#in my defense this is a flashback so... filters are already there but still

[einaudis]

BRIDGERTON S02E03 - A BEE IN YOUR BONNET

[foxys-fantasy-tales]

OC Kiss Week Day One - Almost

I'm going to do eight days instead of seven because I want one kiss for EVERY ship in Arigale! This is going to be tough lol. Also, these are canon events and will likely be slotted into the books to come in various places whether that be as flashbacks or present day events, so you have been warned. So excited to take part in @ockissweek again! Word Count: 2.3k Characters: Rita and Blue TW: asthma attack, terminal illness mention, blood, and memory loss (sorry these are my trauma babies)

Cold air blew Rita and all her layers of winter dress about like she still weighed little more than the morning paper, though she knew she’d managed to gain a little heft lately. Still, the few pounds from Blue’s cooking weren’t going to do much against such voracious winds trying to consume her. With his hand at her back, each step was grueling but bearable enough. 

Again. She had pushed too far again. Even so, those at the shelter he took such a shine to had some of their own protection against the elements and a few distractions now. The many thanks, the smiles, the scene they’d left played over and over in her mind as she tried to understand. The gift was so small to her, but to them it was everything. 

Yet, her family had never offered such assistance, though it was well in their means even with her constant health concerns. 

Recollections of a look on a young girl’s face, no more than five, as she passed a stuffed animal shaped like a floppy dog to her was a warm spot against the brisk cold that made her smile. Still, the children of the shelter scrambled around the toys, and not all were kind with sharing. Having enough for all and seeing the girl lost her dog already during dinner service, she’d plucked a pink ribbon from one side of her braided hair and tied it around the neck of the dog. Now, it was hers, marked and sealed. A friend just for her to hold. 

Rita groaned as the win picked up. The more it blew cold into her face the more it felt as though she were breathing through ice. Struggling for each short breath, she tugged the scarf tight over her mouth to filter the air somewhat, but it was already in her lungs. A few harsh coughs caught Blue’s attention. The push of his hand on her back turned to a pull as she felt herself brought out of the worst of the wind. She blinked and found they were both tucked behind a pillar holding up the front of a closed diner. 

“Ri? Are you alright?” 

“Fine.” Keeping it short and sweet saved her breath, but she felt them dwindling like sand through an hourglass. Her eyes shut tight as she leaned into him. His warmth helped, if only to keep her short of panicking and making it worse. “We need to get home. My medicine’s there.” 

“I thought it was with-” His fox-like ears rose high, prompted by a harsh wheeze from her. Having been hired by her as an unqualified caretaker months prior, he knew the signs all too well. “You should have brought it!” 

“Didn’t… want to… be late.” 

She looked up into the burning orange of his eyes and imagined her fireplace at home. Braving the wind again sounded like a fool’s errand, but she had to get home. Step by step, Rita rounded the pillar and ended up back on the path home. Blue easily walked alongside, not only for her slowed pace, but because his height was enough to dwarf her. 

“Not fast enough,” he said in a gravelly growl. Rita didn’t get a chance to rebuke him for chiding her at her best pace, as she felt her feet leave the ground and tucked her body in defensively. What she thought may be her balance failing was really a swift scoop into Blue’s arms. The air rushed past her even harder in his sprint, thus she was breathless. That had to be the reason. He’d carried her before after all. 

The door was opened before she could manage more than three breaths. The rush of warmth was soothing and irritating at once. With a yelp, her back hit the soft couch near the door. Drawers slammed in her bedroom across the way beside the fireplace. Papers fell to the floor with the harder thump of books and the jingle of some of her jewelry before he found the medicine and ran back to her. 

Rita hadn’t seen him look so stricken in a while. It gave a fright when she realized how hard she was wheezing and how the fur on his ears and tail rose and fell with her breath. A hard cough surged a thick bunch of phlegm up her throat. She turned and found a mug she’d used for morning coffee to spit in, utilizing the untied side of her hair to hide her face from him. Her lips were cracked and chilled through. Her hand shook while setting the mug back down. There was no way for her to tell if it landed safely on the wood, as Blue barged into her blurred line of sight and popped a capsule the size of his thumb between her sore lips. 

Repetition and muscle memory kicked in. Rita bit the capsule between her teeth and breathed in deep of the thickened air in her mouth that contained her medicine. She coughed harder after as Blue waited for the effects to clear her up some. A few hard pats on her back dislodged more from her throat, but he didn’t mind catching it in the mug despite her blush. One hand cradled the back of her neck as he pushed another capsule in. This time she was able to breathe deeper and the wheezing stopped. After a moment holding her breath, she let it out between his fingers still holding the emptied capsule. They were calloused and rough against her dried lips, yet she couldn’t move away. Her arms had steadied, but some sort of weakness had taken her. At least, it had until he reached to the table for an ointment he’d brought along as well and started to spread it over her chapped lips. He moved slowly. The tingling medicine seeped in quickly, but his face was far too close. His eyes were far too focused, as if spotlights on her now trembling lips. 

“I-I can handle it,” Rita shouted. She swiped the container and covered her mouth with her hand as she sat up straighter. Blue’s ears fell back. His eyes were wide a moment before he nodded and stepped back. The sullied mug was retrieved and carted off to the kitchen with him. Before long, the medicine had softened her lips and she’d cleared any shedding with a handkerchief from her coat pocket. Her boots and outer layers were strewn across the floor nearby when he brought a clean mug full of mint tea to her. Without a word, he went to start a fire. Rita’s eyes were drawn to the quick strikes of flint that brought an orange glow to fill the room. To frame him, as he scooted back and sat on the floor to remove his coat and boots as well. Rita’s grip on the mug tightened until the heat near burned her. A more sensible way to hold was by the handle, and she adjusted fast before he noticed her slight when he looked back at her. 

“Are you better?” 

“Yes, much. Thank you.” She stared into the slightly yellowed drink. Months ago he’d only been capable of kitchen and basic tasks. He had most of his speech, albeit a touch simplified, but his memories were elusive. Only a year of his memories remained. She’d taken him to be examined as he was technically in her employ through their bargain to give him a spare room, but no one could find anything wrong. So why had he been scratching himself and howling of late? She could still see the marks on his ears as the weight of her gaze tugged them down. “Ri?” She snapped up with a soft gasp and shook her head. “It’s nothing.” By the time her tea was half done, Rita had to fight to keep her eyes from closing. The wave of fatigue after any of her different attacks was debilitating. Tomorrow she would be dragging her feet about the house. And… who was to say how many days she had of that? The same gentle touch caught her shoulder before she fell into the armrest. His voice was marred by her ears pinning down as he laid her out flat. The weight of her blanket followed, or so she assumed, though there was an extra heaviness over her waist. She couldn’t fight it much longer. 

“Sorry for causing such a scene.” 

“Just remember the medicine next time, or maybe I will.” “Usually carry… I was just so flustered the last few weeks getting this all together.” “Yeah, yeah. Rest now. You look like a talking corpse.” He couldn’t have known how that hit her. A bit of air was knocked from her chest. He didn’t know. There were things it was better he didn’t grasp fully. “Mind your business. You did well patching me up. Take the compliment and go to bed.” 

“Not yet. I want to make sure you fall asleep okay.” He paused and took the second ribbon from her hair. “Do you want me to carry you to your room?” 

“No. This was a…good idea. I can see the lights and boxes for the morning when I wake up.” She opened her eyes for a second to glimpse the holiday parcels they’d both brought in a few weeks ago. Blue was especially suspicious, as he came in with dirt all over the nice clothes she’d bought him when he brought his. Remembering the big grin he had on made her chuckle, relax, and drift to sleep. She couldn’t tell how long it had been when something woke her. A makeup brush on her cheek? No, but it was certainly hair. It tickled her nose. Her eyes were still too heavy to lift, but the weight finally registered as Blue’s arm when it wrapped around her back. Warm air touched her cheek, then creeped to the sensitive new skin on her lips. There was a lingering scent of mint again, fresher than her own breath from the tea. His hand gripped the couch and she listened to the fabric whine under his clutches. She wished she could do the same, but she was frozen. In…fear? No. She wasn’t fearful of him at all. Then in… anticipation? Having only kissed a couple times in one night with strangers a month prior, her brain was slow to recall the sensations prior to contact. Her heart hadn’t beat so fast at that dance. There hadn’t been the same warmth that now stirred in her from her limbs to in toward her belly. The worst realization was she might be able to pull away the slight space between them and startle him, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Any moment, if he really meant this, they’d touch. Once that thought crossed her mind, her tail flipped up over the blanket. The motion was enough to startle Blue whether she wanted to or not. His soft gasp turned to softer pants as his presence left her. She still wouldn’t open her eyes, not until she heard his door shut. Then, Rita sat up and placed a hand to her chest. Had he meant to…? She shook the thoughts from her head and tried to rest. In the early blue glow just before dawn, a scream awoke her. “Again? Not this morning…” She glanced at the gift wrapping lit up by several pale, pastel lanterns on the table to her right. Gathering her bearings took but a moment before she bolted to Blue’s room. She’d never forget the blood. Red tinged the blue coming in from the window. It stained the fluffy rug at the foot of his bed and most of the navy blanket carried the iron scent even if the color didn’t pop the same. His hands were crusted and wet from layers of his own blood. Teeth marks that could only be his own covered his arms where he must have tried to stifle himself. Yet, in the carnage, Blue sat with an utterly blank expression. Even after she brought bandages and ointments to dress the wounds, he hadn’t moved. Her lips trembled to ask, “Blue?” He stared in response. Her eyes began to sting and blue as she finished wrapping up his arm. The red already showed through layers of pure white. He seemed calm, so she let him be as she stumped to the main room to compose herself in front of the lights. Ever since he began to falter and bleed, since he mentioned forgetting before, she knew this could happen. She still never prepared for it. She turned her eyes from the problem, just as her parents had from her in her illness, sending her to live alone when she was of age to be done with her late night attacks and the turbulent emotions that came with her knowing she’d never grow old or get better. Her hand bumped into her present as she tried to steady herself on the table. The wrapping was little more than sticks and grass woven together, now yellowed by age and dried to be brittle enough they broke apart. A shine caught her eyes as she wiped them. So golden and bright, she couldn’t help but reach out and uncover a ring. How had he acquired gold? She turned it over in her palm before trying it on. It was like it was made for her, and as she removed and spun it in the low light, her inscribed name showed on the interior. A sob caught in her throat with a hot wave of tears as she heard steps from behind her. “Blue? Why would you say… I guess the morning is blue. Who… Who are you?” 

She turned and fought the lack of air, breathing deep as she could with a hand glittering in gold on her chest. “You’re Blue. Your name, that is, at least… the one I know. You can call me Ri. Short for Rita.” 

Tagging: @jezifster, @fracturedfable, and @wynters-writings If you would like to be added please fill this out: FORM LINK

[rawrmeansilyindinosawr]

MARGaRITAVIlLLE TRI3D 2 SCam MEH ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

HelllOOooooo yall it has been A mf minute since i hav posted bloggie cuz i hass been mf IN A Depressiee episode n traveling but also hustling hard afffff n also manically bleaching my hair n then toning it 2 silver then dying it back 2 brown which is now fading in 2 a blondeish reddish copper patchy thInggy.. ;p

whuts been new since i last bloggyedd on like 4th of july or some10... n hung out w ravers on a bender from electrickk forest cafe i meEAN forest rave. speekiingg of dat cafe i hav never been to rainforest cafe ;p lulzz. i updated moi tinder bio to 'NEWLY SINGLE SO KAN ONLY DO CASUAL BUT IF UR ON THE MARGARITAVILLE CRIUSE SHIP.....HMU 0.0 ' ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! n tha Cruiseshipp in west palm bITCH floridA def tried 2 charge me for fuel immisions n 'OPENING A WATER BOTTLE IN THE HOTEL ROOM' WHICH I DID NOT................the only CHAOzszz that i ENSUED THERE WUZ breaking the bathroom door [[[in my defense it was already hanging off the hinges]]] n needing 2 call tha maintence pplzz to cum fixx it while crying under my sheetzz,. tha cruise wuz whatev but shoutout to all the mILFS in the hot tub who were telling me to LOVE WHO I LOVE [[gay advocates]]. ;]] bc 'JESUS LUVS ME.' also Y were there no hawt pplzz in florida except the increasingly short ppl [ex wuz 4'11 n the only hawt person was a 4'9 shawty] .....

WHyyYyyyYYyy IS IT SO HARD 2 ACCEPT THAT THE MF BEAUTY STANDARD FOR CHRISTIANZZ WAS FUKIN LARRY THE CUCUMBER WITH NO HAIR BUT HAD A WHOLE ODE/SONG TO HIM BEING SOOOOOOoooo SAD HE LOST HIS HAIRBRUSHHHHHHHH n YYYYYY am i still replaying in my headdd when tht Gurl fell downwards from trying to jump a cargo train in front of mehh N YYYYY am i still craving ass eating on train trak n makin11-11 wishes on passin train cartz.

yES i hexed my ex and tha nxt day someone got shot outside his house n NO I DONT FEEL BAD AB IT BITCH CUZZ even tho i did get triggered WAKING UP 4 dayzz ago n SEEING HIM PRETENDING 2 B A FUCKING DOG oNLINE ......... i kan sleep in peace knowing i do not pretend 2 b DOGGO n AT THE END OF THE DAY IT IS ALL LUV BITCHhhhhhhh. ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !whew. =]

dEFINING KETAMINE CHIC . [NOT CHICK.] having undiagnosed adhd until UR an 'ADULT...''' having 'acute pain of riGHT SHOULDER' as 1 of ur medical diagnoses......ASking FLOWErz if ur crush likes u Back cuz flowerzz nevr LIE,...spending at LEAST 4 hours a day wondering why charlixcx has soOooooo many songs ab carszz.......falling on sidewalk outside of moodring cuz everything lookin like lEGO BLOCKZ N GLITTERRRRRR ... being DEPRESSED cuz the age filter on tiktok makes u look like ur DAD n u kant make urself feel better by downloadng reiMI AI ART 2 C UR FUTURE BBBBBYYY. WLALLOWW. loving EVERYONEEEE but bein reecluse n keeping ur thots to urself meow mEOW NOWWW. always havin ur phone at lik less than 10 percent...,,.holding bloodstones 2 ur hart n googling ab shamanism at 4am cuz ur lik wondering why that Tboy that came over for hot disrespectful sexx ended up saging ur pussy n telling u ab how he got initiated into being a shaman by fighting for 11 eggs....,,.,.....havin tummy problems, nose drip N using toilet paper instead of ACtual tissue paper,..,..flashbacks of being told NO when u asked 2 lick the outside of someoness coffe pot.......DICKTIONARY 2 B CONTINUED

sooOOO many short poems compiled in my notes app tht idk where else 2 share sooo here it is

'it was 2am when we talked in ur kitchen, shoes off n ur face looked different'

'built me up 2 tear me down. sugary sweet cocoa puff u Were a radioactive bomb. whispers in my head u told me 2 never trust my friends,..'

'my sex is my poetry, yet my broad shoulders n straight posture an embodied personality,...i feel like a copy of what i thought i should be, by simply observing those around me'

'u apologized 4 walking in 2 my soul, said u treat ur friendz like tht...but bc of ur brain u kant remember much n i wanted 2 ask u how does it feel to experience everything lik it was the first time, but all the time'

YEepPpppp i defz still am sneaking in2 nowiezz by going thruu tha side door into tha yard/outdoor area N yaaaaa i am still somehow ordering uberzz back to bushwIG from paulsbabygrandd with only 1 percent then moii phone dying rite after ordering itt but then somehow finding the car a block down N tha driver miracuouslyy still waiting 4 uss lik 10 min later....N yaaa i am still almost getting kicked out of the MOxy cuz im being loud wiff moi fWEndzz in tha vintage photo booth........n YA still crushing on moi friendzzz new roomie wiFF terrible social anxiety n i DEF offeredd 2 walk they doggo 4 free cuz ima SIMPPP 4 SIMP. n def am tryna buy dem a plant cuz thts whut gay ppls do when they ask u if u wanna fugg/peace offering. n YASS i am still binge watching trash tv N surrounding moiself w ppl tht wanna 'AIR OUT ' in my room by stripping completly nekkid then takin a shower in moi shower n defz yam still SCREAMING at tha top of moi lungs cuz im ANGRY... n YAAA still sad there is no unique lesbian experience cuzz pplzz still wanna giv u they ex's anime/manga bookz . Vegas bound nxtt week n reddy 2 b outta town yet again n b wiff my best friend. ;] C U NXT WEKKKKKKK

LUV U ALLL xoxoxoxo renny69247 [my old tiktok username i am 1000000 percent still spiteful my old boss asked me to change for tiktok creds for styling jewlery on some bella hadid campaign. WHATEVZZZ.]

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 12: Changes •

A/N: The missing gaps in time are on purpose since they will be in book 2 as flashbacks, which will include references to events you have not read yet. All fluff and shenanigans this chapter to make up for last, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: brief mention of nausea and gore towards the very end, but otherwise, tooth-rotting fluff!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬

𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧

𝐀𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭��𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬

𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧' 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

              - David Bowie, Changes

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

- 𝗠𝗜𝗗 𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗦𝗧 -

    "I still can't believe you went after Bowers," Richie scoffs.

    As he steps off his porch and onto his lawn he looks over at his best friend and takes another gander at the bruises and welts littering her skin. Her lip was still busted and despite his and his mother's efforts to clean her bottom lip of blood, it must have started bleeding again sometime during the night as more had crusted over.

    "Yeah, well," she shrugs. "It felt good,"

    "Yeah," he snorts. "It looks like it,"

    "You know what I mean," She elbowed him and he nodded with a little laugh.

    "What d'ya want to do? I mean, we could keep standing around here like a bunch of idiots, but-" he shrugs, hands falling into his pockets, and Y/n smiles.

    "I dunno," she shrugs. A wince falls over her face, a painful-looking one at that. "But I don't think I'm gonna be welcome back at the Capitol Theatre any time soon."

    Richie nodded, a ghostly look falling over his face at all that had transpired in the past twenty-four hours alone. He still couldn't believe she had done that. He still couldn't believe a lot of things but her being in his corner after what she had found out seemed a little harder to believe right now. Especially after the junkyard... But - Jesus, that was already a week and a half ago, it felt like only hours.

    He could hear her words from the park the other day in his ears and he suddenly felt the urge to pay her back. He smiled his charming crooked smile and hoped for the best.

    "You still craving fries?"

    "Always," she answered, a look of suspicion written in her features. "Why?"

    Y/n didn't know why she kept asking these questions when she knew the answer. She didn't at all like the look growing in his eyes or the stupid feeling of guilt growing in her stomach.

