feel it all as much as you can. you don’t have the best grasp of dreams even still, after all this time, but you know that this here won’t ever really compare to the real thing. might as well play at being a kettle for a while, let water fill up any space water could. senpai’s warmth clings stubbornly to your chest—he’s far from small, so the temperature feels like a botched seam in your subconscious; pressure from the inside and out, water pressure compressing you to one single, massive point of contact.

not the real thing. you won’t know what drowning feels like after this, let alone the other thing.

they’re fun things, dreams. in a second you’ll start plummeting, the two of you, divorced from the water. you’ll cough, hard, to expel the water from your body, and it won’t really work but you’ll pull senpai away from your chest to get him to do the same anyway.

and your vision will be blurry, so it won’t really matter when something like a sixth sense has your shoulders tensing up. you won’t see the glossy stone you rocket into; only hear the sickening crack.

what you have to do is embrace it all. it’s not drowning, at least.

—

I’ve played a game like this before, you know. girl insists on cleaning up all on her own and she gets—

—

sopping wet, tashiro says, “this is so gross.”

worse than wet, a gnarly broken… everything, replies, “you’re telling me.”

—

the timing’s off.

tashiro feels he wants to be alone in the classroom after school. he doesn’t really know why. he falls asleep.

jolts, pitches, watches his heart plummet. watches himself plummet, too.

the classroom he wakes up to is pitch dark. figures.

paranoid unsafety gets its claws in him. shirahama’s words drudge themselves up. a girl gets what? tashiro holds a broom stern in his hands and swings it around like there’s something sharp at the end of it.

he gives the classroom a courtesy sweep.

after much debate, he leaves the broom behind when he goes to throw out the trash. probably won’t need it.

the cold has a numbing, vicious bite to it. the sound of his shoes on cement and old, dead, dry grass is deafeningly loud cutting through the still.

it’s not his or shirahama’s genre, but tashiro feels eerily like the protagonist of one of those first-person horror games. crunching and slipping, no good foothold. he swallows stiffly; his collar, pressed up against his adam’s apple, is too tight.

this is something he can blame shirahama for, and he does.

finally he puts out the trash. shoves his back up against the nearest wall and looks up at the sky. shadow of the moon, not much else to look at. he takes a picture to send shirahama, accompanies it with a text that reads have u gone outside today

obviously he has. it’s the principle of the thing.

quickly shirahama replies, You’re just putting the trash out aren’t you

You fell asleep didn’t you

I tried to warn you and everything. Stuuuupid

tashiro squints. takes another photo, of the trash bag. u should be here. two thumbs down emojis. he mutes the conversation before shirahama can reply and shuts his phone off again. pushes himself off the wall.

walks three absent steps towards the door, hands to his lips, blowing into them. the timing’s really off. still unstained, tashiro squints wearily at his reflection in the cleaver’s face. another step. he feels his heart overshoot all the way back up into his throat, distantly for a second, at the sound of a message notification.

those claws dig in a little deeper. he can’t help feeling a little watched. he waits ‘til he’s back inside to take his phone back out. hanzawa senpai.

ta—shi—ro—kuuun. tashiro cradles his phone in his hands as he goes back down the hall. are you free? I know it’s late.

tashiro brings his hands to his chest, trying to leach enough warmth to reply. halfway rickety fingers manage, yea

another few seconds of friction against his sweater. i’m at the school still

hanzawa senpai doesn’t reply for a minute. the classroom door clatters extra loud when he pulls it open. tashiro picks up his bag and creeps down the hall for a third time, footsteps either light or muted. at one point or another, he takes the cleaver to old wood.

the notification tone spooks him again. tashiro grasps his chest.

you didn’t happen to fall asleep there, did you?

tashiro doesn’t reply to that text. where are you, senpai?

a panda sticker laughs at him. the location comes a moment later.

tashiro’s looking down at hanzawa senpai standing in a dried up waterway with a trash claw in his hand.

really, really off. tashiro’s been calling so long his voice has gone raw, rumblier, and hanzawa masato hears it through the din of blood in his ears and static behind his eyes and he croaks, so quiet, reverent, out of his mind, “god?”

—

hanzawa senpai, with something like a dozen cuts in each foot, is leaving a bloody trail; it makes tashiro wince. senpai won’t let him wrap the—he’s not gonna admit it but he won’t let tashiro touch him, damn it.

you’d think, running from a flood—taxing, tiring, kind of pointless, a massive pain in the ass—that you’d take a leg up when it’s offered to you. tashiro swallows around something. tashiro does not ease up on his pace.

senpai, though. he’s running like—tashiro swallows around that something again. he’s running like he’s not bleeding out, first of all. like his eyes aren’t foggy. like you can’t nearly see straight through him—this would be funny irony if anything funny was happening at all.

but really, senpai runs like he’s having fun.

he laughs every time his feet catch on something, every time he jumps over a tree root—always pushing up stones, always reaching for his legs—and every time he’s back on the ground. laughs as he apologizes to the faceless people he blusters past, even though they haven’t heard one single objection. laughs and laughs and—

he’s laughing when he goes skidding on cobbled stone and crashes into a dilapidated market stall. curls into himself, laughing so hard that it sounds like something comes up.

tashiro hisses as he hits the ground beside him, momentum skinning his knees.

“come on, senpai, let’s go,” tashiro reaches for his elbow. “get up.”

“tashiro-kun,” hanzawa senpai manages, pulling the less mangled arm, the one tashiro moved to take hold of, up to his face to wipe at his eyes. “hey, tashiro-kun,” his gaping chest heaves, “go already.”

“yeah,” tashiro says, “let’s go.”

another peal of rough laughter sees old blood spat onto the stone. “no. you go.”

he hears the roar of water. he kind of really doesn’t give a shit about it anymore. “I don’t want to.”

tashiro watches senpai’s throat bob. old blood gets older, looks like it’s been there forever. “you’re going to see me cry.”

what’s so funny? tashiro’s own throat bobs. “wh—“

“go.”

get up. “you can’t really—“

“go.”

tashiro, maybe as angry as he’s ever been in his entire life, stays planted on the ground.

it doesn’t even really sound like laughter anymore. “now why did I know…?” hanzawa senpai puppets himself back onto his feet, listing sideways. tashiro pushes onto a knee to reach for him again and crumples in on himself.

hanzawa senpai drops limply into the river.

“no, wait. wait, just—hold on, you can’t. senpai, you…” tashiro swallows. off the ground, his own blood seeps into the stone. on unsteady legs scraped raw, two steps forward.

tashiro gonzaburou, from on high, spits, “god damn it.”

—

he’s lying down in bed when he says, “oh, my drink.”

—

why shouldn’t he get mad and frustrated and have cracks in his composure spilling over each other. why shouldn’t his face fall when he sees someone he cares about dying all over again for the—

he doesn’t even know how many times it’s been. a nightmare is a nightmare is a nightmare.

why shouldn’t tashiro crumple when the moon drops out of the sky. why shouldn’t he stare up at it when he’s fallen on his back, hard, with a stupid, smoking hole in his forehead.

a witness, mourner, undertaker. the only person around to look the corpse in the eyes.

tashiro got brought into it. all of it has hurt. it can’t be helped; if you see someone drowning, you try to pull them up. that’s all.

if he’s been here once, and more times after that, so many times he can’t even remember, then he’ll keep trying. tashiro sees him drowning, and tashiro tries to pull him up. he tries. he’s trying. he’s—

“come ON. please. please,” he spits out a mouthful of silt. “come on.”

gasping, grasping, coughing, free fall. three beats: CRAAACK.

tashiro wakes up with a groan. rolls sluggishly onto his side, grasps for his phone, texts are u awake

startles a second later when his phone starts buzzing in his hand.

“you scared me.”

“sorry,” says shirahama, raspy. “can’t use my hands right now. talk.”

“wh—what are—”

click. click. br-ri-ring!

ah. “never mind.”

“are you hanging up?”

“no!” tashiro rolls back onto his back, resting his phone on his sternum. “had another one.”

“oh, I see. ‘another one’.”

tashiro ignores him, humming noncommittally. “I think these are… maaaybe. making me worse.”

shirahama sighs, big and drawn-out. he pauses for a second like he’s mulling something over. “…you know…”

a chill rushes down tashiro’s spine like a cold marble. “don’t start—”

“played a game once with a plot like this…”

“dude—”

“really didn’t end well…”

isn’t that because you did a bad job!? “st—”

shirahama ignores him, speaks over him, is suddenly right up to his phone’s receiver. “you could die.”

tashiro digs his palms into his eyes. “you could die.”

he’s still close enough to the receiver that tashiro hears him exhale a sleepy laugh, “juuust saying.” shirahama has returned to his game. click. …click… ba-woomp.

“are you winning?”

another big sigh. “I am losing. so bad.” a thud on the other line. too close, “tashirooo...”

“did you die?”

“she hasn’t killed me but I bet she wants to.”

tashiro sucks on his teeth, grasping around in his memory. “which one is she?”

shirahama weeps, “mysterious older girl.”

a crease forms between tashiro’s brow. “I think… I probably can’t help.”

sniffling. “could you pull up a guide for me?”

tashiro rolls onto the floor and crawls towards his laptop. “do you really think I’m gonna die?”

“well…” silence. tashiro lies on his side and curls up. he closes one eye and goes blind in the other. “probably not.”

massive vote of confidence. “what happened in,” he sighs, kind of defeated, “what happened in your game? and what’s her name.”

a note of longing floats from one bedroom to the other, “mirai.” tashiro guesses at the spelling and completely whiffs it. shirahama’s longing cuts short. “they died, tashiro.”

“before that, though. what happened to them.”

shirahama sniffles some more. “we shared dreams and I tried to save her and I couldn’t. and then we died. they died.” tashiro hears him laugh at himself a little resentfully. “the characters died.”

he refocuses his seeing eye. “what chapter are you on?”

“seven.”

“did you give her the bracelet or her book back?”

“I—” shirahama’s voice travels like his face is in his pillow. “I gave her… melon bread...”

“ohhh.” Her humiliation at the perceived transparency drops her affection low enough to trigger a bad ending, regardless of current standing. “she does want to kill you, a little.”

shirahama sobs.

tashiro’s throat closes up a bit. “shouldn’t have said that, sorry. I’m sorry. give the book back, return the bracelet later.”

face still in the pillow, “the bread?”

“chapter, um. chapter eleven. she really doesn’t want you to know she likes it right now.”

miserably, shirahama replies, “okaaay.” tashiro hears him whisper, I’m really sorry.

click. click. …click. whoosh. tashiro scrolls a little further. a screenshot of the game menu reads, ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO RESTART?

tashiro gives him a minute before asking, “in the other game, that was a bad ending?”

shirahama blows his nose. “yeah.”

“did you go back to fix it?”

he doesn’t reply for a while. br-ri-ring! “I was too scared.”

tashiro flinches.

“I just… I messed it up really bad. it was my fault and she wasn’t even mad at me when she died. held her with blood everywhere ‘cause mine didn’t stick.” tashiro’s eyes fly open. blinding, ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO RESTART?

shirahama keeps going, “I didn’t leave her side after, but I couldn’t carry her home, too weak, so we both just stayed there. I couldn’t do anything. and then I died. and it was over.”

a little nauseous, tashiro reaches out slowly to shut his laptop. “do you know—mm.” what happens when you get it right? “do you think you’re ever gonna try again?”

shirahama’s voice comes out rough. “I wanna save her.”

tashiro climbs back under his covers and throws an arm over his eyes. swallows hard. an echo of words he wanted to hear just once: I want to. “are you doing anything tomorrow?”

tashiro can hear the scowl on his face. “you know I’m not.”

“it’s not too late. to—save her, I mean.”

tashiro can hear the scowl falling away. “yeah. fine, whatever, I’ll go to sleep.”

he finally takes his phone off speaker. “thank youuu. and you’re welcome.”

shirahama grumbles, “I don’t think it’s making you worse, your—this. just kind of…” shirahama sighs through his nose, “different.”

tashiro peels his arm off his face to stare at the fan spinning overhead. “I guess. see you tomorrow.”

“yeah.”

the silence stretches blandly. tashiro presses his lips together. “good night.”

“mm. night.”

—

tashiro’s still flat on his back when he hears hanzawa senpai’s voice say, dull and rumbly and cracking, “please, god, just make me clean.”

—

tashiro forgot to end the call. there’s only snoring on the other end. kyouji grumbles, “hey, tashiro, I’m gonna tell you something you might think sounds crazy.”

no response. he wasn’t expecting one. “those dreams you’re having are your dreams, and generally I think it means something when you get into these… situations… over and over with one person in those dreams.”

tashiro hardly says, “hrngh?”

kyouji says, “go back to bed, punk,” and hangs up the call.

—

hanzawa senpai’s voice is reaching a quality it only ever got to once, during the last quarter of a tournament day—harsher, raspier, more mean than usual. irritable, impatient. waiting for something lying flat on a dozen broken… back… bones. “I miss when I was alone,” he announces at the sky. a boat horn bellows way far off. “I miss when you weren’t here. do you know how easy it was to die then?”

tashiro, someplace between bored and enraptured, and able to stand on two feet, is carving notches into rotting wood. “I bet I could guess. how long do you think this thing has been here?”

hanzawa senpai throws an arm over his eyes, deflates a little. “not as long as its occupant, I wager.”

—

“ta—shi—ro.” he felt warm breath on his ear and jumped. “d’you wanna free pass to say my name?”

tashiro spun on his heel, covered both ears. “aaahhh????”

the president stood there still, bent a little at the waist, hands behind his back. he asked, “you didn’t hear me?”

tashiro caught his breath enough to say, “what would I want that for?!”

“oh, you did.”

tashiro grasped at his chest. “just ‘president’ is fine with me.” he got a funny look.

“I didn’t spook you that bad, did I?”

“huh?” tashiro looked down at where his hand was rubbing the space over his heart. “uh. hm.” tashiro looked up at the president. the president was looking down at where tashiro was rubbing the space over his heart. tashiro stopped. “maybe a little,” he conceded the apparent truth, sounding a little petulant out of the corner of his mouth.

the president’s eyes narrowed a little, like he was holding back an indulgent smile.

tashiro got back to packing his bag.

out of his periphery he saw the president bring his arms over his head, fingers interlocked.

