#sorry if that paragraph made no sense i’m currently sick

[professionalidiot32]

wanted to redraw that scene where kieran terastallizes and just looks like he doesn’t give a shit even though everyone else struggles when they terastallize

idk if it’s just because he wanted to be edgy but i feel like he looks that way bc doing it just wouldn’t effect him anymore you know? if he really was training so hard all the time then he would’ve terastallized so much that it doesn’t bother him anymore. idk just a thought i had when i was drawing

[tpwkjerii]

feverish

you’re starting to come down with a serious case of the flu and, much to the dismay of your doctor boyfriend, you refuse to admit it. luckily, dr. lee minho (and his three cats) is more than ready to help.

pairing: doctor!minho x reader

warnings: ‘baby’ as a pet name, sickness, like one cuss word

genre: established relationship au, doctor au, tooth-aching fluff

word count: 1.6k+

a/n: minho in a doctor’s coat. that’s it.

“You look terrible.”

Those are the lovely words you hear upon the arrival of your boyfriend as he enters your shared apartment after a long day at the hospital. You turn, hoodie secure on your head and just poking out in the corner of your vision, and glare at him while he takes off his shoes and sets down his black messenger bag.

“Gee, thanks for the compliment,” you mutter, your voice hoarse like you smoked several packs of cigarettes a day for years (or like you’d been coughing the entire day, which you have).

“I’m just saying,” he says lightly as he slips off his white coat and places it onto the coat rack. “Are you sick?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

You shake your head and push him away as he approaches your spot on the couch. “No, I’m fine.”

He ignores you and gently presses the back of his hand to your forehead, wincing as his cool hands meet your burning hot skin. “Wow, you’re definitely fine,” he mumbles sarcastically. He rolls his eyes when you push him away again.

“I have to finish this report,” you insist, reaching towards your side for your laptop that slipped away from your lap when you shoved Minho. “And I feel perfectly healthy,” you add as an afterthought. Unfortunately for you, right after you say that, you’re met with the familiar feeling of violent coughs building up in your chest.

Minho stares at you skeptically, watching as your face grows red and eyes widen from holding your breath to hold back your coughs. You pray that he leaves the room for his usual shower after work or that he just turns away, but it’s a lot easier for him to look at you than it is for you to hold your breath. After a good forty seconds, you breathe out heavily and cringe as heavy coughs shake your body.

You push your computer off your lap onto the couch and angle your head down as you cough loudly. Minho sighs and gently pats your back until the coughs stop and you’re able to rest your back onto the couch cushions comfortably.

He stands, stating, “The report can wait until you’re feeling better.” You watch breathlessly as he pours you a cup of water from the kettle in your small kitchen. He hisses as he turns the corner and hits the dining table, internally cursing at the cramped space. The larger (but still cozy) home he found was still bookmarked on his work computer, and he actually wanted to tell you about it tonight. But seeing your current state made him decide to wait until you felt better — you would need energy to keep up with the various spreadsheets and documents filled with pros, cons, and budgets that Chan and Jisung helped him create.

You mumble a small thanks while he hands you the warm mug, adding quickly, “My boss will kill me if I don’t hand this report in by Friday.”

He sighs and sits down next to you, pulling you down to lean against his side as his arms wrapped around your upper chest. “You’ve been working nonstop the past three weeks, you obviously have a fever, a cough, and a sore throat, and I won’t be surprised if your body will start aching and your head hurts later tonight.”

“Gee, what are you, a doctor?” you crack jokingly, but it seems that Minho is in no mood to joke as he deadpans, “Yes.”

You sigh and set your mug down onto the glass coffee table in front of the couch. “Look, I know you’re worried, but I really need to impress Dr. Kang if I want that promotion,” you start, pausing briefly to look up into his warm eyes. “I know you want to move out of this tiny place -” you gesture around the small apartment you’d shared ever since his med school days “- and the promotion can really help us out with that.”

Minho curses under his breath. “I’ll be making more after one more year, I prom-”

You shake your head with a soft laugh. “I don’t care about how much you make, Minho, you know that. It’ll be nice in the future, of course, but I don’t mind working harder now so we can move into a bigger place and get our life going.” It’s a lot to say at once, and you suppress another fit of violent coughs as you reach over to sip your water.

While Minho’s heart grows with adoration, his forehead creases in frustration. “Baby, you’re obviously sick. I wouldn’t be a good doctor or boyfriend if I let you continue to work like this,” he states firmly.

“But I -”

“You’re not fine,” he persists sharply, and you shy away at the firm look on his face. “Now give me your laptop,” he demands.

You sigh and hand him your open laptop, which was slightly warm as it ran the many open tabs and a long working document of your report. “You’ll write my report for me?” you ask sarcastically as he places your computer on his lap.

He hums and it only takes a five-second scan over the many paragraphs of your writing, filled with various statistics and phrases he didn’t even understand, for him to shake his head with a firm “Absolutely not.”

You laugh with him (which was really you just exhaling heavily so you didn’t cough again). “Thought so.”

You watch as he opens another tab and logs into his own email. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he explains, “I’m gonna write Dr. Kang an email to give you an extension. I know she loves me.”

You roll your eyes, reading the text that his fast typing produces.

Good Evening, Dr. Kang!

This is Dr. Lee Minho, Y/N’s boyfriend — we met at the Christmas party last year! I’m writing this email to let you know that Y/N has come down with a rather severe illness. Don’t worry, I’ll be treating her from home and ensure she makes a full recovery. I know she has a report due in two days, but as a doctor I insist she recovers and rests before she works on completing it again. I ask that you give her an extension of a few days so she does not strain herself and worsen her condition. I’m confident that Y/N will be able to finish soon after her recovery. If you have any questions please email me or feel free to drop by the hospital.

Kindly,

Dr. Lee Minho

“You know that she’s going to drop by and use this as an excuse to see you,” you mutter as you lean back and to the side on the couch, your eyelids drooping in exhaustion and (just like your doctor boyfriend predicted) your body starting to ache.

“I know,” Minho responds with a shrug, already moving off the couch to give you space to comfortably stretch out your legs.

“Because she’s basically in love with you — you handsome, young doctor, you,” you continue, your words slurred together and barely coherent. A smile graces your face as you feel your boyfriend slide a soft pillow under your head and a blanket over your body, which you didn’t even notice was shaking. Your smile grows as you feel a sudden weight and purring on your chest — one of the cats must have finally woken up.

“Baby, your sentences aren’t even making sense now.” Minho’s soft voice has recognizable fondness laced in it, and you don’t need to open your eyes to know that he’s probably looking down at you and either Soonie, Doongie, or Dori (you would open your eyes to check but they just feel so heavy) tenderly.

You don’t have the strength in you to respond to his remark, but the recognizable ping of an incoming email brings you to ask, “That her?”

“Yeah, I’ll read what she said.” He clears his voice dramatically and raises his voice to a higher pitch, imitating the nasally voice of your middle-aged boss.

Hello Doctor!

Thank you so much for letting me know! Of course Y/N can have an extension! Tell her not to worry about turning it in until next week Friday and please wish her a speedy recovery from me. You’re such a sweetheart to take care of Y/N and let me know on her behalf.

I’ll be taking that offer of visiting you tomorrow so I can write an official report for Y/N’s leave of absence with a doctor’s note. I promise not to take too much of your time, Doctor! Take care!

Warmly,

Dr. Kang

You scoff. “That’s bullshit. Employees on sick leave can just call in and take their time off with no doctor’s note.”

Minho laughs and leans down to kiss your forehead once, twice, and again. “Just sleep, baby,” he whispers as he caresses your head lovingly. You love this side of Minho — as cool as he may seem on the outside, everyone knows that he’s secretly a softie. It’s easy to doze off with his hand massaging the top of your head soothingly and the cats (yes, the other two joined in the group effort to heal you) purring on top of your chest.

Within a few minutes, you knock out. And right when you wake up, Minho (and Soonie, Doongie, and Dori) is right at your side with everything you needed, from pain medications to a warm cup of soup. Even as violent coughs continue to disrupt your sleep throughout the night, you feel incredibly happy and fortunate to have Minho at your side. While you don’t have much (material wise) for now, your small family is already more than enough.

a/n: sorry this is a bit late, finals are kicking my ass lskmfdls but i have a bunch of  upcoming releases planned so :’)) I hope you guys liked this shorter one & pls leave notes/comments as they help me improve !!

[littlespaceporgs]

Inevitable

Leah! Congrats on your follower milestone! 🥳💕 May I request 5. a gentle “i love you” whispered after a soft kiss, followed immediately by a stronger kiss for Anakin Skywalker? Thank you, love! 🥰

A/N: Hey! This is my first time writing for Anakin, I tried to make him not as whiny as he is in the movies, so I ran with tcw! *cough* this is also my longest one somehow *cough*  So spoiler alert! It does have references and is set in the Zygerria arc in tcw, just a heads up, though it makes sense still if you haven’t seen the arc. Also fair warning, if you want it to stay fluffy at the very end, I recommend you don’t read the final paragraph. Anyway, enjoy :D

Want to Request? See Here.

Inevitable

Prompt: #5 - a gentle “i love you” whispered after a soft kiss, followed immediately by a stronger kiss

Word Count: 1.9k Pairing: Anakin x Jedi!Reader  Warnings: slavery, torture, hint of depression Description: Post-Zygerria, you contemplate your feelings for Anakin.

Tags for the fam: @anakin-danvers @fractiouskat 

It hadn’t gone well to say the least. Mind, it was rare that this type of thing went well. It was supposed to just be a trip to check on the Togrutans. Naturally, you had walked onto Kiros expecting a fight, after all, the last thing the Jedi had heard from them, a separatist fleet had entered the atmosphere. But this was by far the worst thing you’d ever gotten yourself into.

Kiros itself was a beautiful planet. The art and architecture was something to marvel at, and the landscape was vastly different to the cold grey of Coruscant. You found yourself hoping that one day you’d be able to holiday there, it was nice climate, there hadn’t been any traces of the war due to their neutrality until recently. The lack of habitants however was quite frankly disturbing.

Between Anakin, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, the troopers and yourself, you all had made quick work of the droids. When you received word that the Zygerrians had a part to play in all of this, Obi-Wan went to meet up with the separatist leader, you stayed behind to comfort Anakin. Said Anakin was currently sitting in front of a speeder, looking highly volatile. The best way to approach Anakin when he was in such a mood was with quiet and a steady hand, so you started by placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Ani? Are you ok?” While he didn’t turn to look at you, his hands did stop fiddling with the machinery. He exhaled heavily through his nose and went back to modifying the speeder.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You sat down next to him, and snatched the wrench out of his hands, which prompted a noise of protest as he turned to glare at you.

“See you say that, but there’s this thing called a ‘facial expression’ which says otherwise.” Using the force to snatch the wrench back, he went back to using the wrench. “Ani, you know you can talk to me right?” He sighed and stopped once more.

“Yeah, I know,” you reached over, and took one of his hands in yours, “this is just digging up some memories I’d rather not think about.” He twisted his hand over, so that his fingers locked in yours, and squeezed gently.

“I’m really sorry that you went through that, Ani, truly I am. I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like,” you paused and took a breath, “but what I do know, is that you’re one of the strongest people I know, and I know that because of that you’ll move past this.” Though not seeming totally happy, one of the corners of his mouth pulled a little, he shook his head and looked directly into your eyes before they flicked to your hands.

“Honestly, what would I ever do without you?” The jedi in you wanted to recite the code, say that he would be perfectly fine without you, that he’d have to find a way to move on and accept it, say that he shouldn’t be saying such things. But the utterly human part of you felt overly fuzzy, and affection reared its head in your stomach. Ignoring the trepidation, you smiled back at him.

“Probably something stupid, or make more poor decisions.” He snorted out an airy laugh and squeezed your hand a little tighter. The moment didn’t last however, as the tone of a comm rang out from his wrist from Obi-Wan.

That was what led you to Zygerria, attempting to find the Togrutans. With quick assurances and a look that seemed to be forlorn, you and Anakin separated. He went with Ahsoka to find the Queen, while you, Obi-Wan and Rex went on the hunt for the missing people. You should have listened to the awful, rotting feeling in your stomach, then maybe, you all wouldn’t have been taken.

As a jedi, you relished in the feeling of freedom. With a connection to the force, you could feel everything around you, feel the flow of energy between all if you will. It made you feel light, like a small breeze could carry you away, like every breath of fresh was your first. Down here, that was all taken away from you. The walls combined with the heat made you suddenly feel claustrophobic and the collar around your neck weighed you down. Between you and Obi-Wan, it normally would’ve been easy to break out. A tiny twitch of a finger, and the collar would be crushed. A swipe of the hand would smack the guards into a wall. Then you’d both be able to grab Rex and go. If Anakin were here, maybe you’d be able to achieve that.

It wasn’t a normal situation however.

There were others involved. If either of you even threatened to do something, they would torture a civilian, possibly even drive them to death. In your current state, you wouldn’t be able to take out the sheer number of guards quick enough before lives would be lost. They had realised that there was little in the way of physical torture that would cause a jedi to break. This, however, felt hopeless. Your hands were tied. You were hungry, exhausted, and felt overwhelmed with the sadness that practically poured out of their force signatures.

When the slaver was finally dead, you couldn’t help the sense of sick satisfaction that came with it. He deserved to die for what he did, and the subtle brush of a force signature told you Obi-Wan felt similarly. Despite being able to breathe without a collar for the first time in days, your lungs couldn’t seem to get any air, and your knees were aching, and your back was pounding with angry pain. Vaguely you remembered your knees slamming the ground and Obi-Wan kneeling near your head and calling your name.

Out of habit from the past few days, you woke up abruptly, although things were different. You started hyperventilating, and suddenly the world felt too small again. No matter what was actually happening, you couldn’t see anything except the dirty halls of the mine, the faces of the Togrutans who were tortured because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. And then blue eyes. There was a hand stroking your hair, and another trying to get you to keeping looking into the eyes. And then a whisper. It wasn’t loud, but it was comforting, soft. The words steadily became clearer and you finally noticed your surroundings. For one, instead of the smell of coal and grime, it smelt like a forest on Naboo. Instead of a metal bench, there was a mattress and a soft blanket covering your legs. The light was low, but you could see the glow of hyperspace speeding past. And Anakin.

The glow was luminating his face, which looked both soft and concentrated. You could see the shadows under his eyes that you likely mirrored. As he stopped speaking, the foggy feeling lifted, and you realised that he had been trying to force suggest you to calm down. Now that your breathing had returned to some semblance of normal, his hand moved from your face, though he didn’t stop stroking your hair.

“Are you ok?” You took a deep breath to steady yourself.

“Yeah. Yeah I think I’m ok.” It was silent for a minute before Anakin moved to sit in front of you on the bed. You sat with your back up against the wall with a pillow wedged between and your legs crossed. The meaning of the silence was clear. “I just – I don’t think that I want to talk about it yet.” You turned your head to your lap, and watched as he placed his much larger hands over your own.

“It’s okay, I understand the feeling.” The silence swept over you, the words got caught in your throat, choking you. Your eyes and throat seemed to burn. He only moved his thumb over your hand, acting as an anchor. He shoved your knee slightly, getting your attention.

“Y’know, as a wise jedi knight once told me, ‘you’re the strongest person I know, you’ll get through this’.” You laughed despite yourself, and Anakin’s hand beat yours to wiping the tears from your face.

“Thanks, Ani,” you sniffled, and you couldn’t help the warmth that flooded your cheeks when he didn’t move his hand.

“Of course, you know I’d do anything for you right? I was really worried when Obi-Wan had to carry you back here.” Your heart skipped a beat, and your stomach churned. If that wasn’t attachment, you don’t know what was.  You couldn’t bring yourself to point that out however. You knew that you’d do the same for him. You sighed.

“Anakin-I” you started, but you couldn’t seem to string together the words. Your heart raised in your throat, and he gave you a momentarily confused look. “You’re amazing, you know that? You-just-I- you always seem to ‘get’ me and I really appreciate that you’re always here for me and I-um” It was something that you’d never said before. You’d felt that way for him for the longest time, but you ignored it for the code. So instead of saying it, you closed your eyes, and pushed your signature out to brush his, hoping that it carried the years of longing, and the warmth that just looking at him brought you. And then a wave of the same feeling washed over you. It made your heart jump and you almost cried at the pure joy that came from him.

And then you could feel his breath on your face, and the most cautious of kisses. It was barely there, almost just a brush of the lips, but the feelings were all there. Foreheads pressed together, two hearts racing. Cautious, because of the code, because you both knew what could happen it you strayed, because of all the secrets that would have to exist. A whisper, like he was afraid that if he said it too loud, someone else might hear him, despite it just being the two of you.

“I love you.” Both your hands flew to his cheeks and pulled him closer again, and one of his drifted from your cheek to the back of your neck to hold you there. When you kissed this time, you threw caution to the wind. He kissed just as hard as you did, and stole your breath as he did.

When you pulled apart, the look you shared said everything. You smiled and breathed out a short laugh. To hell with the kriffing code.

“I love you too.”

                                                            <>

You supposed it was inevitable, you were the one he went to when he was mad at Obi-Wan, when he was so overwhelmed that he could barely think, when a mission hadn’t gone well and he needed to calm down. Therefore, this meant all the secret moments you were to share in the future were inevitable. You hadn’t even considered the possibility of what would happen in the future when you threw out caution. Was it inevitable that you were at least partly at fault for everything going to shit? Had that meant his fall was inevitable too?

[therainroguefanfiction]

🎾 Announcement; Kunimitsu Tezuka (Sportember #009)

📑 Table of Contents | ⚾ Challenge Post

Genre: Slice of Life, Fluff, Friendship, College AU

Word Count: 3,960

Pairing: Reader x Tezuka

World: Prince of Tennis

Prompt: Announcement

Sport: Tennis

━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━

The ticking of the clock echoed in the quiet dorm room, distracting you from your studies. Not that you had been able to concentrate anyway. It’s been almost an hour and you still haven’t gotten through the first paragraph of your essay but, thankfully, you still had a few days before it was all said and done.

You flicked your pen absentmindedly, eyes on the dark screen of your phone. It was starting to get late and your boyfriend still hadn’t called you as he did every night. You understood, of course, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t still miss him. Hearing his voice before bed had become a staple for you and on the rare occasions that he was too busy to call, you found it harder to sleep.

Tezuka Kunimitsu was a tennis player, drafted to the German national team when he was in his third year of middle school. He’s returned to his home in Japan many times over the course of the past three and a half years and, during one of these trips, you were able to meet him. At the time, you were in your third year of high school and your friend, Fuji Shuusuke, forced you to join him at a Halloween party hosted by his friend, Atobe Keigo. The party was to celebrate Tezuka’s return and the fact that he would be staying for three months.

Fuji was the one to introduce you, being friends with the both of you.

For you, it was love at first sight. Despite the monotone voice and expression he had kept up without fail, he was still polite and kind, his deep voice soothing to you. In the sea of people that had been at the party, everyone’s face was a blur to you but his. You remembered every detail, from the green flecks within his brown eyes to the way his brown hair was parted. He was a gorgeous man.

For Tezuka, he never had any interest in dating, focused only on tennis and his friends, but when his eyes first landed on you, he suddenly wondered if you were single and what it would be like to date you. So, when he noticed you sneaking out into the back garden to get some air, he didn’t hesitate to join you. The two of you spent the rest of the night just enjoying each other’s company, talking about everything under the sun. When it was time to part, he admitted that he wanted to see you again and, from there, the two of you started to date.