    "Cause I'm prepared to make a deal with ya toots,"

     "Oh, yeah?"

    "Sure am," he says, patting his hand over his left pocket. "I'd been saving up for a long weekend at the arcade but that's a bust. And I just got a raise on my allowance ━ that's again, toots. Allowance. It's the money you get when you do stuff for people, you might never have heard of it--"

    "Is there a point here, Rich? Cause if so, you better get to it faster,"

    "Point is, I'm packing and I'm also craving milkshakes. So how's about I treat you to the biggest pile of fries your staved ass has ever seen--"

    Y/n shoots him a knowing look, ready to detest when he holds out a finger.

    "If," he continues. "you take me there."

    "Take you there?"

    "Take me there," he nodded. "By piggyback."

    Y/n gave thought to this, all while hiding behind an unimpressed look. As much as she hated to admit it, she was starving.

    Richie shrugged. "Hey, you're the one always saying you don't want to feel like charity. Well, this ain't charity, this is work with a reward. Take it or leave it,"

    Her unimpressed look grows stronger in an attempt to buy her time. But it's useless, her stomach answers for her with a long growl and a smile sneaks up on her.

    She steps forward, crouching down a bit for him to jump on her back. "Alright, let's get this over with."

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

    "You know, I was really worried about carrying you, but dude, you weigh like nothing. You're a fucking bean pole," Y/n says.

    She comes to a slow before straightened her back letting him slide off her back and onto the ground. The two of them had arrived at the nearest diner in the town square where they now stood.

    "Well, not to brag or anything, but," he fluffs his collar. "I took a massive shit before we left,"

    "Ugh!" a shocked and uncomfortable laugh breaks loose from Y/n and she sticks out her tongue in disgust. "Regretting this already."

    She threw open the doors and the two found themselves inside one of Derry's lesser diners.

    It smelled like sausage and coffee beans, and it had a vibrant red and black theme. There were maybe nine or ten people there, little kids included and they could hear the jukebox blasting a David Bowie song. Y/n had a hard time enjoying it with the combination of a full bladder and an empty stomach so she turns to Richie and nudges him with her elbow.

    "I'm gonna run to the restroom. Get us a booth?"

    "Do your thing," Y/n nods and disappears around the corner. As his eyes follow her, they land on the corner in question she had disappeared around where there sat the jukebox.

    He wanders over, eyeing the machine as Changes reaches a crescendo. A mischievous smile blooms as the lights from the window illuminated his face.

    "Three plays for a dollar, huh?"

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

    When Y/n returned from the restroom, she had expected to find Richie lounging in a booth somewhere, feet up and bugging the employees. She did not expect to turn the corner and nearly collide with the boy as he stood at the Jukebox and feeding all his money into it.

    "Dude! I carried you here, you owe me fries!"

    "And you shall get them my liege," answered Richie in a Shakespearean tone. "But first!" He dropped the act and looked away from the Jukebox for the first time, wearing an almost evil grin. "A social experiment,"

    Y/n's brow furrowed as she watched Richie punch in the same Tom Jones song over and over and over. It was then she caught on to what he was doing. She held out a hand as her eyes watched the Jukebox.

    "Hey, hey, hey, wait," she said, stopping Richie in his tracks.

    He looked up at her with a pout. "Relax, toots. I saved just enough for their biggest basket of fries, you'll get them." Then Richie saw the look on her face. He could practically see the gears turning.

    "No, not that. It's just..." she said, eyes never leaving the list of songs. "Before you put in more, you should throw in one It's Not Unusual,"

    And that's when the afternoon went from good to great.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

    By now, the duo had ordered and waited. They now sat tucked into a corner booth with a great view of the street corner and the passers-by of Derry. Changes had long since ended, and the remaining songs in the queue had trickled out. Richie memorized the song queue and was silently counting down until the big moment as he sat across from his battered-up best friend.

    Her busted lip poked out in a bored pout, her chin propped up on her palm as she balanced her head on the table while looking out at the graying town landscape. It always escaped her how Derry could possibly look so gloomy on even the hottest, brightest days of summer. Until recently that is, the truth all too clear to her and her friends now.

    The thought of the Losers scattered all over this hellhole only added to the gloom. They should all be here, together. Pointlessly debating which condiment goes best with fries, not fighting over... Over what they had fought over.

    Y/n's eyes finally broke away from the manhole at the center of the little intersection outside and wandered over to Richie. He had stolen the salt and pepper shakers from a few empty (and not so empty) tables and was currently doing his best to construct a salt and pepper shaker tower. His tongue was sticking out from between his curled lips and his glasses were sliding to the end of his nose at the angle he looking. The tower was nearly three shakers high and Y/n could hear him muttering, 'where's Haystack when you need him?' under his breath.

    The gloom Y/n had been thinking so intently on was suddenly ebbed away at the sight, and the corners of her lips hooked into a small smile.

    At least she had her favorite Trashmouth.

    "If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I'm gonna catch a cold," said Richie, never once looking up from his tower.

    Y/n snorts. "You're unbearable,"

    Richie shrugs defensively. "Hey, you're the one who said we're stuck with each other," he clicks his tongue and winks. "No going back on that kind of deal,"

    "Oh, I meant what I said," Y/n releases her chin and folds both arms on the table. She hated getting all serious again, but she just needed to be sure. Her voice softens, trying to catch Richie's eye. "All of it, okay?"

    Richie's hand around the salt shaker stops, and he pries his eyes off the tower and to his best friend. Despite her intentions and promises, everything that transpired the day before -- good and bad -- flooded over him and made him tense.

    She suddenly offered him her pinky and a small smile.

    "Stuck forever?"

    Richie rolls his eyes. He didn't quite know who to blame, maybe just the losers in general, but he was going all soft and lame.

    "Like my ass and a toilet seat, toots,"

    He locked his pinky with hers and the deal was sealed forever.

    Y/n leaned back on her side of the booth and took a large swig of the complimentary water as her eyes returned to the streets. The chatter of the diner had died down a little. There weren't as many people since they got there, but they were still filtering in and out. But when Y/n had a hard time shaking off the images she had of her best friend in the state he had been, she deems it safe enough to lean forward and lowered her voice.

    "You know," she began picking at her napkin, making slow and tiny tears here and there. "I--" she sighs, not knowing how or where to begin. "I wouldn't blame you."

    Richie, having abandoned his shaker tower, frowns.

"I wouldn't blame you if maybe, it was -- or is hard to be..." she shakes her head again and rubs her forehead trying to find the words. "I wouldn't blame you if it was hard to be around me and Eddie," She blurts.

    "I'm gonna stop you right there," Richie says. "We're not gonna do that, okay? You have exceeded your sappy meter and you're gonna need to wait about 48 hours for it to charge up again. I think we've both had enough, right?"

    Y/n swallowed her words. She swallowed any promise she was holding out to him that their feelings for Eddie wouldn't change anything. That she wouldn't ever want to stand in their way, however true it was. And instead, she made a new one.

    "Let's just agree, whatever happens, happens. Let that be whatever it needs to be. Even if that means neither of us gets to see that adorable, asthmatic pipsqueak ever again. Deal?"

    Y/n fought the bittersweet smile threatening to appear. She could see it now. Richie knew what he needed to know about himself now, and that was already a lot for him to handle. She could see in his eyes he wasn't ready for the possibility of whatever was his feelings for Eddie Kaspbrak.

    Y/n's stomach turns to knots when the thought crosses her mind, but that only confirms to her it was time.

    She looks around the diner, looking for prying eyes and she still finds none. She leans in, voice lowered as she fiddles with her napkin again. "I'm uh--," she clears her throat. "I've never told anyone this, but..."

    She lets out a sharp breath. "Well, let's just say Eddie isn't the first Loser I've ever had feelings for,"

    Richie shakes his head, making a "what am I supposed to do with that?" face at her sudden shyness. She only gives him a solid stare until it finally clicks.

    Richie collapses against the seatback with a gaping, triumphant look.

    "No. Fucking. Way," Richie slaps his hands on the table and leans forward, and an ugly excited laugh comes barreling out of his chest. "You big homo!"

    "Would you fucking shut up?!" Y/n hisses, reaching over and shoving him back against his seat by his forehead. She looks around the diner and determines no one had heard that. Maybe except one guy in his forties, but that was most likely about him knowing they did something to the jukebox. He was sat with his young kids, looking tired and all too suspicious of their laughter at the jukebox. Finally, she laughs a little. "Beep, beep you moron."

    "You telling me you and Little Orphan Annie...?"

    "I'm saying," Y/n sighs, shrugging her shoulders. "I meant it when I said you're not alone, alright?"

    The look in Richie's eyes hardly changes.

    "No!" She answers. "No, nothing's happened but..." Y/n shook her head. "I had feelings for a really long time, up until about two years ago."

    "Wowza," Richie sighs, leaning back into his seat and plopping one hand on the table. He sighs. "We sure know how to pick em,"

    "Yeah, you could say that," Y/n laughs.

    In fact, that's all she could say. A million things ran through her head, things she wanted to say to Richie but couldn't. Cause when she looked in Richie's eyes at that moment she -- they both -- knew everything unsaid could remain that way. With one look they knew. They knew that they could both count on each other, have each other's back. And that included Eddie too. They knew that no matter who held Eddie's heart, they could both agree that Eddie's happiness -- and each other's -- was most important.

    The sound of brass instruments invaded the atmosphere, pulling the duo's eyes to the jukebox across the diner. Their faces lit up in matching grins, both of them nearly forgetting the psychological horror they had just unleashed upon the diner.

    "What's new pussycat? Woah, wo~ah,"

    And thus began the best meal they ever had.

- 𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗘 𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗦𝗧 -

    Y/n relished at the demanding burst of cool air that bombarded her sweaty skin as she stepped inside Keene's pharmacy. The grip on the money she had scraped together tucked tightly in her right palm grew tighter when the shopkeeper's bell announced her arrival. Her eyes fell to her injured leg, and by now her feet have already begun their journey forward towards the first aid supplies. The last of the bandages secured around her leg, and she winced at the faded and stained cloth that was in dire need of a change.

    Her eyes pick up from the ground when she hears a choked gasp only to find the boy that had been occupying her thoughts standing before her.

    "Y/n," His voice is meek and heavy with sadness, and you can hear the absence of breath in his lungs that she always seemed to create.

    Despite the staggering stampede of emotions she felt, she found herself releasing a chuckle. "Hey, shrimp."

    The name itself would have been strong enough to send hooks into the corner of his lips, tugging them into a half-smile had it not been for the sight before him; she was a wreck. Looked as if she had been put through an actual wringer and his heart stops for a moment, in fear. At that moment he is grateful he has his inhaler, Y/n had a talent for taking his breath away but he never would have dreamed of it happening this way. Already his mind is going at twice its speed, a mad swarm of thoughts that dizzy his head, and as quickly as he can he tries to pluck one - just one - thing to say to her. When he finally speaks, he is thankful that his voice has returned to him.

    "How's your leg?"

    He doesn't have to ask, the first thing he saw - the very feature that tipped him off about her - was the blood-soaked bandages wrapped around her left calf. He couldn't imagine why it would still be bleeding, much less this profusely given how long ago it had been. Perhaps it had opened back up. And Eddie felt it best not to address the new set of scrapes and bandages that were scattered across her arms and legs, though each one filled him with worry. But her eye... it was completely swollen, and several shades darker than a usual bruise.

    She grew rather sick looking at the question and instantly he was filled with dread. Had It gotten to her again? Was it something new entirely? Either way, he felt a great deal of guilt he hadn't been there, and more than anything he wanted her safe. Maybe, if it wasn't too crazy, be the one to look out for her. To protect her.

    "I just," she swallows thickly, eyes darting around to avoid his eye line.

    Eddie tilts his head, encouraging her to continue. She looks as if she's about to unload a great deal off of her chest, but after a moment she shakes her head.

    "Nothing," she lies. "Just need new bandages."

    Eddie's horrified expression does not waver, but only intensifies, zeroing in on her. He just simply can't ignore the state she's in. And while every instinct inside him screams to jump in and help, he knows that's not his call nor his place. But he had to ask, he had to know.

    "Are you okay?" He blurts suddenly. He mentally slapped himself. Of course she wasn't. "What happened...? You're leg? You're eye? Are you in trouble at home? Was it...?"

    She grows tense, and Eddie scolds himself once more when he sees her walls rebuilding themselves. He hated his stupid word vomit sometimes.

    "No, Eddie!" she says tiredly, sighing at her slight outburst. "I'm..." she sighs again, staring at the floor, looking almost... calculated.

    Finally, she picks her head back up, her expression flat, but her tone a bit softer. "Just Bowers. The usual."

    Eddie couldn't help but feel like she was lying. And that hurt him. But he understood. If she had pressed him about things at home he probably would have done the same. Eddie sighed deeply as well.

    He missed the way things were.

    He missed Y/n.

    He missed the feeling he got around her, the storm of butterflies and mind-numbing fits of laughter they'd bring out in one another. He missed the way his skin would tingle like every blood cell was on fire when their skin accidentally brushed together. Eddie missed the way he'd lose himself in thoughts about her like he was now.

    Eddie didn't realize it until that last thought crossed his mind, but this was the first time in weeks he felt something other than anxiety and fear. And maybe he was crazy, but when he looked in Y/n's eyes now he thought he saw it too -

    "I'm sorry, Eddie," she says, breaking him from his daydream, sending him falling back down to earth. "But I really need to take care of this."

    He glances down at her leg, the bandage still soaked with blood and he feels fear squeeze his chest again. She was leaving. And that meant he had to, as well. He would have to say goodbye and go back home to his mother. He could hear her haunted cries, whining at him and wailing. What took you so long, Eddie? Don't you know what you're doing to my heart?

    Eddie goes rigid at the thought when he realizes; the last time he saw Y/n... Those horrible things his mother had said to her and he... Jesus, what she must think.

    "Y-Y/n," he sputters desperately as she begins to limp around him. She had gotten no answer for once again he had gotten lost in his thoughts. But he couldn't have it end like this. He just couldn't. "Y/n, I'm sorry."

    She stops in her tracks and looks back at him, thoughtfully. A sad smile graces her face.

    "I know, shrimp,"

    Her eyes hold a thousand words, a million things she wants to say to him as he wants to say to her. But they die out, and she turns away.

    "Y/n!"

    He couldn't let her go, he just couldn't. Then why was this so difficult? He always had a mouthful to say, but around Y/n L/n, Eddie was always speechless.

    "I wanna..." he gulps, a pleading, sincere look in his eyes. "I wanna see you again." He admits.

    Y/n smiles sadly. Like she doesn't want to let him go either. But still, she gives him a pleading look after gesturing to her leg.

    "Eddie, I gotta take care of this,"

     His head sunk to the floor and he nodded, embarrassed. Of course, what the hell was he thinking? She didn't need him coming in and messing things -

    Her sudden sigh broke his thoughts. "Meet me outside in five? I could use some help,"

     A nervous smile broke out, stretching and hurting his cheeks and Eddie nodded when he met her eye. He was out the door without another word, back in the alley where he had first bandaged her up all those months ago.

    His mind raced with possibility and more unanswered questions. What would he do, what would he say? What had happened to her, and could he have been there to stop it? His face still burned with embarrassment when he thought of the things he let his mother say to her, how livid he was with himself.

    It was all he could do not to bounce off the walls from the jitters. The crates from the last alley visit, or at least some like it, remained and so Eddie eagerly took a seat. His knee bounced up and down at unnatural speeds as his mind raced, his eyes wandering the alley as the wind swept in a familiar summer breeze against his cheeks.

    "I really need to focus right now," he orders, his hands making delicate work of the bandage over the new kid's stomach.

    "You need to focus?" Richie snorts over his shoulder, causing Eddie's cheeks to burn.

    "Yeah, can you go get me something?"

    "Jesus! What do you need?"

    "Go get my bifocals. I hid 'em in my second fanny pack."

    Y/n leaned forward, balanced on her knees with a crooked smile that would with Eddie for days. "You have a second fanny pack?"

    The burning in his cheeks grew, and Stan joined in. "Yeah, why do you have two?"

    Eddie didn't dare meet anyone's eye, let alone Richie or Y/n's.

    "I need to focus right now and it's a long story. I don't want to get into it."

    Besides! He was telling the truth! He needed to focus. Who knows what kind of shit has gotten into this kid's system by now?

    Eddie had nearly finished with the new kid's bandages when he heard the jingle of the store bell.

    "Yep. Thanks." Came the hardened voice of Y/n backing out and towards the alley with a pressed and forced smile before turning for the alley and away from whoever she had been talking to. Eddie was the only one to have caught the small whispered words under her breath from the silence of the alley. "-for nothing, I guess..."

    Eddie shot up from his seat, subconsciously straightening out his shirt.

    "Everything okay? What was that all about?" He asked as Y/n finally joined him. Eddie sputtered, mentally kicking himself for prying. "I mean, you don't have to tell me or anything, it's just you seemed frustrated. You know what never mind, you probably want to get your leg fixed up, right?"

   Eddie stopped again, shifting on his feet when he realized Y/n must be waiting to talk. "Sorry," he mumbled. And to his great surprise, she smiled.

    "Don't be. I've missed your word vomit," she joked.

    Eddie could feel the corners of his lips twitching up in a smile, and something happened to him he hadn't felt in a long time; flutters invaded his chest, making the air he breathed feel lighter and his stomach was doing flips. And he would have fallen harder had he known Y/n's stomach was doing flips right along with him, and a burning sensation lighting up her neck and ears.

    "Well, here-" Eddie said, snapping out of his daze, no longer able to stand by and ignore the gash in her leg. He supposed it really was like old times. He stepped aside, gesturing for the crates and taking the bag of supplies Y/n had handed over.

    "For real though," Eddie began, eyeing her nervously as he unzipped his fanny bag and begun fishing inside for hand wipes. "What happened, Y/n?"

    Her smile fell, and her eyes dropped to her lap where her fingers fiddled together. To Eddie, it felt like a long time before she finally answered.

    "A lot's happened since Niebolt, I'll leave it at that,"

    Eddie nodded, and stepped forward, lowering himself to his knees before her injured leg, and began unwrapping the first of the supplies from her grocery bag. "It feels like years ago,"

    "Yeah, it does," Y/n croaks.

    There's another small silence and Eddie feels a tug in his chest when her eyes linger over him. He only spares a moment to meet her eyes back before taking a deep breath and holding it. With a wince, he unraveled the cloth and quickly discarded it. He tried not to linger on the injury; the edges of her claw-like scars remained, but it looked as if they had been messily pried back open.

    Like deja vu, Eddie found himself battling to keep his lunch in his stomach, but the overall worry in his system for one of his best friends triumphed over it this time around. He dismissed the urge to gag and instead darted his eyes to Y/n in between his work.