“I don’t think it’s fine with me, though.”

tashiro paused to take a sip of his water. “...mm?” a little dribbled out the corner of his mouth.

the president seemed to notice before he could wipe it. he didn’t repeat himself.

“what’d you say just now, president?”

realization clicked on. “you didn’t hear me. just as well—nothing much.” two long strides; he crouched right in front of him. brought his glasses up to sit atop his head. went over the corner of tashiro’s mouth with his pinky, like tashiro didn’t already wipe the water there.

he smiled knowingly. “break’s over. up we get.”

“wh—I’m done for today!”

the president towed him by the forearm back towards the last table left set up. used his big, booming voice to announce, “one more round!” to a room without an audience.

hanzawa senpai, from the storage room, called back distantly, “one more round!”

—

another lifetime, maybe, when tashiro through the throbbing in his forehead hears a low voice—electrifyingly familiar—ask liltingly, “do you want to be clean or don’t you?”

strong arms hook under tashiro’s armpits. hanzawa senpai drawls, somewhere, like his filter has gone completely, “is this wise to do?”

just above him, rumbling through him, “what’s ‘wise’?” tashiro cracks his eyes open to see lips curling up over shining, dull teeth, “aren’t I wise? you don’t trust me?”

tashiro interrupts with his cotton mouth, “what’s this got to do with me?”

he’s someplace else entirely when he hears the two of them at once tell him, “nothing.”

—

“tashiro, focus up.” the ball went whizzing at the wall.

“I’m focused…” tashiro grumbled, tongue feeling numb. his eyes slid over the room—each match a brutal pace, the few members who weren't playing dispensing incisive commentary while pulling new balls out of infinite pockets. the room was buzzing and the air was warm. tashiro shuddered to think of going back outside. he forgot his jacket. icicles were gonna be hanging off him by the time he got to the bathhouse.

“tashiro.” his name jolted through him, and another ball went flying past him, closer this time. tashiro’s gaze fell back across the table just in time to see hanzawa senpai reloading the president with another missile.

tashiro’s whole mouth feels kind of numb, actually. “what?”

“I want you to focus on the game.” hanzawa senpai moved to another table.

tashiro slid back into position. “yeah,” he murmured, “I don’t think that’ll make much of a difference.”

he saw a smile tugging at the president’s lips out of the corner of his eyes. “‘that so? why not? practice against me off the record… thought you’d do more with it.”

tashiro’s brow furrowed. “your arm’s like a gun.”

loud laughter hit him at the back of his knees. the president’s arm drew back. “hey, tashiro,” he said gamely. tashiro dropped his weight into his feet. “incoming.”

—

an arm holds him up by the waist; tashiro’s head rolls limply onto a broad shoulder. warmth drips low in his ear, “guess you’ve got sharper ears than I gave you credit for after all, huh?”

—

tashiro figured it out a while ago. that he wants to win, but not the way everyone else does. this much time spent playing against the old folks at the bathhouse, more time spent in club without him than with him, and he still gets a taste in his mouth, once in a while, that says, I want to beat him.

hungering for the chance. hungering for the chance to get one over him.

on a separate layer, tashiro watches a fraction of the president’s face shifting in low light; it’s still him, but different. tashiro drags his head back up and looks down at him. the stranger doesn’t turn his head, but watches him out the corner of his eye.

tashiro watches the eye roll, watches a smile tug at his lips.

the entire thing feels like tashiro’s got this unfulfilled something, playing out this game of cat and mouse. because they saw something in you.

he saw something in you. you don’t even realize you’re idolizing him until—

“aw, hell,” tashiro murmurs, half-asleep, arm aching under his pillow, “did I ever even learn his name?”

—

desperate times. he doesn’t recognize the hand that’s holding the cleaver and he doesn’t recognize the white hot feeling that’s lighting him up. they don’t really reconcile with one another.

yet.

shirahama’d amended his statement:

“well,” he’d said, hand brought conspiratorially to cover his mouth, sweat beading at his brow, “define what you think is ‘worse.’”

tashiro doesn’t recognize the cleaver but he knows it’s his hand holding it because he sees the trembling of the blade and feels the trembling in his wrist and forearm, bicep, shoulder, chest, ribs. connective tissue being sheared by the fiber. he doesn’t recognize the cleaver but he still sees his reflection in the metal.

some time ago—he doesn’t know, it doesn’t matter—tashiro pinched his lips together. “uh.” wet them. turning to look at hanzawa senpai, he was faced with the full weight of his characteristically threatening smile. he ended up saying, under these circumstances, “okay. don’t get mad.”

hanzawa senpai replied, levitously, “tashiro-kun.”

“…but I’m kind of… trying to…”

hanzawa senpai cut in, levitously, “tashiro-kun.”

“…get you before the water does?”

senpai closed his eyes.

senpai covered his face.

senpai… sighed. “tashiro.”

“…yeah?”

“come here, please.”

“got it.”

tashiro took an unsteady step forward. took another one. stood before hanzawa senpai, kneeling on the ground, and got a dizzying feeling of déjà vu.

hanzawa senpai looked up at him with a weird look on his face. “you need to kneel down, don’t you?”

a couple moments ago, tashiro still felt like this was out of his hands. he knelt. hanzawa senpai took one of those steadying breaths that tashiro is supposed to take before a serve and has yet to follow through on.

“okay, tashiro-kun,” he says pointedly, now, in a funny kind of way, “don’t get mad.”

it’s like a shutter had gone up. tashiro can’t figure out why he would ever be mad. ‘mad’ couldn’t begin to cover any of this.

senpai has got that damn look in his eyes now, too many moving parts; self loathing and good humor, anger and pity and hurt. he asks skeptically, like it’s been weighing on him, “you couldn’t use a normal knife?”

tashiro wants to tell him, it wouldn’t be enough, this’ll be faster. you’re like livestock. that’s not right, sorry. prey?

senpai looks at him dubiously, filmy glaze creeping in over his eyes.

tashiro wants to tell him, you don’t trust me. I’m better with this thing than I look, I’ll show you. it’ll tell me something, so give me the worst you’ve got.

the breath catches on something in his throat. whatever listless feeling he had a moment ago plunks dully into the water.

tashiro tells him, “just watch.”

the instant he wakes up, confident he’d be awake even still, tashiro calls him raspy-voiced. “there weren’t any endings where you killed her to save her, right?”

“man,” says shirahama, muffled, distressed, “do you remember ‘hey’?”

—

“look at you, tashiro,” the arm curling just under his hip trembles for a second. “tall enough now that I have to really hoist you to keep you off the ground.”

tashiro pulls an eye open.

all he sees is skin. he heaves a sigh and feels a jolt run up the body carrying him so vividly it pings in his brain as plain electricity.

“...figure yourself a tease these days, huh?”

tashiro swallows down around the cotton in his mouth enough to say, “nope.”

lifting his head’s a chore, but he does it anyway—hanzawa senpai’s thrown over the other shoulder, sack-style.

“hm,” tashiro says.

“don’t wanna hear any accusations of favoritism.”

bullet hole be damned, tashiro drops his head back onto its perch. thinks about blood and brain gunk staining an otherwise pristine uniform.

un-damning the bullet hole, “your favoritism looks a little funny to me.”

the quarter of a face he can see smiles a little. “you can handle a little cruelty from me, can’t you?”

tashiro squints at him. before he gets a chance to stitch together a response—feels like thoughts are just spilling out his forehead and onto the ground—hanzawa senpai groans, “let me off here.”

rumbling through them both, “hmmm?”

hanzawa senpai laughs, then sighs like he hadn’t meant to. “...please.”

the hum that means half-hearted consideration. “almost there. request denied.”

tashiro chokes on his own laughter when hanzawa senpai replies weakly, “damn you.”

—

talking to the train tracks, tashiro announces, “I think something is really wrong.”

shirahama only replies, “congratulations on finally hitting puberty.”

—

“hup!” tashiro watches hanzawa senpai fall bonelessly into the bath.

lasts only until he emerges with a little kid’s wet cough before laughing hard enough to push tears out his eyes.

warmth poured over itself again in his ear, “nope, you aren’t safe eith—”

“AUH!” water’s hot. he resurfaces. wiping his hair off his forehead, he asks blandly, “is something funny, senpai?”

hanzawa senpai squeaks a little, gripping his stomach where he kneels in the water. his own hair has already been swept back. their catapult stands triumphant with his hands on his hips. the stains on his clothes are apparently a nonissue. the only indication of exertion is a shudder that runs up from his feet and shakes the sweat-matted hair on his head.

tashiro experiences a feeling of clarity so strong watching the two of them that it knocks him on his ass.

“now then,” tashiro and hanzawa senpai watch him reach over his head to tug at the neckline of his uniform shirt. it comes off in one motion after that. “should be for the best that you two make way…!”

—

there’s a sign over hanzawa senpai’s head. if tashiro squints—it’s a dusty ditch-sign and the evening’s only getting dimmer—he can barely make out the words NO DIVING.

—

“you’re not supposed to use soap here.”

“ask your senpai if he wants to get out to actually clean himself up before nagging me, you.”

hanzawa senpai, dropping his head back onto the elbow he’s got resting on the ledge, groans.

tashiro’s head is lying on—

“could I call you ‘president’ once?”

his face twitches, amused, “if you really want to.”

—the president’s forearm. there is the occasional muscle tremor. tashiro feels no particular way about this.

he stares up at nothing.

no time or tolerance for musing, the president cups water in his hand and dumps it on tashiro’s face, stubbornly brushing his bangs back down. “now if you’d just close your eyeees…”

tashiro pushes his face back ‘til his elbow locks. the president just guffaws.

stretching his neck, the president sings, “ought to see about a change of clothes, huh…” tashiro watches him climb out of the bath with exaggerated effort. pretends he isn’t watching when the president massages his shoulder. he vanishes around a corner.

hanzawa senpai has got his wide eyes on when tashiro turns his head. startles him so bad he slips up to his neck in the water.

“am I some kind of clown to you, senpai?”

senpai wipes his eyes, “only the best one.”

tashiro lets his eyes fall shut and sighs. “are you alive yet?”

long pause. tashiro squints an eye to see hanzawa senpai pinching his lips. “...hold still for a second.” tashiro’s eyes fly open as hanzawa senpai takes his more busted hand to brush up tashiro’s bangs. “I suppose so.” he takes a finger and flicks tashiro’s forehead dead center. “you’re back in one piece, after all.”

tashiro can really only hear static anymore. “huh?”

“self-indulgence. you should be proud of me.” a towel gets dropped over his eyes. “I think he’s been boiled enough, don’t you?”

strong arms hook under his armpits; déjà vu as a feeling moves quick. the tile’s cold.

the president crouches to lean over him, takes his towel and chucks it. in snapshots, tashiro watches his hand lift off the ground, reach upward, be taken. in an instant, “welcome back to the world of the living, tashiro.” a snapshot: tashiro’s wrist, between jaws, and a crunch.

—

“hey,” tashiro says.

shirahama groans affirmatively.

is this something I should say out loud?

YES / NO

“do you think I should’ve touched the president?”

shirahama goes stiff.

“like not in a weird way. I’ve just been dreaming some more stuff lately.”

shirahama sits up to look at him. he has tears in his eyes. “can you give me like twenty minutes to pretend I’m dead.”

“I think I’m just really touch-starved.”

“Please.”

—

if it’s a contagion, tashiro is so, so sick.

old man kumano-san asks him, "say, tashiro... what’s got you gripping the paddle like that?"

he doesn't look down at it to swing it right again. sheepishly, he coughs, "cosplaying the meat guy at the supermarket."

—

“ain't enough for you to just let me haunt you, huh, tashiro?”

tashiro shifts his feet, squints, exasperated, across the table. “I can’t just take it lying down forever, you know.”

the table rattles. tashiro hasn’t ever felt his heart pound like this. he’s asked: “spoiling for a fight?”

“...not any more than before, I guess.”

the ball bounds over the net—tashiro returns it, narrowly; caught off guard.

dull teeth grin sharply at him. “bzzt.” his eyes are shining with something. “try that again.”

tashiro drops out of a dream at the bathhouse in worse shape than he's ever been at that river.

he clears sleep gunk out of his throat. purses his lips. dreamed he was at the bathhouse, at the bathhouse. feels, right now, like a squeezed lime.

he doesn’t remember who won. he doesn't know who he wants to have won.

"tashiro,” yamada-san says flatly, “I told you to get a move on already. look at the time!"

"yeah, yeah," tashiro groans. yamada-san—just before standing from where he was sat keeping vigil over him, apparently—balances a milk carton, still cool, on his forehead.

"get home quick. and, ah, good luck tomorrow," he says.

tashiro, saluting at the ceiling, replies, "...roger."

—

over the bustle beyond the open window, tashiro finds himself saying, to no one in particular, “did you know that heat makes you dream weird?”

miyano, to his right, looks at him with massive doll eyes. kuresawa, to his left, fixes him with a stare over his glasses before going back to his phone.

hanzawa senpai, dead center, looks down at him, hands ghosting over his neck where he was ‘evening his complexion’ a second ago, before tashiro went and opened his mouth, and he says, “really?”

like it’s news.

something in his throat keeps down a disbelieving you didn’t know?

tashiro catches his eye. squints hard. something shutters where he can’t see.

“hmmm?”

tashiro throws his head back with an exasperated sigh, and the extensions whip down his—

“senpai,” tashiro calls, louder than the music outside, it feels like, “what were the parts of the spine called again?”

“pfft,” hanzawa senpai, behind him now, murmurs like he doesn’t mean to, “they’re called vertebrae.”

fingers poke lightheartedly where bone juts. tashiro’s in a glass jar, and he flinches.

“gon-chan,” kuresawa chides disingenuously, standing to stretch his back and head for the door, “ladies tend to have more poise.”

miyano, in his periphery, blinks for the first time. he brings a hand to his chin, nods. “pretty good appeal.”

probably bl. tashiro poses with a hand on his cheek and says, “thanks, miyano.”