Even now, nearly three years later, both of you are still so in love with one another, even being more than five thousand miles apart. You just wanted to hurry up and finish college so you could move to Germany in order to be with him, but that seemed so far into the future.

You glanced at the time on your phone. ‘It’s nearly ten-thirty and I have a class at eight. The professor is a real stickler for being on time, too. I should really get some sleep…’ You closed your notebook, packing it into your school bag along with everything else you’d need for class so you wouldn’t have to rush to gather your things come morning time. You turned the light off, crawling under the covers before pulling up the Happy Color app on your phone.

It was the best way you’ve found to relax and destress before attempting to sleep. It was almost like magic how easily the app could help release the day’s tension. Plus, there are achievements for you to work toward, which enhanced the experience for you.

Your eyes were beginning to droop, so you decided to close the app, reaching for the charging cable when the phone started to ring, showing off the picture of your boyfriend looking at the sunset, a picture that you had personally taken the last time he was at home. You did your best to shake off your sleepiness, pressing the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Y/N,” came Tezuka’s deep voice, slightly strained from his practice. “I’m sorry for calling so late. I couldn’t get away from practice.”

You smiled, bringing one of the pillows to your chest. “It’s okay, I figured it was something like that. You’re not pushing yourself too hard, are you?”

“I promise you, I’m not.”

“You’re staying hydrated, right? And getting plenty of sleep?”

He chuckled softly, a sound he reserved only for you. “I’m taking care of myself, love. What about you? How is school going?”

“Mm, I’m struggling with my literature essay and I have a math test tomorrow that I’m not really looking forward to,” you sighed heavily. “I’m keeping up, though.”

“Do your best,” he encouraged gently. “You’ll be fine as long as you don’t let your guard down.”

You laughed at his typical line of advice, but it came out as more of a tired puff of air. “I’ll make you proud, Mitsu~”

“I always feel proud of you, Y/N,” he responded with earnest, making warmth settle within your chest. “You should get some rest. Text me when you wake up.”

“Mkay,” you stifled a yawn. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

As soon as the call ended, you fell into dreamland with a smile on your fae, dreaming of the man that you loved so dearly.

━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━

“Y/N~”

You paused, turning around to give your best friend a smile. “Hey, Fuji! Do you wanna join me for lunch?”

“I’d love to!” He tilted his head to the smile, giving you his infamous closed-eye smile as he fell into step beside you. “How did your test go?”

“Ugh, the test.” Your nose wrinkled as if smelling something foul. “If by some miracle I manage to pass, it’ll be just under the wire.”

“I’m sure you did just fine.”

“I hope so. If I fail, Mitsu’s going to be so disappointed in me, ugh.” You frowned, carefully pushing the glass door of the cafe open, hearing the little bell above jingling as you held the door open for him.

Fuji chuckled in response. “He’s not capable of being disappointed in you. He loves you too much.”

The comment brought a goofy smile to your face as the two of you sat down at a small table near the window, ordering some boba tea and a couple of sandwiches. The sky outside was slowly beginning to darken as grey clouds rolled in, thunder rumbling in the distance as if chasing them down.

“By the way, Atobe is throwing a small get together on Saturday,” Fuji commented before taking a sip of his tea. “He asked me to invite you.”

“Nothing that man does is small.” You rolled your eyes. “I think I’ll skip out this time. Staying at the dorm and binge watching some TubeYou videos sounds a lot more pleasant.”

He frowned, brow furrowing in thought, but you were too focused on your sandwich to notice the change. Fuji Shuusuke wasn’t considered a genius for nothing, however, and a plan quickly formed within his mind. “I could really use the help, though.”

“Eh?” You glanced up, meeting his cerulean eyes, which he rarely opened, so you knew whatever he was about to tell you had to be quite serious. “Help with what?”

“Well, it seems I’ve recently acquired a stalker. She won’t take no for an answer no matter how many times I say it, but she seems to be intimidated by you.” He lied smoothly, offering you a fake, worried expression.

“Intimidated by me? Really?” You couldn’t help but snort at the ridiculous notion that anyone could be afraid of. You thought it was more believable for a hamster to be intimidating than yourself! And it made sense because you didn’t like violence, preferring to resort to kindness above all else and try to talk through any problems you had. You were also a firm believer of walking away when people couldn’t be reasoned with.

“She never comes around when I’m with you.”

You chewed on your lip thoughtfully before sighing in defeat. “Fine, I’ll go with you. You’re lucky I love you so much, Fuji.”

The brunette laughed, his eyes sliding closed once more. “I love you too~”

━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━

The phone buzzed on the bed and you stepped out of the bathroom to check it. It was a message from Fuji, letting you know that he was waiting outside of the dorms. You quickly messaged back that you were on the way before slipping the phone into your pocket and grabbing your keys. The first thing you noticed upon exiting the building was how dark it was.

It was only just now noon, but the grey clouds covering the sky made it appear to be around eight at night. Lightning streaked across the sky, thunder roaring loudly seconds after each strike, and the rain was falling in steady sheets to the earth. To you, it was a beautiful sight, though you understood most people felt quite melancholy when it rained.

Fuji held out the umbrella so that it covered both of you, sending you a smile. “Ready to go?”

“As ready as can be,” you answered, forcing a smile. While the current weather did lift your spirits a bit, you were still feeling quite sad. You missed Tezuka so much that it was starting to physically hurt you, plus you were stressing out because you knew that you had done poorly on the math test. The last thing you wanted was to be surrounded by a mansion full of people you didn’t even know, constantly being checked on by waiters and butlers.

It wasn’t your lifestyle, but you wanted to support Fuji if you could, just as he had always done for you.

Stepping through the gate that surrounded the campus, you noticed the sleek black limo sitting down the street and you were unable to hold back the groan of annoyance. “Fuji~”

The brunette laughed, patting your back. “Atobe insisted because of the weather.”

‘Of course he did,’ you held back your sigh, following him to the vehicle. The driver jumped out as soon as you got close so he could pull the back door open for you, as if you couldn’t do so yourself. ‘He doesn’t even care that he’s getting wet. What if he gets sick? I feel bad for him, but… at least he gets paid well.’

The man sent you a kind smile as you slid into the back, taking the umbrella from Fuji so he could slide in beside you. He shook the umbrella before climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

Silence settled over the vehicle as it started forward, the tinted windows streaking as the window forced the drops of rain to slide at an angle across the glass. The closer you got to the Atobe manor, the more uncomfortable you felt, but you did your best not to let that show on your face because you didn’t feel like being hounded all night about what was bothering you.

When the limo finally arrived, you stuck by Fuji’s side for most of the night, speaking only when spoken to directly, which was more than you were currently comfortable with. It’s not that you were an introverted person or anything – normally, you had no problems with social interaction, but for some reason, you were just feeling so… down and you wanted to be left alone.

The only person you wanted to talk to right now was more than five thousand miles away.

You waited patiently for Fuji to finish his conversation with one of his old schoolmates before you called out his name to grab his attention. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom. Be right back.”

He nodded before turning back to the other male, laughing about some tennis match they had years ago.

You honestly felt pretty guilty about lying to him, but if you didn’t get a chance to breathe soon, you felt like you were going to go insane. While the hallway leading to the bathroom still held a few party-goers, it was a drastic down-size from the large ballroom that was so packed with people that it was hard to move.

Glancing around the hall, you were thankful that no one was paying you any mind, and you slipped through the side door that led out into the massive garden behind the manor. Rain still felt softly from the sky, but the thunder and lightning had already moved on, leaving only the soft pitter-patter against the walkway.

You stuck to the stone path, following it towards the very back of the property where a large hedge maze sat. With a pause, you glanced over your shoulder, but the garden was empty because of the rain, so you continued into the maze, following that familiar path that led straight to a dead end. At least, that’s how it appeared to most, but you knew better.

With a bit of prodding, a small crack in the hedge appeared, allowing you to slip into a small area hidden by the towering bushes. A willow tree sat in the center of the clearing, probably older than the manor itself, its branches long and gnarled, covered with stringy moss that formed a sort of blanket around the area.

You took a deep breath, soaking in the peace and quiet around you. The grass at the base of the tree was damp, but not soaking wet thanks to the moss, so you plopped down with your back against the trunk. You checked your phone, but Tezuka still hadn’t responded to your message, which only made your mood drop further. With a sigh, you pulled your knees up to your chest and rested your head atop them, eyes sliding closed.

━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━

Fuji frowned as he scanned the ballroom, looking for any sign of you. You should have been back by now, but you were nowhere in sight. He certainly hadn’t missed your reluctance to join him tonight, either, and now he was starting to feel worried. Surely you wouldn’t have left the manor without telling him.

Atobe weaved his way through the crown toward the brunette, his phone held within his hand and a frown upon his lips. “Tezuka’s plane was delayed. It’ll be another twenty minutes before we can get him here!”

“I think Y/N decided to ditch the party,” Fuji added. “They really didn’t want to be here, to begin with.”

“You were’t supposed to let them out of your sight!” Atobe huffed in annoyance, running a hand through his purple locks. Tonight was supposed to be perfect, but it seemed as if everything that could go wrong was.

“Hm, they said they were going to the bathroom. We may be best friends, but I doubt they would appreciate me joining them,” he chuckled.

Atobe quickly dialed a number on his phone, pressing it to his ear. “Michael, we have a problem. Our guest of honor is in the wind. Find them immediately!”

“Y/N isn’t going to be happy about this~” The brunette quipped, earning a glare from the host.

“I promised Tezuka that tonight would be perfect and it will be, no matter the cost!” And the purple-haired male turned on his heel, heading farther into the manor as he barked orders into his phone.

━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━

Tezuka stepped out of the limo, readjusting his suit as he looked up at Atobe manor, feeling very jet lagged and a bit nervous, not that his monotone expression betrayed this. He wasn’t entirely sure how this night had even come to be. He had simply mentioned returning home to surprise you, but Atobe had run with it, insisting on making a huge deal out of it. Why had he thought it would be a good idea to mention proposing to you? It had been a fleeting comment that he hadn’t even meant to speak aloud, but Atobe had latched onto it with a vice-grip, refusing to let go.

Fuji was waiting outside the large double doors with a warm smile upon his lips, cerulean eyes shimmering under the lights of the porch. “Welcome home, Tezuka.”

“Thank you,” he nodded in reply. “Where is Y/N?”

“About that -”

The doors suddenly swung open and Atobe strode out with a female butler at his side, his usual smirk upon his lips, but Tezuka could tell that something wasn’t right. “Don’t worry, Tezuka. I’ve gone ahead and purchased the airline and had the pilot fired for his lack of professionalism.”

“That wasn’t necessary,” Tezuka resisted the strong urge to sigh, used to the man’s actions after so many years. His dark eyes scanned the crowd through the open doors, but he saw no sign of the one person he craved the most. “Where is Y/N?”

Atobe exchanged a look with the genius, which did little to boost Tezuka’s confidence. Clearing his throat, the host held his arm out toward the entryway. “Fuji will go get them for you. Come along, let’s get you a drink and you can get changed out of that cheap suit. I’ve had one made for you, the very best that money can buy!”

But Tezuka didn’t budge, his eyes shifting between the two men. His annoyance levels were quickly rising, along with his worry for you. Had something happened to you? The thought had his heart tripping over itself within his chest and he folded his arms, fixing his narrowed eyes on the brunette. “The truth, Fuji.”

Although Atobe shot him a warning look, the brunette paid it no mind, his cerulean eyes locking with hazel. “They didn’t want to be here so they ditched me. We haven’t been able to find them.”

Tezuka’s eyes widened a fraction behind his glasses and, without a word, he brushed past the two men, determined to find you himself.

Atobe followed him closely, his hands swiping through the air as if trying to shoo away a fly. “My men have already checked the cameras. They were last seen going out of the side door, but the rain short circuited the cameras outside. They were supposed to be waterproof! I’m already going through the process or purchasing the company so that I can fire their CEO and the imbeciles that installed them here.”

Tezuka paused at this new information, realizing instantly where you had gone, but he certainly didn’t plan on telling the other male that. Instead, he turned toward him, his voice firm. “Call your men back. Y/N won’t come out for them.

Atobe’s eye twitched. “There isn’t any place they can hide from -”

“Atobe,” his eyes narrowed, hands fisting lightly at his sides. He was already tired of his friend’s over the top nature.

“Fine,” the host huffed in annoyance before storming off, pressing his phone back to his ear.

Tezuka then headed for the garden door, following the left path around the manor to the back garden where the hedge maze sat. It had been such a long time since he had last visited the small area hidden within the maze, but he remembered the path to it like it just yesterday.

He remembered the feeling of your hand in his as you attempted to find your way to the opposite side of the maze only to find a dead end. As if you were meant to find it, you had spied a small gap in the hedge when you went to turn around.

He remembered asking you what you were doing, advising you to be careful of the sharp branches as you tried to part them. He remembered how your face had lit up when you stepped through the opening, finding the hidden area that was cut off from the rest of the garden. You had fallen in love with it the moment you saw it, he knew, and he was positive that was where you had escaped to.

By now, the rain had come to a stop, leaving behind puddles and damp grass as a reminder that it had been there, shimmering under the bright lights that were scattered across the garden.

When he finally stepped through the small gap in the hedge, his eyes immediately fell upon you, curled up against the trunk of the tree as you slept, phone held tightly over your heart. Waiting for his reply, he knew. The thought made him smile softly as he kneeled in the grass beside you, feeling the wetness seeping through the cloth, but he didn’t mind.

His hand gently rested upon your shoulder. “Y/N, wake up.”

You stirred after a moment, blinking as the fog of sleep slowly lifted off of you and then your eyes snapped to his, wide with disbelief. Without a moment of hesitation, you threw yourself at him, knocking him off balance and onto his back with you on top, clinging to his neck as if he would disappear if you loosened your grip even a hair.

“Kunimitsu,” you breathed out, fingers curling around the back of his neck and the collar of his suit jacket. “I missed you so much.”

He smiled, bringing his arms around your body, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. “I missed you, too.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were coming back?” You frowned into his neck, playing with the soft strands of hair at the base of his neck.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he spoke softly, wondering if he should foil Atobe’s elaborate plans. Ever so gently, he coaxed you into releasing him and you pulled back just enough to see his face. He didn’t miss how your hands clutched at his shirt, as if afraid that this was some dream you didn’t want to wake up from. “The plan was to announce my return at the party.”

You deadpanned as the pieces of the puzzle started to fit together within your mind and you groaned. “That damn Fuji, he totally knew! And he made up that stalker story to lure me here.”

Tezuka’s eyes closed as he held back an exasperated sigh, not even wanting to know what this stalker story was about. “I apologize. I should have known better than to trust them with something so important.”

“Important?” You tilted your head at the comment. He had returned home dozens of times before since going pro, but Atobe had only thrown a party for him once, and even then, it was no comparison to the gathering tonight. So what made this time to special? You didn’t understand.

“Because,” he chuckled, reaching into his jacket so he could produce the ring that his grandmother had given him for this very occasion. “I returned home to ask for your hand in marriage.”

“You -” your breath caught in your throat as you looked at the ring being held between his fingers. It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry you had ever seen and, despite how hard you tried, no words would pass your lips. This was what you had dreamed of so many times before, spending the rest of your life with this man, this man that you would destroy the world for if he so desired.

“Y/N,” his eyes met yours, full of love and warmth. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” You managed to squeak out, hand shaking as he slid the ring onto your finger before setting his palm against yours, fingers lacing together. “I love you so much, Kunimitsu, I – I -”

“I know,” he responded softly, his thumb gently brushing away your tears before bringing you into a deep kiss – a silent promise atop the declaration of love.

━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

5sos Lyrical Analysis

A/N: Hi! I just wanted to start this off with a huge thanks to everyone that sent me in lyrics. This project has been two fold: Part one is just looking at certain lyrics, for my found poem series. This just means I want to use and even respond to certain lyrics in my poems. I compiled them into two separate lists:

Find Youngblood here.  

Find CALM here. 

The second part was to take a close look at the overlap in lyrical content between Youngblood and CALM. This is NOT a complete analysis of their lyrics. I wanted to make that clear. I am by no means intending on making a complete analysis of their lyrics. I am not even attempting to make a completely analysis of these two albums, though I’ll touch as many basis as possible. 

Please note: I am using the phrase ‘narrator.’ One, this is an old habit carried on from all the close readings I did on poetry. There’s typically, out of respect, a division between the author of the work and the narrator of the piece presented. These two can, and sometimes do, overlap, especially in forms like poetry. But I feel it’s important to use ‘narrator’ even in this analysis. Old habits die really hard and sometimes never do. But also because it feels more respectful to assume a collective unit and unified front rather than trying to piece apart the personal experience to a specific member since I am looking at just the lyrics, I’m not scoping out Twitter, or IG, or Cocktail Chats. I know those connections are there. The only thing I wanted to focus on was the content of the lyrics as they are presented, solo, nothing else. I recognize and understand that each member is bringing a unique experience to the table and there is plenty more in these songs if those other pieces are added. 

These are gonna be a little disjointed. I’ve been staring at lyrics and notes for two weeks at this point, almost. I’m sorry it’s not necessarily a more cohesive front. So please enjoy! And feel free to send your thoughts!

All that are below are my personal opinions. 

I’m just going to hit the ground running. I’ll be including pictures of the chart and then a paragraph of my thoughts below them. 

CW: Mentions of drugs (recreational and prescribed)! Just in case anyone is sensitive to that.

Enjoy below!

Youngblood deals with heartache, but there’s an internal struggle on how to heal and move on. So in songs like “Better Man” and “Monster Among Men” that internal struggle is seen via introspection. In CALM, the same sense of struggle is seen in “Red Desert” and “Old Me”. However, an interesting deviation occurs in the lyrics of “Teeth” where now there’s a very specific identification of a person that the narrator sees as causing them turmoil. I’d like to note in both albums there’s a clear you present in both albums, which is a source of heartbreak and pain and even that you is addressed in several songs. However, “Teeth” stands out because of the you just being transformed from just a human that receives and dishes out pain, into the personification of a devil. This you in a way seems to have lost their humanity. And perhaps to the narrator there is a small appeal to that, with the addition of “put your hands on me.” An important thing to note is that while Youngblood and CALM never fully resolve their issues, but there is growth and maturing that’s heavily seen in CALM.

In some ways, I am about to state the obvious: Fire is destructive and flames takes no prisoners. However, an interesting thing about something that is destroyed is that it leaves in its place the opportunity for something new, and potentially better to be planted. “Valentine” leaves behind a feeling of combination, intertwining with “so deep, your DNA’s being messed with my tough/ Can’t beat us/ So real, fueling the fire until we combust”. And even though it seems to lead to an explosive end, the point here seems to be much more focused on the journey, riding the high no matter what. This is a theme, that I think, heavily seeps through Youngblood. Youngblood seems less focused on the results and much more focused on the journey, the ups and downs, the pleasure and pain. There’s a search in Youngblood, a quest for answers that in some ways CALM answers. One such answer can be see in CALM’s “Old Me” with the line “Ashes on the floor, but I’m walkin’, walkin’, walkin’ out of here alive.” Even though the journey might of ended in flames and destructive, the narrator still remains, they are still able to come out on the other side of everything they have endured. Another answer resides in “Lover of Mine” where the narrator is asking in some ways that their loved one to use fire for rebirth of the relationship with the lines, “All of my regrets and things you can’t forget/ Light them all up, kiss them goodbye.”