    "So..." he asked, realizing he didn't really know where to start. "how have you been? Other than, you know," he laughed nervously.

    To his relief, Y/n smiled.

    "It's hard not being around the losers. I only ever see Richie anymore. Even Bev and I haven't really spoken since the fight, which has been really hard. We've been in each other's lives for so long,"

    As Eddie finishes cleaning the wound, his heart sinks a little at her words. True, he missed Beverly very much. But he also knew all too well what Y/n spoke of, and judging by the look in her eye as she softens at him, she knows it too. She gives him a gentle nudge with her foot.

    "He misses you too," she says, growing another small smile. "Won't shut up about you, in fact. Which is saying something... Guess I'm one to talk, though," she adds, watching him nervously out of the corner of her eye, and Eddie's heart skipped another beat.

    "What about you, shrimp? Dare I ask?" She says with a smile.

    Eddie, Y/n noticed, had been unusually quiet. By now, on any other occasion, he would have talked laps around her by now but something was keeping him. Maybe he just feels a bit out of step, she thinks, as she did. It had been far too long since things had been normal for either of them. But something told her he was now particularly quiet perhaps because he wasn't all that eager to share how things had been for him since the losers split. She couldn't imagine things had been well at home with his mother given everything that had transpired.

    So she didn't pry. She changes the subject, hoping to get his mind off of whatever might be bothering him. Her mind returns to his previous questions, and she bites the bullet.

    "Quitting my job." She says finally, stunning Eddie enough to pull his attention away for a split second. "You wondered what I was doing there. And aside from restocking, I was um... I was quitting my job."

    "You got a job at Keene's Pharmacy? When?" Eddie asked, reaching for a strip of gauze.

    Y/n seemed to think about it for a minute, counting the days in her head before shrugging. Leaning forward, she holds the gauze in places Eddie begins applying the bandages. "I guess a little over two weeks after Niebolt. I did little things around the store, this and that really,"

    "How come I never saw you?" Eddie asked, and Y/n shrugged.

    "He had me running errands most of the time," and she smiled a little. "But sometimes I'd stick around a little longer. I'd offer to sweep or restock the shelves or something. It's stupid, I know, but... I don't know, I guess I was hoping to see some admittedly cute... shrimpy little dude come walking in to refill his inhaler. Is that stupid?"

    Eddie paused, unable to hide the smile or the raging blush taking over his face. Y/n smiled to herself when she saw it, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't feeling a little bit of it too. Finally, Eddie spoke. Or at least, he tried to. His voice came out hoarse and he cleared his throat, quickly shaking his head as he secured the bandages in place and began disinfecting his hands.

    "No. No, that's not stupid at all. I mean, I don't know if I'd say shrimpy, necessarily, maybe a little skinny but-"

    Y/n laughed, smiling hard at the boy she hadn't stopped thinking about for weeks. Like Eddie, she hadn't realized just how much she had missed him until now. But, she hoped, maybe she could change that.

    Eddie trailed off, his ears burning at her laugh but a smile on his face all the same. At this moment, everything was perfect. Or seemingly so, at least. And then...

    "Thanks, Doctor K,"

     He smiled, a sinking feeling in his chest knowing what was coming next as she hoisted herself back on her feet. "Yeah, of course."

    A silence falls over the two, a silence they know won't last.

    "I guess I should get going," Y/n says finally, gesturing down the alleyway. "I'm meeting up with Richie later, he's swinging by my place." And for a moment, she looks hopeful and Eddie already knows what she's going to ask. "You're welcome to come. We both really miss you,"

    Yet again, Eddie Kaspbrak finds himself with a million thoughts racing in his head, but no words on his tongue. What could he say that wouldn't hurt her? What could he say that wouldn't essentially admit he was still a coward who couldn't stand up to his own mother? What could he say?

    But evidently, he doesn't have to. Y/n can see it in his eyes, and any trace of hope deflates with her. She nods sadly, eyes now on the ground and her freshly bandaged leg. "I get it, Eddie. It's fine. You don't have to say anything."

    "Y/n..." He didn't know what felt worse; knowing he let her down, or the sound of her using his real name.

    "Really, it's okay,"

    But it wasn't okay. And Eddie knew that. Today he had been given a second chance with Y/n, and already he had fucked it up. Or so he thought...

    A smile returned to her face just before she left; it wasn't nearly as bright as it had been moments ago, but it was as real as any other he had seen all summer. And then she spoke. She spoke the three words over her shoulder as she disappeared out of view that returned a familiar spark to his chest.

    "I'll call you."

    There was hope yet.

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[stillness-in-green]

MVA In Memoriam (3/5)

The Comprehensive Account of the Butchering of My Villain Academia

(Introduction and Part One, Episode 108: My Villain Academia) (Part Two, Episode 109: Revival Party)

Part Three, Episode 110: Sad Man's Parade

Chapter 229 – All It Takes Is One Bad Day

• The full first page, of Jin getting mobbed by Puppet!Jins, them tearing his mask off, and flinging it and then him away. Saved them a bit of budget, I suppose, but it’s a shame to lose the drama and the violence of Twice having his mask pulled away, since it’s decent foreshadowing (indeed, possibly intentionally so, on Skeptic’s part) for the violent bewilderment he’ll be subject to shortly.

• Re-Destro’s line, “Not when he’s using his meta-ability to puppeteer, unless you want another nagging lecture.” They didn’t keep the first nagging lecture, so of course they wouldn’t keep this. I’m still annoyed, both on general principle and at the loss of RD’s implication that these nagging lectures are a regular occurrence, especially if one tries to bother Skeptic when he’s using his meta-ability. Has RD himself been on the receiving end of one? Possibly so! But you’d be less likely to think so just from the anime.

• Re-Destro’s line, “This allowed our warriors to momentarily hold back and stay out of danger.” Because why would the audience need to know that Skeptic planned for and Re-Destro cares enough to observe something like that lol?? Obviously the MLA is perfectly content to just throw their peoples’ lives away because, whatever, more where that came from! Dammit, anime, the fandom believes this enough as it is without confirmation bias from your cuts!

• Skeptic’s “fufufu” laugh, because the anime is allergic to the MLA having fun.

• The police officer’s line, “Sure, but in a case like this, you’re still to blame.” The rest of the exchange hints at it, of course, but there’s a horrifying callousness to a police officer just saying straight to the face of a teenaged orphan facing his first offense, “Yes, you were obeying the law perfectly and this guy just ran out in front of you, but it’s going on your criminal record anyway, whatever.” A weight the anime lost, and another that makes me very suspicious of the patterns behind what, precisely, was put on the chopping block.[1]

• Jin’s narration, “That police officer couldn’t have known. Me neither.” Demonstrates that Jin doesn’t really hold his fall against the one policeman. It’s a consistent thread with Jin’s character that, while he’s very jaded, he’s not actually vengeful, nor is he looking to enact systemic change. While he’s very defensive of his friends, people who hurt Jin himself are never in any real danger of him coming to collect his pound of flesh in return; he just rolls with it as part of how the world works, in the way of someone who was never given reason to believe any different. This line is a good example of that.

• From Jin’s old employer’s angry rant, deletes the note that the client that called is angry, and that the client said, “That young punk of yours did this!” It’s nothing that wasn’t obvious from the rest of the conversation, but I do I think cutting it loses a sense that this guy is just unloading all of his frustration and fear on Jin. The length of the screed, the extra details—it clearly communicates that Jin’s boss is so angry and upset he’s not paying any real mind to filtering, but just recounting every point of contention the moment they come into his mind.

• In modern society, when you’re someone without roots… Well, not a lot of people can relate to that.” It isn’t just the police that failed Jin; it’s a whole society that’s distrustful of people who don’t have a place in the fabric, and thus are unwilling to try and bring them into it. Like Tenko, there are a thousand little places where someone could have reached out a hand, but no one ever did. The audience can intuit this, but I feel it’s better to be clear about it—it’s not just the legal system that screwed Jin over; it’s every other person that never tried to help him because they were afraid of his eyes or distrusted a guy who had no connections. When Shigaraki comes, he’s not going to be coming for heroes alone; he’ll be coming for this entire tapestry of indifference and timidity.

• Skeptic’s lines, “Hrm? Fighting back? I was sure he’d either flee or cower in place... We didn’t anticipate such unity between them.” This gets at two things. Firstly, and once again, that the MLA did their research; that they came into this with educated expectations and a definite plan. Secondly, an in-character observation of what the arc has been showing the audience all along: that the League isn’t just a disparate gang of hoodlums anymore; that they’re developing real bonds. Those bonds mark them as unusual—Re-Destro comments on it in 223, as did Overhaul in 147; even Mr. Compress remarks disapprovingly on Twice’s “habit” of getting overly attached to people. It’s striking that, even though the MLA knew from Giran’s records that the League was uncommonly well-bonded, Twice’s devotion still fell outside Skeptic’s parameters.[2]

• Again Skeptic’s line, “Now his legs.” The drones don’t actually get this far (though you can see them gearing up for it on the next page), so it’s a reasonable enough cut, but it does emphasize the ludicrous, over-the-top extremes Skeptic in particular is willing to go to in securing what he wants. If, you know, “Kidnap the doubler so we have a method to make copies of the Grand Commander at our leisure,” wasn’t bonkers enough.

• Twice’s line, “Even against Gigantomachia!” It really highlights just how much mental energy Twice has been dedicating to avoiding injury, that he was able to keep it in mind even fighting a foe as overwhelming, and for as extended a period, as Machia. And like, the anime blitzed over the Machia fight so quickly, and with so little visible wear and tear to the League, that it really could have used all the reminders it could find room for about how intense those six weeks were.

• Twice’s line, “I won’t watch a friend die!” Such an important line that the composer named an entire track for it, not that the anime gave us that track in the moment it was clearly scored for. They added in a new line later in the scene which mostly gets the important sentiments back in, but loses out in being slightly less fitting to his breakthrough. See the Additions portion of the write-up on Chapter 230, following.

Framing Shifts

• The policeman in Jin’s flashback looked up at him in the anime, where in the manga, his eyes stay down on his paperwork the entire time. I realize that anime can’t just still-frame every panel of a manga and call it an adaptation,[3] so characters will do things like move and look around in different directions just in the course of inhabiting a room, Still, in this case, it has the effect of making the officer look more alert and engaged than he was in the manga, and given that this whole chunk of backstory is about Jin slipping through the social safety net, it feels appropriate to me that the officer should be completely checked out.

Additions

• A new shot of Jin(s) in his pre-massacre doppelganger army days. Didn’t tell us anything we don’t already know—it’s little more than a new angle of the gang in the truck—but it was nice to see.

Bonus Note

• They left Re-Destro’s phrase, “My company,” alone when he was talking about the micro-transceivers Skeptic was using. That’s accurate to the manga, but I’d like to remind everyone that, at that point in the anime, viewers whose only reference is the anime itself have no idea that Re-Destro is a businessman. The show skipped the commercial, RD’s intro, the dinner scene where his company comes up, and Giran’s association of RD with Detnerat; it will further go on to skip Shigaraki recognizing him from the commercial. The news report mentioning Detnerat was ten full episodes prior to Episode 110, and was followed up on in not the faintest degree. For heaven’s sake, would it have been so hard to have Hirata Hiroaki say, “My Detnerat’s,” instead of just, “My company’s”?

Chapter 230 – Sad Man’s Parade

• Deleted the MLA members that are attacking Compress as they get pushed off by the Twice wave. Not the first time, and not the last, that the anime didn’t animate the random MLA people on the street. It’s hard to take the threat of their numbers seriously when the anime kept deleting them from what are supposed to be crowd scenes, you know?

• Mr. C thinking worriedly about Dabi as he’s mulling over Geten’s strength and disregard for catching his own people in the collateral damage. It’s just a, “Dabi—!” but it’s yet another tiny cut that shaves away at the manga’s clear depiction of Leagues’ concern for one another—even Mr. Compress, who claims that such things aren’t very villainous.

Framing Shifts

• Changed the random MLA’s exhortation to kill all the Twices to a generic, “Damn—!” I know American censors have often taken issue with the words “Kill” and “Die” in kids’ cartoons, but I was never of the impression that that was the case in Japan. And it’s not like the show made any bones about Curious planning to kill Toga. A rephrase to save a second and a half on dialogue, maybe?

• Had Skeptic give his lines about failure on the way over to the elevator instead of stalking over in silence, and then dumping the whole monologue all at once. The manga’s extended silence over three identically sized panels is much funnier and more characterful. I grow ever more confident in my assessment of Skeptic as the second-most ill-treated MLA character in this adaptation.

• The return of the Doom Choirs for the Twice Parade. I really wish the anime would lay off slathering Doom Choirs all over everything, especially a moment like this: a triumph for Twice, and, true to form for Twice, also crammed to the gills with visual and verbal gags. The Doom Choir is out of keeping with both the victory and the comedy—Mine Woman, later on, served the Parade much better.

Additions

• Gave Twice a new line, “I will protect my comrades!” It was nice to make up for his, “I won’t watch a friend die!” but the latter is more characterful, especially since a more literal translation is, “I won’t kill my friends!” Which is, you know, relevant to the fact that Twice has problems telling himself apart from things that just look like him, and he just had to intervene to stop some of those look-alikes from killing one of said friends. At least it got his use of nakama back in.[4]

• A new little cut of animation as the action went back to Geten and Dabi. I suppose the Dabi fans liked it, and it was nice to see more of Geten’s ice dragon, but I’d have much preferred they could keep the scenes we already have before adding new ones.

Chapter 231 – Path

The scene of Hawks wondering why he hasn’t heard from Dabi and his subsequent flashback to the last time they spoke were relocated to the beginning of Episode 102, the first thing the audience saw after the prior episode ended with Shouto inviting Bakugou and Deku to come intern with him at Endeavor’s. In the manga, of course, it’s not “a few weeks ago in Kyushu,” it’s “meanwhile in Osaka.” Also, the order of the scenes was flipped—the episode led with the flashback, then returned to the modern day. It really makes the timeline needlessly confusing—the viewer has no real context for what we’re seeing and when, especially since the anime neglected to specify how much time passed between the two scenes. You have to assume it was enough time for an outcry to be raised over Jeanist’s disappearance, but the random shot of a bird flying over was not at all helpful there.

          Alterations included (as usual, outright removed material is in bold text):

          1. Cut Hawks’ thought, “That’s why you keep calling,” and his line, “What’s the job?” I know I should give a breakdown here about Hawks’ mentality and training, but I’m afraid I don’t have it in me to complain about any lines Takami Keigo loses. God knows the anime gives him plenty enough bonus material.

          2. Spliced in the flashback scene of Hawks reporting to the Commission from Chapter 243, but subtly changed it to suggest that it took place after the phonecall in which Dabi demanded Hawks kill a non-Endeavor top hero, rather than it taking place right after Hawks and Dabi’s first contact, which is what the manga implies.

          3. Deleted several key shots in the Jeanist apartment scene, with the effect of making Hawks way less creepy. We got an anime-original shot of his eyes, narrow and serious, but not either of the shots of his big, off-putting grin and widened eyes as he pulls a feather-blade on Jeanist. We also lost a shot of Jeanist turning to face him, framed between extended primaries of Hawks’ Fierce Wings. It’s not like the anime dropped the fake!Dead Jeanist plot, so I’m not sure why the shift, unless it’s just that they wanted to keep Hawks likable for the merch-buying crowd, not creepy and unsettling. And while I personally never believed that Hawks really killed Jeanist, a lot of people thought it was plausible, no doubt based on how off-kilter he comes across in this scene. It loses a real frisson, to just play it straight.

• Shigaraki decaying a missile in mid-air. So Dabi can get those little animation flourishes but Tomura can’t, huh, anime? I see how it is. I. See. How. It. Is.

• Spinner’s little side comment about all the ice everywhere. A nice demonstration that Geten and Dabi’s fight really is affecting huge swathes of the city; that’s certainly apparent already in a bunch of the wide shots showing exactly that, but it’s helpful to have the more zoomed-in moments, too. Also, I do enjoy those little side quips wherever we get them, and the anime often removes them.

• Thinned out the crowd guarding the route to the tower somewhat (it’s particularly noticeable on the mid-distance rooftops) and, as best I can tell, removed Shigaraki and Spinner from the shot. Why keep all the lines harping on the 110,000 number when a) it’s not even accurate to the MLA’s forces, just the League’s assumptions, and b) the studio doesn’t even have the resources to adequately convey the numbers the manga does portray?

• Somebody in the crowd being defiant about Twice’s multiplication and vigorously declaring that the League are all just sacrifices for the MLA’s Revival Party anyway. The background nobodies? Allowed to express even bog-standard over-confidence? Well I never. How dare those people think their lives count enough for them to get dialogue.

• Spinner’s, “This keeps happening!” Of course he couldn’t have that line in the anime, since the anime cut the other big place Trumpet clearly used his power to rile up his followers. What other times were you even talking about when you said, “Every time he talks,” Anime!Spinner? That scene was the first time we even saw Trumpet since he welcomed you guys to town.

• Twice calling Re-Destro a cult leader. He just called him a damn moron (bakayarou) in the anime; he uses the considerably more specific baka kyouso (Google Translate gives “guru”; jisho gives “founder of a religious sect”). He uses the same term again immediately afterward—Viz’s translation gives, “More like chrome dome cult!”—which the anime also deleted.

          So here’s another example of the anime doing everything it could to erase the presence of cults in the HeroAca world. The easy assumption to make is that this was tied to broadcast standards about the depiction of what Japan refers to as “new religious movements,” which—and pardon the brief swerve into real life historical horrors here—have been very unpopular in Japan since Aum Shinrikyo and the sarin gas attacks in 1995. But were these elements removed because the anime didn’t want to represent anything that smacks of new religious movements at all, or because the depiction of both the MLA and particularly the CRC are explicitly villainous and calling religious movements, even made-up ones, evil on TV leads to a lot of angry phone calls?

• Re-Destro’s line, “Unlike my good Miyashita, there’s nothing charming about you.” Of course they’d cut this, having cut the Miyashita scene, but I hate it anyway. As I said earlier, RD’s invocation of Miyashita in front of two people who are going to have not the slightest clue who that is tells me that Re-Destro really does miss and feel bad about killing the guy. Cutting the reminder that RD still feels that sting makes it much too easy to assume that Shigaraki’s right about RD hiding up in his tower, uncaring of the blood shed on his behalf, when if you read Re-Destro with even the slightest of attempts at good faith, it’s clear that those losses weigh very heavily on him.