—

tashiro’s phone pings with a message from shirahama that reads, If you do anything to screw up your hair I’m shaving it all off your head

ping. And making you eat it

ping. Keep one foot on the ground at all times if you do anything insane I’m really gonna do it

tashiro purses his lips. glances out the open window; first floor.

the picture he takes of his feet, hovering as he sits on the windowsill and clad in black crew socks—he left the shoes somewhere else, he figures miyano will chase him down about them later—is waiting to be sent with incomplete text suck i when he spots someone out the very corner of his vision.

the very corner. an unmistakable figure at the edge of the crowd, staring over the living mass of strangers, right into tashiro stood in the window, until he isn’t anymore.

funny thing about crossdressing, see, is the worldview shift. that broad back looks broader, a piece-of-work senpai haunting his memory like a grief-hallucination.

that was him though. there are only so many people tashiro could recognize from the moon and he’s one of them. how many people in the world could possibly look like that.

it’s a second of stirring in his stomach that bridges the space between shoujo manga and violent murder. his feet are back on the ground but they might as well be dangling out the window; an impulse in the shape of today you are a girl has him gripped by the shoulders, nearly chasing after a living ghost and using strangers as stepping stones to do it.

one foot on the ground with his hands braced on the sill, he hears, “tashiro.”

sky still looks like rain. indistinct collective murmur hangs over the crowd outside like smog. a metal rod’s pang clefts clean through his forehead, up between his eyes. taiko drums. dwarfed by encroaching shadow miyano calls again, “tashiro,” from down the hall. tashiro’s shoes dangle limply from his hands.

thundering resonance. tashiro croaks, “what?”

—

“hey, senpai,” tashiro calls, “where’s, uh. where’s the coffin?”

hanzawa senpai points factually at the water. “go after it, if you want.” he smiles at him; a chill zips down tashiro’s… vertebrae. “maybe you’ll catch him this time.”

—

“—this vision of a lost lover. and she goes running after him, obviously, because he moved away when they were kids or whatever. and she missed him sooo bad, so she’s really hoofing it down the stairs and out the front gate and she’s only delicately out of breath, after the whole thing, which I thought was kinda stupid, but whatever. he’s standing a block away, staring back at her over his shoul—tashiro what are you doing?”

tashiro points at shirahama’s window over the crowd and waves him off. he huffs into the receiver, “I’ll be back in time.” he hangs up the call.

he’s standing two blocks away.

tashiro calls, “could you slow down? please?”

the president tilts his head and grins at him. “haven’t moved much at all, just now.”

he’s standing a block and a half away.

the president’s voice carries like it’s nothing, “you look pretty cute today.”

one block. now or never, “hey, president.”

the lopsided grin widens affectionately. “not the president anymore.”

tell me your name for real this time. it’s not really fine with me either. “have you, uh. been dreaming about anyone lately?”

the president’s shoulders shake, lips splitting impossibly wider. his eyes shine. tashiro hears thunder. “nooope.”

[empressofdiamonds]

THE ANXIETY ELIMINATION POST 💕💖💕💖

1- Decide of a unspiraling routine to execute asap as you notice you're spiraling

What is spiraling? I consider it so when I am having obessive thoughts about a particular situation, rethinking again and again and again about one specific situation that MIGHT happen or happened. I explore all the possibilities, all the alternate options, no nook is left unexplored, and then I redo it again, and it evolves into catastrophism. Catastrophism is when you start thinking of the WORST cases that might happen.

Personally I am going on YouTube (one of the rare moments I go on that hellsite) and start seeking for cute cooking videos of women doing cookies and cakes and cake decorating. The slow movements, the cute stuff being created, this is all so relaxing and it helps me bring myself back to Earth and just stop thinking YEARS ahead. It can be a YouTuber you love, doing some cleaning, drawing, reading comics, and so on.

This despiral routine is to NOT enable the anxious process in the brain. You enable that process by participating and carrying on the spiraling EVEN if you're aware you're spiraling.

With time you'll learn the signs you're spiraling earlier and earlier and will be able to nip that right away. I used to need a good lengthy despiral process that lasted close to 2 hours but with time I learned more about myself and I was able to cut that down to a easy 15-20 minute thing.

2- Prepping isn't a bad thing, it even is a great thing actually.

Preparing for eventualities and issues that might come isn't unhealthy. It's good planification and how people should be. What is actually bad is obessing over the bad outcomes, and the final results, and never doing anything in the middle to prevent the bad outcomes.

Like you're anxious about failing your semester and fucking up your life, yes, but not studying during the semester is only reinforcing the anxiety related to the outcome. If you don't study, no wonders you risk the worst outcome. So you gotta prep, nip the anxiety in the bud, and give yourself relief by studying. This is actually self-care as you're saving future you distress, despite how boring studying actually is.

Not being actually prepared (no, thinking about it isn't preparation, despite what the anxiety monster is saying, it's actually doing some work, studying, training, etc), when the mess hits the fan will only reinforce the anxiety. It enables even more the anxiety.

3- Stop assuming nobody understands you and that they can't help you.

Your circumstances are likely NOT unique to you, to a degree nobody legit can't help you. Very likely there's lots of people that went through the same thing you're currently experiencing. They want to give you advice and tips so your suffering is shortened and that you don't go through so much like they did. It's kindness of heart they're extending to you. Instead of squarely rejecting their advice, take this opportunity to ask them more pointed questions relating to their advice. Try to figure out how is their advice working, why it is working for them, and apply the advice to you if it seems it MIGHT work. You never know!

I am especially guilty of this exact thing and this only delayed my healing towards being a more balanced person.

4- Stop talking in a negative way about yourself or in general.

Its a hard pill to swallow, a lot of us women are taught to diminish ourselves, we're taught to maintain a poor self-confidence (to be more easily molded)... But low confidence actually makes the anxiety worse and harder on the self. Anxiety uses our poor self confidence to feed the famous spiraling.

Even confident people can have anxiety, BUT low confidence makes everything else worse.

A great way to start is by stopping describing yourself to others (and to yourself) in a negative way. It only makes your brain be like "hey see you said that out loud, it must be fucking true, you're shit ya see!!", and just brings NOTHING productive. It also makes others see you in a more negative way and thus potentially influencing their behaviour towards you.

The way you behave and talk and think has a influence on your own perception of yourself. Treat yourself like shit, you'll feel like shit. And if you feel like shit, you'll treat yourself like shit. Nip that in the bud; work on reframing the negative thoughts into neutral or positive thoughts.

This includes self-depreciating humor and making a clown of yourself.

Instead of saying you're bad because you're late (some basic exemple I know but it's for the sake of this post), reframe that into saying that you apologize for being late, and carry on. Mentally, you make a plan for next time, what exactly went wrong and make a proactive plan so it doesn't happens again. And you leave it at that. Next time you execute the plan you prepped.

Final note:

A lot of the advice given around mental health in general are centered around comforting and minimizing and sheltering from stressors, which I find to be potentially be very harmful. The person then becomes more vulnerable and doesn't learns to actually deal with their issues.

The work to do is to give ourselves daily small challenges, small stress situations to make the anxiety flare up and train ourselves to deal with the flare ups and actually learn to deal with the situations, rather than freezing or running away.

Doing small challenges is a form of preparation, as said in Point 2, and it preps you for the greater challenges.

Not challenging ourselves and staying in the comfortable denial, when shit hits the fan, is gonna cause major issues that are hard/overwelming to deal with, and thus, reinforces the anxiety ("see this happened!! You're bad! This will happen again because you're shit!!").

Also, allow yourself to fail sometimes. Accept that sometimes it will be shit and that it doesn't defines who you are as a person. Fail, then analyze what happened, then plan a strategy for next time, then leave at it. It's all planned and ready to be enacted next time it happens.

[neptune-midheaven]

The Third House Placements and Their Handwriting Styles ~💖🌺🐚

Welcome back babes 😁🙏✨ I’m back posting someee bit but anything nonetheless ! This was a post I wanted to do for a while, this really intrigued me💫

I’m going to be talking about third house placements and their unique to the placement writing styles. Third house rules hands, arms, fingers and writing, correct !😄🎶 There is a correlation between handwriting and third house in astrology as it literlaly rules over it, so components in your third house astrology will dictate how this will look. Use all of the possible combinations you have in your chart ! 🙂☝️

For generational planet ruled signs, use whatever works better.

🔆Sun/leo ~

May have a gift in being very dramatic and showy whenever they express their ideas or in their communication they can be very bright and charming. They’re very talented at absorbing knowledge and facts, they usually are the types of people to dish out random facts about anything whoever you’re talking to them, they have so much random knowledge kept in their minds it’s almost funny. They’re silly and a bit childlike people,

Handwriting style 🦁

Regal, nice looking. They have a confidence to their writing, if the whole class wrote on one piece of paper, theirs would stand out more, maybe a “I can trust what they write is the best there is here” is what people reading over theirs would think.

🌙Moon/cancer ~

Loves sentimental things, talking about the past and family makes them feel good and safe, attachments to the mother, most likely missed her or their family whenever they had to go to school, homesickness at school

Handwriting style 🌝

Soft, homely words. Shyer? They write with a grace and their words are poetically beautiful. It looks like something out of a movie. Nostalgic, their ink is softer and lighter, their curves are soft, their lines and o’s are soft and so sensitive. SO gentle and calm. It’s sleepy?

💫Mercury/gemini/virgo ~

The wittiest, most social people ever. They’re all definitely extroverts, I am one with my gemini in 3rd house ova here 😘, they love talking, and never stop talking and love chatting about anything and never stop chatting about anything, they love walking up to random people and never stop walking up to random people and staring a convo with them out of nowhere 😀. My friends bully me all the time for this. I understand. The one kid in school with like all the answers, they just knew the answer to things and easily got good grades. People asked them for answers all of the time since they are so smart and intelligent, they absorb what they’re being taught so quickly they don’t ever let the teacher finish talking. They’re fast and versatile.

Handwriting style 🤸‍♀️

Fast writing, so many words. They write super fast and probably have so many typos in their essays and papers. Handwriting can look like crap 🤨😐. Like there’s no rush, you’re gonna get your paper done on time! You can’t read what they write al of the time because they rush through writing everything. Their letters and words look fancy somehow, like they were written by the scholar of all scholars, they’re just unintelligible words and sentences. Teachers may need to ask what the student with this placement writes because they can’t read it. Scribbles, jumbled and mixing up things all over the page. You can tell they write fast with the jagged lines and crooked n’s and t’s ajakksks.

💕Venus/taurus/libra ~

Very sweet and charming way of talking to others, they have strong persuasive powers with their honeyed words, they can almost charm you into doing anything, they seem so innocent and sweet. These people are very kind though of course! They love giving others compliments, strangers, their friends, their family, they’re such sweet people to have in your life. They attract partners and relationships by doing their daily tasks, lovers can show up suddenly when they’re running errands or they can attract a lot of interest at their school.

Handwriting style 🍓

The most pleasant, aesthetic handwriting i have ever seen, even if their handwriting is bad it still becomes an art style somehow, i don’t really know how else to describe that. It’s like no matter how bad it could possibly look or how incoherent it is, their script still manages to look NICE.

💥Mars/aries ~

Very loud voices, a bit like sun, but it’s more like their power and strength is used whenever they talk. They could be meaner or aggressive classmates, angry talkers, I know so many people with this placement who talk so mad, so much cursing, ranting and screaming. We love it all.

Handwriting style 🥵

Very rough and fast handwriting, similar to mercury; however, it has more fervor, the messiest and most impulsive handwriting out of all of the other placements.

🐚Jupiter/sagittarius ~

Loud and expressive communicators, similar to the sun here, but they’re louder and bigger. You can hear their voices from across the room and they’re usually the know-it-all’s in the classroom. Very friendly and fun to talk to, they talk about so many exotic and interesting things. They love to crack a joke or two. Also, it’s something about these peoples voices are just FUNNY. Like how they talk is like hilarious and jolly in a good way. It make you wanna crack up and feel good. They make you feel good and BLESSED when they talk to you.

Handwriting style 🍀

Larger letters, I’ve noticed they have bigger “holes” and like to expand their letters over the pages, their words go over the lines and it could be messy usually, sort of like mars fashion but it’s just wider words on the paper.

🪐Saturn/capricorn ~

Very punctual people with perfect punctuation. They hate it whenever their thoughts are messy or unorganized, it makes it hard for them to think thoroughly like they are expected to. They’re the smarter most mature minds in the room. Very deep, daddy voices. IDK HOW TO DESCRIBE IT. THEY SOUND LIKE THEIR DADS. ITS CRAZY. They talk with so authority and sureness, their diction is so perfect it makes everyone mad.

Handwriting style ✏️

Perfect handwriting, they hate it when their sentences look off or unstructured on a page. The most rounded o’s, the straightest lines and perfect length for every letter they write. Correct punctuation once again, their words look like they were printed by a typewriter.

🌪Uranus/aquarius ~

Very different minds, they could feel strange or odd in school, like they were just the oddball learners, had weird interests, or was a huge nerd over so many subjects. Crazy coffee drinkers, the ones with monster drinks and twenty textbooks that are about to fall out of their open backpacks because they rushed to get to school on time. The craziest people actually, their minds are like on drugs, they can be hard to keep up with.

Handwriting style ⚡️

Weird ways they write certain styles of their letters and their words can “come out” of the page. They write SO fast this is usually why they take harder classes in school with more work just solely on the fact they can write much faster than anyone else. Maybe comic-book looking writing? They’re dynamic and crazy like harsh lines and crazy o’s, there’s something unique about the way they write.

🌊Neptune/pisces ~

Such idealistic thinkers. They want to see the good in their surroundings, they do need to be careful with this because surroundings and things can be deceiving. They can absorb such much of their surroundings, they can be quieter communicators because of this. It can be taken advantage of since they’re overwhelmed by conversations or they can be easily fooled by the wrong people. Like they believe things that aren’t even true? Or they like tell a lot of white lies when they’re talking that make people go like uhh is that even true?😀😀 But they play it off when they’re caught lying, it’s very deceptive. The quietest kids in school that either did drugs or tried to escape class by doing some illegal stuff, or they just left. Some were never seen at school.