On the opposite end of the search and possibly more aligned with yearning, in Youngblood with “Babylon.” The chorus centers around taking the adventure of love to it’s highest point but the aftermath of the crash as well “We both said we’d love higher than we knew we could go” and “Burn to bright, now the fire’s gone, Watch it all fall down.” I will come back with more on Babylon further on.

A lot of Youngblood is a struggle of man vs. himself, an internal struggle to let go, to move on, to figure out one’s identity. In CALM that struggle remains present, but a new conflict is presented, in the form of a relationship. We can see in Teeth the narrator has started to directly reference a “you” where conflict now resides, “Some nights you’re the only thing I know/ Only thing burning when the night grows cold”. I like to conclude that there is a hot and cold aspect to the relationship that the narrator is seeing. In a previous line, “Sometimes when I look at you, I see my wife,” the narrator expresses that there are some redeeming qualities, that there is some good. Whether not this is the exact same relationship as discussed in Teeth is not a question I want to undertake, however, in “Lonely Heart” there’s a reference back to the bad, “Our house on fire, we’re burning/ We dance inside, you’re hurting.” Not all that glitters is good proves itself right once again. 

I combined the light and dark with the night and day imagery. I did so for space sake. This could easily be double the size it is currently, but also because there is sometimes the passage of time associated with the both light and dark and night and day. They are transitions. The transitions in Youngblood and CALM occur with lyrics like “I saw you looking brand new overnight” from “Lie To Me” “Call me in the morning to apologize/ Every little lie gives me butterflies” from “Teeth” and “I don’t wanna kill my time with anyone else/Dancing in the dark till the sun comes” from “Kill My Time”

I also choose to separate out the light and dark from other color imagery because of the way it echoed and resonated with daylight, moonlight, midnight and creating shadows in the lyrics. There’s a very specific sense of time in some songs. In Lie To Me we get the reference “3:00 AM and the moonlight is testing me” paired up right against “if I make it till dawn it won’t be hard to see/ I ain’t happy.” The passage of time, or rather the supposed passage in Lie To Me, illustrates how things can change, or be shaped and molded. 

A pretty cool thing I noted is that there’s references to time with  “midnight, daylight, 3:00 AM, tonight” and that brings along the brightness of and the absence of the sun and light where as in particular with No Shame the only reference to light if from a camera flashing. This made me wonder more about the appearance of light and perception. There is a face that the narrator knows is only seen captured by photographs and while at events with the bulbs of a camera and the true face of themself that only they would get to experience. 

I included this section about drugs and alcohol to illustrate a certain aspect of growing up. I’m not attempting to romanticize any use of drugs, alcohol, or nicotine. These are statements, from the narrator, that yes they have used them. But this is about the narrator’s experience. And I, as little old me, ask is that you please be careful out there!

 Back to the lyrics, it’s fascinating to see how the relationship with substances as evolved. If we start towards the end of Youngblood, we get a tale of the narrator and their best hosting a party while parents are out of town, having the cops called on the party, and then riding out in the car, continuing the party, but at a much smaller capacity in “Best Friend” to a very helpless feeling in “Why Don’t You Love Me” with it’s line, “Few drinks deep at a table for one. and then we expanse to “Get you high when I’m high” and “Sugar coated brain, the fluid ain’t to blame, for the sugar coated pain” in “Empty Wallets” to a memory, the reality that even parts of our life journey that weren’t great for us can still be missed with the lyrics in High “And I’ll always miss the memories of the morning we were high.’ The question can continue further to the point: Does the mentality create a challenge for recovering and moving on? And I personally think, sometimes yes it can. In other times, we can still remember those moments but ultimately realize that there is better progress made by moving forward. 

We do get a reference to Xanax. Notably, it is a benzodiazepine which are notoriously hard and dangerous (if not done right and with professional help) to get off once a person starts using them. But they are effective for some. Done with my tangent now, let’s get back to the focus: The lyrics in “No Shame” in which the narrator sees the “you” or significant other dumping their pills and being “so sick” of them is really crucial. I think it touches on how hard trying to get better can be for the person experiencing it. 

On a much lighter note though, we can move to colors! I personally see a lot of color (or feel like when I’m listening to certain songs I should be wearing a certain color, which I’m sure sounds crazy) when I listen to Youngblood. I was intrigued though to look for the use of color and even images that evoke a certain color. I didn’t find a whole lot of it, including CALM. Which seems pretty consistent. I don’t see a lot of visual components to their lyrics. The soundscape of the albums appears to be the backbone for a lot of the colors, I feel. And the emotional impact seems to the their larger focus when they write. 

Particularly cool lines that have color or color imagery in them, in my finding were “Fragile, always ‘about to fall just like sand/Castles” from “Monster Among Men,” “We’re classic together like Egyptian gold” from “Valentine” “It was more than just a neon weekend” from “Woke Up In Japan” and “Red, red desert/ Heal our blues/ ...Twilight moments with you” from “Red Desert”. The twilight line in Red Desert gives a purple vibe, or at least I see the color purple there and I can only wonder if it’s because I was prepped beforehand with the colors red and blue. However it works, I think it was a brilliant choice to couple twlight after it, to paint a full picture. “Neon weekend” should just be tattooed across my forehead because it gives off such a vibrant and bright life that nestles in very well with the energy of Youngblood’s entire album. 

A slightly related note, I pulled a couple instance of the phrase “heart” for this section. I wasn’t sure if others associated the color red with it. I did however think that the use of “blood on my shirt” “roses” and even “sirens” left me with the impression of colors, specifically blue and a small bit of blue for the sirens. 

There were two really strong parallels when it came down to the use of “dancing” throughout the albums. In “Ghost of You” we get the lines, “Dancing through our house with the ghost of you/ ...And I’ll chase it down with a shot of truth/That my feet don’t dance like they did with you”. It’s almost direct parallel is in “Lover of Mine” with it’s lines “Dance around the living room/Lose me in the sight of you/I’ve seen the red, I’ve seen the blue/ Take all of me.” I personally wonder if one could spin this, as so that Lover of Mine could take place before Ghost of You. However, that’s the poet and author in me looking for the story and strings. 

A crazy parallel I noticed was between “Empty Wallets” and “Lonely Hear” I promise here I won’t be pulling the red strings. In Empty Wallets there’s the sentiment of hurting and forgiveness, with of course that blood pumping rush of youth with, “Living our lives/ Dancing on empty wallets/ Spend it all on you” and “I always believed in second chances/ I always believed in you”. And it sorts bumps against and shares a space with “We dance inside, you’re hurtin’” and “Can I get a second chance? Can I have another dance? Can I have another life with you” from Lonely Heart, where we see this urge with the narrator to make up for their wrongdoing and recognize the pain caused to the other person in this relationship. 

I can’t talk about Youngblood and CALM without mentioning the strong growth that’s come from the former to the latter. It would be an utter disservice to the different roles these albums play. Youngblood is so much about loss and growing up and fumbling through life in a way where the counterpart CALM is more about finally get a handle on all those questions and growing from them. 

The strongest parallel I gathered was from the insistences in Better Man and Old Me. I recognize that Better Man overall has this echo of love, and finding someone else that helped them through the growing pains. But I think it’s worth noting that in the context of Old Me there’s an acceptance to the fuck ups, there’s an acceptance shit had to go bad to finally find what was wrong. I think the strongest lyric to this point is in Old Me “Another round, here we go, going in blow for blow/ Look into the mirror, take the punches that I throw” and “Had to fuck it up before I really got to know me/ All of the mistakes I made, I made, I made, I made/ Whatever the price I paid, I paid, I paid, I paid.”

I added a chart about the phrase “letting go” of which a lot of it is about how it’s hard to let go. Which I mean, is very accurate and relatable. The most explicit example is in “When You Walk Away” with the lines “I’m bad at letting go/ Won’t you let me down easy?/I can’t let you go” this sentiment is paralleled several times in CALM as well, one example in particular is in “Not in the Same Way” with the lines “You say, ‘Go’ I won’t leave” and “Turn right around, throwin’ rocks at your window.” If walking away was easier, I don’t think we’d have the albums that we got from the band. I wanted to include this section with change and growth but it would just be too long and too much. So I broke it up, chart wise. 

Alas, I’ve returned to Babylon! First though, I want to touch on overall on the way this chart is set up. I tried to explicit lyrics of “fatal love” but I did expand my criteria. So it if it looks a little wonky and long, I do apologize. 

Now, some really cool overlaps I noticed where between “When You Walk Away” and “Not in the Same Way.” It’s the particular phrasing on how gut wrenching love can be sometimes. In “When You Walk Away,” the narrator states with the opening! which is a really crazy but strong way to open “Cut me open, take my heart/ So we’ll never be apart.”  When we look at “Not In The Same Way” we get a very similar wording “Rip my heart out and leave, on the floor, watch me bleed.” The first song, “When You Walk Away” is a bit more a plea to be saved from the heartache and “Not in the Same Way” is more of a statement, it’s more like the narrator saying this is what you’ve done to me. 

Okay, we all know how much I love Babylon. If not, check out this post. But to summarize why Babylon fits into this narrative of fatal love, it’s because of the cyclical nature of this relationship that the narrator is in. A historical reference Babylon alludes to the fact that the narrator knows this relationship wasn’t truly built to last. Babylon was built, destroyed, rebuilt, and then destroyed again. And this relationship seems to keep burning at both ends, almost falling apart and then it’s saved, only for it fall.  

To quote myself from the Babylon post, “ ‘Your short fuse, my half-truths are not amused.” like both y’all are our contributing to the problem, one is EXPLOSIVE, one is reserved and that’s a combination bound to cause friction in a relationship, romantic or other, and there’s no blame in the way it’s said. “I wish we had a clue to start new.” LIKE, clearly this shit isn’t working but neither one of us knows how to really fix it besides to watching the flame burn out and when it burns, she roars, she takes down everything with it, i.e. “We watch it all burn down.”’ Alas, we’ve gone back to that destructive nature fire. And we’re with the narrator where all that is left are the ashes. Love is fatal because it really can destroy everything that we’ve only known. 

The next few charts are just for funsies, I did some more direct comparisons. If you want further thoughts, you can hit me up. But this post is already miles long! Thanks for reading!

____

Tagging: @compulsiveidiota @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @5-secondsofcolor​ @calumscalm​

[thegiver---ofbookreviews]

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

I have been wanting to read this book for ages and now I finally had the chance. When I heard about this I thought, “What kind of sick and twisted society would burn books???.... I need to read it!” And so I did and now here’s my review.

Synopsis: Guy Montag is a fireman but not your typical one. Instead of putting our fires, he creates them. See, books are now illegal and must be burned. When the alarm goes off at the fire station it’s off to work to burn those books. Montag seems to enjoy his job until he meets Clarisse, a neighbor who just moved in next door to him. As soon as she appeared, she disappeared without a trace or warning. Then Montag finds his wife not moving and en empty pill bottle next to her. Suddenly, Montag’s life doesn’t make sense anymore and the only way he can find the answers he’s looking for is in books. 

*SPOILER ALERT*

There is a lot to unpack here. First and foremost, what the fuck?? The thought of just burning books is hell to me! Who thought that was a good idea??? Bradbury, you have some serious issues. Sorry, I digress. Bradbury shows how important books are for humanity. We become lost without them. Reader or not, books have impacted our lives. It taught us how to read, write, and most importantly learn. Bradbury is also showing us the effects of tv and technology. Now, I love technology as much as the next person (hell, I’m typing this on a computer as we speak) but technology is not all there is. We need to have a sense of culture, of wonder, in our lives and we aren’t going to get that from sitting behind a computer all day (as much as I want to). Unless you read on your computer, then that’s different. Anyway, books are here for a reason and I really believe we take them for granted. I think Bradbury believes this as well. The entire book we witness Montag’s wife, Mildred, sucked into the void of television. All she wants are three walls of screens to project her favorite shows and has not a care in the world for anything else. It really shows how mindless television made her. Without books, we become of something different.

I want to take a deeper look into Mildred. At the beginning of the book, Montag walks in on her overdosed on sleeping pills. Why? We never find out. As soon as she is helped and back to full health, she doesn’t remember a thing. This says something huge. I am going to contradict myself a bit from the previous paragraph. I said before Mildred was mindless, not caring about anything but her tv shows. But then why did she try and commit suicide? Obviously, she is not as mindless as she seems and something is causing her pain. She is not as happy as she makes herself out to be. Is tv not giving her the joy she needs? But isn’t that why books were banned and tv was in? Because books were pointless and tv gave us the joy books didn't? There are a lot of questions but the one answer that I know for sure is, people are not any better off then they were before books were banned. When Montag called the police after finding his wife, guess who they sent over. I’ll give you a hint, it’s not medics! They send over plumbers. Medics are too busy doing something more important or something. The plumbers tell Montag that “this happens all the time”, and like pumping out a clogged toilet, they pumped Mildred’s stomach until the drugs were out. Suicides must be very high in this universe if this “happens all the time”. That tells you again, screams it in your face really, that people aren’t as happy as they should be. 

So let's pretend I’m dumb and I believe everyone is happy watching tv all day in this book. After a while, you need some new and exciting tv shows instead of watching the same thing all day (except for those binge-watchers... you know who you are). While Montag makes his daring escape after killing his Captain and evading arrest, the police and a bloodthirsty hellhound made of metal hunt him down. What’s the best thing they could do in this situation? Oh, I know! Let’s make it into a show like cops! And that’s exactly what they did. They had helicopters and on the ground, cameramen following the hellhound and tracking Montag’s every move. They even decided to make it into a game! They told everyone listening on the radio to count down with them and when they were done, they all opened their doors and looked out their houses to see if they found Montag. Fortunately, Montag was able to disappear into a river. People are fucking nuts. If I knew a murderer was running around outside my house, I deadbolt the door and block all the windows! I wasn’t about to look out the door to certain death! This ain’t no horror movie! But I guess that’s how enticing tv is in these days. Continuing on, Montag was able to cover his tracks as soon as he hit the river and flowed down with the current. The hellhound couldn’t figure out where he was but the tv show was still going! What were they to do?? They decided that this episode needed a finale, a great ending. So they faked it. They found a random guy on the street that had some kind of violation and killed him. They pretended that he was Montag all along. Poor man. You can tell they did this for two reasons. One: they needed a great ending to the episode. One that left the viewers satisfied. Two: they couldn’t show that someone got away with it. We know that there are a lot of others hiding out with books (the reason why the fire department is open in the first place) but if they found out one got away with it, there’s hope, hope that others can get away with it too. It’s pretty disturbing thinking about it. The government probably does that today, NAY! does do that. I’m almost positive about that.

When we’re not sucked into the void of television shows, we realize what is happening around us. For example, all we hear in the news these days is about school shootings. Awful, terrible news. The thing about this world, people are too busy watching their favorite shows to realize what’s really happening. A couple of times in the book, there were mentions of a war going on. There wasn’t anything specific, just that there was a war. Throughout the entire book, the main characters didn’t mention it once. It was the least important thing to them. Montag was too busy trying to understand the importance of books, Mildred was too busy watching her favorite show and Clarise, well Clarisse was missing, presumably dead. But as Montag was far away from the city, a plane flew by and dropped a huge bomb on the city, destroying everyone and everything. No one was warned and no one saw it coming. They were too busy watching their favorite shows to realize. Moral of the story, pay attention to your surroundings. You never know what’s coming. 

*SPOILER ALERT ENDS*

If you love books with a lot of deeper meanings, this is the one for you. It’s a little hard to follow at first but I could just be saying that because I’ve been reading a lot of children’s books lately lol. Anyway, I really enjoyed this one and all the hidden clues you can find in the writing. You can understand, though, that the overall message is BOOKS ARE WAY TOO IMPORTANT TO BE TAKEN FOR GRANTED!!

I’m gonna say that one more time for the people in the back

BOOKS ARE WAY TOO IMPORTANT TO BE TAKEN FOR GRANTED!!!

Overall rating: 8/10

[siriuslyblack12]

chapter 2

Sirius stood on the blocks, heart beating fast, legs threatening to give out at any moment. His arms gripped the block tighter, steadying his nerves as he let out a long breath. Thoughts spiralled chaotically in his head, impossible to ignore as they built in strength and severity.

 Is my cap on tight enough?

Don’t go too soon.

Don’t go too late.

I have to win. Dad’ll go mad if I don’t win.

I have to make him proud.

 I don’t give a shit whether I make him proud or not.

 “Mr Black,”

 Don’t breathe on breakout.

Don’t breathe at all.

You need to get a good time.

 “Mr Black,”

 Winning is everything.

But be a good loser.

 “Mr Black,” the distant voice was getting louder and louder.

 You know what happens when you lose.

 “Mr Black, I asked you a question! You could at least pretend to be paying attention.” Professor McGonagall scolded, bringing his attention back to the classroom. He wasn’t at the pool, rather in an English classroom, his almost empty page of notes lying in front of him.

 “I’m sorry, Professor. Won’t happen again.” He said shyly, not daring to meet her eyes.

 School had only started a couple of days ago and Sirius already felt as if he was suffocating. Their professors really weren’t holding back this year, piling up homework and lectures and revision to the point where the student’s backs ached with the pressure. Atop of all of that, social lives and media presences took a lot to keep afloat, as well as sport and fitness. Sport seemed to take up 90 percent of Sirius’s current brain capacity, which was now seeming to be a problem.

 English was by far his favourite subject, being the only one that he shared with all 3 of his closest friends. He looked over at James only to see him staring adoringly at the back of Lily’s red head, chin on his hands. With a roll of his eyes, he turned the other way to meet the sight of Peter sneaking snacks out of his bag, handing a few crisps to Remus under the desk. At least he was eating.

 The lesson came to an end with the sharp sound of the bell, and Sirius collected his things as quickly and quietly as possible, heading for the door to finally sort through the anxieties swirling in his head; until he heard an old voice call out, “Mr Black, can I speak to you for a moment?”

 Shit, this was exactly what he didn’t need.

Defeated and ashamed, Sirius was surprised as his eyes met a kind looking smile and a careful gesture to take a seat. His mind reeled in confusion, but he did what was asked of him anyway. McGonagall cleared her throat and began to speak.

 “Is everything alright?” Three words, simple yet powerful, and definitely out of the ordinary. He had no idea how to answer that, not exactly knowing where his boundaries were and how much he could say. He may have been one to overshare on social media, but he was certainly not one to spill his emotions wholeheartedly.

 “Never better, Minnie.”

 “It sure doesn’t seem like it, Mr Black. I remind you that this is a safe space.”

 Sirius looked down at his hands, wrapped in tight fists with his knuckles turning white with the effort. The walls suddenly felt as if hey were closing in on him, his heart rate picking up and foot tapping a rhythm on the floor.

 “I’m just finding it hard to concentrate, that’s all.” He said defensively. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

 McGonagall nodded glumly. This situation was uncomfortable to say the least. Sirius glanced back at the door of the room, where he could have sworn he saw Remus looking in through the window before hurrying away awkwardly. That boy was a mystery, which only drew Sirius further to him.

 “You know Sirius,” his professor never called him by his first name. “Help is always given to those who ask for it.”

  ~~

  “Please Moony,”

 “No.”