          Incidentally, and not to harp on the art again, but in the manga, Stress is still visibly spread down from RD’s temple to the ridge of his brow over his eye socket. The anime returned it back to its normal resting state, again suggesting that the death toll mounting in the streets below (as well as, possibly, the new stress of confronting a quirk as powerful as Double) left RD completely unmoved. The spread was back in the following shot, so it was probably just an art error, but it would be nice to have had fewer of those, especially when they impact characterization as much as what RD’s Stress blots are doing at any given time.

Framing Shifts

• Had Machia doing this weird cannonball skim just over the ground, when in the manga, he’s still half-buried, spraying earth and stone everywhere. The manga never namedrops Machia’s Mole quirk during the story itself, but it’s important to know for later that Machia can not only tear through obstacles, he can tear through obstacles extremely quickly.

Additions

• Gave Hawks a few new lines about how too many unexpected things happened for their last arrangement, and that Dabi should have given him more warning. Largely seemed to be there to give the anime an excuse to flashback to the High End fight, in case the viewers had completely forgotten about Hawks and Dabi having a clandestine meeting and sniping at each other in the aftermath of that event. An understandable addition, but deeply frustrating in the context of all the lines that got cut.

Chapter 232 – Meta Abilities and Quirks

• Dropped a third instance of Twice calling Re-Destro a cult leader. I don’t know what the S&P restriction is on this, but given that the movie was allowed to create and villainize an entire international terrorist cult, it is really incomprehensible that the MLA doesn’t get to keep their designation as such. Why?? Because the movie involves going out and defeating its cult, but the series is going to engage in a more sympathetic treatment?[5] Because the self-selecting movie crowd is less likely to complain than the TV audience? Did they just not want to draw attention to how much the movie was ripping off the MLA’s whole shtick? What??

• Missed that RD’s swole arm swipe wipes out the puppets Skeptic left behind; they just vanished from the scene entirely after Twice’s arrival. It’s hard to blame the anime for this; the manga also seems to lose track of the fact that they’re right there in between RD and the elevator—they’re nowhere to be seen anywhere between the end of Chapter 231 and the aforementioned arm swipe, where you can see them getting obliterated. Both versions could have stood to be more attentive to this; indeed, the anime could have fixed it, small error though it is.

• A sort of twitchy sparking around Shigaraki’s hand right after he decays the tower. This is foreshadowing that Shigaraki’s big AOE decay attacks are hard on his body, which will become extremely apparent after he unleashes it on the city at large during the climax, and factors into his decision to accept the mysterious power Ujiko offers. The damage Shigaraki sustains there doesn’t come out of nowhere; Horikoshi is, on the whole, extremely good at layering in foreshadowing many chapters before the foreshadowed elements come fully to light. It makes the writing look much messier than it actually is—more convenient, more pat—to delete this stuff.

• Shigaraki recognizing RD from the Detnerat commercials. Well, they ditched the Detnerat commercial, so of course they ditched this. Still, it lost one of the indicators that Shigaraki is, despite not receiving a formal education, actually quite up to speed on current events—even, apparently, when those current events are happening while he’s been fighting Machia in an isolated stretch of mountains for six weeks! I already suffer enough through fanon characterizations of Shigaraki in which he’s a basement-dwelling feral manchild glued to his gaming console whom AFO bans from accessing information about the outside world, anime! I don’t need you dropping the scenes that most clearly demonstrate otherwise!!

• In the anime, Baby!Chikara’s face was unmarked, just a normal infant face—you’d never even know the kid had a meta-ability just to look at him. In the manga, the skin of his face is clearly darker, contrasted against the paleness of his mother’s hand. It’s obvious that he’s not “normal” looking, and thus equally obviously would have attracted negative attention in his era.[6] Also had his mother smiling; her face in the manga is too shadowed and vague to make out an expression, befitting the murky tragedy of her story and the fear she must have been living with.

Framing Shifts

Additions

• A little thing: they had Twice echo, “Cushion?” when Clone!Shigaraki told him to get ready to cushion Giran’s fall. If anything, Re-Destro and his little thought-bubbled question mark is probably the one who should have had this reaction line.

• Added a visual for Clone-araki catching himself on the window. A perfectly reasonable way to fill screen time while a dialogue beat was ongoing.

• Added a panning still over a reaction shot from a bunch of Twice clones when the tower came down. It had a few good faces in it.

                                                           ---

So, generally, this episode was better. I definitely still had issues with it, but compared to what came before, when they were trying to cram 5+ chapters into the episodes, there were far fewer cuts, and what cuts and tweaks there were, were relatively minor. Definitely nothing that made me want to throw chairs Jerry Springer-style the way 108 and 109 did.

Sadly, I can't say the same for the remaining two episodes. Come back next time for Part Four, Episode 111: Shimura Tenko, Origin.

FOOTNOTES

[1] After witnessing the massacre that was Episode 108, I was convinced they were going to cut the policeman scene entirely, and just go right to Jin getting fired for hitting someone with his bike, letting the audience think it was his fault completely rather than cast aspersions on police and the justness of the law. I was pleased they kept it at all, but less pleased with the steps taken to soften the sharpness of its accusation.

[2] Of course, it’s not like the MLA themselves don’t understand the willingness to give everything for the people who matter. They just label those feelings Devotion To The Cause, and don’t think the League is capable of such resolution.

[3] Netflix’s Way of the House Husband, be told.

[4] Nakama is, of course, a shonen standby, but, to the best of my knowledge (which is admittedly limited; I don’t follow a lot of shounen series), it’s pretty rare to hear the word coming out of a villain’s mouth! Jin calling the League his nakama ties into how the League are both sympathetic villains in the larger story and also the protagonists of the current arc, thereby operating under a lot of protag tropes for the duration—foreshadowed by Spinner’s earlier talk of Shigaraki and his boyish, dream-chasing eyes.

[5] Sometime after the mass arrests, one hopes.

[6] This could well be a coloring error in the manga, but if so, you’d think they’d have corrected it for the volume release. Especially given that, again, the color is in a different shade/screentone than the shadow that covers most of his mother’s face, and her hand stroking Chikara’s chin isn’t shadowed at all.

[peaches-writes]

not-so-secret santa

skz of christmas day 7: exchange gift with minho

member: minho  wc: 1.7k genre: fluff, childhood friends to lovers au, college au, a side of established relationship au warning: explicit language, threatening (?) note: this is me channeling all of my younger self’s christmas frustrations into a short fic lmao 

christmas 2006 

“Minho, who did you pick?” Your Homeroom teacher at the time, Ms. Yang, asked your classmate next to keep the Secret Santa chain going. The previous exchange was from Chan to Mina but since Mina already received her gift from Bam Bam, your teacher naturally picked Minho who was sitting right next to Chan. 

Next to you, said boy then handed you the red and green-wrapped rectangle in his hands. “Merry Christmas, Y/N!” He greeted you as per Mrs. Yang’s instructions when someone will give their Secret Santa present, a mischievous smile on his face. “Enjoy!” 

Your excited smile immediately fell into an angry frown as the hard rectangle is then placed on your lap. “All this time...” You pouted at Minho then, carefully picking up the gift in your hands. “You even bought this with me and you didn’t even bother making an effort!” 

The entire class looked at you inquisitively but, in the moment, you didn’t really care. You already knew that the empty picture frame Minho thought was a genius idea to gift for the Secret Santa as a prank was inside the wrapping you held, you’d know because your respective moms took you on the same shopping trip where he got it. 

Minho was not yet your best friend at the time but you were so childishly angry at that point that you didn’t hesitate on hitting him with the picture frame. “Ugh, Lee Minho, I hate you!” 

Minho’s mom ended up buying you lunch after. 

christmas 2011

“Ooh, I can’t wait to see who Minho picked for the Secret Santa.” Chan excitedly rubbed his palms together next to you, earning him a glare from you at hearing his tone of voice.

“I can’t wait to laugh if it’s you.” You deadpanned, making him chuckle.

“Ya, what’s with the death glare? I wasn’t teasing you!” He then held his hands up in defense but your glare is unwavering. “Well, not directly, at least.”

You only scoffed in response, turning your attention back to this class Christmas party’s MC, Seungkwan, who’s now, as if on cue, called onto your best friend to give away his Secret Santa gift.

“Y/N!” Minho then called for you, making yours and Chan’s eyes widen from across your large class circle. He held up the red package in his hand, the one he made you wrap yourself the night before as punishment for losing in a sleepover game, then exclaimed, “Catch!”

You weren’t given much time to process his words before the package is flung at you, landing just in front of the accumulating stack of gifts right in front of you from your other friends.

The entire class gasped before falling silent, collectively having a flashback of your 2nd grade fight with Minho over the same thing. Everyone (Chan mostly), just hoped that Minho got you something better than the empty picture frame.

But by the way your ears started to fume and you immediately stood up to tackle Minho said otherwise.

“Lee Minho, have you ever had a white T-shirt shoved in your mouth?!” You threatened as you approached him with the ‘gift’ he prepared for your Secret Santa.

Luckily, Chan was strong enough by then to hold you back.

Minho ended up (reluctantly) buying you dinner to 'compensate.’

christmas 2016

“What number did you get?” Minho asked you, resting his chin on your shoulder to peer at the folded piece of paper in your hands after. “Oh, number 10! Awesome, that’s from me!” 

It’s the one year you didn’t get to go Christmas shopping with him because you caught a fever and the class Secret Santa’s been experimentally switched out for the White Elephant game and you still somehow ended up with his present. You groaned and pulled yourself away from Minho, turning around to face him. “What is it this time, Minho?” 

“It’s something useful this time, I promise!” He swore with a hand raised on his side, going over his chest to form a cross after. 

And Minho really thought he was doing something buying a mug for you with his face printed on it. 

“See?” The boy pointed out after the gifts have been distributed. You didn’t pounce on him immediately this time since the mug could easily break. Instead, you waited until his mom picked the two of you up until you punched his arm. “It even changes to another face when you pour hot water on it!” 

To prove it to you, he barged into your home on Christmas Day and made you hot chocolate topped with marshmallows. The photo of him with a heart eyes filter on the mug changed into him with a Godzilla filter. 

christmas 2020  

“Put your seatbelt on, brat.” You instruct your boyfriend as you expertly twist the ignition on your right, bringing the SUV’s engine to life. Next to you, Minho chuckles as he puts his seatbelt on, leaning back on the red-covered seats leisurely. “I don’t want you dying before we get to the Christmas Sale.” 

“It’s not like the flea market is on the other side of the country.” He scoffs playfully, laughing even more when you hit him on the shoulder as you place your hand on his headrest while backing the car out of your house’s garage. 

“It will be when I throw you across the city if you show me something weird for the exchange gift.” You glare. “This is our first Christmas as a couple and you’re already on thin ice.”

“Oh, boo, I’m so scared.” He rolls his eyes. Opening the car’s glove compartment, he takes out the picture frame he got you from the 2nd grade. It’s supposed to fit the shallow dip on the dashboard but you broke its back support some time ago. “And I don’t give weird gifts for the Secret Santa. Look, you still have a photo of us on the picture frame.” 

You glance over his side, sighing in exasperation. “Because my mom said I should at least use it, doesn’t mean I actually like it.” 

“You’re wearing the white shirt too.” He points out next. “Basics are in these days, I was ahead of my time back in high school.” 

“If you’ll get me a face towel this year—Secret Santa or not—I will actually murder you in front of all our friends this time.” 

“That’s hot, babe, I’d like to see you try.” 

- 

Minho happily links his free arm with yours as you navigate your way through the tight crowd of last-minute shoppers, his other hand carrying half of your eco bags. Throughout this two-hour trip, he’s shown you countless of weird things on sale as gifts for his friends—from plastic cereal cups that he’ll give to Felix to an actual set of face towels he plans on giving Jisung—but he’s yet to show you what he’s planning to gift you. 

Or maybe he already has and just showed it to you under the bluff that he’ll give it to someone else like he did in all those times before. 

“Min, we’ve been walking for ten minutes,” You protest as you begrudgingly drag your feet to wherever he’s taking you. Your own arms are about to fall off with your own share of eco bags and the fact that your wallet’s currently a mess with the amount of fast transactions you needed to make is starting to bother you. “Where are we going?” 

“We’re almost there, promise!” He assures you with a grin, tugging you closer to his side before you could bump into an old lady walking from the opposite direction. “We’re getting your gift now so be a little patient!” 

“Or maybe you’re fucking with me again.” You grumble, making him laugh and shake his head. 

“Nope, this one’s only for you.” He assures, pulling you to the right when you reach an intersection. “You’ll see why.” 

You only stop walking five minutes later, when Minho drags you to a stall selling pre-order snow globes. The stall owner, a buff middle-aged man, greets Minho and hands him the biggest snow globe on sale in exchange for the money he’s set aside. 

“Ah, and this is the person with you on the picture?” The man then asks him once he’s finished paying, turning to you with a polite smile. “You two are adorable! How long now?” 

“W-What?!” You stare back incredulously, processing way too slow for the situation.

Clearly, it hasn’t been long since you and Minho started dating, by the way you’re immediately flustered.

“Just a little over six months!” Minho proudly beams, on the other hand, the man laughs wholeheartedly at this.

“Aah, young love.” The stall owner chuckles. Turning to you, he then gestures to the snow glob and adds, “Your boy’s very sweet!” 

Only then do you glance down on the snow globe in front of Minho. It has two dolls resembling the two of you surrounded by cats patterned to Minho’s pets and little buildings resembling your most frequented places: the school you went to until high school, the universities you’re currently attending, the library where you spend most of your all-nighters, the hotel you stayed at on your first trip, and this particular flea market you always shop Christmas gifts at. 

There’s also the new movie house on the side but, from what you can remember, you haven’t been there yet. 

“Is this good enough for you? For a first Christmas at least?” Minho asks with a coy smile, nudging your side and effectively taking you out of your thoughts. He then holds up the snow globe to you, shaking it gently before placing it on your much freer hand. “If you check one side of the globe, there’s the movie house you wanted to visit. I was thinking we could watch a movie right after the Christmas party but, you know, just us.” 

You gush at the snow globe, squinting your eyes when you have to glance up at Minho again. “And you’re sure this is mine?” 

“It has your name engraved on the bottom, dumbass.” He points out for you, making your eyes widen momentarily. “And it has my name on it too. Put two and two together now.” 

“We’re sharing?” 

“No, babe, I’m trying to ask you out on a date!” 

-

december 23 (bang chan)

skz of christmas (masterlist) 

m.list

@skzwriternet

[marshvlovestv]

Eric in the Pod Room - An impassioned defense of a man at his worst

Big tw for discussions of suicide, suicidal ideation, and mental illness, and lots of me projecting my own issues onto a terrible fictional character

I’m in a really bad place mentally right now and I’m immersing myself in a Zero Escape Let’s Play series to distract myself from it. It definitely isn’t the healthiest thing for me to be hyperfixated on right now - the series has a chummy relationship with the concept of suicide, after all, and suicidal thoughts are my worst symptom at the moment. But you know what, it’s twisted, but I’m so dangerously comfortable with my own suicidality at this point that the themes of suicide in Zero Escape almost feel warm and welcoming, to the point where I’d even consider them a factor in why I am so obsessed with the series.

I was working on a larger meta, which most of this post is an excerpt from, about the many suicides from Zero Time Dilemma specifically - none of them influenced by Radical-6, all of them with some interesting psychological analysis to be done concerning them. But the Let’s Players have reached the Pod Room, the puzzle that seems to singlehandedly give players the most reason to hate my favorite character. They turned out to be no exception, and they spent the length of the puzzle going on and on about how they despise Eric. I got really tense and upset and thought, “You know what? Forget about Diana, Carlos, and Delta. I can talk about them later. All I want to do right now is come to Eric’s defense. I want to talk about my boy.”

Like, I get it, you know? The first time I saw the Pod Room, I wasn’t the biggest fan of Eric, either. He bullies Sean, he actively refuses to be of any help in solving the puzzle, he makes lewd comments about Mira (and for the record, the problem I have with this is the fact that he says these things around a child, not the comments themselves; people should be allowed to experience and express sexual attraction and that is a hill I will die on). After the puzzle itself, we learn about Eric’s deepest trauma and after that I see people either feel bad for hating him and begin to sympathize with him fully, or go, “Yeah, that sucks for him, but it still doesn’t forgive a damn thing. He’s the worst and I hate him and I hate this game for making him exist.” I am firmly in the first camp, if you couldn’t tell.

Lest we forget: This is the route at the end of which Eric commits suicide. A murder-suicide, granted, but still. He takes his own life. The Pod Room is the start of Eric’s descent into rock bottom and I just... can’t hate him for that, especially not when I recognize some of myself in him. I have never killed another person (I promise); I don’t have homicidal thoughts. I don’t know personally what would compel someone to commit a murder-suicide and I don’t even want to speculate. But his homicidal tendencies aside, Eric and his suicidality have always spoken to me personally.

I’ve done plenty of analysis of Eric in the past under the lens of personality disorders, and my most general conclusions are that he suffers from PTSD, dependent personality disorder, and possibly borderline personality disorder as well. Suicidality is highly correlated with all three of those disorders, and as such I find it highly unlikely that his decision to kill himself in this route is a spontaneous one. If he is anything like me, when he isn’t actively, imminently suicidal, he probably still spends a lot of time imagining worst-case scenarios in which suicide would be a no-brainer. For me, my worst-case scenarios often involve the loss of my parents; they are my Safe People, people around whom my AvPD symptoms are less extreme and my behavior is less inhibited, and I seriously fear for my ability to function without them in my life. Sufferers of many different personality disorders have “special people” like this in some way or another. DPD and BPD have, respectively, Depended People and Favorite People, the objects of the sufferer’s attachment. Mira clearly fulfills both of these roles in Eric’s life, and lots of his worst-case scenarios must involve the loss of her.

Before her death is even confirmed, we can see how much he struggles to function without her there in the puzzle room. I read Eric’s behavior in the Pod Room as him flailing in the absence of his special person. The Let’s Players I’m watching have even made derisive comments about how he doesn’t even know how to be a person, and I’m sitting here like, yeah. You’re right. He doesn’t know how to be a person, not right now. His identity and self-worth are tied to a person who has disappeared under mysterious and stressful circumstances; without her, he feels useless and helpless, which is why he’s overwhelmed by something as simple as a sliding block puzzle. Without her, he loses his grip on his self-control, which is why he has no filter to stop him from saying inappropriate things and why can’t stop his worse impulses to mistreat people. I’m not trying to say that anything he does in the Pod Room is right, but there is a reasonable explanation for why he acts the way he does.