Handwriting style 🌀

The sleepiest handwriting I’ve ever seen. It’s provably hard to read what they write. Faded words maybe? Faded words on faded paper. So poetic though, it’s pretty but not in a venus way, it like captivates you. It’s hypnotizing they way they draw out their e’s and their a’s have a dreamy tail that connects to their next letter.

🥀Pluto/scorpio ~

Obsessive minds, they want to know everything possible, they want to reach the deepest depths on information and knowledge. They are motived and driven to know as much as they can, and they always seem to succeed. They’re very smart. The kids in school who would keep to themselves or would obsess over what the teacher taught them, the way they communicate is like they’ve read the same page over and over again for days. Obsessive.

Handwriting style 🖤

Darker, hard to see words, they can have obsessive writing. It’s perfect but fast writing, maybe a bit scary that they have the ability to write so much with so much power? People can be freaked out with just how much they know already. So their words can be very persuasive, so the letters would be magnetic, you love their writing once you read one of their essays. You’re obsessed, just like they are.

[doctorofmagic]

I have to ask, what is it about Stephen Strange that draws you to him? I've always been a fan of Marvel, and I even like the magic side (I'm mostly an X-Men fan), but Strange always came off as a little arrogant to me. Do you have any recommended reading to help change the opinion?

Hello! Well, if you don't mind a long post ahead haha

I gave a quick view on why I love Stephen so much here but I think perhaps it's worth writing a new analysis and go deeper this time since it's been a while now.

Also thank you for the background, I believe it will help me explain why some people indeed perceive him as arrogant.

Long story short, when you mostly read comics that are not centered around Stephen's character, it's quite easy to assume he's arrogant and nothing else. And that characterization got SO MUCH WORSE thanks to Waid and his v5, which can also be perceived in Strange Academy, both runs that didn't escape my criticism. I'm very loud about how unhappy I am to see him portrayed like that.

Because if you go into the past, like, really into the past, you'll see that even in Strange Tales, Stephen is not that arrogant as a sorcerer. In fact, he's confident when it comes to the enemy. He is SO SURE he'll prevail because he utterly believes that good will triumph over evil. Also he's smart. He's not the most powerful sorcerer out there but boi, he's truly cunning. And this is why he ends up defeating incredible enemies like Dormammu and Nightmare, and even Mephisto, Satannish and so many others. But when it comes to TAO? He's deeply humble. He respects TAO and treats him like a master and a father figure. To the point that he needed to have a whole arc (Into Shamballa) just to be able to question TAO's methods and say no to him. And I kid you not, TAO did some shady stuff.

But the thing that gets into my nerves when some writers merely portray Stephen as arrogant is the fact that there's actually no character growth. I'm not saying Stephen is perfect, of course. But there's something shallow and one-dimensional when you decide to write a character without actual development. This is why I'm pretty much okay with Stephen as an Illuminati. Because yes, his arrogance led him to do terrible things, and said things still haunt him to this very day. He regrets it fiercely. There are actual consequences to his acts and he pays for it daily, because it affects his mental health and his own notion of worthiness. This is a panel that I post quite often because it represents everything I just said. He became aware of his mistakes due to his arrogance, and he cannot forgive himself for it.

From New Avengers v1 Annual #2.

So Stephen steps back as the Sorcerer Supreme because he needs to learn humility again. And throughout New Avengers v1 and v2, you see that Stephen is sorry and constantly afraid of bothering people (which I consider his first steps into what could later be read as his depression in v4).

From New Avengers v2 #7.

And after that we have Stephen yet again allowing his arrogance to get the best of him in New Avengers v3, until he loses everything but he keeps going. And that's one of the reasons why I love him so much. He doesn't care about himself as long as he's able to save something. And although he didn't manage to defeat the Beyonders, he found his way to be one out of the three people who saved it all in Secret Wars. And he could have been a god but he saw power and ran away, because he was afraid of what he could have become (and so he allows Doom to do it).

He doesn't hesitate to serve Victor and calls him a god and savior, which is also something quite unthinkable for someone who is perceived as arrogant.

And that's the whole point. After Secret Wars, Stephen is miserable. He degrades himself, he constantly throws himself into danger without any regard towards his own life, he tries so hard not to screw things up because the monster in the cellar keeps growing (Mr. Misery is absolutely a metaphor for his depression).

From Doctor Strange v4 #18.

Basically, v4 is a lesson about self-love and forgiveness. Stephen went through so much, well, misery, that he needs to be reminded that he actually is loved and his existence is valid and important.

From Doctor Strange #390.

This is exactly what draws me into Stephen. The fact that he struggles with self-worth but he still literally gives his own life to do good? And NO ONE knows because he does it all in secret, in the dark when people are not looking. He doesn't need glory or acknowledgement, but the world truly needs him because the mantle of the Sorcerer Supreme is a burden and only Stephen is willing to sacrifice his entire life for it. And no one has ever portrayed that notion so perfectly as Jed in his DODS: Spider-Man tie-in. I deeply recommend checking it out because it shows how Stephen cares not only for magic but ordinary people. He goes every night to a bus stop to protect a lady while she waits for her bus. And only she knows about it. That's what people who are not into Stephen miss and this is why he may look arrogant. But I assure you, this man is... ugh, he's magnificent.

From Death of Doctor Strange - Spider-Man #1.

Yes, Jimena. He's a lovely man.

And since you mentioned X-Men... My last argument for it is simply... Magik. She's not one to take bs from people but she always displays the utmost respect for Stephen, which means a lot coming from someone like her. Stephen has always helped and cared for her, and their bond is strong till this very day. Mostly because he's kind around her and he does not hesitate to be there for her.

From Extraordinary X-Men #8.

My point is, yes. I can understand why people have this idea of Stephen being arrogant. It takes some digging to see his deeper layers tho. And also avoid some writers (Waid, Skottie, I'm looking directly at you). But if you dig Jed's Death of Doctor Strange, you'll see a love letter to the character and how important he truly is to people who knew him.

Stephen is really sorry about the mistakes he has made. He apologized to Hulk and he knows he will never be able to repair their friendship (detailed analysis about this here). This is why he keeps wallowing in self-pity whenever he looks at Clea's picture. This is why he avoids people and teams. He's trying, and that makes him human. And that's the main reason why I love him so much.

Oof, that's it. I hope it helped you see him through a new perspective. Thank you for passing by!

[acollapsar]

universestreasures​:

Henry continued his best efforts to dry himself off, despite knowing that his efforts will probably be in vain when he has to run back to his house with the goods in tow. He could always buy an umbrella from the store, but why would he waste his allowance on that when he could spend it on candy and comics? That would be a waste! Besides, he’s confident that he’ll be fine. Heroes didn’t get sick that easily, after all.

He soon finishes his drying movements to then direct his attention to the store shelves, brown hues examining the shelves lined with so many goods. There seemed to be plenty of goods in stock thankfully. With all the crazy stuff that happens in this town, including access to the outside worlds more often than not being compromised, it made him happy seeing he could still buy his favorite chocolate bar.  

“Guess I’m not the only kid in town who likes the candy they sell here, huh? Ciel has a big sweet tooth, if I remember correctly.” He comments to the butler as he grabs a bar, remembering the detail from both the story they come from as well as what glimpses he saw during the curse. His mother’s spell did definitely alter people from who they were, but not completely. It was that very fact that gave Henry the hope to seek out his birth mother in the first place, the hope to spark the hero’s journey, as it were.

“And yeah. I’m just here to spend my allowance and check what comics they got. I hope they have some new ones! I’ve been dying to see what happens next in the Ultimate Wolverine VS The Hulk series!” He’s only read the first three issues, but so far, he is loving it! He’s gotta know what happens next, Henry moving from the shelves of candy to the spinning stand of comics nearby to try and search for the fourth issue. 

Yes, the young Mills lad was a lover of all kinds of stories, not just those written in fairytale storybooks. Oh, how he dreams to be apart of one himself alongside his family. That would be a dream come true for the young boy. Though, he certainly is enjoying his life here in town as well. What kid wouldn’t love living in a town with story characters? It was awesome! 

“Say Sebastian? You should bring Ciel back some comics to read! I’d bet he’d love them! Kids love comics! Wait, I think I know of one he would enjoy reading!” And just like that, his hands quickly move to flick through the many comics on display. He’s been here enough times to know what usually does and does not sell, and sure enough, he grabs the exact issue he is looking for that he then holds in front of the adult. 

“This is the Excalibur series! It has a cool bunch of cool characters in it, but I think Ciel would really like this guy called Pete Wisdom! He’s a British secret agent who can shoot energy blades from his fingers! Doesn’t that sound cool!?”

          Had it not been for the curse, Sebastian would simply have stood there in complete confusion at the mention of ‘comics’ and their titles. Of course, the concept was not entirely lost to him, as very simplistic comic strips were regularly published in various newspapers across the world dating all the way back to the 1700′s. Usually American by nature, however, Penny Dreadful’s were not exactly too uncommon in Victorian England either. Not to mention how authors would at times publish a single page of their story to a popular newspaper on a weekly basis. Perhaps, come to think of it, he wouldn’t be as bewildered by the modern take on comic books after all - but they were certainly vastly different from what he used to know about them.

Regardless, that hardly matters in any case, as the curse had given him more than enough insight and understanding of the modern society the Phantomhive household has found themselves in.

          “ To think one would risk their health for a mere pile of colourful papers, ” He thought to himself out loud, imagining how much more work he would have had on his hands had his master decided to venture outdoors in the pouring rain, only to return with a dreadful cold...

Turning his attention back to the boy, Sebastian gave said colourful comics a brief glance. The sight of the cover was enough to earn a slight grin from him, followed by a brief chuckle as he shook his head. “ The young lord may act like a child when it is convenient for him, but his tastes remain a bit too refined to be consuming these sorts of entertainment. ”

Or perhaps his tastes had changed during the curse... Although Sebastian cannot recall ever buying him any comics, nor did he ever ask for any either. If there is an interest, it has unfortunately completely flown over Sebastian’s head. After all, while the curse introduced them to a new way of living, it became clear after the curse was lifted that things have not changed. Hoh... He still remembers the look on his master’s face when it had finally dawned on him that him and Sebastian had essentially been living together like father and son.

          “ I believe you and him have quite different tastes, ” The butler mused as he tore his gaze away from ‘Excalibur’. “ If I had to make a wild guess, he would most probably find it infuriating that a supposedly secret agent is strolling about shooting lasers out their finger tips. ” He shrugged lightly. “ It’s not very subtle or secretive, is it? ” Moreover, in the off-chance that he would find that entertaining, Sebastian would like to avoid giving the young master any outrageous ideas...

[fantasmalresplendent]

Dean died at the ripe old age of 85.

In his lucid moments during the days leading up to his passing, in which Dean was just as sharp and as bright as he was fifty years ago, he remarked that people must think he’d robbed the cradle with a “hot piece” such as Castiel hanging around him. 

“You don’t mind that I’m a wrinkly, senile, crotchety old bastard?” Dean had asked, more than once, but he had always said it with a smile. And Castiel would smile back, replying with the same answer the answer many times, in many ways:

“You’re not senile.”

“Old, but not a bastard.”

“I thought I was the crotchety one.”

“I don’t mind.”

Then Dean would smile, and it would light up the room, and Castiel would wonder again how he came to deserve the focus, let alone the affection, of such a man.

“It’s not about deserving, Cas,” Dean had said, half-whispered in the middle of the night a few short months after they had begun to share the bed they laid in. “It’s… fuck, well I don’t know what it’s about. But people don’t get what they deserve, not most of the time.”

Castiel frowned, furrowing his brows. “They should,” he grumbled.

“Well if people got what they deserved, they’d… I don’t know, Sam would’ve actually become a lawyer, stayed in school. Jo, Ellen, Bobby, they’d all still be here. I’d get mauled by a werewolf or something, go out with a bang, and Baby,” Dean said sternly, as though chastising the universe itself for such an injustice, “Would never get so much as a scratch on her.”

“You think that’s what you deserve?” Castiel’s voice was soft, not wanting to disturb the still of the night, but steely as he considered even the possibility of Dean’s violent end. 

Dean registered that, swallowing, “I don’t know. I guess I just never thought I’d even make it this far. Hunters have the shortest lifespans of any human subspecies,” Dean cracked a smile, but his heart wasn’t in the joke. Castiel knew Dean was doing the math in his head. He knew Dean was mentally recalling how long it had been since Bobby left for heaven. Tallying up the number of people who were gone because of self-sacrifice, mistakes, pure dumb luck. Counting exactly how many years he had outlived his own mother. 

Castiel had wrapped his arms around Dean then, embracing him, surrounding him, and they curled into each other completely. Burying himself in Castiel’s neck, Dean had never felt so close to him, and yet so far away. “You don’t have to follow the same patterns if you don’t want to, Dean,” Castiel stated, as if it were that easy. “Do you want to?”

“Want to what?”

“Get mauled by a werewolf?”

Dean sniffed in laughter, and that was answer enough.

Castiel found himself stroking Dean’s hair, an action he felt suited him. He thought for a moment in the stillness and in the space between their breaths. “Maybe it’s idealistic of me, but I still think people should get what they deserve. Even- no, especially you.”

Dean took his time answering, opening his mouth several times before actually saying, “Sometimes I don’t think I know what I deserve.”

“I guess we’ll just have to figure that out together then. We have time,” Castiel kissed Dean’s forehead and he sighed at the touch. “We have plenty of time. Heaven will wait for you, no matter how long.”

Dean looked up at him then with a pout, “You sound pretty confident in that statement for a dude who hasn’t shown up to heavenly chorus practice in a few years.” 

Castiel smiled, “I’d rather be here with you. Always have.”

The man blushed. “Well, if I go… I mean, wherever I go… Where will you end up?”

“I could go with you.”

“Where?”