 “I’m begging you!”

 “No, Sirius.”

 “Why not? It’ll be fun, I promise. I really need it.”

 Sirius really was like an excited puppy, Remus thought to himself. He’d just been relaxing in the library, catching up on some reading and enjoying the quiet lull in the day before he was quite rudely interrupted by the one and only trade of Hogwarts High. He supposed he didn’t mind it, given that he was always happy for Sirius’s company – no matter the circumstances. However, on this occasion he was less willing to participate in what the other had planned, that being tutoring him.

 Remus let his mind wonder for a few moments, imagining what it would be like to be alone with Sirius, bonding over books and equation. Now that he thought about, it sounded stupid, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

 “Why are you asking me, Pads? Why not one of the girls?” He suggested thoughtfully. “I’m sure there are plenty of people who would be better than me.”

 “I’m calling bullshit, because you my friend are the smartest person I know.”

 Remus slumped back into his chair, his heart skipping a beat. He desperately wanted to say yes, to help him out and be a good friend. He knew that Sirius hated studying, so asking for the blue-eyed boy to help him with that must have been a challenge for him. He also knew that he needed to exercise at least some self-control. Maybe tutoring Sirius would be an excellent idea, a chance to do a good deed and spend some quality time boding with his crush at the same time, without it being too suspicious.

 Do you know how pathetic you sound?

 He watched as the boy in question looked down towards the floor, one hand running through his hair which Remus had quickly learned was a nervous habit of his. This wasn’t going to end well, nothing ever ended well for him. Rising to stand on two weak legs, he swept his things that had been spread over the table into his bag and slung it over his shoulder with as much swagger as he could muster. He looked back to see that Sirius’s eyes were trained on him, silently reading the room and atmosphere.

 “Tomorrow lunch, 12:30, in the library. Don’t you dare be late.”

 Remus walked briskly away, not waiting see Sirius’s reaction and biting back a wide smile.

 ~~

 Turns out that tutoring Sirius Black was not the gentle, romantic, flirt-fest he thought it would be, and was in fact turning out to be a lost cause. The boy had a lot of trouble recalling metaphors, understanding Shakespeare and the like, frustrating Remus with basically everything he said. Often times he would zone out, picking at a loose thread on his t-shirt or twirling a piece of hair through his fingers, and even more likely were his frankly stupid remarks that were only made out of his compulsive need to be the funniest in the room. The most stupid thing about them is that they were actually funny, and Remus couldn’t always contain his laughter.

 “Pads, stop, stop, no,” He warned. “You cannot compare Romeo and Juliet to fucking Spider-Man and MJ.”

 “What? Why not? It fits, that’s all that matters, right? Sirius reasoned, pen between his teeth.

 “You have to get rid of that. The whole paragraph would probably be best, so it still makes sense.”

 “But that’s my best one! If you didn’t like that then you’re definitely not gonna like the next few.”

 Remus buried his face in hands, as Sirius took the essay and out of his hands and ripped it right in half. Drama queen was the only thing he thought to think but a closer look at the other’s face told a different story. “You didn’t have to do that.” Remus said softly.

 Sirius didn’t reply, instead opening his notebook and flipping through to find a blank page and start again. The remnants of drawings and doodles did not go unnoticed, some of which were surprisingly good. He wasn’t taking art this year, but by the looks of the pages in front of him, he should be. Sirius got back to work quickly, scribbling none sense that wouldn’t do him any favours in front of his teachers.

 “C’mon, you can do better than that. Let me help you.” Remus pried the pen from his hand and pushed the textbook towards him. “And no more drama.”

 “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Sirius added with an enthusiastic wink that made him swoon and squirm in his seat.

 The table was subdued for the next few minutes, Remus’s intelligence never failing to impress Sirius, but this was more due to the fact that he shared practically none of the same wit. He wasn’t actually as clueless as he had previously made himself out to be, but that didn’t keep him from acting like it. Perhaps some people’s smarts were more suited to other areas: those areas not exactly helping Sirius’s grades. Remus helping him out was just an extra bonus, or so he told himself.

 Long hair fell into his eyes as Sirius leaned over Remus’s shoulder, too close for comfort, inspecting what he was pointing to and explaining. Something about themes that even Remus was quickly forgetting as the boy by his shoulder got closer.

 His trance was broken as the bell rang, penetrating through his ears, earning a laugh out of Sirius as he jumped slightly.

 “Well, moony, I best get going,” he said briskly. “Maybe we could do this again sometime, eh?”

 “Yeah, sure, yeah” Remus stumbled exasperatedly, a blush forming on his cheeks that was often present these days. “Whenever you need me.”

 It was an authentic moment, sweet and short, but meaningful nonetheless. Until…

 “Padfoot! Moony! Get over here, Peter’s trying to arm wrestle Marlene.” James. Always one to ruin it.

 “Poor thing, why the hell would he?” Sirius laughed, rushing to follow him. “Moons, you coming?”

 Remus smiled. “You go ahead, I’ve got my own work to catch up on.”

 “Are you sure?”

 “Yeah, I’m sick of you anyway.” He added sarcastically, earning another deep laugh.

 ~~

 They continued to have these study sessions, Sirius becoming alarmingly enthusiastic about what would once have kept him far away and out of reach. It was a strange change in the groups’ dynamic, as where Remus and Lily would disappear of to the library, or a classroom to interrogate professors about the work, Sirius now trailed along with them. The red-headed girl had at first raised her eyebrows, or squinted her eyes suspiciously, but had now acclimated nicely. But that didn’t stop her from forming her own theories about what was going on with Remus and Sirius.

 This also had the unexpected effect of getting James Potter of all people in the library for what must have been the first time in his life. Seeing Sirius so confident surrounded by nerdy things like books and papers had been the push he needed to follow him and shamelessly flirt with Lily. Remus noted the way she tucked her hair behind her ears and fiddled with her bracelets whenever James was around.

 At this current moment, the four of them were hard at work on different projects, making mindless small talk as they grew increasingly bored. Sirius whispered something to James, obviously amusing as they burst into fits of laughter.

 “Do you two ever shut up?” Lily said, fighting her own amusement.

 “Lily, my dear,” she rolled her eyes. “That would take the fun out of it!”

 More comments were exchanged, mainly between Lily and James, as Remus found himself unable to form any words of his own in the presence of Sirius.

 Stop it. If you fall too deep you won’t be able to swim back up.

 Maybe I don’t want to swim back up anymore.

 “Hey, moons, what do you think about this?” Sirius questioned happily, thrusting a sketchbook towards him. To say it was absolutely beautiful would be an understatement, Remus thought as he studied what was in front of him. It was a detailed drawing, all in coloured pencil, of a field at sunset. The outline of a forest coated in orange and pink shades covered the page and his eyes were drawn to the silhouette of a rabbit, burying itself a hole in the grass.

 “I’ve been trying my hand at art, my dad hates it.” He said, directed only at Remus. “I know you saw some drawings the other day and thought you’d like it.”

 “I-, Sirius this is amazing.” He gushed, until Lily saw what he was looking at and joined on his shock.

 “Where have you been hiding all this talent? Are you serious?!” She squealed.

 “Nah, I’m Sirius. You know that.” The familiar joke didn’t exactly catch anyone off-guard.

 Remus’s mind went to what he’d said about his father, and he began to wonder the exact meaning. He only knew what everyone knew about Sirius’s home life: it was shit and he didn’t like to talk about it. He’d speculated that his parents were quite controlling, but the details were unknown. James hadn’t even been informed.

 He secretly hoped that perhaps one day he would know, and he would be able to help Sirius through whatever was going on, but he would wait until the other boy was ready. In the meantime he supposed he would do whatever he could, whilst making sure his secret didn’t show itself.

 He’s your friend. That’s all.

 But when a friend is hurting, you should put in a little more effort.

[hayesit]

matt’s 2019 year in review

here it is! and it’s late because i had other/better things to do (and procrastinating), was recovering from hangovers (also procrastinating), and recovering from being sick (procrastinating).

i’ve been doing these year in review posts since 2016, so here is my fourth installment. every year i look back through my google calendar, my camera roll, and my bullet journal as a gratitude exercise and to chart my own development as an adult. 

here is my spotify wrapped 2019!

the beginning of this year was off to a good start: i met two friends that i know through the internet! i met my friend riley when she visited boston (i met her through a mutual friend and through overwatch league twitter) and my friend jimmy that i’ve known for…. 6 or 7 years (?!) through tumblr and designed the logo for me and alex’s late podcast, hardly tea, may she rest in peace. 

i moved dorm rooms in between the fall and spring semester, and once again i was not happy with where i lived. i lived with 4 rando’s that i was placed with and the 5 of us barely even talked with each other. my direct roommate i saw for only two weeks, and for the nights he slept over in the bed (that he was paying room and board for) and had the worst snoring humanly possible that not even earplugs could kill (video below). i hardly slept while he was there and roamed the halls of riverview suites like a ghost due to the anxiety i felt about my lack of sleep (we love a vicious circle)! he disappeared after those two weeks without notice and i lived in fear of him returning for the rest of the semester (which he didn’t), but returned to my normal sleep schedule. 

that semester was my first semester of full-time grad school. i got a poor grade on an assignment that had a note from the professor that said she knew i could do better and it hit me how much different grad school is from undergrad and how much more effort and dedication it requires. after crying in my professor’s office, my work ethic has improved since then, but it’s not anywhere near where i’d like it to be (more on that later). 

now to more positive things for the spring semester: i met some friends that semester both ~on and offline~ that made the semester far more bearable AND i did however truly pop off in every last one of my powerpoint presentations for class. i looooove making powerpoints and just fuckin telling jokes about my research topic and have ppl tell me that they are looking forward to my presentation & that i should teach college classes :)!

me and 4 friends had a social group in which we’d drink and play board games and forget about the board game and drunkenly talk shit called cabam after all our first initials! i always looked forward to that and dug the group chemistry a lot.

during this semester i grew a   “ beard “, otherwise known as i chose not to shave just to  “ see what would happen “ (praythatitfilledin). sorry about that!

the overwatch league was something that i had to look forward to watch every week and i had my experience enhanced through sideshow and avast’s unofficial companion streams, which guaranteed lots of laughs. i have bought tickets to two boston home games in 2020 which i am very excited about! analysts have predicted boston to be in 20th place this year (there are 20 teams) but i’m still excited for the 2020 season anyway!!

i can’t have a year-in-review of 2019 without mentioning game of thrones. due to the show’s final season being undeniably weak, i enjoyed the camaraderie with the other people that watched thrones during those six weeks. i haven’t thought about the show or its universe for quite a while, unfortunately. i truly was quite into the world of westeros, but the weakness of the end of the story cheapened the journey of each of the characters, in a way. such a shame.

while i got my diploma in december 2018, i walked across the stage of umass lowell’s tsongas arena with my bachelor of arts in psychology (and minor in theatre arts). it wasn’t as emotional or triumphant of an experience and just felt weird, considering i had already gotten my diploma and was going to remain in the clutches of rowdy the riverhawk as i am staying for my masters degree in applied behavior analysis/autism studies. i brought a ceramic monkey to graduation. it didn’t have any symbolism, but i just wanted to see if they’d stop me (which they didn’t)

 this summer was better than most summers of mine go, i hung out with alex nearly every weekend, got my very first iphone, and got a data plan. the combination of these three things got me back into playing pokemon go, an unexpectedly fun pastime! went on lots of walks!

my favorite day of summer was going to a lake with alex and our friend gianna, who i grew closer to after meeting her during macbeth last year. fond 2019 memories with gianna include: doing simulation patients with her, watching movies with her and alex, and the halloween party. what a great gd person and a great gd friend! big fan and eternally rooting for her. 

fire emblem: three houses came out on the switch in august and is, without a doubt, my game of the year. there’s truly so much to love about the game: the world, the characters, new changes made to the series, things that were gone but returned, interesting micromanaging, and best of all, how huge my brain feels when playing it. 

i got a 6-week summer job as a paraprofessional at an extended-school-year program for children with developmental disabilities at a preschool in haverhill which taught me a lot of lessons, such as: i hate cleaning shit off of children.

then i had feelings that didn’t make much sense for about a month! whoops!

my full-time job i currently have is working at my old high school as a behavior specialist. i provide consultation and work on programs to lead to more appropriate behavior in students, primarily ones with developmental disabilities. so far it’s been fairly rewarding, some days are more challenging than others, some days are a lot of sitting in meetings, and some days are a lot of running around. some days there is not much to do at all, which has its obvious upsides and downsides. working at the high school isn’t something that i want to do forever, but it’s a good place to start with. i’m definitely learning a lot and there are a lot of benefits to working here. sometimes i can work on my grad school work (which is all online until the 2020 summer semester) which is definitely huge. and my commute is either a 15 minute walk or 3 minutes if my mom drives me! 

a ~complex~ thing about working in my hometown is that it makes the most financial sense to live at home because it’s so close to work. this is my first time living at home full-time since high school and i’m not enjoying that part too much. most weekends i visit alex in lowell, but being stuck at home with no car (going to retake the license test in the spring when the ice melts!) and having to go to bed so early definitely hurts. sure, i have what is likely the lowest amount of expenses i’ll ever have in my life (no car-related payments, no rent, no groceries), but i feel landlocked. i feel like a teenager with minimal freedom, which is in part because my mom doesn’t quite understand yet that i’m a 22 year-old that should have a lot more freedom than i do now. the most i really do on weekdays after work gets out (2:30p) is go to savers with my mom if it’s tuesday (senior citizen day), maybe go for a walk if it’s nice out (which for most of the school year, it isn’t), or be on the computer watching bon appetit videos and playing overwatch, fire emblem, or pokemon, eat a bland dinner at 6, go to bed at around 9:30. sad! truly not a situation that i want to be trapped in that much that much longer!

i think the best and most important part of this year was becoming closer with alex. as i mentioned before, we see each other most weekends, to our great benefit. our living situations have flip-flopped, with me living at home and alex living in an apartment near campus, which in both similar and different ways have taken their respective tolls on us. having each other while going through changes and stagnations in our lives has been immeasurably important. thank you alex for providing a place to be myself other than my own head. thank you for being my best friend. 

now i come to the thing that i’m most excited about for 2020. not 2 suck my own horn but i have cobbled together a fuckin dream team of five friends (me, alex, chris, kelly, and molly). the two times we have all gotten together it has been so satisfying in such a wonderful and otherworldly way that i am filled to the brim of happiness being around them. the craziest thing is that i met chris and kelly through twitter! TWITTER. and they’re real-ass people and my real-ass friends! i haven’t been so pleased with something in my life like this for so long and it feels so good to have adult friends that i have chosen rather than friends by circumstance. it’s truly a crime that we can’t see each other more often, but we already have a day picked out for the next time we all do something together. feeling emotional writing this paragraph bc i love me gd friends so much!

there is a lot of uncertainty about this new year for me. i sure as fuck don’t want to live at home more than i have to but don’t know where to go, my practicum class starts for me this summer which means i’ll most likely have to change jobs (fine by me, but will be exhausting), i recently began my search for therapists and hope to find one soon to help me ~unpack things~, my thesis begins in the fall semester and i don’t know what to do for it, and i’m not 100% dead-set on working in special education. it’s been hard transitioning from living on campus and going to school full-time to the life i have now. 

[aka-willow]

Against The Tide

gif

Words: 1569

Characters: Willow Wren, Mr. Fields, Kate Gray, Annabel Carson

Prompt/Tag:

“and where do i go?”

“What did you expect? For everything to just go back to normal?”

“why didn’t you tell me?”

Summary: Marty’s funeral

Timeline: December 2015

Song: Boats Against the Current - Craig Armstrong

A/N: this shit HURTED

—————————————————————————–

Marty’s funeral was held on a Tuesday. It snowed.

I returned to school the Monday after it all happened, trying to regain some sense of normalcy, but when I walked in alone that morning, I had never heard the halls that quiet. The teachers offered sympathetic smiles as students walked by, but no one talked, no one joked around at the lockers, and people moved from one class to the next as if we were in a trance. The soccer teams had shown up with blue ribbons pinned to their shirts, and when the morning announcements came, the vice-principal’s voice cracked as she read the news.

People seemed almost afraid to talk to me or make eye contact as if any gesture would cause me to break down. I sat with my head down in most classes, staring at the floor, just trying to make it through one class at a time. None of the teachers said anything when I turned in worksheets blank, my name written at the top.

Kate was not at school, and she never returned any of my texts. I didn’t see her until the funeral.

On that Tuesday, school buses took us to the funeral, which was public. The wake was for family members only—and I wasn’t invited.

We packed into St. Giles, all the students standing in the back of the church. His dad spoke, and I saw his mom crying in the front row. I had stayed at Jessica’s since that night and had hardly talked to Marty’s dad, beyond when I stopped at the apartment before school Monday morning. Detectives had the place marked up and I had to be escorted to get my school binders and my rats. It seemed there was nothing to say, and when I went into the living room to find a book, there was still blood on the floor and tarps covering the windows. Marty’s dad had been staying at a hotel.

Girls in my class were passing around the little packages of tissues and when I got handed one, I looked up to see it was Annabel handing it to me. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face blotchy. I took the tissue, but I realized that as hard as I wanted to, I couldn’t cry. I didn’t cry at Marty’s funeral.

Kate was standing alone at the end when we were milling around waiting for the buses. She had sunglasses clipped to the front of her jacket and bags under her eyes.

“Kate?” I asked. “Hey, I was worried when I didn’t hear from you.”

She looked up at me but didn’t smile. “Hey, Willow.”

“How are you?” I asked. “They said you got a concussion, I’m so sorry—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she interrupted.

“Tell you…”

“You know what,” she hissed, her eyes darting around to make sure no one was listening. “What I saw that night… I don’t even know… I don’t even know if I know who you are. I mean… I saw what you can do.”

“Then why did you lie to the detectives? We should talk—”

“No, no, I don’t think… I don’t want to.” Kate said, and the tone of her voice made me sick. “I can’t do this.”

“Well, maybe we can hang once you’re feeling better and—”

“No,” she said firmly, and a few people turned around to look at us. “What did you expect? For everything to just go back to normal? I’m sorry, Willow. But I just can’t… I’m scared,” she said, her voice cracking. “So, please, just stay the fuck away from me.”

“You know me,” I said again.

“Do I?” She leaned in. “You know what I saw on his killer’s jacket? A fucking HYDRA patch. I’m not stupid, Willow. Marty sure as hell wasn’t involved with that shit, and what I saw you do?”

“I’m not HYDRA, if that’s what you think,” I said, my mind racing as I took in this new information.

“No,” Kate said quietly. “But it wasn’t that person that gave me this concussion. It was you.” She checked her phone. “I gotta go.”

“Kate!” She ignored me, walking away over the frozen ground, to a car waiting outside the church. “Kate!” I called again, and she turned around once more, shaking her head, before getting into the car. I sat down on the steps of the church, searching the crowd for Peter or Ned, but I thought better of it and instead of getting back on the bus, I left the church and walked for blocks and blocks, only stopping when it began to get dark.

I thought about what Kate had said and now it seemed to confirm what I had been told all along. They will never understand your abilities. Everywhere you go, chaos will follow. They were right. This is your fault. I went back to the apartment to grab a few things and tried to get a hold on things, continuing to text the Lab Rats as we scrambled to organize a meetup.