And then, they find Mira’s body. One of Eric’s worst-case scenarios has come true, and in the process he has lost not only the person most important to him but the very sense of self that said person helped him feel. It’s just as bad as he always imagined, and even worse, she was killed in exactly the same way his brother was, triggering a PTSD flashback. His trauma is further compounded by being shown graphic video of Junpei and Akane’s deaths (and later just being shown their dismembered bodies in person).The devastation he must be feeling in this moment is beyond what I can even comprehend and I fully understand why he snaps.

Again, I don’t want to speculate as to why his mind goes “revenge first, suicide second” and why he kills people he could be reasonably sure are innocent. All I can say for sure is that, when he does ultimately kill himself, it’s not out of guilt and it’s not out of fear of consequences. His last words are promising Mira that he’ll be with her soon. The suicide is about her. It was always about her. It’s not just that he’ll miss her; he genuinely cannot picture a life for himself where she is not a part of it, at least not a good one.

(Quick sidenote here to talk about one other thing that Eric does in this route: shooting out the X-Pass authenticator. Once Mira’s body is found, six people have died, meaning that Eric, Sean, and Q are free to leave. But Eric shoots out the authentication device before this is possible. When this happened in the Let’s Play, the players called him an idiot for destroying his own means of escape, which really annoyed me. Here’s the thing: Eric is already actively suicidal at this point. He destroys his key to the outside world because he can no longer imagine a life for himself in the outside world. Shooting the authenticator was in itself an act of suicide, even though he wasn’t pulling the trigger on himself.)

All of this is not to say that Eric is okay in the true end and should be left to his own devices. He’s a man in pain, a man in constant crisis, and he’s in desperate need of intervention to prevent him from harming himself or others. I like him and Mira together and she will likely always be a special (Depended, Favorite) person to him, but he can’t and shouldn’t rely on his relationship with her to keep his head above water and keep him from acting the way he did in the Pod Room. Eric needs professional help; but call me optimistic, I think that learning from Sean about how he acted on the other routes, what it looks like when he is truly at rock bottom, might inspire him to seek that help.

Anyway. Sorry for the rant, I hope it was interesting at least. I’m going to go refill my medications and schedule an appointment with my therapist because, as fun and cathartic as this was to write, it’s definitely not healthy to get this riled up over fictional characters; plus, I can’t rightly advocate for a fictional character to get help when I’m not taking care of myself, can I?

[100wendybirds]

FF7 Remake: Translation Matters!

We’ve been playing FF7R. Never having been a fan of the original, I had no idea there were “fan wars” about Cloud’s romantic choices. But it was interesting to see how much the translations differences impact how you’d react to and understand Cloud’s relationship with Tifa or Aerith. Case in Point: Chapter 4 “Alone at Last.” We play the game in English since my husband doesn’t know Japanese. I rewatched this cut scene in Japanese and the differences are clear. The following is the entire scene that I translated as a more faithful expression of what is in Japanese. In parenthesis, I added the official English script. After that is any commentary on how differently this would portray Tifa and Cloud. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JIBNnaungMk *** After she finishes changing her filter, Tifa gets very close to Cloud. She is so close that you can hear Cloud breath out heavily. They are ALONE AT LAST after all. Then she says: “So tell me...about after you left the village.” (Eng: So. After you left the village.) Cloud is surprised by her question. “Huh?” he blinks. (Eng: “Hm?”) “You promised, right? Remember, back at the hall?” (Eng: “I let you off the hook before. Back at the Hall. But not this time.”)

Comment: The English makes Tifa look incredibly pushy, as though she has the power to make Cloud talk. The Japanese is much more neutral and simply references an earlier conversation they had.”  

“During the war, SOLDIERS were treated as heroes.” (Eng: Well, when we were kids...everyone wanted to be a SOLDIER, right?”) “Mm, I saw them on the news every day.” (Eng: Yeah, I remember they were on the news every day during the war.”) “But, by the time that I became a SOLDIER, the circumstances had changed. It was nothing like the job that we dreamed of. It was just working for SHINRA. Just a...” (Eng: “Thing is, by the time I finally made it in, they didn’t need heroes anymore. It was nothing like what we'd dreamt of. It was...just working for SHINRA. Just...”). “I’m sorry. You don’t want to talk about it, right?” (Eng: I’m sorry. I know it’s a touchy subject.”)

Comment: The English makes it seem like Tifa is pressing on a sensitive topic despite already knowing it is touchy. The Japanese makes it seem like Tifa is realizing that this is something Cloud doesn’t want to talk about.

“It’s a job that involves weapons. (literally: 剣を使う仕事だ。）It’s not a conversation to have when catching up with someone.” (Eng: Not exactly small talk. Especially with someone you haven’t seen in a while.)

Comment: In English, Cloud seems to push Tifa away and emphasize their distance from each other. They are not close enough to talk about something so serious. In Japanese, it sounds like Cloud is protecting Tifa from hearing about the disturbing things he had to do in his job.

“Yeah. I understand.” (Eng: I get it.)

Comment: In both English and Japanese, Tifa seems to be saying that she understands on a deeper level. She herself has had traumatic experiences over the last few years since leaving their destroyed village.

“But, isn’t it strange? When we went our separate ways back there, thinking we were parting forever...to think we’d see each other again in a place like this. Oh! Let’s celebrate our reunion! Let’s totally get dressed up!” (Eng: Still, it’s kinda funny.  Us going our separate ways, thinking that must be it...that we’d never meet again - and then here, of all places, we do. You know what? We should totally celebrate. Let’s dress up and hit the town!” “Dressed up?” (Eng: “Really?”)

Comment: Cloud is skeptical about dressing up. In English, he seems skeptical about...well, it is vague enough to be about the entire idea. But right after that, the camera pans up their bodies to show us how they are dressed.  

“Even I get dressed up too you know!” (Eng: I mean, why not? It’ll be fun!”) “Do you even have something to wear?” (Eng: Do you even have fancy clothes?”) “No but I’ll get ready somehow. What do you think would suit me?” (Eng: Not like fancy fancy but I’ll figure something out. What do you think would suit me?”) 

Comment: As in the previous translation choice, Tifa’s reaction in English seems like she is awkwardly reacting to Cloud’s potential rejection of her date idea. However in Japanese, it is very clear that Tifa is feeling defensive and embarrassed about how she is dressed. This is why she crosses her arms across her body. She seems to be self conscious about her slum-outfit and that she is not someone who gets prettied up. This makes sense in light of the flashbacks when she was much more feminine (frilly white dress, frilly blue dress) and in the way she acts as a comparison point to the very feminine Aerith.

Finally... “It sure is nice to make fun plans.” (Eng: “This is gonna be so much fun, you’ll see!)  “Yeah, it is nice.” (Eng: “Yeah...maybe.”) “Well then, on that happy note, shall we head to the shop?” (Eng: And on that happy note, I think it’s time we headed back to the bar. C’mon!”) 

Comment: In Japanese, it is clear that Tifa is happy to be able to make fun plans. Cloud agrees. This seems to be a direct reference to their Avalanche plans, which are definitely not fun! The English is VERY different. It presents Cloud as unsure about the entire idea. Tifa is, again, presented as pushy and controlling.

  “You’re okay without taking a rest?” (Eng: “Uh, you don’t need a break?” “It’d be a waste of time. But keep that a secret from Marle.” (Eng: “Honestly, I’m feeling pretty good. Marle isn’t always right you know.” 

Comment: Tifa does not want to waste any time she has with Cloud. The entire scene is pretty romantic (thirsty!?) but that clinches it for me. In English, the response is vague - Tifa feels good. Does that just mean she has the energy to keep running errands?   

***

When playing the game in English, I had no strong feeling towards Tifa but thought these scenes were awkward. Like, so many girls throwing themselves at Cloud! But when rewatching the game in Japanese, I found myself liking her quite a bit and finding these interactions to be incredibly sweet. Translation matters!!

[texas-hates-taxes-too]

Rvb 15 thoughts from last night!

I genuinely love some of Temple's quotes

"The time has come to kill the masters, the freelancers to start, but thats not where the story ends."

"But the thing that I love about chess is that sometimes, pawns kill Kings"

I said this already but Bitters making the "cheeky" joke is so underrated lmao

I love Doctor grey. So so much.

"The clotting in the patients posterior places the time of attack 5 minutes after your call to the police, that's some very fast reporting miss andrews" I love her

I still miss Loco 😢

Honestly I love the flashback episodes, they were so dumb, Carolina making fun of Tex's voice filter was amazing

Imagine the banter Tex and Carolina could've had if things had gone better during pfl

Also I forgot that Doc had been there during that time, that seems kinda odd to me, that Carolina and Doc had met before and never mentioned it

I wonder what happened to Biff's baby :'(

Imagine if it turned out he went to school with Junior or smth

In previously on Wash said that church gave everything to save them and it "wasn't the first time either", this made me wonder if he's referring to Alpha sacrificing himself at command, he's never really brought that up but sometimes I wonder if he feels guilty about it

I think some of yall were right about the number of pop culture references, I dont usually notice it but when you sit down and watch the whole season there is wayyy too many

I've watched Nightmare on Planet Evil a million times and only just realised that the sarge not sleeping for 5 days thing was a reference to Day 5 lmao

I also forgot about the scene where sarge is listing movie titles and he says "Lazerteam 2" and Jax says that that one is made up

Grif was only gone for 8 episodes and I missed him so much, how will I ever handle Grif being gone for a whole season fbsjs

The grif and locus scenes were even better than I remember

Still not over the fact that Grif had no way of knowing Temple wouldn't shoot him and still chose to stand his ground :')

Say what you want about Joe but no season has had as much blatant Grimmons than season 15 what a blessing

Although on that topic I really don't like the lines about kai's ""bi phase""

I still love the fact that the blues were going through their "no killing" thing while the reds were just ready to fuck someone up

Tucker being defensive of Caboose gives me life

Another underrated line from doc this time: "they are the ding dongs! And you are a dildo."

Also tucker asking grif to tell him how special he is lmao, I need more tucker and grif interactions in my life

something else I noticed that I really really loved. The place tucker and grif talk is the same place that Temple and Biff talked, and in the lighting of that scene, Tucker just happens to look pale blue instead of aqua

The parallels! *chefs kiss*

[yalejacobson]

💢 : your muse picks mine up & carries them over their shoulder .

[ symbol meme ] / flashback, pre-kidnapping.

there had been very few things to laugh about in recent months - in fact, yale couldn't remember the last time she'd let herself get absolutely sauced. sure, there was a certain level of alcohol in her blood almost daily - a concerning amount for a general person - but she'd always had a higher tolerance. she considered it the one gift her mother had given her - a preference for whiskey and dangerous men who pissed her off as much as they intrigued her.

those who worked at the bar knew her well enough to leave her there when their shifts were done - the rest of the town was asleep, probably, but she and vic were still working their way through the shitty homebrew that was hitting her harder than she expected. too much yeast, or not enough, or something about the fermenting process - she didn't pretend to understand how to make alcohol, just knew it kept her nerves at bay. the worry about her sister when she was out in the open world, her general malaise at the state of the world, the constant discontent that settled in her bones.

"i dunno about you," she groaned, laying back against the vinyl of the booth they were in, her vision blurred and her head woozy, "but i may just accept my role as town drunk and crash here tonight." the thought of walking back - even the few streets over to her place, her bed warm and inviting and beckoning her - was torture. "every small town needs a drunk, right?"

"not you," victor replied, his voice somehow steadier than hers, warm like honey in her mind as she smiled up at the ceiling, "not tonight."

it was really infuriating that he was more sober than she was - maybe he'd stopped drinking before she had, which was also rude, or maybe it was just because he was twice her size that he could handle it better. or maybe hers had been stronger - did they still make roofies these days? she couldn't imagine anyone willing to risk it, considering how she'd kick their ass when she was sober again, but she supposed crazier things had happened.

"c'mon," he said, grabbing her hands and pulling her up, her feet taking a moment to find solid ground as she swayed against him. she hummed in something like agreement, though she wasn't sure which one of him was real as she tried to steady herself, his image doubled in front of her as he held her hands to keep her upright. "can't have people talking about you just yet."

"they already talk about me," she retorted, her tongue sharp even if her mind wasn't, but she let him guide her out the door anyways, heading in the direction of the small brown house she was sharing with her own sister and the other two. "they always talked about me back home," she rambled, her inhibitions always lowered after too many drinks - he probably knew her whole story by now, she'd never know, could never remember what they spoke about when she got this far gone.

"i was the one who fucked up ann jacobson's life," she muttered, leaning her forehead against his arm, closing her eyes even as her feet shuffled forward, her boots heavy against her feet as she moved. "the one who fucked everyone up and left 'em all behind and then did it again." everyone talked shit in braedon, mocked her, called her the prodigal daughter of the town slut, tested her and her anger at every turn. she'd given them a run for their money - tried to find out who murdered colette's best friend, helped frame it on the man who was probably her real daddy though she'd never know for sure before disappearing again. "they're all so fucking stupid, did you know that? just like here. do you know the things i know?"

how many of them had killed, not just in defense but in anger, in defiance. how many of them had left behind a life they didn't want to acknowledge anymore, how yale kept their secrets from them because the council didn't need to know.

she held everyone's life in her hands and no one even bothered to respect her. no wonder she was so angry.

his hand was warm on her back and she realized with a start she'd been talking aloud the entire time, the filter between her thoughts and her mouth gone completely, and she stared up at him wide eyed - "i wasn't supposed to say any of that."

"let's just get you home," he replied instead, and that was when the tears started - a surprising torrent of them because he didn't get it, she'd never had a home, never would have one. she was a transient person and one day colette would want her gone and then what would she have? she wasn't supposed to be someone who stayed in someone's life long term, she was supposed to appear and disappear like a flash in a pan and one day, even vic would hate her too.

she'd stopped in the middle of the street, and while vic had seemed amused at first from her ramblings, she could see the twist of his lips, a frown on them as he considered what to do with her. leave me she thought, and that time she knew she didn't say it aloud because it was her worst fear - that somehow even he would find her despicable, would hate her and everything she'd done and allowed and walk off and never look back.

instead, he simply said "alright," surprising her with a quick grab at her knees, lifting her up with surprising ease and tossing her over his shoulder like she was a sack of potatoes - she didn't even have the energy to be surprised, or angry, simply deflated there as he carried her. not towards her own house, but his, his hands firm against her thighs as he held her in place to make sure she didn't fall. she could feel his back against her cheek, her body empty of any fight until he got back to his home, placing her gently down on the couch.

"stay," he demanded, and she didn't fight him when he brought her a glass of water and what had to be expired aspirin, holding it out for her. she took it anyways, draining the entire glass and handing it off for a refill, which he obliged her with immediately before settling down on the floor next to the couch.

"thank you," she said quietly, her fingers threading through his hair - shaggy, too long, she should offer to cut it when she was sober again, but her eyelids were already dropping shut and he merely hummed in response, easing into her touch in a moment of his own weakness.

she knew, even as she could hear his breathing even out into a sleep and her own found a pattern to match, that they'd never speak of this. that she'd get up in the morning and slip back into her own home and they'd get drunk again and he'd just cut her off before she got this far. but she could only hope he knew how much she appreciated him - his friendship, his presence, his quiet ability to take care of her in a way she'd missed for so long.

she was going to mess it up, one day. she only hoped it would be a long, long time from then.

[bettycreeper]

Secret Santa here！

there was a reason why I couldnt view it I have the riverdale tag/word filtered, but I tried sending that ask 5 times until it sent through properly so Tumblr still is wack just for other reasons.

Ok，questions！

How do you like and prefer Betty and Jughead written？（most likely not by Riverdale writers I assume...I jest...sorta）

Whats your dream Bughead scene？ a scene that would finally kill you buried 6ft under never recover from the perfection？or has it already been done in canon？

Would you be open for some Preppy Bughead action？

Lastly you mentioned liking some Potterdale, whats your house placements for the crew？

Thats all for now！🎅

Tumblr is always doing its own special thing, but I DO appreciate knowing I won’t come on here one day to find a “shopping” icon where my notifications used to be. 👀

The thing that initially drew me to Betty & Jughead (Flashback to 10 year old me reading the Digests in the checkout lines in the market) was how supportive they are of one another? If there’s a thing one of them wants to do, they try to make that happen—whatever that is. Another character is rude about Betty/Jughead, the other jumps to their defense. ANYWAY, that’s a long way of saying that’s something I’ve always loved to see a lot: the trust, the support, the assistance.

Here’s the thing. For me, every Bughead canon anything is kind of a Dream Come True scenario! haha. It was a capital rare pair for such a long time that the fact I can go onto Ao3 & choose among 6k Bughead fics to read at any time is still just THE BEST. (Although, I’ll admit it has given me extremely high expectations that if I simply wait around long enough, all my ships will become canon. WHOOPS.) Watching the second episode of the show & seeing The Eye Contact 100% had me screaming at my tv, “HOLY SHIT. IT’S HAPPENING,” & it’s kind of been a state of that much capital letters for me ever since. Archie Comics picking up on the pair’s popularity & finally giving Jughead The Hunger vs Vampironica is some kind of insanity dream thing that I still have a hard time believing is real. (I LOVE IT SO MUCH.) Archie Comics has really found a solid market over the years in au after au after au, so them giving Bughead more series/attention in more universes would be the stuff of even more dreams. 

Preppy Bughead action? Into it! I LOVE aus. They’re truly my favorite as evidenced above. haha

I am extremely extremely extremely fond of Potterdale, and that’s still somehow putting it mildly? Back when I very first created a tagging system for my blog, I made a Potterdale tag so I could go and look at anything I came across for it at anytime. I had like....2 things in it initially, but there’s so much more now. I mean, also not enough (never enough), but that tag is happiness! Personally, I view Betty as a Slytherin, & i’m talking all the way through comic canon too. Betty has been out there scheming in an attempt to get her way since 1939, & while I clearly do not enjoy the reason as to why in a lot of the comics (Dear Archie Comics, please please please. No one wants a shitty triangle after 80 years. Let it die.), I do love her constant ambition, cunning, & resourcefulness. All things I feel the character as Betty (in every iteration) showcases quite well. Jughead I tend to lean Ravenclaw with. He is quite intelligent, clearly loves to learn, & is witty as fuck everywhere all the time. Grades are whatever, but he likes to KNOW things & uses that knowledge to his advantage—whatever that may be at the time, could be napping in class, could be trying to destroy a monopoly in town. However, I can see him in Gryffindor too especially with familial ties & his sense of loyalty to his family. To me, these traits transcend every iteration of Betty & Jughead, so it doesn’t matter if we’re talking show or comics for House situations. 

Well, this got wordy af. Sorry about being like this! 