Castiel closed the distance between them fully, thumbing across Dean’s cheek as they kissed. “Anywhere. If you want me there, I will be there, whether it’s here or heaven. I’ll be there.”

“For how long?”

“For however long you want me to be.”

Dean kissed back, his fingers tangling in Castiel’s hair. “Yeah. Okay.”

  Sam went not long after Dean. It wasn’t a surprise; it was his time as well. His children were grown, his grandchildren almost grown, Castiel knew they’d miss him but that they’d be all right. And they knew to call on “Uncle Cas” if they weren’t, even the little ones who didn’t understand exactly how they were related, or why Great Uncle Dean's husband was only about as old as their parents.

“I mean I love the little gremlins,” Dean had said, cracking open a beer after a long few days of babysitting Sam and Eileen's girls while the expecting parents were in the hospital. He was exhausted, they both were, but beaming from meeting the newest member of the Winchester clan: a healthy baby boy named Robert. “But have you seen Sam’s house? Goddamn mess in there.”

“You… don’t want to have some of your own?” Castiel had asked carefully, taking the beer Dean held out for him.

“You’re making them sound like trading cards. I don’t know, I- I guess I never thought too hard about it.” Castiel could tell this was a lie by the way Dean didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Wouldn’t know what to do with a kid if I had one.”

“Do you think you’d be a good father?”

Castiel had met John Winchester, in Hell. Well, he hadn’t exactly met him. He had really only passed by John’s cell, stole a glance at the infamous hunter on his way to retrieve Dean’s soul. He’d never told Dean what he saw, they were not close enough at the time. He wasn’t sure if Dean would even want to know. Castiel had almost spoken about it many times, but whenever Dean talked about John, “Dad,” a look crossed over his face, sometimes for only a second. A furrowing of brows, a tight smile, a quick transition to happier subjects.

The same look crossed over Dean’s face as soon as Castiel had asked the question.

“Wow. Um, loaded question there, Cas.”

He waited for Dean to meet his eyes before continuing, “I think you would be.”

“Do- wait,” Dean shook his head, trying to understand where Castiel was going with all of this, “Do you want kids?”

“I want you to live a normal life, Dean. I want to be able to give you what you want.”

“Okay, lots of stuff to unpack here. First of all, a normal life isn’t and never was an option,” Dean leaned back against the counter, “I think we can agree on that. Second of all, you didn’t answer my question.”

“...And third of all?” Castiel prompted.

“No, second of all first. Do you want kids?”

Castiel sighed, taking a swig of his beer, considering his words. “I’m an angel, Dean-”

“Is that so!” Dean raised his eyebrows, then squinted as if in deep thought, “Weird, somehow I never noticed.”

That deserved a well-placed eyeroll, but Castiel still had a point to make. “We don’t- I’m just trying to…” he set his beer down. “I don’t know. But that doesn’t matter, what matters is that I would love and care for a child, if it were ours. If we decided that was something we wanted, I would be so happy to raise them, with you. I’d be terrified,” Castiel admitted, “At the enormous and important responsibility, but I would love doing it, if… if it was with you. I just want you to know that, I guess,” Castiel shrugged, “I don’t want you to think it’s not an option for us, if you want it to be.”

“Okay…” Dean was thinking, swirling the beer around his glass. He pointed the mouth at Castiel, “You’re still avoiding my question,” Castiel really rolled his eyes this time, “But I don’t really think it’s for me, all that white picket fence stuff. If you really wanted a kid, I would definitely hit the library and read all those, I don’t know, fucking parenting guides, and take the Mommy and Me classes, whatever. And I think you’d be a good father, better than me, I’d just let them eat gummy worms and shoot slingshots.”

“Children love gummy worms. They listen and will behave better when offered gummy worms,” Castiel knew this for a fact from very recent personal experience, “I don’t see how gummy worms could pose an issue. Slingshots, however-”

“Okay so maybe I’m overestimating your abilities a little,” Dean held up a hand, “But still, I… I like this,” he gestured to the space between them and around them, “I like us. I like waking up to a clean kitchen and sleeping in on weekends. I like not having to ask more than one person whether or not I can take a drive by myself or crank my music really loud at midnight. And I fucking hate Paw Patrol.”

Castiel smiled.

“Sam and Eileen always need babysitters. That’s good enough for me right now.”

“You’ll tell me though, if this is something you really want,” Castiel insisted, “If you think about it and decide something else.”

“Sure.”

“Promise.”

“Okay, fine, I promise,” Dean took a step forward and leaned in for a kiss then. Castiel could taste the beer on Dean’s tongue and sighed. Dean smiled against Castiel’s lips, lowering his voice to a comical level, “We could, uh, you know, try and make some babies,” Dean waggled his eyebrows and Castiel pushed Dean’s laughing face away, but grabbed his hand, turning towards their room.

They hadn’t spoken about it again, not seriously anyway. They got a dog. Dean opened a vintage car garage. Castiel learned how to bake. They took long road trips to the beaches in California, wandered through roadside attractions like Carhenge in Nebraska and Cadillac Ranch in Texas. They bought decidedly way too much merchandise at Oklahoma’s National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum. And maybe they killed the occasional vampire, the wayward poltergeist, but the occasions became less and less. There were younger, more spry hunters on the road now, always welcome at the bunker to look through their library or ask advice on a particularly troublesome spirit. Sam even coerced Dean into holding what became a yearly “conference,” “What are we, a tech startup?” for the next generation of hunters to learn from the legendary brothers.

So maybe they spent more time at home than on the road, but home suited them. Routine suited them like Castiel never could have predicted it would. It wasn’t a white picket fence, but it wasn’t a lonely highway either. Dean would joke about how “boring” they’d become, but Castiel reveled in the repetition. The three hundredth time Dean brought Castiel coffee in bed was just as lovely as the third. The five hundredth time Castiel cooked dinner passed without fanfare, though Dean hugging him from behind, chin hooked over Castiel’s shoulder as he whisked, felt like fanfare enough. The one thousandth kiss they shared was in their bed, lazily breathing each other in as the first beams of sunlight shone through the window after a week of straight rain. Home, a thing he and Dean had never known in their youth, held the majority of their most precious, most banal memories. But still, Castiel always looked forward to those moments speeding down a desert highway when Dean would reach for his hand, turn his head to meet Castiel’s eyes, and smile.

Time took its time with them.

It seemed the opposite with Sam’s children, who grew up faster than Castiel could keep track of. And as they grew from waddling toddlers to full-fledged human beings, Castiel was fascinated, enamored, but Dean was simply proud. He attended their tournaments, their decathlons. He went to their graduations, weddings, barbecues, and Castiel went with him. They took the kids to concerts and movies, parks and shooting ranges, and Castiel never got tired of the smile on Dean’s face when they threw their small arms around Dean’s neck and called him their “Cool Uncle.” “Hear that, Cas? That means you’re the No Fun Uncle. The No-Funcle.”

And as the crowned Cool Uncle, he teased Sam mercilessly about his minivan and his “#1 Dad” mugs, but Castiel knew how proud Dean was of him too. How glad he was that Sam got the future he wanted, and how grateful he was that that future included him.

The brothers still fought. They still bickered, pranked, and glowered. Sam complained that Dean let his kids use power tools too young when they visited, and Dean complained that Sam’s kids were too old to have never heard “Stairway to Heaven.” The usual, the routine, many times over. But they never lied to each other, at least not about the important things, not anymore. And Castiel was welcome in Sam and Eileen’s house and lives, an honor he felt he didn’t deserve, but as Dean said, maybe it wasn’t about deserving.

It was Eileen who noticed Castiel first as he entered the hospital room the day he'd been informed that Sam Winchester was finally coming home. He didn't have to tell Eileen; she saw it on Castiel's face. They’d already spoken, he’d prepared her for the eventuality a few days prior. Eileen smiled, looking back at her husband, teasing him lightly, but Castiel knew she was holding back on her usual snark because Sam looked, well, tired. Turning away from Sam, Eileen signed, “Are you here for him?”

Castiel shook his head. “No, but someone will be here soon.” 

“You mean they haven’t given you reaper duty yet?” Sam joked from his horizontal position, speaking and signing with his usual quick wit, but not with his usual articulation. Castiel had seen him argue with Dean for fifty years like it was his job, he was accustomed to the precision with which Sam had always wielded his words. Not today.

“I don’t think I’d be very good at it,” Castiel stepped closer so that Sam wouldn’t have to crane his head, “I’m not very persuasive.”

“No kidding,” Sam shakily clasped Castiel’s hand and grinned. “I’m surprised Dean even went with you.”

“It took less persuading than you’d think.”

“How is he?” Eileen asked, but she was smiling, so she knew the answer.

“He’s good,” Castiel smiled back, “Getting what he deserves.”

Sam smirked, but his head sunk back into his pillow as if relieved. “And I bet he’s complaining about it non-stop. Asshole never knew how to take a vacation.”

“Neither do you,” Eileen levelled her husband with a fond look.

“We’ve taken vacations!”

“You always wanted to go somewhere exotic and then you’d just end up in the library. Remember Berlin?”

“They had… well I wasn’t going to find those editions in America, and-”

Sam and Eileen bickered for a bit, and Castiel did end up backing Eileen’s points more often than not, so eventually Sam recognized that he was outnumbered on this particular case.

Castiel bid his goodbyes just in time as the nurse entered the room to check Sam’s vitals. Her tone was cheerful, but Castiel could tell that she too knew what was coming. 

“Well… I’ll see you soon, buddy, huh?” Sam smiled at Castiel as confidently as he could muster for Eileen’s sake, but Castiel knew behind those laugh lines Sam wasn’t so sure of himself. Castiel supposed that worry wasn’t to be unexpected from a chosen one of Hell, Lucifer's vessel, the boy Castiel had once called an “abomination.”

But Castiel smiled, giving Sam’s shoulder one last firm squeeze. “You will.”

  When Dean died, at the ripe old age of 85, he knew what to expect.

He’d visited heaven before. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Not an exciting place, but exciting wasn’t necessarily good. Hell had been exciting, and he was in no hurry to return there. Purgatory had been exciting in a different way, years later he swore the stench still lingered on his skin. Sometimes, when he would lose himself in his “senior moments,” he thought he was back in that bloody in between. Or back in hell. Or had gone to heaven. “Times and places are difficult to navigate when your brain’s turning into gummy worms,” he told Cas once. He didn’t remember saying this a few hours later, but that didn’t make it any less true.

His brain was sure full of them gummy worms now as he clung to his body and to his life. He wasn’t completely sure where he was. Bobby’s? The bunker? His childhood home? Sammy had come to see him earlier, at least the kid had looked like Sammy… No, fuck, that was his grand-nephew, Cas had reminded him of that. Sam, his brother Sam, was in the next room. That's right, he’d told the asshole to give him some space, stop smothering him. He sort of wished he was here now though. And Cas, Cas was here, he knew that, but only because the angel was right in front of him. Cas, his friend, was holding Dean’s hand, talking about what their grand-nieces and nephews were doing in school. Dean could swear he already knew these things, but they still sounded new when Cas said them.

Dean looked over at him, and Cas was smiling.

He tried to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. Cas helped him swallow some cool water. Dean cleared his throat, “Bet you’ve been waiting for this for a while.”

Castiel cocked his head, the smile fading. Fifty some odd years and he still had that same confused look. “Waiting for what?”

“Me to beef it, finally. I know this hasn’t been easy, watching me… seeing me like…” Dean took a shallow breath. “No matter where I go next, at least I won’t be a senile senior citizen.”

“Dean,” Cas said, rubbing the back of Dean’s liver spot-covered hand, “Please listen to me very carefully.”

“Got my hearing aids in, go ahead,” Dean joked.

Cas smiled softly again. “It has been the greatest privilege of my life, my existence, to watch you grow old. I feel honored that you allowed me to experience that. Time’s different for me too,” Cas kissed Dean’s hand, “Space and time were never precious to me, not in the stretch of infinity. Not until you. Not until I was able to see you live your life and live it well.”

Tears welled in the corners of Dean’s eyes. He furiously tried to blink them away, but Cas was already there, dabbing carefully with a handkerchief. “I’m… I’m scared, Cas. I know I shouldn’t be, I’ve seen it all. I’ve beefed it a few times already. But maybe that’s why I’m scared? Because… I know what comes next. What could come next. And this is it, right? No more resets?”

Cas nodded.

Dean took a deep, shuddering breath. “If I don’t end up in heaven-”

“You will.”

“If I don’t, that’s fine, maybe it’s what I deserve, and that’s fair. But… will I see you again?”

“Dean,” Cas said sadly, but with his trademarked firmness, “You are going to paradise. And if for some reason, a completely incorrect and insane reason, you don’t? I dragged your soul out of the flames once, I will do it again. I would do it as many times as I needed to.”

Dean shook his head slightly, “Not fair.”

“It’s not about fair. It’s about the truth. Whether you believe it or not, ET goes home.”

Dean chuckled weakly. He was tired. He didn’t want to let go. He wanted to let go so badly.

He felt the bed move as Cas climbed under the covers with him. The angel curled around him, enveloping him. Dean could swear he felt the brush of feathers cradling him and pulling him closer, but he couldn’t muster the ability to reach for them, stroke them like he used to. “Sleep, Dean. I’ll be here when you wake up. Wherever, whenever here is. That’s where I’ll be. Wherever you go, I’ll go with you.”

“Swear?”

Castiel kissed his forehead. “I swear.”

  Dean opened his eyes.

The phrase, “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore” popped into his head, but he suspected, greatly, that he was, in fact, in Kansas. The blowing fields of wheat tipped him off to that.

No, wait. That wasn’t a field, it was a… sandy beach. It looked kind of like that beach he and Cas had stumbled upon driving down the Pacific Coast Highway, what was it called? The one where they’d had to hike down from the lookout point? The one where after they’d trudged back up the trail, they’d sat in the car and looked out over the sea as the sun set? The one where Castiel had smiled at him and the light glinted in his blue eyes and Dean had kissed Cas for the first time ever because he just couldn’t stop himself?

Muir Beach, Dean remembered, blushing at the memory. 