When I stepped inside, the lights were on, and Marty’s dad was sitting at the kitchen counter surveying the damage. It was freezing inside, and he was still wearing his winter coat.

“Hi Mr. Fields,” I said, quietly. He sighed and turned to look at me.

“I want you out by tomorrow morning.”

“Out… like back at Jessica’s?” I asked.

“Out,” he said, his voice raised. “I want you out of this apartment. Take your shit and get out.”

“And where do I go? I don’t have anywhere to—”

“I don’t care where you go!” he yelled. “I want you gone. Do you understand? My son is dead, my place is destroyed, and I should never have taken you in.” He took a sip of his drink. “Fucking Jeri.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go!”

“I DON’T CARE!” He turned away and looked back into the living room, where shards of glass still littered the floor. “My son is dead. Do you understand that?”

I rushed past him, into the guest bedroom and locked the door behind me. I could feel myself shaking and a breeze passed around the room as I grabbed my hands. Don’t lose it. Not now. I looked around the room, the first place I had been able to call home since I was six. At the pictures taped to the walls, the silly drawings Marty had made for me, the tech that Peter and I collected over the summer.

With a shuddering sigh, I dumped my backpack out onto the bed, surveying its contents, sorting through what I wanted to take with me. I don’t even know where I’m going yet. I didn’t want to go back to Jessica’s, I didn’t want to talk to Peter and Ned. I wanted to be alone. I had to be alone.

I sorted through my clothes, stuffed them into a trash bag, and packed the rest of my belongings back into my backpack. Stuffed elephant. Photos and drawings in a Ziploc bag. Laptop. The Shrek umbrella that Kate got me last Christmas. The binoculars from Jess. I found the flash drive from the night before and plugged it into my computer, planning to use it for back up.

However, when I opened up the drive, there was already a file on there. It was a giant text file, but when I opened it, there were only a few paragraphs written:

willow– i hid this in your bathroom drawer since you’ve never clean it and I don’t think anyone will find it. if you’re seeing this, you can just give it back to me. unless something happened to me.

if something happened to me, you should extract the files hidden in this notepad. the password is based on a book recommendation I gave you. no spaces, all lowercase. once you unzip it, it’s pretty self-explanatory.

ok now if you’re still reading this come bail me out of jail or whatever. use the shitton of cash i’ve been stealing from my dad and that’s in a bean can in the ceiling above the toilet. i was saving it for weed but whatvers. thx. xoxo MARTYY

I reread the last line several times over, trying not to let my heart break. xoxo MARTYY.

My heart pounding, I opened up WinRar and tried to extract the file, but I had no idea what the password would be. Book recommendation? When? I heard the apartment door shut and receding footsteps down the hall and I jumped off the bed and went into the bathroom while Marty’s dad was out of the apartment. I grabbed my toiletries and then I put the lid down on the toilet and stood on top of it, pushing the ceiling tile in and searching the space around the hole. My hand closed on a metal can and I pulled it down as dust fell into my face.

It was filled with cash.

Not wanting to see Marty’s dad anymore, I went back to the guest room and finished packing, tucking the drive and can into my backpack and slinging the trashbag of clothes over my shoulder. I surveyed the now-empty room and sighed. I would be going back to Jessica’s to get Nedward and Boxer Joe. And then I’d be leaving there, too. This part of my life was over.

[the-cashewpeia]

Deafening Silence (Lancelot x Deaf Alice/MC) pt. 1

Title: Deafening Silence (pt.1)

Pairing: Lancelot Kingsley x Deaf Alice/MC

Genre: Hurt, angst

Word count: 1667

Note: Modern AU

Warning: -

Another fics here!

❤❤❤❤❤

Lancelot could picturing her wide smile when they started dating.

He could imagine her tear-stained face when they finally vowed to be together for eternity and promised to be there when they needed each other's presence.

And he still remembered the current nights when he returned home, when his wife curled up on the couch, accidentally fell asleep while waiting for him from his overextended job or business trips. The clock already struck past twelve, too late for him to stay anywhere far away from his warm home, but she was still waiting for him. Even he could reminisced the mouthwatering scent that wafted from the piping hot dinner, from healthy chicken soup to a home-made tender steak.

Maybe she was staying up all night just to saw him came home, welcoming him with her heartfelt smile and the warmth of her body as she enveloped his muscular figure into a hug. And maybe she even heaten the meal for numerous times, he didn't know how many, so that he could savor the meal when they were still hot, as if they were prepared right before he set his foot in the house.

But he didn't know. He was too busy to be concerned about her.

It wasn't because they were in an argument, no. They were never put themselves in a verbal fight, as one party wasn't able to communicate with her voice. But it wasn't because he couldn't hear her maybe melodious words, that he chose to stay far away.

It happened because he was a selfish man.

Actually, what did he wanted her to improve or had something she didn't have? She had almost everything he couldn't count it with his fingers.

His wife, was a goddess from the heavens, a gift he got even though he didn't deserve her. A beautiful woman by her looks and heart and was a prodigy in her school, as she was praised by many on account of those reasons.

She was a soft-hearted, contrary to his tough and stubborn one.

She could vision the world widely with her other senses, far beyond normal people would. He even learned so many things from her, to identify that his life was so much brighter and have another color other than black and white. To feel her feathery touches in this rough world. To savor the fragrance of blooming flowers, when they were on a date on a random occasion, or the scent of the damp soil as the aftertaste of last night's pouring rain. To satisfy his palate with luscious treats and big feast, when he couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed his food back then.

And her lack of awareness to any other sound turned to be a good thing for them. The way their hands moved to string up some unspoken words and cracked up for some silent jokes without anyone knowing or even understood, and that always be one of their secrets.

The blond man drew a thin curved-up line, as their honeyed sweet memory flashed up. It reminded him, how...

How he missed her. So much.

So much it hurt. So much it fractured the unbreakable walls he built within his steely heart.

He couldn't imagine himself yearning for someone so bad, like he did for her.

He needed her right now, to relieve this bundle of uneasiness in his heart. But who was him? Her husband? Who could have said that he was her long-life partner when he was absent from her side, when she needed him the most? Who? Even himself was too ashamed to acknowledge it, because the sin he committed was unforgivable.

Lancelot clumped himself on the couch, just like she did before. Her flowery scent wafted, tickled his senses. How long she waited for him? Could he did the same till she came home to him, smiling as if nothing bad ever happened between them. He could and he would, but would she?

Unable to hold the sadness that set a flame in his chest, Lancelot moved to their room. Their former shared room.

Cold air enveloped him, as the door opened. He could barely remember the last time they laid on the bed together, killing time with just cuddling and playing with each other's hair. The last time he slept in this room was the last time he saw her, with back facing his, avoiding herself to throw her arms around his body, even though that was the thing she wanted to do when finally they met each other.

He felt empty. He did feel empty. Just like their closet, as her clothes already disappeared from it, reminding him when he kicked her out from their home, from his heart.

The unfilled closet was almost empty, actually. He found an azure swallow-folded paper in a shelf. He cradled it in his hand, just as he did back then to her hands when she fell down. A scribble in black was visible to his sea-blue eyes and he realized that it was no ordinary folded paper. It was a letter.

From her.

With shaky hands, he unfolded it. More and more the paper been spread out, he could feel the thin material crinkled at some point, showing him how hard she tried to write him a letter with tears pouring her delicate face like a blizzard.

When he finally recognized her handwriting on the opened letter, he felt his chest being squeezed by an invisible hand. Her neat handwriting strung some poetic lines of words, full of apologies of the incorrect things she didn't do at all.

'Dear the love of my life, Lancelot...'

Just reading the first line brought him into sobbing mess. After all the bad things he did to her, she still thought him as her eternal partner. She still loved him despite the cold hands he gave to her.

'I'm sorry....'

Some paragraph in the opening was full of sorries, from her usual poetic atonements to the things she felt she lacked. The things she thought that they were all burdens to him and she chose to blame all to herself, loaded the heavy weights to her fragile and scared shoulders.

His eyes brimmed, unable to read her apologies anymore. He sniffed, pressed the letter tightly on his chest, as if it was her body.

After a while, he peeked through the brimming tears, trying to know the rest of the letter but skipped the previous part.

You don't need to say sorry, when you aren't in the fault side. He whispered from the bottom of his broken heart.

After all, she did nothing wrong to be apologized for.

'I wish to stay, but you don't have any room for me in your heart.'

Her wish, the one dream that was natural for her as his wife to have, tortured the person who wished itself. As if a knife was stabbing her body, left the wound open without anyone to take care of it.

Anyone, and even him.

All the words written on the crinkled paper were so kind. She was so kind, in the first place. The woman once he cared deeply never doubting him, as her positive mind always praised him. No matter how awful man he could be.

He regretted it.

He was afflicted, as if the world would collapse, would crack a giant hole and swallowed him up and left him to a deep pit of hopelessness.

The blue paper slipped from his hand, landed soundlessly on the floor, as his heart already fallen on the same spot as his feet, or even lower, deep in the earth's core.

As he eyed the paper, he found another one, a white one. It was creased rather hastily and slipped beneath the shared cupboard. Lancelot unfolded the single sheet, his eyes landed on some certain explanation about her health, as the insignia of a nearby hospital bared itself for him to see.

So, she was sick and won't let him to worry about her. And what kind of sickness....

His eyes wavered, as a conclusion he never thought written under a large table of examination's result.

She was carrying his child. Their child.

Lancelot never run so hasty in his life before. He raced past the door, past the spacious hallway of his luxurious house, as his mind only screaming his loved one's name, praying so he could find her, no matter how long it would take.

As he scrambled to grab his car key, his phone dropped. The device was vibrating, blinked rapidly and lit the whole carport with it's dim radiance. He tried to ignore his phone, but her name popped up on the screen, as he realized that she was calling him.

Why? Did something happen?

She never called him before and he couldn't stop a million questions from lunging his mind.

Lancelot slid the receive button, only to hear a commotion from the other side. He couldn't really make any guess out since it was her first time calling him. But he knew something was off.

"Hello?" He reluctantly let his voice came out, hoping to get some answers for the confusion running wild in his mind.

"Oh!" A shocked gasp could be heard, but it added fuel to the blurring thought of his. It definitely wasn't his wife's voice, as the baritone was ringing in his ear, "I'm sorry for bothering you, sir. I'm a police and I have tried to reach you several times...."

Before the caller finished his explanation, Lancelot cut off the man's words.

"My wife... where is my wife?" His voice quivered, as if there was a quake shaking his whole body.

Please don't... Please don't tell me any kind of bad news....

He could hear a huff of depressed sigh from the caller's side. It jangled his nerves, as the police took his time to deliver whatever message he wanted the blond man to know.

"Well, sir. I want to inform you that--"

[thefinalcinderella]

Tsurune Book 2 Chapter 3-Bow-Crazy (Part 2)

*wheeze* *wheeze* It’s finally out...after more than a month...of being with irl stuff...

After finishing this part, I feel like Tsujimine fits the mold of “underdog school in sports anime” more than Kazemai, even though they have more members. It would be cool to get a story from their point of view.

Also, I recently started reading Beastars since it’s getting an anime and I’m amazed that the mangaka somehow made a deer more attractive to me than 90% of hot bishounen out there...

Glossary here

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. An ukeita is a hole set up on the wall for archers to string their bows. They show up in the anime a lot

2. Biku is “ an unconscious and abrupt contraction in kai”

3. The word used here, en ( 縁) is a difficult concept to describe in English. It’s not as grand as “fate” and “destiny” but more like a connection or a bond between people, e.g. the red string of fate. Something like a lucky encounter or a coincidence, divinely preordained. So basically Nikaidou think that Minato was lucky enough to meet Saionji and Shuu, and be enrolled into a high school with its own kyudojo and a kind, helpful advisor. 

4. A zabuton, according to Wikipedia, is a cushion for sitting. In sumo, the audience throws zabuton at the ring when a yokozuna is defeated by a weaker one.

5. A yokozuna is the highest rank in sumo.

6. Minato says sorry but it’s slurred since his cheeks were being pulled. I couldn’t express that in English without making it really cringy so I will leave it alone for now

7. An uchidake is the inner face of a bow

8. This paragraph made me wonder what exactly Masa-san studied in university. Anyways tebanasu is 手離す and hanasu is 話す. And kogoru is 凝る. Apparently kogoru is actually an accepted origin for kokoro.

9. Heki-ryuu is a school of kyudo. Don’t ask me what their specialty is, but apparently some of its branches still exist today.

Previous | Next

Nikaidou chased the flowing clouds with his eyes. The sunlight would be intense today as well.

A non-portable target was set up in a corner of the schoolyard, and there were two tatami mats placed behind it for whenever someone missed. They would have liked the shooting line to be in the shade if at all possible, but as they were limited to the area they could use, they could not expect too much.

Tsujimine High School did not have a kyudojo.

They had been practicing in the gym until last year, but with the new school year, they have been banned from using it. As there were many clubs that used the gym, such as the basketball, volleyball, table tennis, and badminton clubs, the kyudo club, which had never won, was told to refrain from using it. They also borrowed a public kyudojo for practice, but they only went there about once a month because of their bad location, which meant a one-way trip there by car took two hours.

All the third-years, other than those participating in the tournament, had retired, and currently there were twenty-two members. Since their advisor was only nominal and almost never showed up, in the absence of a coach, the form of upperclassmen teaching their juniors continued for generations. Even Higuchi and Aragaki, detached from the real world, could not accept to being driven from the gym in their last year of high school. At any rate, they had to earn results that could be clearly seen with the eyes. Words such as, "Let's do our best," had no efficacy whatsoever.

There was only one thing to obtain.

"Victory" at the national tournament.

Nikaidou smiled and turned his sharp gaze towards Fuwa.

"The regional tournament the other day. We were defeated by Shuu-kun's Kirisaki, but I feel super great for defeating Kazemai, where Minato-chan and Seiya-chan are."

"You sure hate your fellow middle school schoolmates a lot. And they're your kouhai?"

"No way, I love them. I have no interest in almost any of the Kirisaki guys, but Shuu-kun and Minato-chan are special."

"I'd like to avoid your special in particular."

"Same. Even I might not like my special. You understand well, Koushirou."

Fuwa pulled on the edge of Nikaidou's hood, which he had pulled over his head.

"More importantly, why the hell are you wearing a hoodie in this stupidly hot weather?"

"This white hoodie is a UV cut type for summer. You don't want to get a half-baked sunburn, right?"

"Are you a girl?"

"I look like a girl to you, Fuwa? Your eyesight is amazing."

"You're twisting words all on your own. If you hate getting a sunburn, then put up a parasol."

"Aah, a parasol might be good, actually. There are only two girls here, this kyudo club. I guess if you aren't fanciful enough, you won't join."

"Well, I guess it'll be creepy to see a corpse rolling around."

Beneath the shade of a tree, Higuchi was sleeping while lying face down. If someone who didn't know him saw him, he really would look like a corpse.

"Higuchi-senpai, you should at least lie down on the picnic sheet."

"Nnn, got it!"

The sloth-like Higuchi quietly got up and curled up on the sheet. He was like a rechargeable battery with a small capacity, quickly exhausted. He seemed to be especially bad with sunlight, and he needed to diligently take naps.

On the contrary, there was another man who vigorously did muscle training whenever he had spare time. He was always moving his body, and his love of muscles knew no bounds.

"Conscious breathing is strongly inhaling with the assistance of the serratus posterior superior muscle, the pectoralis minor muscle, the trapezius muscle, and the levator scapulae muscle, adding the rectus abominable muscle, oblique abdominal muscle, and serratus posterior inferior muscle, and strongly exhaling. Breathing is closely connected with muscle action. Ooh, it's the very mystery of the body!"

"…Kuro-chan sure is knowledgeable."

"Oh, just leave it all to me. This is love too, it is."

Good grief. Even my backhanded compliment didn't get through to him.

Seeing Nikaidou getting guilelessly brushed off, Fuwa's mouth slackened.

Aragaki arrived late. During this period, third-years could not devote their undivided attention to club activities because of teacher interviews and the like after school.

"Aragaki-senpai, I will help you string your bow."

Aragaki raised his hand in a gesture of thanks, and then Fuwa held the top part of his bow, the urahazu. Normally, an ukeita (1) that was installed on the wall of a kyudojo would be used, but in their case someone else would hold up the bow for it to be stringed.

After he finished preparing his equipment, he finally took off his mask. He always used masks of the same brand, and his spare was also flawless. It seemed that it didn't hurt his ears, the texture was nice, and it made him look like he had a small face—all things that he refused to compromise on, but Nikaidou and Fuwa couldn't tell the difference between it and a special bargain sale brand.

Nikaidou took out his phone and recorded everyone's shooting forms.

Aragaki was glued to his own image. From Nikaidou's point of view, there couldn't have been much difference between his face yesterday and today, but Aragaki was immersed in delight every time he saw his own profile.

Nikaidou himself also had a video of his shooting taken by Fuwa.

"Thanks, Fuwa."

"The other day, I was on a trip and I took the opportunity to stop by Shigeyuki-san's kyudojo, but it was closed. Was the practice day changed?"

"Yeah, apparently he's busy with work."

Even as he was saying that, he put away his phone in his bag after he confirmed that everything was saved.

Fuwa was watching him as he did so.

Nikaidou passed through the automatic doors.

As soon as he entered, he was met with a large aqua terrarium.

Without looking at the colourful fish swimming in the miniature garden tank, he searched for his familiar favourite. The dark, ugly fish that always stayed still in the shade of a rock. He didn't know its name. It did not move, as if it was stuck there, and its form could not be identified unless one went all the way around to the side of the tank, so it made little sense for it to be an aquarium fish. It was irresistibly lovely how it did not care at all about the intentions of humans.

After he announced his name at the reception desk, he climbed the stairs, not using the elevator at all.

The hospital room was on the fifth floor.

At the destination to which he climbed step by step, there was a room.

"Shigeyuki-san."

"Hey, Eisuke. You're visiting a lot."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling especially good today. Since no matter what, you got a twenty-shot kaichuu at the regional tournament. I'm so proud to have such an excellent nephew."

"It looks like your shots, since I've always been watching you shoot, Shigeyuki-san."

"Is your eloquence like me too? How strange, I'm supposed to be a quiet man."

Nikaidou Shigeyuki was Nikaidou's uncle.

He was an archer with a muscular body and whose specialty was extremely sharp shots. His love of kyudo grew so intense that he even constructed a kyudojo on the premises of his own home, and a lot of neighbourhood children came to play there. Nikaidou was also one of those children.

The hand-crafted kyudojo, with space for two people to shoot, had its range become a vegetable plot, with different kinds of vegetables planted in it for every season, and many insects, such as butterflies, gathered there. The sight of an arrow flying above all of that was idyllic, more like something from the leisurely and quiet life of a mountain hermit than a strict discipline. But, Nikaidou thought that if he really was a mountain hermit, he wouldn't have gotten sick. Stress and pressure were major factors for the damage to his internal organs.

After they had chatted for a while, Nikaidou took out his phone from his bag.

"It's the usual thing, but please do it for me again."

"Oh, I wonder if everyone has improved? Ooh, Fuwa-kun has a great hanare. The pushing of his left hand is also good. I think he should lower his left shoulder just a little. Higuchi-kun's kai is as long as ever. It is rare even for hanshi-level masters to maintain it that long, but as long as he doesn't get motare or biku (2) then it can stay as it is. And then…"

Shigeyuki was the shadow coach of Tsujimine High School.