[mateasha]

rendevous 18.6y

summary: chikage shows up at the front door of MANKAI after disappearing from the face of the Earth for 3 years. itaru is not happy. fandom: a3 pairing: chikage x itaru word count: 5516 tags:  original characters for the sake of plot, friends to strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, flashbacks, mentions of death, bad attempts at action, bad attempts at comedy

chapter 1: realizations He should be happy for him. Chikage is okay. Chikage is alive, and didn’t… just go somewhere and do god knows what, (which, well, he already did, didn’t he.) but at least it isn’t anything bad, he’s safe and sound and maybe the troupe members will be overjoyed to hear how he’s been doing...

Out of respect, no one has ever taken their spots in their respective troupes.

He observes him even harder from the lounge area in the office, a good break, he thinks, as he grinds some gacha game with his husbando, a little tired from staring at the stupidly “gendered” pink UI with the characters flying across the screen. 

He’s happy. He looks healthy— maybe skin even glowing brighter than ever.

And it’s good for him. It’s amazing to see how happy Chikage looked, “laughing” with his friends, almost heartwarming to see Chikage doing just fine. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s talented, strong, mentally adept, better than h—

He stops that train of thought immediately.

He was happy. So then Itaru should be happy. Even if he was that stupid, unromantic senpai that always was offstandish with just a bit unromantic caring for others when he felt like it.

At least, should be.

He watches as his coworkers walk around him, slinging their arms around each other in camaraderie, as one of them asks him out for drinks after picking up lunch. His smile is almost as wide as he remembers when he figured out Hisoka was alive. And innocent.

He watches Chikage and he doesn’t look back, walking into the elevator without him, because he works on this floor. It’s fine.

But it’s just so fucking funny, when all he wants is just another word, just a reason why he left without even asking Spring Troupe, or literally anyone else for help. He would even trade his life for Hisoka’s, even though he knows that wouldn’t make anyone happy. Well, maybe Chikage. He could go off into some sunset with him and run away from whatever responsibilities he wanted to not deal with. Like Itaru. Izumi. The others. 

He wants to scream out so bad, just for him to come back, but he can’t, like that stupid horror novel that made him feel like shit and all existential for no reason. He feels like he can talk to him about everything, in a sense. Which would make sense, of course, if they were still close. Roommates. But he could only do that in a world where Hisoka is still alive.

—

Chikage knows he’s here.

Why? 

Intuition.

Not really. He looks at him, but chooses not to “look”.

But when he sees his face, almost heartbroken, which is almost questionable. He wants to ignore him so bad. Just move on. Easier said than done, when every week you see him share out information with the company execs.  A Chikage-senpai, no more.

He wants to move on so bad.

But everytime he goes to bed, he can’t stop thinking. He crosses another day off the calendar, it’s been three years, almost three and a half years. 

He tears down his calendar. Who the fuck uses those anyways?

He tries to move on.

But of course, when you have something good, and it gets taken away, you want it back, right? You throw a tantrum like a little child at first, like a baby crying for their pacifier their mom took away from them. Then, you silence yourself, deny you ever wanted it in the first place. But you can’t stop wanting more, wanting it back. You yearn for it so hard that it hurts, almost twists your heart into a fucking pretzel, your stomach bubbling like the filter of the damn fish tank in your too-large-for-one-person office— thanks Boss, not complaining— but you can’t have it. You ignore it.

He knows he wouldn’t be able to deal with it again. It was all his fucking fault. He slams his hand on the desk again, before opening up his work computer.

His vision is hazy, like the only thing he can see is his hands, just a foot in front of him, trying to find his ground, but all that runs through his mind is, “it’s your fucking fault you idiot stupid you shouldve worked harder to protect everyone, cant even do that” it turns out harder than expected. 

But it’s not his first time at the rodeo, of course. He picks up the stack of paperwork, straightening it all into a neat little tower of paper, before typing away with a nasty scowl on his face.

He can’t accept this.

—

It’s his anniversary.

Chikage is on “vacation”. If your definition of “vacation” is sitting in a fancy car in suburban Tokyo, near Veludo Way. He already regrets his decision. Closure, my ass, he thinks to himself as he drives his car. 

He’d already picked up tickets to their show in a month. Itaru is the lead this time. He searched it up, but it seemed not to have anything that Spring Troupe would do. Minagi always changes it up. 

Maybe visiting his grave today wasn’t the best idea, Chikage asks himself with a slight melancholy in his inside head voice which he wants to shut up— so he tells it to shut up with its own voice (which of course, would never work, because he’s telling himself to 

shut up).

Chikage doesn’t know what to say. Do people speak out loud to their graves? No disrespect to them, but not for him.

In their head? He tries it, kneeling down a bit to the headstone, setting down a bag of marshmallows.

Hisoka. I don’t believe in God or reincarnation, or whatever religion. But I want to give the universe, no matter how little it cares, the benefit of the doubt. I hope you’re in nirvana, heaven, or reincarnated into some “cute” baby in whatever country, eating marshmallows. I never understood that. It’s not like I needed to. I guess. But wherever you are, I hope you’re up there. With August. 

He shakes his head, like a dog shaking off water, except instead of water, it’s a somber liquid covering him, coating him in some syrupy hotness that feels like the embodiment of orange with speckles of blue.

He gets up and turns around to head back to his car.

“...Utsuki. It’s been quite a while.” He pulls up the cuffs of his outfit.

 He’s not surprised to see him here. Arisugawa. He looks the same, the same haircut, the same outfit, same everything. He’s happy to see he’s been doing well.

“...I’m not surprised to see you here. You were his roommate, after all.”

“Yes, yes, indeed I was. Was is the word I want to put emphasis on.” It’s like he reminded himself of what happened. “Why? Why come back here after all this time?”

“I was just… reminded.” He straightens his back, as if it wasn’t straight in the first place, almost scoliosis levels of effort into “straightening” posture, as if to become more defensive.

“Are you going to interrogate me, at least? Inquire about the troupe? How well has it been faring?”

“... I don’t think I need to.” He’s reminded of the last time he went to watch a play. Around Christmas time— where he could take enough time off.

Minagi always does well. Sakuma is always just so passionate you can feel it through the character. Usui is always perfect, staring back at the Director in approval. Chigasaki… is…

He interrupts his own thoughts just to respond to Arisugawa, who’s been waiting for another word for 3 seconds at least. “I saw the play around Christmas. Well done. Very much so.”

“We are all aware Minagi-san always does an amazing job. Why, he is at the same level as me. But of course, I must come here and mourn every once in a while.” He walks past Chikage to look at Hisoka’s grave. “These marshmallows were his favorite brand, Chikage.”

“I know.”

A moment of silence ensues as Homare places a bouquet of anemone on the grave.

“Come back.”

“What?” Chikage is almost startled as he looks down at Homare, squatting at the grave.

“Come back.”

“You know I can’t.”

“You can, and you have always been able.” 

“I can’t. Arisu. What am I meant to say to everyone? ‘Oh, I left for 3 years, haha big surprise now I’m back!’ They’re them. I’m me. They don’t need me.” Chikage laughs nervously. Nervously? He calms his nerves— at least tries to, conflicted on what to do, because it’s been a while since he’s been like this.

“It’s what Hisoka would have wanted. We all need breaks.” The mention of Hisoka alarms Chikage, and makes his voice venom tipped.

“Don’t even try to bring up that fucking sleepyhead.”

“My, your language. This place is sacred.” He doesn’t even seem phased by his biting tone or his venomous words, just continuing to talk to him as normal— at least normal to him. “But you must admit… he would want you to keep acting. He was very, practically fully aware that you enjoyed what you did immensely.”

“I don’t care. It was good to talk to you again. See you around.” He storms off before Homare calls out for him again.

“Just… take this.” He hands him a card, Chikage acquiescing halfheartedly, already thinking about throwing away that flimsy card. “Call the number if you ever yearn for us too much.”

Chikage doesn’t say anything back— at least doesn’t feel the need to.

—

“Itaru?” The rest of the Spring Troupe knocks at his door, mostly Sakuya’s voice piercing through the little symphony of voices piping up just in an effort to wake up Itaru. (If he’s asleep of course— sleeping now to save energy for ranking all night.) “We have pizza?” Masumi looks at the noticeable lack of pizza in their hands, which, knowing Itaru, would make him close that damn door again.

Tsuzuru knocks on the door again, Izumi coming by, looking at them with a puzzled look on her face. “...Can I ask what you guys are doing or is it private?”

“Itaru hasn’t come out of his room in like… a week.” Tsuzuru takes out his phone to check the phone date to see if he’s actually not come out of his room for a week. “Yeah. A week.”

“And why is that surprising? He’s probably ranking.” Izumi almost has a visible question mark hovering over her head, that would be drawn over her if they were in an anime. “Although he should be working on his role… he is the lead after all.”

“Yeah, but I know that he has no thanking to do for this week!” Citron looks almost frustrated, going to the door to bang on it before Sakuya holds him back, calming him down. “I wanna play with him…”

“Ranking.” Tsuzuru mumbles through the word, correcting him.

“Ranking!”

Izumi parts them into two to make her way to the door, knocking harder. “Chigasaki! Get out of the room before I break in!” No response. “...Itaru?” Izumi grabs a keychain from her pocket, with the master key. “I’m coming in.” She unlocks the door quickly, opening the door, being blasted with a rank scent— the scent of body odor (which isn’t surprising now that he’s alone) but when it’s festered and accumulated for a month. Which is terrible considering he’s only been in there for a week.

“...Yes?” Itaru sits up in his loft bed. “...Oh.” He gets down from the loft bed, his hair almost matted to his face, with oil stains and chip crumbs all over his t-shirt. “...Hi.”

“Itaru.”

“Director…?”

“Take a bath. Come back here. We are going to talk, because you haven’t let it get this bad in a while.”

“...Whatever you say.”

When Itaru takes a shower, he doesn’t feel refreshed— rather just a clean feeling taking him with the same unidentifiable emotion. Probably a mixture of disappointment, discontentment, and self-loathing; which isn’t a particularly new mixture but it’s almost defeating this time, for no damn reason. Well, he does know the reason, but he refuses to acknowledge the idea, even entertaining it. Calling in sick to work because he just didn’t feel like going isn’t going to last forever, especially when He is practically his boss. He doesn’t want to get fired of course. He did just lose another job, so getting fired now isn’t the best idea.

Itaru picks up his phone on his way out of the bath, and turns on his phone to check his waifus this time, at first checking out his Best Girl. Humans are complicated, he says to himself, as he taps though some loading messages and downloading messages. He thinks back to work before getting interrupted by Izumi, who’s staring at him from inside his dorm, picking up trash and stuffing them into her makeshift trash bag, which is really just a plastic bag from the convenience store. “Itaru, come in. It’s your dorm after all.” He walks in unwillingly, hit by the smell he produced himself. He even wonders how he can take it.

Izumi wants to talk, he knows that much, as he feels the type of anxiety coming on when he gets the message, “we need to talk”. He hasn’t gotten it that often, but he does definitely freeze up. He definitely isn’t that stupid to not get a hint. Maybe. Izumi starts speaking after a moment of silence.

“So… Can we talk about this? You’ve never let it get this bad… even you have standards.” She glares at the side of the room that’s basically caked in chip bags, surrounded by an anime summoning circle made of chip crumbs. 

“Do I have to?”

“Listen… this can’t go on forever. Just… talk about it. My lips are sealed!” She “zips” her mouth shut and throws away the invisible key from her hands. Itaru knows she isn’t going to leave without an answer— which is just the type of person she is— determined for no good reason. He can’t understand why Izumi is still here, even “helping” him clean. Helping in quotation marks because Itaru’s splayed out on his couch, head hanging off an armrest.

He holds out his phone to tweet something on his streamer Twitter, like “sorry for not streaming i was sick” which is convincing, until he realizes Banri follows him. Fucking NEO. Whatever. He sends it anyway.

“Can you keep it down? I don’t know what emotion you’re gonna feel when I tell you whatever has gotten me so… down. But I know you’re gonna scream about it, which I don’t want to hear.” Itaru scrolls through his personal, looking at fanart of his main games staring at a couple to just appreciate the artistry. Talent.

“I told you. Lips are sealed!”

He adds a snarky tone to his voice. “Someone with their lips zipped together wouldn’t be able to talk.” Itaru smirks.

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“LOL. Do you seriously, most definitely, want to hear me out?”

“Yes. Obviously? I’m cleaning your room just to buy myself time so you don’t kick me out.”

“Good strat. Whatever.” He goes to the training section, sacrificing some of his cards in the name of evolving his best girl. “I got laid off, remember?”

“Yeah.”

“And I got a new job, remember?”

“Mmmhm.”

“So I got hired as an assistant to this high up exec, which is like… hell yeah. Level up from that old company.”

“Didn’t you just get hired? I don’t think being absent for a week is a good look for your Refreshing Handsome Man persona. Trademark.”

Itaru laughs.“I— Well… Yeah? But I just didn’t want to go because of a certain person.”

“Do we have to beat someone up?”

“No. But guess who it was.”

“... Was it someone from highschool?”

“It was Chikage-san.”

“...Chika—“ Izumi puts her own hand over her mouth to shut herself up because of the up and coming scream that is about to pierce the skies.

“You heard me right.”

“...Yeah, I definitely did.” Izumi almost has a solemn tone, a tacit agreement of how they should be feeling about this.

“I just… I don't think I’m ready to see him. Mentally preparing for what shitshow might go on. Seeing him drained all my LP in a split second. And this week is me recharging, and a little more. Like I need it to overflow this time, like when I claim daily login quests for them.”

“Makes sense. Well… nothing you can do about it, right?” Izumi sounds a bit defeated, tying up the trash she’s picked up in the convenience store plastic bag, taking out another one and cleaning up again. “Just… deal with it till you can find a new job. Or… you could bring him back here. I want to— need to talk to him.”

“Mmm. I don’t want to do it.” Itaru sounds even more defeated, like he was born with that stupid Archeops abiltity. 50% HP lost already, and he’s not ready to lose that other half. “But if it comes to that… Sure. I’ll try. Not very hard of course.”

“Yeah, yeah, Itaru. You keep doing that.” She picks up some more trash before Tsumugi looks through the door. 

“Director-san?”

“Tsumugi?”

“Someone is at the door.”

“I’ll get it.” Tsumugi leaves quickly to his dorm. “Itaru. Finish cleaning. Get the broom and sweep that damn pile of chips. We can’t deal with another infestation. Sakyo is gonna get so mad at you and me, and we don’t want another wifi outage caused by him. Also… please remember the play. I know that we aren’t super close to opening night, but this one has to be one of our more intricate ones, okay? Study your role well.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ve been doing that in here too.” Itaru follows Izumi out of the room, heading to the lounge to grab the dustpan and broom lying in the corner of the kitchen. Itaru takes it, wondering how much money it would cost for Itaru to get a damn maid around here. 

But he wouldn’t want anyone to see his room, of course, as he gets almost scared of someone walking in, and seeing his shelf of games, and his cute and sexy gamer setup. Not the right choice of words, but it’s cute and sexy to him. (He also doesn’t want anyone to wash his body pillow of his waifu, or see it, matter of fact. Plus, he’s worked to make it so comfortable he can sleep instantly with it.)

Itaru heads back to his dorm, the door still open, sweeping up the chips, and spraying some damn Febreeze in there. Hawaiian breeze, or some other tropical scent will do. He hears frantic footsteps from the lounge, Izumi holding onto the doorframe.

“Itaru!” She stands up straight. “Chikage… is here. At the dorms with us.”

“What?” 

Chikage pops up behind her, with a small suitcase in hand. Less of popping up, but more of fully revealing himself behind her.

“Please don’t tell me he’s moving back in.”

—

Chikage is less than aware of the reasons he’s here, before regrouping himself and making some stupid mental list in his mind. Thanks, self-help/business book that his boss gave him. He leads up the events in his mind.

Chikage gets a call from the landlord of his apartment building. 

The landlord tells him that the rooms are flooded because some guy on the upper floor took such a big shit that it flooded the entire apartment complex. How does one even do that?

He is distressed. He goes to book a hotel.

All the hotel rooms are booked again.

Chikage, understandably, gets angry. He drives back to pick up some non-wet stuff. He can sleep in a car for a night.

He starts it up, and it doesn’t start. His car is broken.

He kicks the tire in frustration, and the side metal plate just falls off. He sighs in the ultimate defeat.

He now has nowhere else to stay— hotels are all booked and reserved for the waves of plays about to be released. His hideout is not an option— he doesn’t have much of a bed in there, or actual facilities he needs. No wifi.

Chikage is reminded of the conversation he and Arisugawa had back at… there.

He comes back with a damn Uber.

He sits down at the couch, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in more than frustration at what situation he’s gotten himself into, already regretting his decision.

Izumi runs back, opening the lounge door. “...Chikage-san!” She goes to the kitchen. “It’s… a pleasure to see you back here. It’s pretty late. Almost everyone has gone to sleep. Tea?”

“Sure. Lavender, thank you.” Chikage is fidgeting, which is super out of whatever character he plays, almost struggling to not have a tone when he says his next words. “I’d… hope no one else is awake.” He thinks back to Itaru, but forces the thought of him out. “How has it been?”

“Not the same without you and… yeah.” Izumi looks down at her own cup, the teabag soaking. “Why are you here anyways? You just… disappeared.”

Chikage swallows his pride for just a little bit longer. “My apartment is flooded. My stuff is fine but I can’t stay there for now. Every hotel is booked here. My car is broken because I’ve been forsaken. I can’t stay anywhere else. I need to stay here.”

“...Well… you’re always welcome here anyways. You’ll always be a part of us, even when you don’t think you are.” Izumi takes a sip of her now finished tea. “Well… I know this might be uncomfy but for now, our only open room is 103.” He gets flashbacks to the number, when he got assigned it the first time he came here. “I don’t want to put you in 205. Homare has been doing a lot of stuff in there ever since.” Izumi pauses. “...And I know how you might feel about it.”

“I see. Well… I’ll take what I can get, no?” He sighs. “Beggars can’t be choosers.” He takes a long sip of his lavender tea. Nothing has really changed, he observes, as he looks around slowly taking everything back in. The smell is even familiar, which might just be the smell of lavender tea, but he doesn’t really think so. But an air about it doesn’t have as much life as it used to— which he might attribute to the fact that it’s now 12:30 am, but he knows deep in his subconscious the real reason.

Izumi smiles wide. “Great. I’ll lead you there. Itaru is cleaning right now.”

—

Yes, it is awkward, Itaru confirms to himself— something he doesn’t even need to do when Chikage is literally just typing away at his computer, as Itaru fiddles with his phone up in the air, playing some new KniRoun thing. Great. Lancelot is idly whacking at some large dragon on his phone screen, while Chikage’s loud typing begins to fill up more and more of his headspace until Itaru finally gets over the air that’s as thick as butter. “Can you type… quieter? Please?”