But just as soon as he’d reached the end of that thought, it wasn’t the ocean anymore. It was a lake. On the lake was a pier. He’d seen that pier before, couldn’t remember exactly where though.

Then without warning, but without alarm, Dean saw someone standing on the end of the dock. A young man with light brown hair and a sweet smile Dean would recognize anywhere.

Jack waved, walking up casually, “Hey, Dean.”

Dean grinned and pulled him into a solid hug. “Jack. I missed you buddy, how have you been? Where, uh… are we in…”

Jack chucked, “I think you know where we are.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know know, this could… I could be dreaming or some shit, and I guess even in a dream you could say whatever I wanted you to say, so-”

“Dean,” Jack stopped him, “This is heaven. You are in heaven.”

A relieved but small smile spread over Dean’s face. “Cool…” 

“I’m not usually here to meet people who pass on, but we weren’t going to miss your arrival.”

“We?”

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean turned around. There was Cas, beaming at him.

“Cas…” Dean reached to embrace him too, only now noticing that the hands that reached out were not as wrinkled as they’d been when he last saw them. He hugged Cas tightly, relieved more than he wanted to admit. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Cas’s hand went to Dean’s cheek, holding him in a kiss. They separated, foreheads resting against each other. Cas’s eyes twinkled, “We had an appointment.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean took a step back, seeing Jack grinning out of the corner of his eye. “Is, uh… is anyone else coming? Or is this the welcoming party?”

“They’re all waiting for you,” Cas put his hand down, and as he did, it was stopped mid-air, as if resting on something solid. Dean blinked, and there was Baby, new as the day she was made, parked on a long, long road that stretched far out of sight. “Any time you’re ready,” Cas tossed something in Dean’s direction, “we can go.”

Dean caught the keys on instinct, they jingled on the simple ring. 

Any time you’re ready, we can go.

He twirled them around the end of his finger a couple times, a thought itching at his brain. Or a couple dozen thoughts.

Cas gave him a look, then turned to Jack, “Could you give us a moment?”

“Yeah, I’ll go get everything ready,” Jack blipped out. 

“Get what ready?” Dean asked.

“Dean,” he turned around to face Cas whose brows were knit in worry, bright blue eyes narrowed, “Are you okay?” Dean realized he hadn’t seen Cas clearly for a few years, not since before the cataracts. He’d never gotten completely used to that piercing gaze. 

Dean blinked. “Yeah, I… I just… I’m here. Really here.”

“Yes, Dean.”

“And… you’re here.”

Cas gave him that look like he was being patient on purpose, “Yes, Dean.”

“And… fuck,” Dean stood at sudden attention, “I left Sam down there, is he okay?”

Catching Dean's hands in his own, Cas rubbed comforting circles into Dean's skin. "Sam is fine. He was there when you left. That's why I was a little late, Eileen had only just gotten home and I didn't want to leave before she could be there beside him.

"Okay," Dean took a deep breath, concentrating on the physical contact, grounding himself in Cas’s movements, "Okay. I mean I know he's gonna be fine, he was always fine without me," Dean said, almost to himself.

"And you'll see him soon."

The abrupt return of Dean’s panicked look made Cas smile a little, shake his head, "Not that soon, Dean. Don't worry." 

"Right. Of course, yeah,” Dean looked around, down the road, the back to his car, out past the waving grain that had returned inexplicably. “Well,” Dean flashed what he thought was a very convincing smile, letting Cas’s hands go as he tossed the keys once and caught them, heading towards the car, “Time to hit the road, huh?”

"Wait,” the suspicious squint was back as Cas caught Dean’s arm, “Something else is bothering you."

Dean turned around, and the ocean was back. The ocean he’d taken a trip to see, had selfishly insisted Cas come along for the ride for.

He sighed. "I just…” Dean ran a hand through his hair, “I don't know, I guess it just don't sit right that I’m… I'm gonna see Mom and Bobby and Jo and Charlie and… everyone. How am I going to look them in the face and not feel guilty that I got decades that they’ll never have? And what did I do with that time, sit on my ass? Judge local car shows? Go to freaking baseball games?"

Cas nodded slowly, simply listening. He then hopped up and sat on the hood of the Impala, shoes and all. Dean shot him an offended look.

“She’s a memory of a car, Dean,” Cas rolled his eyes, “She isn’t going to dent.” He patted the spot next to him.

Dean hesitated, but under Cas’s stare, relented. When he was settled, Castiel laced their fingers together.

“I’ve been trying to convince you for all the time I’ve known you that you’re worthy. That you deserved to be saved. That you deserved to rest.” Cas looked down at their entwined hands, “I don’t think I ever really succeeded.”

“Sorry,” Dean muttered.

“You don’t have to apologize. I know you’ve been doing a thankless job ever since you carried Sam out of your burning home. Shit, even before that,” Dean cocked his head, Cas hardly ever cursed, “you were always trying to be the hero for your mother. Some people are at fault for that,” Cas’s eyebrows furrowed briefly, “but it’s human nature to be hard on ourselves and praiseworthy of others. You, in your limited experience, could not possibly know all of the things that you’ve done that have made a difference. But we’re-”

Jack suddenly blipped into existence, giving Castiel two big thumbs up, then blipped out again.

Dean turned, looking from the space Jack had stood back to Cas then back again, “What-”

Cas shook his head with a smile, “I could never tell you exactly what you’ve meant to the world. But we had a, uh, few volunteers that wanted to show you.”

“Cas, could you quit monologuing for a second and-”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw movement. The endless sea became endless plains which became endless trees, the landscape changing at a rapid rate.

Dean looked back to Cas in confusion, but he didn’t look alarmed. He gave Dean a timid smile, kissed him behind his ear, and whispered, “Just watch.”

Dean watched. For a moment, the scenery couldn’t seem to decide what it wanted to be. Then, it decided not to decide. Grains of sand took the form of towering trees, a picnic table, a bench. Green lake water formed the shape of a small boy, hunched over and scribbling on the table. Lastly the wheat twirled and spun and became an all-too-familiar-looking young man wearing a jacket too big for his frame, walking over to the bench and sitting down across from the kid.

Lucas. The name came to Dean from deep in his memory, he was that quiet kid who drew Dean pictures of the ghost in the lake. The grain animated Dean’s smile as he talked, the figure of Lucas showed Dean his sketches. Their forms dissolved as the scene changed and Dean's form was pulling Lucas out of the water, the sheriff having paid his due.

The figure of Dean left, but Lucas stayed and was joined by his mother, Dean remembered her too. They embraced, and the figure of Lucas grew, changed into a young man, a husband, a father. Soon a half dozen figures were standing there, waving to Dean, and then they disappeared, melting back into water. Lucas was the last to go as he was the first to arrive. He signed a phrase to Dean, and Dean knew the words: Thank you, Dean Winchester.

Then the sand reformed into a schoolgirl, the shapes in the green water plaguing her with images of mirrors and Bloody Marys until Dean stepped in front of her, holding a mirror of grain in front of the cruel, refracted specter. It dissolved, and Dean’s form bade goodbye, but the girl remained. She grew too just like the boy did, becoming a professor, graduating with honors, writing dozens of books, and changing dozens of lives. She smiled, and waved, and dissolved as well.

The shapeshifters appeared next, the sand in the form of Sam’s friend Zach, his sister Becky, and even Dean’s false shifter form, but the true form in the too-large jacket blew them all away, leaving Becky waving goodbye. She too welcomed a family that appeared by her side, and they all looked so happy and grateful to have each other.

Again and again the scenes changed. Green waters showed the cities he had passed through, the homes that were kept from destruction, entire communities that were healed. The water formed and reformed into smiling faces and waving hands. Some of the people, Dean had known on Earth. Many of the places, Dean had remembered driving through. Most of the people and places, however, were foreign to Dean. He lost count of the number of strangers who appeared, the cities he’d never been to. He struggled to keep track as they cycled faster and faster, as numerous as the grains of sand and droplets of water they were made of. It seemed that a whole generation of people, all over the world, would-be victims of an apocalypse they never even knew was happening, knew him. Through words and cheers and song, they retold the tales of Dean and Sam Winchester, the tales they had only learned once they had passed on. 

Throughout all of this, Cas pressed his shoulder to Dean’s, his presence grounding but not distracting. Dean’s grip on Cas’s hand grew tighter and tighter. Cas did not let go. 

Eventually, the images and figures departed. The sand blew away, the waters swirled and dispersed, and the landscape made its final decision. Only a simple field of golden wheat remained, waving and rippling in the wind.

Only in that newfound silence did Dean notice he was crying. He shook his head, wiping the tears away furiously.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, and Dean turned to face him, vision blurred, Cas looking at him pleadingly. “You sacrificed so much for so many for so long. You don’t have to be strong right now. You don’t have to be strong ever again if you don’t want to. You have done enough.”

Castiel wiped an errant tear from Dean’s cheek, holding his face between his hands firmly, tenderly.

“You are, and always were, enough. Your job is done. Let. Go.”

Dean did.

Cas silently pulled Dean into his shoulder as he sobbed. Dean didn’t even know why he was crying, didn’t know what for. Maybe he was happy. Maybe he was grieving. Maybe he just felt… relief. He wasn’t sure the last time he felt such relief. He wasn’t sure he ever had truly felt it.

After some time, longer than he’d like to admit, Dean sniffed, wiped one hand over his face, and raised his head. Cas was waiting for him, looking at him with care. With love.

“I, uh… I don’t gotta sign any autographs, do I?”

Cas smiled, and pulled Dean in for a kiss. They stayed like that for a bit on the hood of the car, feeling the breeze, breathing in the fresh air. Dean thought he could hear music coming from somewhere, realizing that it was the car’s radio playing softly from the cab. He knew that any time he wanted, he could hop down from the hood of his car, slide into the driver’s seat with the love of his life on the passenger’s side, and carry on his wayward way. Down the road, through the endless fields, towards the ones he had loved and lost. But not yet, not quite yet, because he had time. Maybe in the end, time was all he had ever really wanted, even if he could never allow himself to ask for it. 

Infinity stretched out in front of him like the fields of grain. It wasn’t an exciting infinity, but it was his. It was a long road, a family that waited for him, a shoulder to lean on. It was, at long last, a place to lay his weary head to rest.

[myfangirlfanfiction]

Can i have a matchup plz

Fandom: Bhna

Personality: kind smart funny motherly responsible empathetic anxious emotional moody perfectionist helpful people pleaser respectful polite obedient caring compassionate nerdy awkward shy introvert curious protective insecure low self esteem low confidence

Appearance: 5’2 african American blaxk curly/wavy hair blackish brown eyes hourglass shape

Age: 18

Zodiac: Capricorn (sun and moon) Sagittarius (rising)

Sexuality: heterosexual ally

Gender/pronouns: cis female/she/her

Ideal date: at home cuddling and watching movies and/or playing video games or going to see a movie

What are you like on a date or in a relationship: I’ve never done either of those so lol

Are you affectionate?: yes

Hobbies/interests/likes: animals books reading writing fantasy magic sci fi anime cartoons music video games personality quizzes friends alone time bread sweets learning singing when im alone

Dislikes: spiders loud sounds people who harm others disappointing people loosing people failing people i care about not caring for themselves siblings not listening to me weird holes and patterns tests math

Siblings: i have 2 younger sisters both with medical issues mental and physical including things like autism so as the oldest child and also the neuro typical child a lot of responsibility is dropped on me a lot so i love them and am happy to help but it can strain our relationship because of all the stress and stuff about the situation about me feeling like i don’t have my own life or time but we care about each other and can have fun together

Random stuff: im clumsy i pace im a picky eater

Thank you

Anime Matchups 💘

My Hero Academia

Hey and you most certainly can have a matchup! I appreciate your patience! Your welcome and I hope you like the character I picked for you. I love that you put yourself down as Heterosexual ally. I had a family death so I’ve had a lot going on but I finally feel up to writing again.

Tamaki Amajiki

This guy is definitely the perfect match for you. You’re both introverted and share similarities I feel would build a relationship.

Tamaki adores your kind, funny, motherly, nerdy, awkward, caring, and protective side. They’re some of the many reasons he fell for you.

Your responsible, empathetic, respectful, and politeness is why he respects you and grew to admire you very much.

He’s good at comforting you when you feel less confident, emotional, and show that you’ve got low self esteem. When you’re anxious and moody he’ll be sure to be there for you unless you desire space. Your perfectionism doesn’t bother him but he’ll tell you everything is fine when it gets out of hand. As for being a people pleaser he’ll make sure no one takes advantage of you.

He thinks your height is cute and will place his chin on top of your head. He likes hugging you because he feels comforted when someone hears his heartbeat. He’ll shyly glance at your curly locks and will sometimes buy you products for your hair. He likes to be considerate like that. If you won’t mind it he’d like to play with your locks of hair. He likes how it feels and hope it comforts you.

At home dates are what he feels more comfortable with so you’re a perfect match with him. I feel like he wouldn’t be against going out for dates but would prefer at home dates. He’ll be sure to buy you some of your favorite snacks for movie dates. He adores cuddles and it’s so obvious. When you two play video games it’s a ton of fun.

Tamaki is affectionate with you when he becomes closer to you. He’s quite shy but since you are as well it will be awkward at times in the beginning of the relationship. You do get the sweet sight of his bashful state. He’s super gentle since you’re as shy as him. Very understanding of you.

You share share similar interests he also adores animals, comics, games and books. He won’t mind your other hobbies since they’re a part of you. Cartoons, anime’s, music videos or movies? He’ll watch them all. He’s curious about personality quizzes so he’d like to know more. In fact he’ll want to know more about your interests. I’m sure he’d like to tell you about his favorite comics and superheroes.

I feel like he hasn’t been in a relationship either since he’s focused on being a pro hero. He’ll be surprised you haven’t dated before and will nervously ask if he’s a good date/boyfriend. When you assure him he is he’ll get so flustered. He’ll avoid eye contact but he’s happy. I also wanted to include that I feel like he’s the type to give random single flowers because he’s a sweetheart.