The Tsujimine High School Kyudo Club had an advisor, but no coach. For that reason, Nikaidou turned to Shigeyuki. He was currently hospitalized, but readily accepted Nikaidou's request.

Shigeyuki spoke.

"Eisuke, you seem to want to master the way to use your right hand at hanare."

"I don't think my technique can be imitated by the high schoolers over there."

"'Kakehodoki' is making a grinding noise at your right thumb and then shooting the arrow, but there are many archers who don't do that."

"Is that so? I thought it was something everyone did if they were skilled."

"It depends on the shape of the yugake, and there is a wide variety of shooting techniques. It's not like my knowledge is absolute. Fujiwara-kun, who does shoumen uchiokoshi, is not made to do kakehodoki, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"Fujiwara-kun truly is Saionji-sensei's best disciple. And besides, the left hand is essential for hitting the target, after all. To begin with, you should learn the correct way of using your left hand."

"Okay. Thank you, Shigeyuki-san. I'll pass it all on to everyone."

Nikaidou loved talking about kyudo with Shigeyuki. On the other hand, he also felt uncomfortable about it, because he did not genuinely love kyudo.

Sometimes, he wondered why he was doing kyudo. He started in fourth grade, and now it was his eighth year doing it. In middle school, he had accomplished winning the individual competitions, but honestly speaking, he had been shooting while thinking, I want to quit, I want to quit. The time of it being incredibly enjoyable and him being happy about winning had already passed. On the other hand, he also did not want to go even farther with it.

He had seen his limit.

Always hitting, never missing—that was only aiming for the absurd.

Even professional archers couldn't make a living from kyudo. Almost all kyudo teachers were volunteers.

He wanted to shut up those who said ridiculous things like, your wishes will come true if you want them strongly enough. Things like not putting in enough effort or putting in effort in a different direction were the objections of winners, and the great majority died without ever being able reach the heights. They were insensitive words from someone who did not notice the heaps of corpses that were rolling at their feet, and spat on them.

He wanted to be free of it all soon.

He wanted to put an end to his archer life.

But despite all that, the biggest reason for why he hadn't quit yet was the existence of Shuu and Minato.

Fujiwara Shuu even had Saionji as his master. He probably had the power of his family and money. It wasn't bad to utilize what he had to the fullest extent, and in fact it was what he should do. However, Minato was different. Even though he was supposed to be a commoner and an average person like himself, why was he the only one who was blessed?

What Nikaidou didn't have and Minato did was "chance." (3) What other people would call the love of a god. Something that couldn't be obtained with effort.

The love of the god of archery? How laughable.

Shigeyuki-san, just watch me. I'll end my career with victory.

I'll strike an arrow back at them.

Minato held the leash and headed for the main street.

It had been a long time since he walked Bear in the evening. Bear cheerily walked ahead.

Ultimately, Minato took a break from club activities. After returning home, he had himself examined at Seiya's father's hospital, and brought Bear along with him. He would have ridden his bike, but gripping the handlebars made his left wrist hurt from the strain. It seemed that he had no choice but to obey his orders until he was completely healed.

He left it to Bear to lead him forward. Honeybees and flower chafer beetles gathered at the white flowers blooming in the buckwheat fields, and white-tailed skimmer dragonflies flew back and forth by the waterside. When he went on a path lined by spotted bellflowers, he came to a place with a good view.

There was a new shop. Enticed by the delicious smells of homemade bread, Minato opened the shop's door. He was told by a shop assistant that since not only locals, but also trekkers and cyclists who drop in, it was common for things to sell out in the early hours.

When he left the shop, Minato was holding cinnamon rolls, its hallmark product. Drawn in by the sales message of "they go amazing with coffee," he bought them before he knew what he was doing.

What should I do with these?

There probably isn't an opportunity for me to give them to him.

Ever since Masa-san took up the job of being the coach for the Kazemai High School Kyudo Club, there had been no opportunities for the two of us to shoot together at the Yata no Mori Kyudojo. He doesn't drink coffee during the practices at school, so even if he was in Yata no Mori, he would definitely turn them away. And my pocket money is tight this month, so I really am a hopeless idiot.

"Bear, what should I do? Is it better even just to go and watch practice? But I can't really concentrate on it…"

For Minato, the kyudojo was a place where his mind felt at ease. And yet, seeing the unfamiliar pairing of Masa-san and Shuu made him feel irritated.

Their levels were so different that it was like looking at something unreal. The sound of the flying arrow sent out from that gifted body was sharp, and it could only be thought of as something done by an inhabitant of another world. Even for the things that Minato couldn't easily improve at no matter how many times he was told to, Shuu could clear them extremely easily. After all, even for those who taught, there was probably worth in teaching people like Shuu, who picked things up quickly.

Minato sat down on the ground. He stroked Bear's thin eyebrows, and he licked Minato's hand. That naturally led to him rubbing Bear's head and back. Bear had always comforted him like this since a long time ago, but perhaps sensing something on this day, he stood up all of a sudden.

"Bear?" a voice came from behind.

"…You surprised me. Why are you in a place like this, Onogi?"

Kaito took out his earphones.

"Shouldn't I be the one surprised? I was wondering if Seiya was here. I'm heading home from club. My mom dragged me here to buy some bread filled with red bean paste, which is limited to one per customer, for Nanao's house."

"Then, Seiya will be home soon."

"Narumiya, you came when you were told not to, and didn't when you were told you could come. What exactly do you want to do? Didn't they talk about how useful it is for you just now? Simply watching practice is also valuable."

"I know that."

"You know, so what's up with you?"

"…I hate having my own lack of skill spelled out for me when the current Shuu is right before me."

"Hah, so stupid. I can't believe you're letting this rare opportunity get away for that kind of reason. Ultimately, you still have no excuse. Why do you think Tommy-sensei invited Fujiwara?"

"Wasn't it a request from Shuu? Ryouhei invited him too."

"Did you already forget what you yourself said? Didn't you say that watching skilled people shoot is one way to gain knowledge? Since Kazemai doesn't have cutthroat battles to become regulars like at a powerhouse school, so we lack the enthusiasm to 'absolutely get better.' There's no air of tension from being overwhelmed by a skilled guy. Isn't Tommy-sensei trying to fire us up by showing us Fujiwara's shooting from up close?"

Indeed, Shuu never lost focus at any time.

Even in practice matches, he showed his relentless strength. He maintained his unashamed attitude of being the one to stand above all high school archers for three hundred and sixty-five days.

"Could it be that the reason why Tommy-sensei said that he couldn't praise us even if we all got kaichuu was—"

"Because our minds were 'slackening.' And, we settled the reasons for why we lost with 'it can't be helped.' Seiya and the others were also talking about that during today's practice. They were saying that even if we didn't intend to, somewhere in our minds, we might have been thinking something along the lines of 'we don't really have to win this regional tournament by overextending ourselves.' Isn't that attitude putting down the other archers who are shooting their bows seriously? Well, you felt angry, unlike us."

Minato bit his lip, and then pressed the package from the bakery into Kaito's hand.

"Sorry. Take this."

"What? Isn't this all of it?"

"I didn't put it in a backpack, and I'm carrying something in my hand even though I'm walking Bear, so it's a bother. Well then, I'm going home now."

Minato broke into a run without waiting for Kaito's response.

"That guy, why did he buy this even though he's not eating it…?"

Kaito's muttering, as he held the bag of bread, did not reach anyone's ears.

It was the last day of Shuu's practice at Kazemai High School.

Minato showed up at the kyudojo for the first time in a week. Seiya, Kaito, Nanao, and Ryouhei were practicing while commenting on each other's shooting forms.

Shuu and Masa-san were shooting in a two-person tachi. The two, who were tall and had similar builds, worked together smoothly as though they were old friends. Masa-san raised his bow, parted it, and released his arrow as though tracing Shuu's movements. The tsurune resounded loudly. No ordinary person could imitate the both of them, who shot right through the center of their targets. It was most likely a state only those who had fully honed their skills could reach. It was a beautiful dance of only two people.

Minato was the only one not wearing kyudogi there. Even though he felt like quickly leaving as soon as possible from the loneliness of being left by himself, on the other hand, he also wanted to stay.

The archers he admired were here.

Even being reproached for watching them was no different from being told to stop breathing.

When Shuu finished zasha, he approached Minato, who was standing in the corner.

"Minato, are you going to shoot today?"

"No, I still didn't get permission."

"I see, that's a shame. This is my last day here, but I learned a lot from being shown Masa-san's shooting. Saionji-sensei never talked a lot, but I realized that we were instructed with a good deal of meaning put in."

"That's good to hear. I'm really sorry for being completely useless… I'll be going to the hospital from now on. See you another time, Shuu."

Shuu moved his face closer to Minato's shoulder, who had looked away.

"Don't show it on your face so readily. It'll make it too hard to see you off."

"What do you mean?"

"Seiya's father is examining you, right? It's fine, you can shoot once you've healed. Let's shoot together next time we meet."

"…Yeah. You really are cool, Shuu. You're like a samurai."

Shuu opened his eyes wide.

"…Of course I am," he said, then lightly bumped Minato's right hand while it was hanging by his side with his fist.

Now that he was taking a break from club, the days passed in a blink of an eye.

They had just entered the suspension period of club activities that took place before exams, and because he thoroughly did the practice that did not involve using a bow when he had hayake, it became his specialty.

On the day the end of term finals was over, Minato was at Seiya's family's orthopedic surgery clinic. A sumo wrestling match was showing on the television in the waiting room. In it, there was a scene of zabuton (4) flying after the match was over. A young boy, seeing that, spoke to a man sitting next to him who looked like his grandfather.

"Grandpa, why's everyone throwing their zabuton?"

"That's because the stronger wrestler won by using a technique used by the weaker wrestler, so the people watching that got angry."

"Huh, why are they angry even though he won?"

"Sumo is a martial art, after all. The wrestlers are too proud to win by cowardly methods, of course, but also by cheap techniques. Even if they get hurt, if they don't show the true power of a yokozuna (5) when standing in the ring, then wouldn't that be rude to their opponents?"

Minato secretly kept the two's conversation to his heart.

In the examination room, the doctor, Seiya's father, spoke.

"Does it really not hurt anymore? I don't want to get scolded by Seiya if I don't find out you're lying."

"It is true. I wouldn't do anything like lying since I of course also don't want to drag this out."

"It was worth it for me to ask Tommy-sensei to have you take a break until you are fully healed, since you would probably not be able to endure watching kyudo without being able to shoot, Minato-kun. Though, in the beginning, Coach Takigawa seemed to have thought that it would be good for you to study by observing, at least. Alright, your examination is finished."

When Minato returned home, he threw himself down on his bed in his second-floor bedroom. He raised his left hand high above his head and tried moving his wrist. There was no more pain.

The sumo conversation he had listened to in the clinic's waiting room not long ago had something in it that could be related to kyudo. If it was someone who never did kyudo, they might think it was great as long as your hitting rate was good. However, it was different for archers. They would feel irritated at seeing a person resolutely hitting with a messy shooting form.

What Seiya's father had said was unexpected. Masa-san had not said anything like that at all to him. He would have obediently accepted it a little if he had heard that.

Minato shouted on top of his bed.

"Masa-san's an idiot! That shitty dirty old geezer——!"

Even if he denounced his master in a nook of the countryside, he keenly felt the insignificance of his own ability, and it only felt all the more futile.

A sound poured down on him when he closed his eyes.

A cold and tender melody.

He wanted to hear it by his side rather than in his memories.

His phone that had rolled to his pillow was ringing. Perhaps Seiya had heard his roar just now. When he looked, he saw that the sender was Masa-san. The text read, (look outside your window).

He got up and saw Masa-san holding a bow and quiver below the window. From the design of the bow cover and other things, they were without a doubt Minato's. Minato rushed down the stairs and opened the door.

"First of all, I guess I should say, good evening."

"What, um, why are you here, Masa-san?"

"I was adjusting everyone's equipment today. Though when I planned on doing it for Minato as well and stopped by, I heard a distant howling from somewhere. 'Masa-san's an idiot!' or something like that."

"Oh. …So-sorry."

Masa-san lightly pinched Minato's cheeks and pulled them.

"You're half right, but don't shout that while your window is open, since it's embarrassing."

"…I'm so sorry." (6)

Minato led Masa-san through the front door.

"My dad still isn't home yet. Should we go upstairs?"

"No, here is fine. More importantly, try gripping your bow."

Masa-san took out the bow from the bow case.

"You have relatively large hands, so I put in a piece of paper about as thick as a postcard for the grip to try to make it a bit thicker. It's a semi-cylindrical shape, but there's also a way to slightly raise the right side of the uchidake (7) so your fingertips will reach the corners more easily. I had everyone else do it by themselves, but to celebrate you recovering from your injury, I did yours myself."

Minato received his bow with a new grip.

The original leather grip wrapping (nigirikawa) was used for a long time and became slippery, but this new leather felt good to the touch. Though it was easier to grip it when it was thin, thanks to its raised height, the fitting of his little finger was good as well.

"It feels great. Thank you, Masa-san."

"Your arrows were also the length of those used by beginners, so I had them shortened a little at the kyudo equipment store. Even a slightly lighter one would decrease the burden on your wrist. I also took the opportunity to expose your arrow feathers to steam and straighten them."

"You knew my yazuka really well."

"Well, it might not seem like it, but I am your master after all."

Masa-san grinned.

It felt like it had been a long time since he saw Masa-san smile like that. His heart hurt a little.

"Masa-san, I want to try shooting."

"Do you want to go to Yata no Mori?"

Minato got the backpack he used for kyudo, and got into the passenger seat of Masa-san's car.

The stars were twinkling above the mountains. From the slightly open windows came the lively sounds of insects carried on the wind. The frogs rejoicing in the rainy season made up the background chorus. The stretching lights illuminated the streets at night. Their distant destination was covered in darkness, but there was a road in the range where the lights reached.

A road that appeared by moving forward.

Minato tugged at his seatbelt for no particular reason, and Masa-san gave him a sidelong glance.

"Does your seatbelt feel uncomfortable?"

"No, that feels fine. Um, Masa-san. I'm sorry for calling you a shitty old geezer the other day and just now…"

"Were you worrying about those kinds of things?"

"It's not just that."

"You still have other insults for me? Since we have the time, I'll listen to them."

"Masa-san, I'm happy that you became the coach for Kazemai, but I'm also not."

"Why is that?"

Minato exhaled loudly.

"…Because I can't keep you to myself."

When the car stopped at a red light, Masa-san ruffled Minato's hair.

"You really are just a little kid after all."

"Don't call me a little kid! And don't mess up my hair!"

"Alright, alright."

"The light turned green, you know!"

As Minato was fixing his tousled hair, the car began moving again.

"It's just the story from when I was in high school, but because I couldn't do what Grandpa told me to do very well at all, so I had other teachers take a look at me. Even so, whenever I went to get taught by other teachers, Grandpa would always get in a bad mood. I couldn't understand why, but now I can understand his feelings."

"What kind of feelings?"

"The feeling of 'don't you meddle with my student.'"

"Huh?"

"I know that your hitting rate will increase if you improved your right hand. However, even though we were working hard on correcting your left hand first in order to not harm your left wrist, some outsider had the nerve to tell you to do something uncalled for. Even though he never saw you everyday, what could he understand from only seeing you shoot one or two arrows?"

Sorry, Minato murmured in his mind.

"But, didn't you make Shuu touch your belly?"

"If anyone else heard only that, I would sound like a pervert, wouldn't I? Did you want to touch it too, Minato?"

"I'm not a pervert, so I'm fine."

"To begin with, you have too many weak spots! Your thinking is too naïve! Your range of behavior is strangely wide, you act way too recklessly, you're an airhead—I can see why Seiya got so overprotective of you."

"There's no need to go that far…"

"Because of that, I was waiting for you to say something, but I should have been the one to act. I suppose a coach who can't even manage his athlete's health is less than third-rate——?"

Masa-san put his left hand to his temple to cover his eyes.

Minato grabbed that hand with the wristwatch and brushed up the strands of hair hanging by his cheek, driven by the urge to look into those hidden eyes. But, he quietly swallowed.

"My master will always and forever be Masa-san. I want to listen to your tsurune forever——. Please take care of me from now on, Master."

"I should be the one saying you shouldn't be too hard on me."

Their mouths loosened.

"I sort of feel more relaxed when I talk with you, Masa-san."

"Oh, since ancient times, conversation has been a kind of therapy. There are various theories on how words came to be, but with 'o' standing for big, and 'ko' standing for small, o and ko have lingered in people's ears and became 'oto' and 'koto'. 'Oto' doesn't have any meanings such as an idea or concept, and 'koto' does. The origin of kokoro (heart, mind) is 'kokoru—kogoru (to congeal, to stiffen)'. Kokoro meant something heavy in the first place. 'Hanasu (to talk)' was to release a stiffened heart, let go of it (tebanasu)." (8)

"It seems like the 'hanare' of kyudo is also connected to that."

At the Yata no Mori Kyudojo, the blue hydrangea flowers were in full bloom. His heart danced at reuniting with Fuu the owl. Fuu, perched on his shoulder, tilted its head as usual.

Minato and Masa-san stood side-by-side before the targets. Minato lightly drew the bow in his hands, making a bang sound.

"I think that I was acting proud because I've been doing kyudo for a bit longer than everyone else. Not being able to shoot well because my wrist hurt was just an excuse for me to say. If I'm standing at that place, I must not make excuses for myself, not to mention for the people who are watching me."

"Do you have an answer for what is the responsibility of your own ochi?"

"Yeah. It's rare for a beginner to be an ochi. As a senpai, it is my duty to show the 'way of the bow.' I have the role of lighting the way from behind, so that everyone would not go the wrong way."

"A good answer. I learned something as well."

Masa-san smiled.

"I won't overstretch myself and copy Shuu, and I'll commit myself to strengthen my left hand like you said. And then, I want you to tell me how to do dantian breathing once more."

"Well, when you thinly exhale at 'kai,' I believe that you can personally feel the useless power in the shoulders going away, and force being applied to your abdomen. Your dantian is fulfilled when you exhale eighty to ninety percent of your breath rather than all of it. The moment that leads to the time of hanare from nobiai is called 'yagoro' in Heki-ryuu, (9) and there is a good practice for remembering that timing, but these days you might get scolded by the other archers for being noisy."

"Oh, could you be talking about 'yagoe'?"

"Yes, shouting 'aiiee!' or 'yaa!' or something like that when you're releasing your arrow. Fujiwara was talking about Saionji-sensei also teaching it to you guys in the past."

"Yeah, we practiced producing our yagoe."

"Hanare is not done when you completely exhaled at kai, but at a good time when you are able to let out a yagoe."

"Can I try shooting together with you, Masa-san?"

"Yes, of course."

Minato stood in front of Masa-san.

The two simultaneously spread their feet, parted their bows, and lifted them. They slowly spread their chests.

Words were not necessary when a person becomes one with their bow. The long breaths that occurred over and over and the back that bended as it was stretched. Letting go of the unorganized words, the "feelings," packed in one's chest, abandoning one's body to sensation to the point of outrageousness, and waiting for the moment to fly off.

The two's yagoe dashed into the night sky.

When they finished after who knows how many rounds, Minato opened his backpack.

"Masa-san, here's something to drink."