Fuck. That is not how he meant to say it. “...sure.” Itaru is surprised, doing a little “Oh.” to himself. He expected more resistance, especially with his tone.

Chikage can almost feel Itaru’s eyes burn into the back of his skull, which would almost be fitting for him and those damn carnelian eyes. “If you want me to leave, I can leave. I understand you have to do that ranking thing, or whatever.”

“Don’t act like you care, Utsuki.” Itaru just keeps fumbling with his tone, always going a little too biting. Which he should probably stop, when he’s basically talking to his boss. Technically. Not really his boss, because he’s been appointed to Chikage. They’re supposed to be working together. But it’s not like Chikage has power in a setting that is now his. He’s in Itaru’s domain. “You never cared about my ranking in the first place.”

“Can we fucking not today? Be happy I’m even dealing with you.”

Itaru shuts up immediately. He isn’t going to do this today. Or ever. He turns on his side to try to ignore whatever that cabbage head is doing on his laptop. But he doesn’t. He looks at the laptop, already looking for hotels to stay at, and sending out emails, with some decryptor on the side. Itaru isn’t one for confrontation. He knows he’s less than welcome with Chikage’s presence— which he can’t understand.

But Itaru is already tired— be it from the event that just happened, or the fact that it’s 1 am. Which is baby hours for him. He goes to do some final things, use his stamina, the sorts, and lets his body drift away.

—

Itaru wakes up midday, as usual for a weekend, and for some reason, Chikage is still there, typing away. He climbs down from his loft bed, stretching a bit and going to turn his computer on. 

It seems like a normal weekend to Itaru, except for the fact that he’s here now. For whatever reason.

“Have you been awake this entire time?”

“...What’s it matter to you?” Chikage doesn’t even look back or stutter in his typing.

“Nothing, I was just wondering. Jeez.” Itaru doesn’t even want to try to fight back with the man who could snap his neck in 0.5 seconds. He walks out into the atrium, heading to the kitchen to grab some food from Omi, who had probably covered some leftovers from breakfast in plastic wrap, and probably already getting lunch ready.

“Itaru. Good morning to you!” Omi speaks to Itaru from the counter, giving him a smile.

“Thanks.” He grabs the leftover breakfast for a nice brunch.  Izumi comes through the door with some bags of groceries for the next week.

“Itaru! Let’s talk later, okay? Practice is soon. We don’t want you to be absent this time. As the lead, you have the most importance for the play, and we need you to—“

“I know. I’ve been studying this role, okay? I just can’t seem to wrap my head around it.” 

“And that’s why we should talk.” Izumi looks serious again, the look she gave him last night when cleaning his dumpster room. “It’s nothing serious. Just sit down here.”

“I have things to attend to, Director.” Itaru looks smug, and walks towards the door, plate in hand. 

“I swear it’ll be quick!”

“Can’t we just do it in my room? Omi is here, and if it’s so serious, we should talk about it in a private place.”

“You’re gonna be distracted if we do it in your room. Just follow me to mine.”

“Ugh…” He walks over to Izumi, and follows her to her room, pulling out a chair for Itaru and she sits on her bed. “So…?”

“So… guess what…” Izumi’s voice is light, like she’s trying to break something to him slowly but surely.

“Don’t tell me. Is he going to be staying for a while?”

“...Damn.”

“You have to be kidding me, Izumi. Like I can’t believe you would do this to me. Rooming me with my boss.” He puts his back over the chair he’s sitting in, like a standard damsel in distress, woe is him. “Woe is me! All I know is pain and suffering.” 

“You might be an actor but that was not an opening night performance.” Izumi laughs. “It might be for a while so bear with me. It’ll be until at least closing night.”

“... At least closing night?” Itaru is confused. “Why does he even need to stay in here?”

“Well… His apartment is flooded. Some guy took a fat shit in the toilet on the upper floors and now his apartment is flooded with toilet water. Hotels are booked for a while, Godza n’ all the other performances. People do book hotel rooms months in advance here.”

“Well, that’s tough. Why not put him with Homa—“ He stops and realizes what he’s going to say. “Oh.”

“Right.”

“Well, can’t he drive? Like… to a place with hotels?”

“Well, his car is broken. Listen, even if he did get it fixed, it’s the least we can do for him. He tried his best, Itaru. Everyone… grieves differently and it’s not in our place to judge him, no? Even if it was self-destructive…”

“Yeah, by hurting us? That’s his grief? Why’d you even let him stay? He doesn’t act, he wouldn’t do shit around here. Do you think he’ll come back? After three and a half years, no goodbye, just a complete disappearance? I don’t see how you can forgive some old cabbage head like that. He’s not even part of MANK—“

“Itaru, can you shut the fuck up? Like, actually.” Itaru immediately shuts up in almost prey-like fear. ”You of all people should know what it felt like when he left, and after everything that went down.” Izumi is absolutely fuming, like steam is coming out of her ears, getting up and turning away and looking at the bookshelf. “Do you know what it feels like? I worked so hard for this— to build this up from when it was failing to a place where we can stay and lean on each other and you… you of all people should know what the hell that feels like.”

“Izumi, I—“ He gets up, reaching out for a bit.

“I’m not finished.” Izumi is tearing up and getting more red by the second, like she’s going to burst. “How do you think I feel about all this? Chikage is back. It’s overwhelming, Itaru. It reminded me of Hisoka, and what would MANKAI be if he was still here but he isn’t. He’s not back. He won’t ever, and when we find an old member like Chikage, I will always accept him back in, even if he’s not committed to the acting gig. It’s almost like we’re completing ourselves again.”

“I understand that, but—“ Itaru can barely get a word in.

“He’s staying there. I don’t want any backtalk from you, Itaru. Have a good evening.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Just go.” She sits back down, her back turned to Itaru as he walks out.

Itaru feels bad. I mean, who wouldn’t, but he didn’t expect Izumi to take it that hard. Itaru has every right to say that he doesn’t want him in his room, feeling no remorse for making Izumi almost cry from pure anger, walking slowly back to the room. Omi stares at him as he goes through the kitchen. 

“...Food?”

“Nah. Not hungry, I want some chips.”

“Don’t overindulge. It’s almost dinner anyways.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks Omi.”

He walks out of the kitchen and back to his room, still thinking about Izumi. Izumi is angry. Izumi is more than angry at him and it was because of him— which has never happened before and he is distraught. 

He walks back into the room and no one is there. Bless. Today his room feels a bit more lonely, even though there’s more stuff in it, looking to his left to see the duffel bag of clothes with his desk underneath the loft bed already set up with tons of electronics. What is he even doing? He takes a look at Chikage’s stuff before he comes back.

Another laptop? A walkie-talkie… and the thing that catches his eye the most is a picture of MANKAI, and behind that, a picture of Hisoka and Chikage. Itaru remembers taking this photo, looking closer at it. Okay, now he really feels bad, he thinks as he looks at the photo more and more.

If he missed us that much then why didn’t he come back?

The door opens and he shuffles as fast as he can to the couch, posing in one of the most awkward positions.

“...H-hey, Utsuki-senpai.”

“Hm.”

He quickly walks past, suspiciously looking at Itaru as if he was a cat that pushed something off a desk while their owner was gone. Itaru quickly skitters to his desk, starting up his computer. The room feels a bit more lively with both of them in it, even if they’re both just trying to ignore each other, something within the room metamorphosing, like something is changing. He shakes the thought out of his head quickly before he slumps into his chair to get into the Gamer Position (trademarked by Itaru himself) and getting his software up.

Itaru needs to stream today. Not really— he didn’t announce anything, but he has to feed his fans some sort of content. He gets ready to film something, anything. He picks a random game and starts filming a bit, Chikage in the room completely tuning Itaru out and vice versa. 

Chikage slowly drifts off to sleep for once, but this time, it’s a deep sleep. chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6

[nobody-knose--archive]

hi everyone it’s me, local lemon demon & tally hall fan, posting about a band that you’ve never heard of and is only tangentially related to lemon demon & tally hall but still more related than i ever expected to be. the fullerenes, and their final ep, the temporary boyfriend ep. enjoy

-two disclaimers i have to get out of the way. the first is that this isn't my first time listening to this album, that was earlier today, and i'd even listened to a couple songs on their own before then. the second is that 90% of this is just going to be me gushing about how fantastic this album is because holy shit it's good like the mixing is amateur the lyrics are about cishet love but i don't care i love this goddam ep

-bassline. piano. dischordancy. what's not to goddam love

-the story of this song is some guy being in love with a with an androgynous name (& is not referred to with any gendered language!) whom he's never spoken to, only like bumped into once some time. i don't hate it because i know exactly how much worse it could be. that's my stance on all of the fullerenes' love songs honestly

-i bring up the androgynous name because i will hc adrian as enby to the death. i'll do this with any fictional character honestly

-alright back to the song. fast-paced as any fullerenes song will be, but the piano riffs/melody have barged into my heart where they pay rent & tip each week, more than making up for anything lackluster in the drumming/guitar aspects

-as if there would be any

-unfortunately i'm going to have to pause like. a lot. even more than i usually do with an album. because the songs are fast paced & go by quickly & i can't quite keep up with them

-that bass riff. i can tell there's some real musical knowledge behind it. and if you're going to put your musical knowledge anywhere the bass is like the 1st best place for a rock band & the 2nd best place for an ann arbor beginning of the 2000s quintet that dresses smartly with matching ties at live performances & is traditional rock with a keyboarder and other miscellaneous instrument useage/experience. what's tally hall

-ok to completely ignore the last thing i said this soft guitar arpeggio combined with the vaguely harmonious feedback was a 2-hit combo of tally hall flashbacks (i know it's just the same & two wuv, respectively) the first time i heard it and i don't know how long it'll take till that goes away

-good lord the lead singer isn't the most skilled person in the universe but these harmonies! they kick me in the head and save my soul i want to get lost in this rock & roll

-by far the most emo song on this album, broken down, and who doesn't need a little emo. by which i mean the lead vocalist screams sometimes there's not a whole lot more angst by comparison beyond that

-the hooks. this song's got a hook. and the keyboard. the keyboard. watch me fill up this whole liveblog with just mentions of the instruments & musical components

-practically the only thing pushing this song past the 2 minute mark is the guitar/keyboard solo & i sure as hell can't complain about that it slaps

-i won't lie this bit with the vocal filter is a very silly reminder (to me) of lemon demon's first 2 albums. i mean. i think this ep & those albums came out about a year apart. and neil was a fullerenes fan. so maybe my remembrance is based in something more

-temporary boyfriend the song itself. i literally haven't listened to their full discography but if i had to pick a song to introduce people to the fullerenes & it couldn't be little fits then it'd definitely be this one alright

-it's got the most typically pleasant vocals, keyboard accompaniment the whole way through, gentle & groovy guitar, very well done vocal harmonies, lyrics aren't alloromantic shit, it's the perfect intro to this band

-also, i can already tell it's going to be stuck in my head for goddam ages & i'm only listening to it for the 2nd time

-i wonder if this band's anywhere on spotify? or any other music platforms? i would bet money against it honestly i only found it through a hella deep rabbit hole, their yt channel is tiny, and they aren't selling the album for any money on bandcamp. if anyone's still into logan whitehurst & the jr science club today maybe they'll find their way towards it but otherwise you'd probably have to encounter it a. the same way i did or b. through me specifically

-because i've only had the fullerenes for half a day but if other people don't start hearing about them i'm going to make their life hell

-that meme doesn’t translate well directly onto text. especially when you don’t want to bring up su*cide. moving on

-yknow. if you've seen my deporitazposting then get ready for that part ii except now there's even even less people who care about this defunct 1998-2002 music group (put group in quotations for deporitaz's part)

-oh and onto the finale. this is the song i've heard once or twice before the album and like. it's fast paced angery breakup song but in a vague bubblegum rock style.

-sure the love song aspects aren't my favorite but i enjoy these hooks and the power chords are tight. can't hate it!

-catch me, an ace/aro, never intend to & never have been in a ~committed relationship, belting the lyrics to this one at the top of my lungs at 4pm on a monday

-shit i need to update my "no love song writers are allowed in the alloromanticism" meme with. whoever's the lead songwriter for this band. is it ryan? ryan something? i don't entirely know yet but in my defense the fullerenes have a practically nonexistent internet presence, let alone general multimedia (non-musical) presence

-i had also listened to the love me true demo before going through the whole album and i've gotta say it doesn't sound a load rougher than the average fullerenes song. which could either show that a. fullerenes songs aren't terribly studio finessed, b. this demo is really well done, c. i have low standards, or d. i don't know the fullerenes' style well enough to point out how this is unfinished

-the vocal harmonies are on full display in this track- far more than the other ones even, i think.

-i guess you could say it's on ~fullerenes display haha

-oh the album's over. yeah it's only an ep & the songs aren't too long. the other ones have a shit ton more tracks at least. good times!

[thewhumperinwhite]

FBI AU: Flashback

Previous: Rescue / Interrogation / Awkward / Painkillers / Father

...oh yeah... this is probably a good time to mention the Coven is, you know. A vampire cult

@whumpitywhumpwhump

TW for: referenced/non-explicit drug use; forced nudity; Scalpels

On the night before the end of the world, Karim Mun fell asleep with Art’s head resting on his chest, his fuzzy haircut tickling Karim’s chin, and slept without nightmares for the first time in nine years, and he really, actually believed that it was the start of many more dreamless nights to come. In actuality, of course, it wasn’t the first, it was the only.

Here is what happened, as Karim Mun remembers it. He has explained it to three different officials, now, in as much detail as he can— once to a duty officer, once to Rona Cowl, and once, staring straight ahead and speaking tonelessly without stopping, to his mother. Even if he had not recounted it he already knows he will remember it for as long as he lives.

It goes like this.

Karim falls asleep wrapped in warm sheets with Art’s comforting weight on his chest. He wakes up freezing cold, still only the boxers he had fallen asleep in, but now his hands are bound behind his back. Later he will know that Tenor was the one holding him, but in the moment Micah’s bodyguard exists only as a huge arm across his bare chest and a button-down shirt pressed against his bare back. He is kneeling on a concrete floor, and the room is lit by a single dangling lamp, which lights up the tableau Micah has carefully arranged.

Micah is kneeling too, and he is in his usual suit, though he has removed the jacket for the occasion. Art, halfway in Micah’s lap, is naked. Micah has one arm wrapped around Art’s waist, and one hand tangled in his hair. Art’s eyes are cloudy and there is duct tape over his mouth.

It’s this that makes Karim jolt upright in Tenor’s arms and try unsuccessfully to get his legs under him. Words have always been Art’s only defense, he has always been proud of how well and sharply he can speak. Micah cannot take that from him.

“There you are,” Micah says, when he sees Karim lift his head. “Karim, what is the number one rule I gave you, when I invited you into my Coven?”

“No,” Karim says. “Micah— Father— please don’t hurt him, I’ll— Father, anything— “

Art looks up at the sound of his voice. When he sees Karim his eyes clear, and he struggles against Micah’s hold, and Karim remembers that this is the first time in years that Art doesn’t want to die.

Micah doesn’t look at Art, and doesn’t have to readjust his grip— Karim can see that Art’s throat and ribs are bruised, that his left leg sits at a terrible angle; his struggles must be weaker than a child’s.

Micah frowns at Karim. “I thought you might say that,” he says. “I want you to know, I’m not angry with you, my Karim. I’m disappointed.”

“Father,” Karim says, straining against the rope around his wrists and against Tenor’s unbreakable grip on his arm and shoulder. “Father I’m— you’re right, I should never have left, I’ll— if you let him go, I’ll never— “

“Yes, my Karim, I anticipated all of this,” Micah says, impatient. Art aims an elbow at his stomach, and Micah catches his arm easily; his hand wraps almost entirely around Art’s bicep; Karim throws himself hard against Tenor’s arms but Tenor doesn’t flinch. “That’s why I’ve set up this little object lesson, so that you won’t forget the rules again.” Micah looks at Tenor over Karim’s shoulder. “Make sure he watches, please.”

Then Micah pulls his scalpel from his shirt pocket and makes a shallow cut on the side of Art’s throat. Art jerks in his arms, and makes a startled noise under the gag. Micah pulls Art’s head to one side by the hair and covers the cut with his mouth, his arm wrapping more securely around Art’s waist like a parody of a loving embrace.

“No!” Karim writhes in Tenor’s grip, but the big man’s arm only tightens around Karim’s chest until he can barely breathe. “Father— Please— “

Micah lifts his head from Art’s throat, running his tongue languidly over the cut he has made— Art twitches in his arms, tries to push Micah’s face away, and Micah takes a firm hold of Art’s narrow wrist, stretches his arm out as though Art is not fighting his grip at all, and makes a small cut over the veins in his wrist. Then he looks up into the darkness to his left, smiling with wet red lips, and Karim sees, in the darkness, the shifting shapes of his sisters, who are watching Micah murder Art.

“Charity,” Micah says warmly. “Will you join me?”

Charity steps demurely into the light and kneels beside Micah. Her eyes are already cloudy; everyone must have dosed up while they were watching Tenor tie his hands behind his back. She takes Art’s wrist in her small hands when Micah offers it to her and laps delicately at Art’s veins. 

When Micah calls Venita, she slices open Art’s opposite inner elbow— Art makes a desperate harsh whine under his gag— and sucks at the wound as though she can’t hear Karim screaming at her at all, as though he isn’t there and this is a normal one of Micah’s “family dinners”-- which it is, from her perspective. The only difference is that for the first time in nine years Karim is completely sober, watching Micah give up on the first cut he made in Art’s throat and starting another, listening to Charity moan quietly with pleasure as her mouth fills with Art’s blood.

When Diana pulls Art’s legs apart to get at the vein in his inner thigh, Karim screams, kicking at Tenor wildly, and Tenor growls in his ear and seizes Karim’s chin in a bruising grip, as though Karim could ever have looked away from what his family is doing to Art, from Art’s wide eyes and bruised bare ribs. 

When Venita cuts his arm for the fourth time Art’s head falls limply back against Micah’s shoulder. None of Karim’s family seem to notice.

Micah raises his head, his mouth and chin bloody, and smiles at the last of Karim’s sister, and Karim believes, believes, for a long desperate moment that Selina, at least, will see, will know that it is wrong and they have all been monsters for not seeing it, drugs or no, that they are killing him— 

But Selina’s pupils are already blown wide and the scent of the blood and Micah’s soft inviting voice are making her short of breath. Venita holds out Art’s unbroken wrist and Selina takes it in her hand and cuts it open.