He’ll understand your dislikes and will listen carefully about them so he knows what bothers you. He’ll make sure to keep spiders and weird holes away from you. As a hero he’ll relate to some of your dislikes. He’ll want to comfort you. When your siblings don’t listen he’ll try giving advice. Most people don’t like math so it’s understandable to him.

He’ll want to comfort you and reassure you about your responsibilities of being the oldest sibling. He’ll want to reassure you that you’re doing a good job and to relax when you can. He wouldn’t want you being stressed so he’d try to cuddle or give you something to relax like a drink or talking about what’s bothering you. He’s happy to see you love your siblings.

Your clumsy side would be cute to him. He’d never say it aloud but he will blush about it. He’ll try to make sure you don’t get hurt or will bandage you up. He’ll accommodate for your picky pallet so he’ll try getting you foods you do like. When you pace he’ll try to calm you down/comfort you.

You’re a Capricorn and Tamaki is a Pisces. Both seem to be pretty compatible as long as you’re both honest and meet each other’s needs it looks to be true romance is coming your way.

You and Tamaki have an understanding and loving relationship. The level of communication and understanding brings you two closer. Even when there is miscommunications or disagreements you two are sure to work it out. Neither of you would ever want the other person to be unhappy or feeling alone. You take the time for each other and truly have a connection. This matchup is as clear as day.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

just because you’re afraid it doesn’t mean you’re broken.

Titans 3.05

once more into the cold dark void of the internet with my stream-of-consciousness take on a superhero tv show...

spoilers ahead.

1. i cannot believe that among the first things i get to hear in this episode with my own two ears is the line 'eluded our overdudes'. why must you give me such pain along with so much joy, show?

1.5. scarecrow stringing jason along on this path to red-hood-dom is not something i would’ve ever expected, but does kind of make sense. 

1.55. i don’t know all the details of the original resurrection arc in the comics but i like that jason, weirdly, has a greater role to play in his own demise and rebirth? i think it makes it easier to draw a line between his past trauma, the demonstrably shitty and terrifying responsibility of being robin, the ways bruce and the titans wronged him, his responses to that, the reasons he turns to scarecrow, and his final evolution to red hood. it makes for a smoother character arc rather than a one that was interrupted for two decades before somebody went oh hey let’s resurrect that kid that the audience once voted to kill and make him an anti-hero!

1.75. what’s crane giving him? anti fear toxin? anyway, crane is a fucking creep and i’m not sure i want to see a whole lot of him on my screen.

2. oh, um, heads up: there’s a long sequence of unsteady cam + flickering lights right after the title card upto the 3:16 mark. it’s a bit headache-inducing so if you want to skip, you can go ahead and do that. 

2.45. that’s... weird... why would he dream about... donna...

ok, who am i kidding. i’m going to jump right into my theory about Why Titans Makes Sense Actually because the show itself is apparently not interested in explaining itself:

a) it makes no sense for jason to be conjuring up donna--who famously did not care much for him!--in his dreams. (he wasn’t even there when she died.) or for her to be telling him don’t go or there’s still time.

b) this leads me to think that that’s actually donna, in some sort of limbo between life and death, the kind of place where jericho used to be

c) rachel has demonstrated that she has the power to link the minds of the titans across great distances--she called jason and hank/dawn for help in 2.01, she linked up everybody later in the season, projected dick’s hallucination of his father into their brains without even realising she was doing it, and in the finale, she managed to get dick into conner’s brain. she’s in themyscira now. is this how she gets donna back to life? but reaching out to her in that non-space between life and death?

d) the next obvious question is: why isn’t donna appearing in the dreams of the other titans? she probably is, but they have better reason to be dreaming about her since they were actually close to her, unlike jason.

e) but why would she warn jason in particular? does she foresee jason entering the afterlife--however briefly? does she have an idea of what jason plans to do and what he will become?

f) anyway, more trippy mindscapes and weird psychic powers, yay!

2.5. my heart clenched when bruce comforted jason post-nightmare: clearly i’ve been reading way too much batfam fic. this is a side of bruce we haven’t really been told to expect by all the characters on the show calling him a ‘psychopath’ (*cough*unreliablenarrators*cough*) and him getting jason to speak to a professional speaks volumes about the kind of self-reflection he’s done post dick’s departure, and maybe some of the regrets he has with regards to how he dealt with dick’s traumas.

i mean, just look at him when jason dismisses his concerns! BRUCE IS TRYING JASON

anyway, i have a whole lot more i want to say about this, but i’ll save it for later. 

also: LESLIE THOMPKINS!!!!

3. i really like molly--and i love that she’s a friend from before jason got taken in by bruce, the implication that they meet up regularly and that she’s a grounding influence on him (tho clearly not grounding enough to not go along with his dumbass idea about confronting a child trafficker alone). 

3.5. aw, jason. robin was his armour against everything in the world that would throw him down and chew him to bits, but san francisco proved that even robin wasn’t enough to protect him. it’s really interesting how ‘disillusionment with the idea of robin’ is so integral to the traumas of both dick and jason but in such different ways. 

4. LESLIE!!!!!!! i even forgive her office being so goddamn blue because leslie! 

4.5. it makes so much sense for titans!verse leslie to be a therapist, because this show is so inward looking anyway, and therapist sessions are a useful tool to showcase this character work in a story. besides, at least in fanfic, leslie often seems to double up as a counsellor anyway. 

4.6. oh man. i’m not terribly convinced by walters’ red hood (tho i think that may be the point--argh. i’ll come back to this thought later. have to stop getting distracted!) but he plays the asshole kid that’s trying not to let any real emotion seep through really well.

“you’d like me to punch you, wouldn’t you”

5. not sure what to think of batman’s little trophy case other than the show winking unsubtly at us and going look look - catwoman! the riddler! two face! you excited yet?! it’s like the scene from the end of amazing spiderman 2 when they were trying to drum up excitement for a sinister six spinoff by having harry osborne walk by a bunch of display cases with stuff from iconic villains in them.

... but then again, bruce does like to display a lot of shit in his batcave, including his dead robin’s bloodstained costume, so.

5.5. bruce is so soft with jason it’s killing me. beyond just trying to learn from his mistakes with dick, it speaks to his own genuine desire to balance his dedication to gotham with doing the best by his sons, although he’s often not successful with that. 

i love that titans is really playing the long game with bruce wayne, with each season and character-perspective sliding in fresh pieces of a bigger puzzle. titans’ bruce has always been a phantom of other peoples’ making, but now we’re getting the idea that he’s a whole lot more complicated than other people make it seem.

5.75. it really recontextualises some of his actions from previous seasons: the fact that he locked dick out of his security systems in 1.06 is likely his way of respecting dick’s independence and his desire not to be associated with batman/gotham anymore. jason knowing about bruce’s tracker while dick doesn’t is probably bruce trying to be more honest and upfront with his charges. bruce sending jason packing off to sanfran to spend time with the titans is probably not him passing on a big responsibility to dick (as i first uncharitably thought) but him trying to get jason out of the toxic influence of gotham for a while and a sign of his trust in dick as a leader and a mentor,

5.8. i mean, bruce is a prick, but he’s also human.

6. i think leslie is doing some good work with jason here, though she may have overstepped the line with her line about robin as a construct being projected by a man with BPD. her speculations about bruce’s diagnosis have no place in her session with jason, and if bruce confides in her, an egregious violation of patient-therapist confidentiality. 

(about the diagnosis itself... i don’t know. i can’t really confirm or refute this without a whole lot more information, and i’m not sure if the writer of this episode means BPD in the same way an actual professional might.)

6.5. i think a huge thing that gets missed out in a lot of recent comics as well as movies/shows is that bruce didn’t create the robin persona out of whole cloth. dick did. he’s the starting point of that legacy and to call it entirely bruce’s creation is blatant erasure of that. in fact, i’m surprised that dick doesn’t feature more in the conversations they’re having about the pressures of being robin. after all, the guy had been robin--bruce’s partner--for such a long time before jason. 

6.8. (and here’s the primal part of me that resonates the deepest with dick grayson--the Eldest Daughter part--that’s sort of resentful: that jason gets the therapy and softness and the learning from mistakes when it took years and years for bruce to reach out in any meaningful way to dick.)

7. oooh that was a great scene!

it’s fun to do these stream-of-consciousness live reactions, because the moment you step down from your soapbox, the episode goes right into tackling what you were just complaining about. bruce means well, he’s learning, but he goes about exactly the wrong way to help jason: taking away robin now can’t be read by jason as anything but a devastating judgment call from bruce. and iain glen really sells the moment that bruce realises this--too late--and his helplessness in trying to get jason to see that it isn’t jason’s fault that he’s trying to do this. he loves jason enough that jason is enough. 

7.5. aaaah so jason brings up the elephant in the room at last. dick got everything makes sense from his perspective, where getting to put on a costume and fight crime means approval, means being something stronger and better than you are. dick got to be robin, then nightwing, and a leader of a whole team of other costume-clad heroes. 

8. ... how did jason just walk into arkham????? this is ridiculous.

8.3. i mean, clearly jason’s not thinking straight, but betraying batman like this puts his possibilities of being robin again even further away. 

8.5. watching that chemistry experiment montage was strangely funny. this guy is looking for an antidote to fear? well, constantly mixing up and inhaling gases concocted by a mad-scientist supervillain is something only the very fearless--reckless to the point of foolishness!--would do. what’s to say crane’s not given you a formula for a drug that will keep you tethered to his every will and whim? hmmmm?

8.7. so he sought out the joker to... test the formula??? 

9. wow the “loud and clear... boss” hits different after a whole episode of them referring to each other as father and son.

9.3. waitwaitwait HOLD UP. wait a DANG MINUTE. you’re telling me that scarecrow had enough resources that he could not only have folks on the outside steal jason away and dunk him in a lazarus pit (i TOLD you that this show would bring up and dismiss ra’s al ghul in a ten second aside! I TOLD YOU) but also have his own little chemistry lab in the basement, AND have enough resources for jason to build his red hood persona???????? all of this in barely twenty four hours?

well there goes my ‘jason orchestrated his death’ theory. it was nice while it lasted. *cups hands to the sky* fly away, my baby.

9.6. a part of me is gleeful at the rushed nature of such an iconic transformation though, especially when compared to all the character work that went before it. we’re so used to getting the opposite that it’s fucking delightful to have a show that’s more interested in exploring its characters’ minds rather than battle scenes or recreating transformations from the comics. that’s taken such bold and exciting steps to fully convey all the nuances of its most recognisable character, bruce wayne, from casting an older actor to play him to unflinchingly showing just how damaging the vigilante lifestyle has been to him and the people he loves. BRILLIANT

*sporfle*

10. again, heads up: a whole lot of flashing lights between 40:28 and 42:00. 

10.3. i guess it’s the super-compressed timeline that’s really throwing me off. where did he have the time to get/develop the mind control thing from? or is it something that he got from the cabal of villains that he intimidated at the beginning of 3.02? very messy.

10.5. i love molly, i hope she shows up again this season.

11. aaaand that’s it! that was a solid episode as flashback episodes go, but now i can’t wait to return to the present.

[doodledrawsthings]

Oh The Humanity! AU  Masterpost

Hi! Making a masterpost for this AHiT AU so y’all have one place to just find all the important bits that I and other folks in the fandom have done for this AU! Everything will be under the read more

AU Premise: Snatcher steals a time piece from Hat Kid and Bow Kid to mess with them. He tries to use it during one of the Death Wish fights, but turns out the particular time piece he stole was faulty/ something was up with it/ he broke it in a weird way that really messed it up. Because of this, when he broke the piece, instead of rewinding time back a few minutes, it sent his form back about 300 years, returning him to human form, but with all his present memories. Now, he’s stuck as a human as and has to wait for the Time Traveling Alien Kids to fix the time piece and return him to normal, while also being forced to confront his past.

You can find most of this in the tag #oth!au. I will also be updating this as new stuff gets added or if I find that I’ve missed something. Let me know if there’s something I missed that you’d like me to add, cuz boy howdy i didnt realize how much is stuffed into this AU, and I dont remember what I’ve already said and what I’m saving for future stuff:

Significant Events in the Main Timeline story (these are kind of in order and kind of not. There’s more to be added, just not yet):

this au has a bunch of different endings thanks to the lovely ahit fandom’s contributions.

This all happens sometime after This comic. So, by the time OTH!AU happens, Moon and Snatcher are at least on“awkward acquaintance” terms with eachother and snatcher is trying to be nicer to him. He’s still got his moments of being rude and snappy tho, but thats just because he’s snatcher.

The first actual post i made In regards to this AU+ @positive-polygons​ comic interpretation of the beginning of the AU. He breaks a weird time piece he stole and he reverse ages back to being alive again. : Link Link1 Link2 Link3

Snatcher asks moonjumper to watch over Subcon while he’s stuck like this Link

Bow takes him to Nyakuza Metro to get new clothes. He trashes the Prince get-up as soon as possible. Link

Arctic Cruise Arc Link1 Link2 Link3 Link4

Some comics, they learn his name is luka at some point

Moonjumper is taking care of Subcon. They do things way differently than snatcher but they’re trying their best. 

Cooking Cat comes by to cook and help out. She’s very motherly to everyone. She’s taken Mu on as an apprentice, so she’s usually there with her whenever she drops by.

The birds are wrapping up a collab movie. The main cast are invited to the premier party, as Hat and Bow acted in the film. Snatcher gets to wear a nice suit and he has some interaction with the conductor and grooves. Link Link

at multiple points, MJ checks in with snatcher for status reports on how subcon is doing. This is usually where their bonding moments happen and they become less and less awkward with each interaction.

At some point around mid to late story, they find out that Subcon is starting to freeze over again. Snatcher was the only one who could melt the ice so this now gives them a time limit.

The Mirror incident Link Link  second fic by @greentrickster​

as snatcher gets along with the kids more, they remake his mailman hat so he can use badges and equip him with his own umbrella. Link Link

at some point snatcher realizes he doesn’t wanna go back to being a ghost.