"Oh, is that a new brand of canned coffee? Thanks. That's right, I also have something to eat."

What Masa-san took out was a bag from the bakery Minato went to the other day, and it did not contain cinnamon rolls, but homemade oyaki.

Previous | Next

[abundantchewtoys]

HS Epi: Meat p17-18 reaction

I've realized how page 15 ended with the command "Close your eyes" and page 16 started with Rose talking with her eyes closed. :p

Rose talked about how she'd wake up after looking the demon on her chest into the eyes. She then proceeded to look Dirk straight in the eyes and fall under the spell or whatever it was.

If Dirk truly started influencing Rose and it wasn't just the narration being overly dramatic, then I think it started as she talked about caring about the pieces on the board.

I'm not as sold on the idea that Dirk could be turning into the post-victory end boss anymore. I mean, it's certainly plausible. It could even be that the remaining Reload B2 kids (minus Dirk himself) team up with John against him.

But I think the last paragraph on page 16 could also be interpreted differently. Maybe part of ascending to his ultimate self, for a Prince of Heart, is to "destroy" the boundaries that exist on what he sees as his "self". In that he learns how much of his qualities and flaws exist in other people too. If he can see into his heart, he might learn empathy and become a better person.

Okay, the last sentence seemed to show Dirk take over the narration, but it could also be the visual cue that the narration switched from 3rd person to Dirk's POV, if only for that sentence. It could also be taken to point towards Dirk's growing self-awareness: he's becoming aware of the fact he's a fictional character. In that case, what would it take for John to come to this understanding? To "understand what it all means"?

As for Dirk taking over the other people somehow, growing perhaps a hivemind... Eh. We've had confirmation that Jake looked into his eyes without a problem. Granted, that may have been before Dirk ascended to the god tiers.

Now, next page could stay with Dirk, but I hope it switches back to John. I expect him to undergo some dream sequence before awakening, hopefully still alive. And I hope Terezi will be there when he wakes up. Though it will be sad to see her reaction, if she's learned about Vriska.

==>

AAHHHHHHH he really took over the narration!!! ... Pony Pals Epilogue?

Well then. I... Okay, I wonder whether he'll stick to narrating proceedings on Earth C, or how far his self awareness has grown. DOES he know what Doc Scratch knew, Lord English... Reload Dirk?

"None of my friends have noticed it yet, but you have." He's acknowledging us, the readers. Dear god.

"Anyone paying attention could have guessed by now who’s really telling this story." ... Andrew Hussie? Does Dirk want to wrestle control of his life from the author?

"I’ve caught you leering at some pretty personal moments. Are you having fun being a voyeur?" I came to read a story and I'm honestly feeling so attacked right now. Also, I feel I'm being compared to Caliborn in this.

"Knowing their thoughts are transcribed by a third party, does it fill you with a sense of unease, of sickness, sensing that the observations made of their mental interiors may be tainted?" So, Dirk is calling us out on reading their story, as well as indicating to us that what we read about them, even their personal feelings, can be removed from the truth. But, it's not as if HE's going to want to be our narrator, right? Plus, his own POV is still not 'the' truth.

"I am specific. I have a name, an agenda, a vision. I am a monolith of concentrated narrative authority, relaying events to you, and swaying them as I see fit. Whereas you are pointedly nonspecific. You are the generalized, impotent witness to all this." Dirk is self agrandizing himself and describing the MSPA Reader here. He's actually started sounding a lot like Lil Hal, now that he's so convinced of his intellectual prowess. That's not a great evolution.

"I even have the ability to decide what “you” actually means. I can take the “you-ness” away from you, and put it inside another passive mark, such as John Egbert." Does he mean, like, right now, he can decide he's aiming this narration at John? Or... is it what's Blaperile telling me now, that this is supposed to indicate Dirk was the narrator for the entire epilogue up till now? If that's so, everything said in the narration, including the prompts, has just become that much more unreliable.

"So what makes John so special? The answer is something I’m sure you’ve suspected all along but would rather not face, which is: probably nothing. He isn’t special. He’s quite ordinary, I assure you. Boring, even, and getting less interesting by the minute as he’s forced to confront his absolute lack of heroic purpose except as a pawn to be manipulated by a fatalistic reality." Dear god, is John going to have to fight for control of the narration? As for the first thing Dirk says: well, it's true that John is supposed to represent the everyman, the guy that things happen to instead of that he makes them happen, the audience avatar. Now, if John learns about this fact, he might decide to do something against it, snap out of his stupor.

"Anyone can be endowed with this you-ness, if I think it achieves a certain goal." So, will we switch to other you's later on still, narrator guy?

"Even if the objective is merely to demonstrate the gambit’s potential, to reveal the effortlessness behind it. To make a show of who matters and who doesn’t, and even if they do matter, for how long and for what purpose, as dictated solely by the allocation of this faculty. You-ness can be stripped from the lowly Egbert just as easily as it was given, and then bestowed upon the mighty Serket, but even then only long enough to dismiss the vainglorious spotlight hog from the narrative forever. Good riddance." Note that he's saying the "you-ness" is not meant to imply importance to the story. He's saying the effect is used for show. But then this still IS a story, and showing events is part of telling a story. It's like he's trying to convince us he has control over the story, but his control is PART of the story, so yeah, he still hasn't escaped.

... Good to see Homestuck can still become even more meta, after all this time.

"No, in truth, the time has come to make my presence known in order to start bringing my plans to fruition. It’s time to get down to fucking business.

John needs to wake up." Wow. It's time for Dirk's masterpiece then, taking the biggest control he can ever have, weaving the biggest scheme. To what end, then?

Simply to confront John - in Dirk's eyes, a random character in the story, if one with a lot of focus inside the story - with his existence as a fictional character? Will he guide John to Andrew Hussie's ghost?

Also, will the narration even switch back to black ink, I wonder? If it does, though, we'll still be left with the eery knowledge that what we're reading is, even in the first person, narrated by Dirk.

I'm starting to get the distinct impression that Caliborn didn't just botch his maturation process, he also bodged his god tier process. He still took control of the narration, and "expanded" his consciousness through other means (soul sludge merge), and then took control of his story in the multiverse... only for Paradox Space to still damn him in the end.

Also, didn't John speak through the narration during one of the later Homosuck Acts? When he zapped into Caliborn's room? I wonder if he'll do that again some time quick.

Lastly, I wonder if this is why the epilogues are in text format. So that this thing with the narration works even better. Guess What Pumpkin and VIZ Media are publishing this as a novel.

It's a great use of the format Homestuck exists as on the web, making use of the site's template for good color contrast.

==>

Start of Epilogue Four.

"You wake up.

JOHN: wh-what?" ... Is John going to become aware of the change in narrative 'colour' from the start? Starting to speak in dialogue with it, becoming recalcitrant? ... Is Dirk going to start filling the shoes of WV, Terezi, Karkat and all those poor souls guiding John on his story?

"You finally process the true magnitude of what has happened. The Furthest Ring has been completely destroyed. And you’re all alone." Wow. So, uh, what now? And, what of all the universes inside the sessions in the Furthest Ring? How could they have been destroyed, if Universe C is contained somewhere in there?

"Well, you’re vomiting up everything in your stomach. Rest assured, it’s pretty gross" Well, uh, at least he's now finally gotten rid of all that uncooked meat filling his stomach. Seriously, that probably wasn't being digested all that well.

How long before John acknowledges something is wrong with the narration, I wonder?

"You seriously need to get it together. You look like absolute shit right now, my man. In fact, you really should strongly consider issuing an apology for the mess you’re making." And here we have the first instance of Dirk definitely abusing his power.

"JOHN: i’m... JOHN: i’m sorry." :/ What was even the point of making him do that. Just to upset the MSPA Reader, I suppose.

This is basically: what if Lil Hal was an exile.

"Everyone’s dead." Everybody's dead, Dave.

"Well, almost everyone.

But certainly the vast majority of what qualifies as “everyone” in your current frame of reference." John himself excluded, of course. But see, this implies there are more people around, still alive. ... Then again, the narration wouldn't be lying if there were also still dreambubble ghosts. They'd still be dead, after all.

"And most of your friends—Rose, Dave, absurd Cat Dave, and hundreds of ghosts" Not starring in this list: Jade, Meenah. Of course, unreliable narrator goes without saying at this point.

", who all valiantly contributed to a victory which you’re only now beginning to question the functional necessity of." Well, Rose couldn't see "beyond the story" yet when she sent John on this mission. Care to enlighten us, oh wise and omniscient narrator?

"JOHN: functional... necessity?

JOHN: that... that doesn’t sound like something i would think." Ahhhhhh... That feels good. It took John all of two minutes to figure out something was wrong. I'm honestly quite impressed he wasn't hornswaggled on some crazy MacGuffin hunt first.

"That’s because it’s not." Huh! I'd actually thought Dirk would lead with: 'Yes, it is.' Guess he realizes the jig is up!

"You’ve finally noticed.

No, not me. You go back to ignoring the fact that I’m the voice in your head. You noticed how it hurts when you breathe." Ah. So he just goes right back to forcing John to dance to his tune. Tssh.

"On the other hand, the tooth is poisoned." Uh, how? Why? Poison? ... Yet another way in which Lord English was OP'd.

"So you’re pretty much fucked either way, and that’s really all there is to say on the matter.

JOHN: sigh.

You sigh in painful resignation, and wonder what to do next." Dirk is trying to put John's REAL thoughts into a different context. He's basically replaced the narrative, so... Yeah, this really IS a callback to Pony Pals. God damnit. Who'd have thought that would be foreshadowing THIS.

"English is dead, so you suppose you can go home, right? It’s tempting. You consider zapping back to Earth C, being done with this nightmare for good, and never breathing a word of it to anyone ever again. But you can’t yet, can you?" He can't because he won't, or because you won't let him? Does John want to ensure the safety of Universe C, first? Or will he want to check on Terezi first, potentially (we wouldn't be able to tell) nudged into it by Dirk.

"Why not, you wonder? What’s the harm? You’re right, it would probably be a harmless decision, in the grand scheme of things." ... Don't tell me we'll have ANOTHER split path coming up.

"How about Jade though? She could still be out there somewhere, injured, alone, scared. And it’s your fault, isn’t it?" John turned his back on the body, so he's now unsure what happened to it. It's probably a red herring though, planted by Dirk.

... If it even IS Dirk. I mean, the narration could just as suredly still be coming from Andrew in-universe, and he'll go "tadaa! fooled you twice!" at some point...

"You decide that no matter how terrible you feel, you should look around first before you leave. You were the one who dragged her here. You owe her at least that much. Plus, there’s someone else on your mind, isn’t there?" ... I wonder if Dirk can only influence his thoughts in the Furthest Ring. Actually, I doubt it. Since, when you think about it... Jake fantasizing about Dirk is put into a different light entirely now. As were all the turns of phrases that were perhaps a little too sarcastic for the situation to warrant. I had a few times where I thought: the narration doesn't feel the same, but I put it up to the new format as well as the co-writers. Now, though...

"You proceed to wander for a long fucking time. Time passes differently here than it does for everyone else. Here, I’ll simulate it for you. I just left to go take a piss. Then I microwaved myself a hot pocket. Then I came back. In the time it took me to do that, you just spent hours drifting around the entire circumference of the black hole thinking sad-sack thoughts about the years of inaction that led you to this point, intermittently humming the Ghostbusters theme to yourself. You get so worked up about one of your GB freestyles that you almost miss it." Now Dirk's just showboating. On the other hand, I wouldn't mind hearing a couple of John's Ghostbusters freestyles.

"There. Eleven o’clock. Do you see it? It’s that tiny dot floating over there." Eleven, eh? So, what should I be betting on? Not Jade? Terezi perhaps? Or a random item from a dreambubble?

"You scramble to catch it before it drifts any closer to the event horizon. Got it. What the hell?" Huh, it's something very small? ... Not a firefly, is it? ... If so, in come the theories that it's actually Alternate Calliope.

"It feels familiar, but you want to make sure you’re not imagining it. A wallet. Your dad’s wallet. You chew your lip and press your fingers into the soft leather." What the-... Huh. Well, I was kind of hoping John would have a vision of his Dad, in his dream. This might lead up to something more! I'm reminded of Doomed John seeing a vision of his Dad in the dreambubbles.

So, the ACTUAL wallet ended up in Aradia's hands. John found it left for him on the battlefield, then CD? stole it, Liv Tyler took out the Tumor but gave it to him, CD? was killed by Bec Noir for killing Jade, and he stored the wallet into Lil' Cal. Then Lil' Cal crashed on Alternia with one of the doomed Aradiabots, leading to Aradia finding her frog temple and the Crosbytop. ... So, is there anything left of value in the wallet after all this time? A metric ton of shaving cream, a lighter with a spades symbol... Oh wait, but Spades Slick also got his hands on the Crosbytop, so did he steal the wallet back from Aradia? If so, then the wallet was last present in the B2 session... But if Aradia still had it on her, she took it with her into the Furthest Ring!

"Space is an infinitely large expanse and a wallet is a tiny, insignificant object. Sure, there have been crazier coincidences in the course of this wacky adventure you’ve been having for the past ten years, but this one feels very precisely aimed at your heart.

You take a deep breath, unfold the wallet, and open it." ... So it contains something captchalogued. Cause it sure won't be a Dad note, after all these years and having gone through all those hands, right? ... Right? Now I'm reminded of how Jake had part of his old home captchalogued.

Blaperile jokingly said: "I hope it isn't Aradia or Terezi captchalogued in there", but actually, if there's something to withstand the end of the Furthest Ring, it would be this wallet.

---

... Wow. At least Dirk's tenure as unreliable narrator is rooted in familiar grounds, Lil Hal genre influencing people. And I know I mustn't get my hopes up for ever getting more information about Dad, or seeing something from his youth... But here I am.

[multiphandomunnies]

Rant,,

So I met this girl when I was in sixth grade and we’ll refer to her as Alice. So when we met it was because she was singing a fall out boy song and I was in love with fall out boy at the time so we became easy friends right then and there. Seventh grade we drifted a little because we had no classes but then we were closer in eighth grade as we had every class together. But last year I started to get on Alice’s nerves, it seemed like every time I opened my mouth Alice had a comeback and wanted me to be quiet. Luckily we had that one class together and that was it,, but I’m oblivious to social cues a lot. So I guess when she was ready for me to leave I never took note. Then this year, we were a-okay! We sat next to each other in class and talked a laughed a whole lot. Then Alice’s grandfathers condition got worse and he was very sick. But she didn’t change at all! Only when I left the room. I went to go change in a bathroom near by before practice because I wanted to be on time to practice and not run a lap for being late. When I left the room Alice started yelling things like “I hate her,” “I don’t fucking care if she hears” “she irrates me” and shit like that. When I came back to class she was a little off, like she would snap at all of my words. So I kept quiet, only asking if she was ready to leave for practice and she sounded annoyed when she said yes. I pushed it off and thought it was because she wasn’t looking forward to practice. Before I left another classmate told me what she said to me. I thanked her then ran past Alice and her group of friends then went to the band room and hugged my section for a little bit. Then we did rehearsal and I cried a lot. When two seniors realized it was more than just my knee falling apart they asked me what was wrong and I explained what Alice said when I was gone. They both felt awful but they kept making me look at the positive. That day I left practice early because of a prior arrangement. When I was at the concert that I left early for I got a two paragraphed text from her, explaining how sorry she is. What I do that bothers her and why she gets upset and asked for a second chance. Of course I was going to accept her apology because I haven’t had a friendship as long as the one that I had with her. And recently I feel as if I should’ve told her no and that I was going to accept the apology but not give her a second chance. She yells at me when I don’t hear what she says then I say something similar and she gets pissed. I apologize and she still is in a bad mood. And it’s been like that non stop this week. Four straight days of her being a bitch and she can’t say it’s her period because she told me she doesn’t have it currently. I don’t want to lose her but at the same time I feel like I have to drop her. I guess it just also makes me mad that Alice doesn’t see me as a close friend but I’m there for her when no one else isn’t. I’ve listened to her 1am rants all the time. But if an issue occurs that she should tell me about she doesn’t. I’m hear it from Alice’s conversation with her other friends. She’s also made it clear to me that she doesn’t like a boy that we sit with at lunch but she still sits with him and says he loves him a lot. But he makes jokes about her dead grandfather and other insensitive jokes. But apparently to Alice he’s better than me,,, Like yesterday I was having a bad day, I barely talked to her and complete strangers were more worried about my well being then Alice and other people that are my friends! I’m sorry if this makes no sense I just don’t know how to put how angry and upset I am into words.

[starwriterulia]

Reviewing Brea's Stuff - BTS Soulmate AU (2/2)

PART 2/2 (Rap Monster, Jin, J-Hope, Suga)

HI! \(OwO)/

I want to draw ya'll's attention to one of my friends: @jimin-jungshook-over-literalbae. She's a k-pop reaction/scenario/text writer, and not only have I missed her as a friend so much during my long hiatus, I've also missed her writing. Thankfully, there's a lot for me to catch up on! She asked me to give my opinions on her BTS AUs, and with her permission, I've turned my reviews it into a bit of advertising! If you wanna read the stuff I did, ya'll don't have to scroll super far to find it all. I'll be reviewing each AU from a Reader's Standing (silly, sometimes improper sentences; sO MUCH swearing; caps lock) and from a Critic's Standing (second reading; at least one paragraph).

Yes, that was copy-pasted, but you never know, someone might stumble onto this and be wondering why I'm doing it.

Let's get into this again! >o<

—Faith

Rap Monster (Reader's Standing):

Back-up back stage manager Y/N while the official person is sick, interesting

'His voice, though muffled by the door, is attractive and masculine'—Yes, yes it is.

Shaking hands with soulmate warmth/fire, ooh, wow, that's really cool! I love that, Brea.

aND IT LINGERS

tHEN IT FAdes

'You could feel when he was getting closer, that warmth growing within you'—Is Y/N therefore hot or cold? Hot, definitely hot.

Yes, Namjoon is gorgeous.

Y/N is secretly OCD while sweeping, I just know it.

Fated finding of Namjoon's phone is fated.

Intensifying level of heat to a bonfire was really nice to read, good metaphors, ooh.

He backed Y/N into the dressing table liKE A MONSTER. Yeah all right I need to chill. Brea, do you have some water I could drink, right quick?

*Oh no there's a typo, it's 'breathe' instead of 'breath'. I'm fine. This is OK. :D*

Ooh, Namjoon sensing where Y/N is with heat is such a cool thing!! I love that so much?!

'His fingers burn against the cool skin of your cheek'—*Hisses to add affect* OK wow that was hot. >:)

Y/N confessing their attraction to Namjoon is a win

tHAT KISS WAS LITERALLY HOT AND I LOVED THAT SEQUENCE BREA YOU'RE SO GOOD AT THAT?!

Ooh yes, slightly possessive Namjoon is treat

Evenings spent together? Yes to a classic romance trope.

Fire becomes uncomfortable when Y/N or Namjoon is upset and Namjoon even dispelled a situation, bless that twist

Namjoon's little speech at the end was so beautiful and ugh

Also thanks for the small kisses across the knuckles and—

Oh god it's 'breathe' instead of 'breath' again. Brea I know autocorrect is a bitch, you're not to blame, just leave the typos. XDD

Rap Monster (Critic's Standing):

The scenario for this AU was interesting, and how Brea made sure to remember Y/N's job throughout the story. This review is going to be far shorter because I'm literally taken away by how fun and romantic this was? Fire is such a classic writing tool, and Brea used it so well, in this AU, I just loved it so much. I'm pretty sure this will be my favourite, when I'm done reading Jin's and J-Hope's, 'cause I'm sitting here and I can't find anything I would want to improve on this scenario, in terms of how it played out. Brea, this was perfect.