Karim’s sisters pull back one by one, melting back into the shadows as if grateful to have escaped Micah’s attention. Later Karim will remember the times he has done so himself— the lives he has helped take in Micah’s name— but now there is room in his head for nothing outside of Art, whose struggles slow and then stop, whose eyes go dull in Micah’s arms.

When Art is empty and still Micah finally looks back at Karim— Karim can’t breathe— and then he kisses Art on the lips, staining Art’s mouth red, and lets Art fall. Art sprawls on his side on the floor, his eyes half-lidded.

For a moment Tenor’s grip on him slackens and Karim wrenches himself free and throws himself over Art, hands still bound behind his back, screams Art’s name in his torn-up voice, but no amount of howls and tears and apologies make Art stop being dead.

“Honestly,” Micah says, getting to his feet and wiping dust from the knees of his trousers. “Tenor, get him out of here before he embarrasses himself any further.”

Tenor carries him bodily from the room, thrashing and kicking, and throws him in his old quarters without a word, slamming the door before Karim can get to his feet. 

That is what Karim remembers. That is why he wasted three days refusing food and shaking through withdrawal as the final dose of Micah’s drugs left his system. Why he let himself grow so weak that he couldn’t do anything to Micah by the time he finally deigned to come to Karim’s room. 

He believed it— a month out of the compound, drug-free, he still trusted Micah’s “object lesson” enough to believe that Art was dead— and left Micah three more days alone with Art by believing it. 

He tells the police everything— from sneaking into the club where he met Micah nine years ago to agreeing to kill Art when he met him at the docks. He says it all, over and over; he doesn’t refuse to eat or flinch back from the doctors’ needles. He doesn’t ask for anything at all, except to see Art, because Art is sleeping two floors away, and Karim needs to see him.

Then Art wakes up, and he stops asking. It would be crazy to assume Art needs to see him.

——

Karim Mun is staring at the TV without watching it when Rona enters his room. His hands are resting loosely in his lap and the circles under his eyes are dark as bruises, and Rona can practically hear the empty static in his brain.

“Good, your awake,” she says, ignoring his immediate flinch away from her voice. “I have a proposal for you.”

Karim Mun blinks up at her, and recognition takes its sweet time to filter into his eyes. “Oh. Agent Cowl,” he says vaguely. “You’re back.”

“I’m back,” Rona agrees, leaning in the doorway to look at him. He looks shell-shocked enough to be innocent, but Rona’s met some actors in her time. It still bears a little testing. “Your doc says you’re clear for a little walk, as long as you got a spotter. Whaddaya say— “ she jerks her head toward the hallway. “You wanna take a turn with me?”

Karim Mun blinks again, clearly startled. “You— want to walk me around the hall? Don’t you— have more important work to be doing?”

“Nah,” Rona lies easily. “I could use a break. C’mon,” she says, smiling at him, always a little bit sly. “There’s somebody who’s been begging to see you.”

[iwritethat]

Jason Todd: Engravings

A/N: Italics are flashbacks, this ones a lil different to my usual style.

>>>>—————————>

———

"They're cool, kinda badass and luckily these ones are blank!"

"They're cheap and tacky. They haven't been engraved yet - where'd you steal 'em from?" He was always quick to pass judgement but it came from a kind place.

"Stall on the corner, I want to carve my name into it but I'm scared of messing it up."

"..."

———

"(Y/n) - Boss, we've captured the intruder and tied 'em up downstairs - want us to dispose of him?" Your peaceful drink at the bar was interrupted causing a halt to your paperwork as you glared at him.

"My my, so quick to get to the murder. You know it's both polite and resourceful to at least ask what they wanted, so come on." Placing down your pen, you ensured you looked presentable before heading down to the basement with your men strictly following like soldiers.

———

Your hands shook ever so slightly, fingers guiding the knife situated between them in sheer concentration though you'd yet to even graze the shiny steel. You winced, pulling away the blade with a frustrated sigh.

"Give it here, a knife is too big anyway." The exasperated tone of your friend reprimanded, briskly untangling the chain from your fingertips, then glaring at it before shoving it in his pocket and walking off into the alley leaving you with no explanation which left you to business on the streets.

———

The doors flung open signifying your arrival and the discovery was less than pleasant, a decently built male securely tied to a chair with guards standing on either side and his jacket and under armour folded on the table beneath his crimson helmet.

"Why did you uh... remove half of his clothes? That seems a tad unnecessary..."

"Ah that symbol electrocutes anyone in close proximity as Mal discovered but we didn't make that mistake twice." A henchmen quickly answered, sheepish expression on his face.

"Hm, clever. Is Mal okay though?" Not many held concern for their hired guns but you were a rare exception which is why your company were renowned for their loyalty toward you. Nevertheless, one of the guards nodded with a smile, once more placing down the offending piece of armour.

"Alright dumbass, what were you thinking breaking into my fine establishment?" Came your charming voice, fingers grazing across the back of the chair before stopping in front of your ravenette prisoner.

"That's no way to talk to your guests sweetheart, but admittedly it's one of the nicest places I've broken into." His icy gaze finally met yours, and that was when you noticed the reflective glint on his bare chest.

Instantly you knelt before the handsome stranger, fingertips barely brushing the heated silver before you received a vicious threat.

"Touch that and I'll personally make you regret it."

Regardless of his venomous attitude, you gently grasped the engraved dog tags - the gesture definitely not unnoticed by their wearer nor the foreign expression that briefly crossed your features.

———

"Oi!" The moment you'd acknowledged the voice, a slither of steel was slung in your direction capturing the light of the moon as it flew through the air.

You barely caught it, faltering before recognising the item and running your thumb over the new alterations.

'Name: (Y/n) (L/n)' accompanied by your birth date with enough space for another line if needed. However, you filtered through the next one as the tags originally came in a pair but this one was different.

'Name: Jason Todd'

'DoB: 16/08'

———

What surprised the majority in the room was your next swift movement, using the chain entangled around your digits you pulled him down to your level bringing your lips to his ear to prevent eavesdropping guards as a precaution.

"If you're Jason Todd, then what does (Y/n) (L/n) mean to you?" With your secretive whisper, the males muscles instinctively tensed and he looked to you with shock in his irises before scowling.

"That's a bold assumption."

"No, the fact you wear jewellery underneath your getup suggests it's sentimental. As it's a pair of engraved dog tags I would've thought military but there's no ID number and they're close to your heart aren't they?" Was your solemn explanation despite knowing exactly what they represented, though you still felt resentment radiating off of the captive as you waved your guards out of the room to speak more freely.

"How do you know I'm not (Y/n) (L/n) smartass?" Was his comeback, wrists twisting in his restraints.

"Because they're incredibly attractive, duh."

"Wait - you know (Y/n)? If you've done anything -" His voice seemed more lively now, like emotion was tied to that name and the hope of finding them.

"Just tell me why you're here already as I might be able to help." Unbeknownst to him, the person he seemed interested in stood right before him - not that you’d tell Jason that just yet.

———

"Why's your name on here?" You mischievously inquired, smirking at your now flustered friend.

"Wha- well because I made it, it's my signature duh." He shoved his hands into his pockets, gaze diverted to Gothams' skyline and pout upon his lips that only made you laugh.

"Uh-huh suuurre."

"If you don't want it then throw my one back." Came the snappy callout, Jason now looking at you expectantly.

"And split them up? That'll look weird." You shook your head, playfully pulling the tags away from his grip as he went for them and proudly clipped them around your neck.

"People probably say the same about us to be honest."

"What was that red?!" You didn't quite hear whatever he'd muttered under his breath, but knowing it would've been somewhat sentimental his defensive reply was expected.

"Nothing jeez!"

———

"I want Black Masks location. Now your turn."

"Roman has no influence over me or my club but I know some regulars who work for him so we can sort something out." With a brisk motion you'd slit the restraints on his wrists thus freeing him.

It was a stupid thing to do, your fingers instantly reaching for your necklace out of nervousness once you'd turned your back on him - it was a habit, you'd put your faith into a common criminal and were hoping he wouldn't kill you now he had the opportunity.

Instantly you realised your mistake, seconds later you ended up with your back roughly trapped against the table, knife to your throat and 6ft war god holding you right where he wanted you.

"Thanks for the assist doll, but you never answered my question about -" As he pulled back, there was a strain, a twinkle of metal against metal as the two chains kept you tied together.

His gaze flicked from the interlocked dog tags then back to you, recognition flooding him instantly as the knife clattered against the tile and his brows furrowed as of analysing you.

"You were right, (Y/n) is incredibly attractive..." Jason was breathless, a contrast of awe and snugness on his handsome features.

"Speaking of, clothes!" You’d grabbed the folded material and shoved it into his chest with a huff whilst subtly attempting to hide your undoing due to the close proximity.

It didn’t take much to detangle the chains so he could get dressed but not without a somewhat interesting reunion - it had been a few years since you were misguided street kids.

"I heard you were dead." Jason started, no doubt he’d inquired about you on the streets but judging by the last man any of your old acquaintances saw you with, you didn’t blame them for their presumptions.

"I heard you were dead."

"Touché, I came back though. Not 100%, but back." Jason commented, scratching the back of his neck which already told you this was a sensitive subject that you noted to delve into in the near future among other things.

"We really changed huh, you got adopted by Bruce Wayne, I got taken in by Carmine Falcone and now we're on the same side again. Sort of..." You playfully shrugged, offering your friend a small smirk.

"Falcone - you became a freaking underground crimelord?!" His shock was evident, jacket dropping to floor whilst he rubbed his temples then gesturing for you to elaborate.

"Says you! Look I did what I did to survive, after Falcone was killed I stayed out of everyone's way and kept this club and it’s profits under my control. No one owns me anymore. But nice to see you kept my nickname for you Red Hood!"

“I knew you’d do great and I have my reasons, it’s not just because of you. Anyway, Black Mask - we should probably y’know...” The big bad vigilante was flustered, a gift of yours that supposedly maintained its effectiveness through the change and so you couldn’t help but continue.

“Are you sure, you did call me attractive.”

“Yeah well you are so... whatever. And besides, you’re rich but kept the cheap dogtags so I guess I’m not the only sentimental one.” Jason closed the distance as he spoke, a gentle brush over your heart as he tugged on your tags with a smirk.

Since you seem in so much of a hurry I’d love to properly catch up some time if you’d allow it. So I f you’re quite done staring at my lips Jason I’ve got a club to open and there’s someone we need to speak to.” You tilted your head in a challenging manner before making your way to the staircase with a devious smirk as you finished your implied invitation.

“...I haven’t missed you at all. Just so you know (Y/n)!” Your partner hollered after you, hastily throwing on his jacket and grabbing the helmet before joining your side with a playful nudge as you walked to the bar.

———

"Even though you're rich now, you still haven't grown out of throwing things at people!" You mocked anger, huffing at the offender.

"Not people, just you." Jason wittily replies along with a wink.

"Oh wow, thanks I'm honoured." Your sarcasm was fluent, inspecting what he’d thrown at you before commenting on the chain.

"Jason what's this, they're replicas of the dog tags I wear already."

"Yeah I know, but these are silver. They're better." His light blush went amiss as he stopped before you with his explanation.

"You brought these?"

"Figured I might as well get you something, besides like you said, I'm rich now."

"Keep 'em." You effortlessly tossed them back, Jason catching them with both disbelief and confusion.

"But I-"

"I don't care - I don't want them. I like my ones - they're had crafted by Jason Todd and I have the crafters signature to prove it. Although since they are almost a matching set..." You trailed off, Jason's curiosity piqued as you unclasped the silver and walked behind the male who, despite his wealthy residence, kept his red hoodie.

"You should keep it, that way you'll have me close to your heart like you are to mine." Came your continuation, latching the tags around his neck whilst you walked around to face him, fingers lingering on the silver in the centre of his chest.

"Never knew you cared."

"Oh I don't, but I still have the original Red. And the originals are always more valuable."

———

[daysswithyou]

Fallen Chapter 14: What are we?

previous / next

Characters: DAY6 Young K x OC (Rachel)

Genre: angst, fake dating, high school romance, fluff, romance

Warnings: Mild cursing

------

It’s been… what… maybe about 2 weeks since the kiss.

But I’m still thinking about it on a daily basis.

Fuck.

You stab the tip of your pen through the paper with a loud thud, causing the entire table to jolt up. From his spot right in front of you, Sungjin got a clear view of your face, and jumped back further in shock when he saw your stoic facial expression, your murderous gaze focused straight on the wall right behind him. Esther craned her neck out further to look at you carefully before questioning you.

“Ya Rachel, what’s up with you? You haven’t been yourself since the night of the party. Did you… argue with Brian?”

Only when she mentioned his name was Esther finally able to get a response from you, your eyes growing wide as your pupils shook slightly, unwanted flashbacks from the searing kiss invading your mind. Your pen wobbled in your hand as your eyes darted to the 5 pairs of eyes around the table, all looking at you expectedly in anticipation of your answer.

“Aish what are you talking about? Nothing happened, w-w-we – ”

You struggled to get the words out, ultimately giving up instead.

“I’m going outside to get some fresh air; it’s so suffocating here…”

Standing up from your seat quickly, you scurried out of the quiet library in a hurry, hoping to escape the scene before your face burning red gave you away.

---

Once you were out in the stairwell, you stomped your feet on the ground in frustration, ruffling your hair so much that your scalp hurt. You were irritated at yourself for constantly thinking about the kiss even when you should have put it behind you in favour of focusing on your studies but, there was a more pressing issue on hand now – what does that kiss mean for the relationship between the two of you?

The kiss should never have happened. Now the lines between our agreement has blurred – what is real and what is not? He kisses me with so much eagerness… but then… he leaves later like nothing ever happened? Am I the only one that is so affected by this kiss? Does he feel nothing at all? What’s going on between the both of us now?

What are we?

You spin around to face the stairwell once you were done thinking – only to be met by the last person that you want to see right now:

Brian Kang

He halts mid-step, standing still on his spot between the fourth and fifth step as he slowly tilts his head upwards to look at you, his eyes staring right into yours. He was calm looking right back at you, yet you were everything but that. Groaning out loud, you roll your eyes as you turn your back to him, swearing under your breath.

Why did I have to meet him here? I was doing a good job not having to see him for the past two weeks due to his medical appointments, but yet I have to meet him here – of all places – when I least want to. Me and my terrible luck… I should leave.

You swivel on your heels, heading quickly for the next flight of stairs above you. Surprised that you didn’t acknowledge him; as though he was invisible, Brian jumped up two steps at a time, reaching you in no time. Stretching a hand out, he clasped onto your wrist firmly, fingers tightening around them. Slightly panting for the sudden exertion, you wait as he takes his time to catch his breath before he asked the dreaded question.

“Rachel, can we talk?”

Your answer was swift and cold.

“No.”

You turn to walk away, but his grip on your wrist tightens, keeping you at your spot.

“Please. Just give me 5 minutes of your time.”

Turning around slowly, your eyes dart between his hands on your wrist and his pleading eyes, feeling your resolve slowly melt away. You taste the regret on your tongue before the words are out of your mouth – feel your heart betraying your mind – but you say the words anyway.  

“Ok.”

---

You stomp off to stand in the middle of the rooftop, folding your arms in front of your chest as you waited for Brian, making it very clear that you didn’t quite want to be in his presence for very long. You reason with yourself; that you’re acting this angry because he left you hanging that night without any explanation but deep down, you knew the real motivation for your action was fear.

Fear that if you were left alone with him again, you might lose all self-control like you did back then and…

You close your eyes and shake the thoughts out of your head, not wanting to think further.

Closing the door to the rooftop behind him silently, Brian watches your back from afar, racking his brain for what he could do to possibly appease you. But all this wondering was too much thinking for Brian Kang, and he decides that it would be best to just be straightforward instead.

Your heart rate increases with each step that he takes closer towards you, and he stops 2 feet away from you, afraid that you might push him away if he got too close.

“What do you want Brian Kang?”

The usage of his full name stings more than it should, the impact hitting him like a punch in the gut.

“I was wondering if you’d be willing to accompany me to my cousin’s wedding dinner this weekend.”

There. I said it.

You swivel around so quickly that he’s shocked by your speed, the murderous look on your face scaring him into further explaining himself, hoping that it might do something to appease you.

“Please Rachel! Before you say anything, hear me out.”

He puts up both hands in front of him, an indication of his surrender to you.

“My parents and grandparents have been pestering me to bring you along, saying that they want to see you.”

“And how did they know of my existence in the first place?”

You narrow your eyes at him, already catching on to the loophole in his story. Brian’s eyes widen slightly – but other than that, his face shows a state of calm. He can’t let anything give himself away now. If he wants you to believe him and come along without anymore questions, he has to be convincing – and to do so – he must choose his next words carefully.

“It was an accident. The boys came over to my house, and Wonpil blurted it out on mistake, making it known that I have a girlfriend. Then well… the rest is history.”

He shuts his mouth immediately after; the less he talks, the less mistakes he’ll make, the less likely you were to suspect him. You continue keeping an eye on Brian, finding it hard to believe his story.

But then again… it’s Wonpil. He does have a tendency of saying whatever’s on his mind without much filtering. Such a thing could happen… right?

From his spot, Brain watches as the gears in your mind turn, getting more and more hopeful with each second as he notices how your facial muscles begin to relax, the scowl on your face now less menacing.

Egging you on further, he adds on to his previous statement.

“I meant to ask you that night, but Jaebum got in the way.”

But that was a wrong move on Brian’s part, because mentioning that night just brought back more flashbacks of the kiss that made you upset once again. You got defensive, lashing out at Brian.

“We aren’t supposed to get involved in each other’s personal lives. So, no.”

“Please,” he pleads, “Just this once.”

Your heart softens as you look into his eyes, the lights within them dimming instantly when you rejected him. You’ve never seen Brian looking so dejected before, and you’re finding it hard to ignore the sting in your heart, knowing that he’ll be better if you just said yes.

Why are you like this Rachel Hwang… why can’t you just say no to him…

You engage in an internal battle with yourself for a few minutes, but with each passing second, the answer was clear to you.

Just once wouldn’t hurt… right?

You sigh in resignation, knowing what you’re going to do next.

“Fine. But just this once.”

The change in Brian Kang was instant – his eyes immediately shined with their previous radiance; his face practically glowing as he beamed at you.

“Thank you, Rachel.”

You grunt in response, not wanting to seem to eager but Brian remains unfazed. It doesn’t matter how you respond, so long as you made it clear that you’ll come, which you did. Everything looked like a rosy picture, until you realise the grave mistake behind your actions.

Brian Kang breaks the second rule: Don’t get involved in one another personal lives.

---

Wonpil’s phone beep in his pocket, and he fishes it out to check the notification.

Kang Bra Hyung

If Rachel asks you if you really did tell my family about our relationship, say that you did.