Main-timeline ending is a Boss battle with Vanessa. Link

General Headcanons:

Almost everything you need to know about moonjumper and the prince and vanessa’s relationship Link

Snatcher and Vanessa have known eachother since they were kids. Their marriage was arranged, but they were good friends

OTH! Snatcher is aroace 

about snatcher’s feelings on defeating vanessa (*human!/final boss vanessa ending) Link1 Link2

This fic has a really good interpretation of the horizon that I’ve pretty much adopted, myself. Link

regarding snatcher’s expression of empathy and emotion both as a human and as a ghost Link1

Snatcher gradually takes on a fatherly role towards the girls. He is constantly trying to deny it as he comes to realize it but eventually accepts it. 

he’s actually pretty graceful with the umbrella  Link Link

Hat kid’s a good leader, but she can often be reckless and stubborn. Significantly more chaotic of the two space gremlins. She’s a lot like snatcher in a lot of ways, and because of that they are constantly butting heads but they get along better as Snatcher both gets used to being human and grows fonder of the two girls. She’s a bit closer to Snatcher, having been the most adamant about being his friend (initially out of spite but yknow) and they have a lot in common. 

People frequently mistake snatcher for being Hat Kid and Bow Kid’s visiting father. They usually comment on how much he looks like he could be HK’s biological dad. Both are in denial of this throughout the main timeline of this au. It’s a running gag. Link

snatcher is sometimes completely oblivious when he enters Dad Mode sometimes

Bow, on the other hand is generally a bit more shy and careful than hat kid is. She tends to take the passenger seat, taking on a more supportive role. She’s also way more polite. In this sense, she has more in common with moonjumper, and gets along with them quite well and she frequently goes to visit him the most often, on her own.

 Her and snatcher’s relationship kind of parallels snatcher’s relationship with MJ. Snatcher, having once been a big jerk to these kids, is now trying to teach bow to take more of a leading role and be more confident.

as this au takes place not long after the Clearing Incident comic, Snatcher and MJ’s relationship is a bit awkward in the beginning. Over the course of the AU their relationship would build up to be more brotherly.

the subconites like moonjumper but they miss their boss. MJ spoils them tho, which they appreciate and occasionally take advantage of Link Link

moonjumper learns to stand up for himself, snatcher learns to be more vulnerable

moonjumper is the badgeseller. Only hat, bow, and snatcher know this. 

snatcher very much enjoys feeling warm, its one of few saving graces he clings too in the stressful early part of the story.

snatcher doesnt like looking at himself in this AU. He’s very self-conscious about his “pathetic human body.” He doesn’t like being pitied and he doesnt like being seen as weak.

snatcher frequently has nightmares about his past.

after recieving the mailman hat, people start refering to him as The Mailman. Link

his voice frequently cracks a lot, especially in the beginning, since he keeps trying to use his Loud Ghost Voice, which can do a number on human vocal chords. Link

the kids bully him constantly Link Link Link

his arc is that he learns that it’s ok to be human and it’s ok to be vulnerable and to open up to people, and he learns to accept his past and who he used to be

the girls accidentally call him dad sometimes, which freaks him out at first, but he gets used to it eventually. Link

he adopts them, for sure, it just happens post- whatever ending.

beard. Link

Spin-off AUs, Alt Endings, and Fanfics, Oh My!:

That ending where habijob kills moonjumper  Moonjumper goes to fight Vanessa, alone. In one version they win, and in another, they lose, and snatcher has to return to ghost form to retrieve them from the horizon. by @habijob  Link Link Link 

From The Horizon fic by @greentrickster Link

@lindendragon‘s hypothetical endings where snatcher is captured by vanessa Link Link

@fedoraspooky‘s spinoff au where the timepiece takes him back even further and turns him into a kid Link Link

@positive-polygons‘s Vanessa Spinoff Link

@doodleimprovement‘s Royal ending Link

@erekiosuncreativeideas​‘s fanfic, Being Human, her version of the au’s story in chronological order starting from when he breaks the timepiece Link

@lemonadesoda​’s Fanfic series, And I Don’t Think You Hate This As Much As You Wish You Did, fills in and expands upon the ideas in  my comics for the AU Link

[kiwistmnt]

Hi, I’d like a match-up w/ the 03’ boys if you’re still open? 🙏

Uhhh, I’m a 5”2 gal, infp taurus, brownish long hair, pretty average looking 💪 (would I tease them for being an inch or so taller? Yes, absolutely. I stan the short kings, but I *will* tease them whenever I can). I like girly stuff, but I mostly wear hoodies and sweaters. 🍃

I like the ✨ arts ✨ (art, movies, music, drama, literature, the whole shebang) video games, reading (comics, manga and books so much read) and eating the good foods in life 😌 also trivia. Gimme trivia and cute/weird animals videos and facts. animals in general. Most of them like me too, apparently I have a ‘calming vibe’ or smth…until I’m being a crackhead a playing w/ ‘em 😂

As you might have guessed, I’m a touch shy and a little awkward. 🤷‍♀️ It takes time for introverts to get comfortable with new people, probably more so if they’re super-cool ninja turtle people who are a *super* tight knit group, and necessitate a super-secret existence.🥲*social anxiety intensifies* i feel like they wouldn’t like me, cause I’m kinda boring. I’d probably have to bribe them with pizza. 🍕😂

Anyway, after the awkward and everyone’s somewhat comfortable…behold, you’ll now know with 💯% certainty…that my head is ✨empty✨ Sometimes there’s almost a plan, maybe an outline or a checklist. But I end up going with my mood/gut/instinct more often then not. Opps? But maybe due sheer stubbornness(I’m a Taurus afterall), it mostly turns out 💪🥲

I’m the type that’s fine with just being in the same room doing totally different activities, as long as we’re in proximity/or touching. So I can be like “check out this meme” or they can be like “look at my ninja move/thing I just did” 👍 I mean, would like to do an activity together, it’s supposed to be like, good for relationships and stuff, but also don’t wanna be pushy lmaooo

Aight, that seems like plenty of info 😂 tyvm 🌸👋

I’ll match you up with…Leonardo!

For me I see Leo as an introvert himself! So he probably won’t mind you being the quiet type tbh he kinda likes that since his family is always loud when he’s meditating or just training. Leo seems to read people’s body language sometimes so he will start slow and give you some small gestures like brushing eachother hands, brushing arms, etc. when you start to opening up more leo will def start to ask you your interests! Funny thing is is that Leo is also 5’2 in 2003 so haha! You won’t tease this turtle about height but he will tease you. Will probably carry you easily just to see your flustered face with a smirk. You read books!? Him too! He mostly likes reading more hero related books or just something about adventure/action. You guys might even have a little book session in his room (if you want ofc!). Leo will try to help with your social anxiety and being more confident with yourself I mean look at you! You’re amazing! Loves your crackhead type of personality when you get comfortable with him. Hey I mean he doesn’t mind you being a little crazy and chaotic around him. He thinks it’s rather cute. Def laughs at all of your antics while cuddling with you. Honestly he loves you lots and wouldn’t mind you being quiet or loud.

[salute-the-dead]

A List of My OTPs

because it's 11 and I can't sleep.

Enjolras x Grantaire a.k.a. Enjoltaire a.k.a. ExR- Les Mis

How I fell into this I don't remember now. I vaguely remember reading a crackfic of this and then everything just went sideways.

This was also the fandom that helped me realize that I wasn't exactly straight and that it's okay to not be loud about my sexuality, that I can just be.

I think that explains my attachment to this ship, not to mention just the movie's Grantaire (played by George Blagden) also shipped the characters and played his character like how he thought it should be, Grantaire loving and pining after Enjolras without the revolutionary knowing it.

Except in the fan fics, Enjolras returns his feelings and they work it out, even though it's not easy because they're both stubborn as mules. Ah, ultimate fantasy I guess. And the number of great fics here, *whistle*

Also, the Les Amis? Is amazing? Especially in the modern AUs? Like they're great friends? I love this fandom so much! Permets-tu!

Shen Wei x Zhao Yunlan - Guardian / Zhen Hun

C'mon, Zhu Yilong & Bai Yu's performance and emotions? Plus just the fact the fanfic writers of this ship are absolutely amazing? Please, escape from this pairing is impossible!

Best opposites attract trope for me. An academic by day, superhero by night in love with a roguish police chief who has no powers but whose charisma, wit, and heart can get him to toe to toe with the legends.

Also, Professor Shen Wei constantly acting like an innocent civilian and lying badly? Gold!

Loki x Tony Stark a.k.a. FrostIron - Avengers

How did I honestly get to this ship? I really can't remember what started it all. I think it must have been a Loki redemption fic where Tony Stark and Pepper broke up and something something happened. Let me tell you, the writers of this ship have written sagas and ballads of epic and sometimes confusing proportions, and that is why I fell deeper into the pit. I mean, they gotta give justice to two brilliant but chaotic characters, right? Angst. This ship has sooooooooo much angst.

Eiji x Ash - Banana Fish

My god, if you want to keep your heart intact and not be reminded of all that's ugly in the world, DON'T WATCH OR READ BANANA FISH. YOUR HEART WILL NEVER HEAL!

If you're gonna watch/read it anyway, make sure to watch something fluffy and sweet after. There's a reason that people from this fandom go, "If you've seen Banana Fish's ending, then you can handle whatever angsty show you're watching now." ~ or something to that effect. Another thing we like to say in this fandom is, "Other fandoms: Let's write a Mafia AU! Banana Fish fandom: We are the Mafia AU." Yes, all of us in this fandom is dramatic af.

Yuuri x Viktor - Yuuri!!! on Ice

Uh, does this really need an explanation? Aside from the fact that you will surprisingly find a lot of Mafia AUs here because we all know that hiding behind that beautiful face of Viktor Nikiforov is a devil capable of... tearing down your self-confidence, like WTF Viktor, don't make Yuuri cry! Also, their dance together at the end, such beautiful love.

Magnus Bane x Alec Lightwood aka Malec - Shadowhunters

I never read the books and have no plans to in the near future. I just saw a video on Youtube about why Malec is life and now here I am, still reading some Malec fics from time to time.

Some stuff on the show were WTF but overall they were a really good couple who supported each other. Plus, they're a Power Couple.

Erwin x Levi aka Eruri - Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin

Not to be confused with Ereri, which is Eren x Levi, which I don't generally ship except for that one time when a writer wrote an epic fanfic series with Eren in his mid 20s and Levi in his late 20s/early 30s, reincarnation AU. Boy was that one a surprise. I did not expect that.

Anyway, I'm an Eruri fan through and through. Especially with that promise that Levi made to Erwin. And the reason he gave the serum to Armin. HE DIDN'T DO IT FOR THE KIDS YKNOW. HE DID IT FOR ERWIN. Plus, Levi, Erwin, and Hange are my special trio. Erwin's batch was really amazing.

Also, I really like the fact that the shorter and slighter person is the more badass fighter while the taller, bigger one is the more calculating and strategic one. Rocks the boat of stereotypes and all that. Bonus: how these two met. My god, what a meet-cute! 😂

Dani x Jamie aka The Au Pair and the Gardener - The Haunting of Bly Manor

It really is more of a love story than a ghost story. I dunno how to feel about this. I loved these two characters so much and I wished they had a better ending but I wasn't SO surprised because it was a horror series (Like, I was still hoping at the end that they'd be together forever but yknow...). In any case, Jamie was just awesome. And her nickname for Dani? Poppins?! God, what a lover and fighter. She was not afraid to cock a gun in a ghost's face.

... and now for my flexible BROTPs

Merlin x Arthur aka Merthur - BBC Merlin

Yeah, my brain is so chaotic multiple OTPs and BROTPs of the same pairing exist at the same time without clashing with one another or having major identity crises.

I actually really like BROTP Merlin and Arthur and also like reading OTP Merthur.

And when Merlin is paired with Morgana or Freya or sometimes even Gwaine, that's fine with me too. As long as his bromance with Arthur stays intact, because that's what drew me to the show in the first place. Personal preference. I see them as platonic soulmates.

*Shout-out to the Merthur writers though, you kept me sane during my "Post-Merlin Depression," which is actually a term thrown around in the fandom because of that horrid final season (not saying it's a good term but it's what it was called). A lot of amazing fics here, too, both Magic Reveal and Modern AU ones. Full of action and adventure too! I mean, there are boy-band-looking Knights and magic-wielding badasses!

Tim Drake x Conner Kent/Kon-El aka Red Robin x Super Boy - DC Comics

More like flexible otp. I dig Stephanie Brown and Tim Drake BUT I really really also dig Tim Drake and Conner Kent. When they're TimKon, it's like an entirely different entity from TimSteph. Ugh, hard to explain.

I mean, Kon telling Tim, "You'll always be my Robin" and Tim telling Kon, "And you'll always be my clone boy" is the shit. Also when Kon could pick out/recognize Tim's heartbeat. And when Tim nearly went mad scientist trying to bring his bestie back. Like, dudes, wtf. And at the same time, hell yeah.

Liu Kang x Kung Lao aka LiuLao - Mortal Kombat

- I see these two as more like ride or die best friends connected by fate/platonic soulmates. But also like their dynamic is so awesome, cute, sweet, badass, can't-live-without-you vibes.

Basically the same way I feel about Merthur. I like reading both romantic and platonic relationships between these two characters. Like, the LiuLao fan creators peeling off the layers of this relationship and exposing every raw nerve is beautiful.

They love diving into the characters' psyche, emotions, motivations, fears, and doubts and you get really amazed because... Aren't they just characters from a video game, you ask? Well yeah, but MK video game has several interesting storylines and the Mortal Kombat 2021 movie was just the perfect jumpstarter to this beautiful blaze.

I mean, "We swore that if we were to die, it would be together"? Hell no, you're not dropping that on us and not expecting us to create our very own spin-offs and 12-page essays on that shit. That's what we fans do, baby. And also, really, we need a shaolin monks/white lotus spin-off/prequel. We're starving here.

As this ship is the newest one on my list, it's the one I'm looking forward to the most. Not enough fan content, I tell you. Not enough. One of these days, I just might add my own.

But right now, it's past 1 and so I shall attempt to sleep.

***No images for TimKon and LiuLao coz apparently I've gone past my 10-images allowance 😤