Jin (Reader's Standing):

I wouldn't be just sitting outside relaxing, I'd be on the look out for sp00ders.

But good solid first paragraph, in other words

Our boys are here and they're disturbing Y/N oh dear

Scared by Seokjin, oh Y/N, he wouldn't hurt a fly. ;w;

Ooh. Soothing soulmate feeling, that's so nice, it's like, the opposite of Namjoon's. Wait, that was your plan, wasn't it? 'Cause it worked, I'm so blown away by how nice this is, so far.

Wait 'figures over yours' Brea you missed the word 'stands'. You might want to fix that, some time. No pressure, relax, my girl. Wait, that was awkward for me, probably for you too, I'm sorry for being a millennial. XDD

Very surreal paragraph as Seokjin helps Y/N stand

Breeze from Seokjin disappears and suddenly Y/N feels stressed again, poor Y/N. :(

oF COURSE IT WAS TAEHYUNG

Good puppy for apologizing, he's so soft.

Yes puppy smiles that blessed my afternoon thank you Brea

Yes, Kim Seokjin is alluring.

And yes he has a beautiful face

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA he knows right away when you hold hands!!!!!!!!!

Sorry for the amount of !'s but wow that was so romantic and I loved it

'I can't leave the children unattended'—Agreed, they're all children

Actor Seokjin is accurate, too

Heart emoji was cute oh my Lord

Good summary of Jin in one paragraph, demonstrates what Y/N learned about him

'His talk form'—EY YO BREA, I FOUND ANOTHER TYPO

He dresses so softly though, ah

Loud laugh and mischievous, yep

Feeding Y/N food, thank you Brea, oh my gosh it's all so cute and just ugh

Aw they fell asleep on the couch

THAT ENDING THO 'PRINCESS' MY LORD SO ROMANTIC SEOKJIN YOU SCALLY-WAG

Jin (Critic's Standing):

This one had such a sweet aesthetic to it, it was so Seokjin, I enjoyed it so much! The guys messing around and disturbing Y/N's rest was on point, and Seokjin shielding Y/N from a baseball ball (try saying that ten times fast) was so princely of him. Timid Y/N was cute, too, and Seokjin again being a prince and helping them stand up. Not to mention the introduction of the calming wind soulmate cue that Y/N and Seokjin have, and how he immediately knows Y/N is his soulmate, that was just so... soap opera-esque, so well done and I loved it. Also, Taehyung apologizing and then smiling like the puppy he is was a bonus.

The first date was fun and pleasant to read, and as I said in the Reader's Standing, I really liked how you included things about Seokjin that Y/N know that ARMY already knows, it was a very nice and natural addition. Jin feeding Y/N was also a win, and the two watching movies and cuddling, then falling asleep on the couch, and Seokjin calling Y/N 'princess' before he left was just so smooth. I'd have to place this one as my current third, after Jungkook's and Namjoon's, who's still in first. Such a romantic and casual scenario, Brea, well done!

J-Hope (Reader's Standing):

Y/N is super busy in this one, hoo boy

Drink carriers are also called cup trays! I love how words can be called different words. :D

OK I need to drink some water hold on... yeah I'm good now, damn I'm getting tired of reading so much romance, my emotions aren't used to this much softness.

Bright red haired J-Hope is great thank you

Love hurts, hell yeah :D

Y/N works for advertising, neat

Ooh look, it's 3/4 of the hyung line!

Dancer Hoseok is accurate as hecc

Realistic company, very nice

'You might be blinded as if the sun were to glint off that smile'—Well, he is our sunshine.

Hello, 'taking a deep breathe' typo, nice to see you again.

MATCHING FLAME TATTOOS COOL

And on opposite arms ooh

Whoa dang that was a long bow and dang Y/N straightened him that was a nice touch

Ye boys and girls it's a dinner date

The tattoo reminds Y/N that this isn't a dream, good catch there Brea

Hoseok admitting that Y/N looks cute was indeed cute

SHINE HOSEOK SHINE oh boy that car ride would have been fun

SURPRISE JIMIN IS A CUTE SURPRISE THANKS BREA

All the boys are here bless you Brea

Cute kiss is cute

And he kisses back of course, aww

AWEUROUEWI Hoseok's hands through Y/N's hair

And 'breathe' again, BREA THIS IS RIDICULOUS I'M TRYING SO HARD NOT TO LAUGH

Such a strong ending, Lord, bless this AU

J-Hope (Critic's Standing):

Y/N in this scenario is so relatable, they're a hard worker and—oh wait, there's Y/N's soulmate and it burns again. I'm serious, I'm not used to reading this much romance, I'm a little tired, want to take a nap but MUST FINISH, c'mon Faith, you've only got one left. That meeting J-Hope on 'accident' (it was fate, we all know it was fate) went together so well, it was very pleasant to read. Then they formally met and Y/N brought him to their office to review the proposal for footage, and Hoseok prompted Y/N to discover their matching flame tattoos, except each was on a different arm, and I thought that was a cool little feature. Not to mention that Hoseok bows low and for a prolonged amount of time before Y/N makes him stand because they think they're equals, that was a really nice touch. The car ride was fun to read, I could totally see Hoseok doing that. And we see the guys again—Jimin first, 'cause that puppy was so excited to see his hyung, apparently—and they seemed to have a really nice time. The fluff at the end was so sweet, and I just... it was so cute, I loved this one. Wouldn't change a thing.

Suga (Reader's Standing):

LAST ONE THANK GOD

This one is probably going to dethrone Jimin as my bias someday because BOY IS SUGA R00D BUT CUTE AND IT FRUSTRATES AND PLEASES ME SO MUCH ugh, I love men

What a relaxing first paragraph...

Good reflexes, whoever saved Y/N

Ooh, icy cold soulmate. That suits Yoongi a lot, somehow.

'staring at him hand at shock'—When the 's' is an 'm' and you can't help but chuckle.

The 'hot' finger across the ice was honestly breathtaking to read, wow

He said 'holy shit' lmao thank you Brea I almost laughed out loud that would have been the end of me having a laptop XDD

WHOA POV CHANGE WHEN Y/N SAYS THEIR FIRST THING BREA YOU REALLY GOT INTO THIS ONE DIDN'T YOU XDDD

Hoseok is here!! Hi sunshine!!

Casual phone number giving is casual and I liked it

GUMMY SMILE THANK YOU BREA

This one is aesthetic too wow

Aw Y/N and Yoongi are both nervous about the whole soulmate thing that's so cute

'His outfit is casually sexy'—Bless you Brea that's such a concept

Speaking of smiles that pull at heart strings, that paragraph pulled at my heart strings.

Very pleasant and casual conversation between Y/N and Yoongi was really nice

The ice spreads oh my Lord that's so cool

The ice also might melt into Y/N's skin wow

Hello Jungkook and Taehyung nice to see you again

Awkward with words Taehyung and then apologizing real fast Taehyung was funny

'I'm glad I'm wrong'—Brea where is the 'I was'??

I thought the dog was Holly but nope it's Yeontan, my bad

Lmao at Yoongi's reaction to Jungkook's comment on how Y/N makes Yoongi happy

Soft kiss to the cheek garners more cool chills, nice

Dinner and movie with Yoongi was very relaxing. Uwu

Literally a very cool kiss, damn

WHY IS THERE NO MORE I'm a little sad now

Suga (Critic's Standing):

Never mind Namjoon's, this one was my favourite. I love how their meeting was so laid-back and romantic but had that literally icy cool soulmate twist to it, I absolutely loved this scenario. It was just a little more sweeter than the others because of how you portrayed Yoongi, and everything he did with Y/N. It was nice to see Hoseok, Taehyung and Jungkook again, and we even got an appearance by Yeontan! The way the ice spread and melted was so pleasing to read, and the little dinner and movie date Y/N and Yoongi had at his apartment was cute. I'm glad this was the one Brea started with, it was so so good!

I really hope Brea does more of these. I'd personally love to see Got7 or Monsta X (though Monsta X a little more, because Wonho has taken over my life). That's it, I'm out of here. >w< Go follow Brea. Do it.

[ua-monoma]

.detention

@ua-katsuki

So this was it, huh.

Bakugou walks in quick strides as he makes his way outside, moving at a slightly faster pace than the usual. With only fifteen minutes before he and Monoma are supposed to be in detention he's not going to take any risks. The last thing he wants is to wind up being punished again on top of the time he's currently serving.

As he heads for the gates — where Monoma said he'd been in the group chat — he wonders back to the game of truth or dare a few days ago, how Monoma had been acting then. How Monoma is acting now. Quiet. Apologetic.

Though everyone else may be quick to accept Monoma's excuse about not feeling well, Bakugou has a vague feeling it isn't just that. There has to be something else going on here. He definitely knows Monoma better than just that.

It doesn't take him long to find Monoma, spotting him sitting in the grass. Staring at his phone. Heading towards him, Bakugou suddenly smacks Monoma over the head with his bag — not enough to hurt him, obviously, but enough to get his attention.

He recognizes that blank stare anywhere. Especially being that he's had that exact same stare before.

"Get up, moron," he snaps. "We need to go." The smack breaks him out of his thoughts, though he's not really thinking much. He's not really. Processing. Much. There were words on the screen that he'd definitely been reading, and there were words on the screen that he'd definitely typed, though the second he looked away, it's as if he'd never...

...

It's hard to grasp what's really happening in his head. It was like trying to see the world through a filter, but instead of a screen of color it was a solid black wall, blocking everything out. Blocking him from himself.

He wants to rest. Or, he thinks he might. Someone has told him he should, that's what it was, so maybe...

He reaches up and touches where the bag had bounced off his head. "Oh." He glances up at Bakugou and then back at his phone, typing a quick message goodbye before he climbs to his feet. "Sorry," he says softly, not sounding particularly quiet, just... distant. "I didn't realize what time it was," he explains, though he vaguely feels like he's maybe said that already, maybe to a different person, he can't remember. "I was losing track..." Bakugou stares at him for a moment, lips pursed. Taking in his posture, his appearance. His reactions. Examining him. Then, adjusting his bag over his shoulder, he manages a grunt. "'S fine. As long as we make it on time, I don't care. Come on," he adds, and motions for Monoma to follow him. "Let's get outta here."

As they walk, Bakugou continues to keep a close eye on Monoma. He should've known. There is definitely something he doesn't quite understand at play here, something he doesn't even think he wants to know about. How someone could go from Monoma had been acting earlier to this in such a short amount of time... It can't be possible.

It's like Monoma has become a completely different person. Not once, but twice. And Bakugou isn't quite sure about how he's expected to respond to it, how he's supposed to in the first place.

However, there's definitely one factor he understands for that, that being the distance gaze in Monoma's eyes. He remembers what it was like when he'd been like that, too — is still like, too, but not nearly as bad as before. Hardly noticeable, but there. Being out of the dorms for the first time in over a week is odd, like he's stepped out of this plane of existence and entered a completely new one... One that is familiar but not, one that feels new but he knows isn't...

"Hey," he says after a few moments. They're not too far from the assigned classroom now, barely going to make it on time. And he's certain it's just going to be the both of them the entire time, two hours of just the both of them sitting in an empty room... Gives me the chance to catch up on work, at least.

Then he realizes he still hasn't spoken. "You," he says, "have a lot of explaining to do. About what's going on. And I don't wanna hear crap excuses, you hear me?" Monoma is still rubbing that little spot on his head that Bakugou had hit. It's not like it... hurts at all, not really. More like he kind of wants it to. More like he's remembering something bad and remembers how it felt and is wondering how something could possibly exist as a sensation that doesn't feel as bad as that.  He kind of wishes it was hurting, or, still hurting, because then he wouldn't have to think about how it had hurt, which made no sense, but it's what's drilling-.. driving into him... Stealing every thought away.

He wishes he could rest somewhere.

"... Okay," Monoma answers quietly. For half a second, he almost blurts the truth out. It would've been easy to, like this. Though, he wouldn't have known how to start. There were videos, apparently, and he had them on his phone, a little treat that Toga decided would be useful for him once she'd returned the device to him. He could always show him. That seems easier than having to explain- no, but what had that Deku said? Did he mention any of his secret wants? His desires? Did it reveal what he was doing? What even brought him to that place?

No.

Better to lie about it. But what was he supposed to say? Toga had given him instructions on how to adapt. Deku had as well. He barely remembers them though. Something about being sick. Something about pills. Something. His head hurts, or, wants to hurt, and he can't stop thinking about that. That's probably a crap excuse, though, isnt it...? And he doesn't want to give Bakugou any grief.

They get to the classroom, and he's listless as he finds his desk. There's a teacher there to make sure that they are in place before they're left alone, which... Monoma doesn't like but also can barely concentrate on. He's still thinking about Bakugou's demands. He's still... having trouble... thinking about what he should say...

"... I guess... I'm not... feeling well," he mumbles to his desk, nails digging in lightly to where they're still pressed to his head. "And I haven't been, for a while... aha...." Bakugou sits at a desk several rows away from Monoma, merely offering a nod in acknowledgement until the teacher gets up and leaves the classroom; at which point he slams his bag down on the ground and then marches over to Monoma, slamming his hands down on Monoma's desk and gazing at him quite seriously.

"It isn't just that, though," he insists, the tone of his voice leaving no room for argument. "There's something else going on, isn't there? Something you're not telling me." Then, suddenly, it hits him — like a punch to the stomach, and he reels. It didn't have to with the other night, did it? When we...?

He shakes his head at that thought. No. This isn't about that. This is... Bakugou has never seen Monoma like this before. Never seen him in this state, closed off from the rest of the world... It's such a terrible thing to see in person, and Bakugou briefly wonders if that's what Monoma had seen in him during their fight.

He groans. "Fine," he says. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. It seems pretty serious." However, his volume rises slightly as he adds, "But you'd better be talking care of yourself, you hear me? If not I'll kick your sorry ass!"

With that, he returns to his own desk and sits down. Monoma blinks, staring impassively as Bakugou struggles through his words. It's almost funny, though he can't really find the humor in him to really laugh about it. It's... almost a lot of things, but nothing he can really place right now.

His eyes follow him as he returns to his desk. He finally brings his hand away from his head, folding his arms on the desk  before he lays against them, sighing as the cold surface presses against his cheek. He closes his eyes for a second before he's opening them again, turning his head to watch Bakugou settling into his seat.

"... You really care about me, huh...?" he asks slowly, his voice soft, almost fond. "Trying to make sure I take care of myself... that's kind of funny." His eyes close again, though he's not really tired... more just drifting. "Can't say I mind the attention, really..." Bakugou merely grunts in response, already reaching for his bag in order to pull out some of the work that needs to be done; and, being that it's been seven school days since the last time he was in class, it's quite a lot to catch up on.

"Well, you're going to have to get used to it either way," he responds at last, resting his face against one hand as he opens up a book and begins to gloss his eyes over the text inside. The words seem to blend together, blur and dissolve. Being that he hasn't slept well in days and he's currently sitting in a quiet, empty classroom, staying awake isn't exactly an easy feat. "We're going to be stuck with each other for a while."

Truthfully, Bakugou isn't too fond of the idea. Not after... what happened. His lips tingle at the memory and the hand rested against his cheek subconsciously clenches. He blinks slowly, taking in a short breath and urging himself to focus.

So he really doesn't want to talk about what's been going on lately, then, Bakugou considers, especially after the truth or dare game. It's almost like... he hadn't been there at all. He falls silent. Monoma's eyes flit open again. He's back to watching Bakugou quietly, vaguely trying to read his thoughts through the expressions passing on his face. He seems upset. Bakugou upset for him seems like a nice thought, for a little bit.

He sighs. "Is that such a bad thing...? Being stuck together." He shifts slightly, hair falling further into his face as he does. "I was kind of hoping you'd of grown to tolerate my presence just a little bit... considering all the time we've spent. ... Does it really bother you?" "Honestly," Bakugou replies, looking up from his reading and giving Monoma a brief glance before returning to the paragraph his brain refuses to let him pass, "I don't want to be around anyone right now." Not after the kidnappings. Not after the hospital. Not after Deku.

"You're fine," he adds a moment later, realizing he hasn't done much to answer the actual question. "There are worse people I could be stuck in detention with. That's it." Monoma nods a little. "It's going to make a funny story, in any case..." he sighs, talking more to keep himself from dozing off. "If people aren't already gossiping about it all. Us, alone..." He smiles vaguely. "In detention, of all places..."

Laughing softly, he sighs again. "The troublemakers of our year... That'll be something to write about in ten years, when we're both pros... hah..." Bakugou casts a side glance at Monoma, not at al appreciating the half-assed responses - but, then again, he supposes there’s been a lot going on with Monoma lately. The exhaustion, the distance… It isn’t as if there’s no justification behind it… Turning away, Bakugou returns his attention to the work in front of him.

“I get that you’re tired,” he says, “but you probably shouldn’t sleep here. If a teacher walks in and sees you napping through your punishment it isn’t gonna turn out well for you.” However, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t tired himself.

It’s silent for a few moments. Then he says, “Thanks… for the other day.” "Don't tell me what to do," Monoma mumbles out automatically. "Things aren't turning out well at all anyway, I hardly care..."

Then, shifting a little, he lifts his head, mimicking the way Bakugou has his head propped up against his arm as he stares him down. "Mm... you're welcome. I have to assume, since you're thanking me, that it helped a little? I'm glad..." He smiles again, still as vague and distant as everything else. "I do have to say, though, thinking about it... it was very unlike you. But, if it helped, it helped, mm...? Again..." His smile edges closer to a devious grin, albeit a weak one. "It makes for a funny story." "Yeah, I know," Bakugou replies, more of a mutter than anything. He grimaces at remembering his own actions, how vulnerable he'd made himself and how he must've looked, being in such a pathetic state. He hates it, the thought that anyone should be able to see him at anything but his best, his strongest... And yet... "It wasn't like me at all. I had... I had no idea what the hell I was doing."

I still don't, he wants to add, but resists. He shifts his gaze and makes eye contact with Monoma. "And it's not funny. It's stupid. It shouldn't have happened in the first place." He turns away. "I don't have time for that kind of thing. I need to focus on hero work and that's it. Can't believe I even managed to let myself get distracted for this long already." Monoma hums out a thoughtful note. "I think you like being distracted," he muses, voice lowering into a sly purr. "You at least realizes it helps. And you need the help, don't you...?" He  pauses, quieting long enough to wonder to himself what he was doing before he brushes the thought away, banishing it to that far-away place inside him that the rest of his identity seemed to have hid itself away in.

"Are you taking your own advice, Bakugou?" he asks. "Have you been taking care of yourself? You look tired." He's smirking now, snickering quietly. "Maybe you need more of my help, hmmm?" Bakugou doesn't flinch at the suggestion. In fact, he isn't even surprised. Rather, he lowers his gaze and, for what feels like the thousandth time, regards his bandaged arms, the unhealed burns that exist beneath them. From the fight. From Monoma. Not even Izuku had been able to do that kind of damage since their last fight, and even so... It's odd, how he enjoys them being there. How their mere existence affirms the strength that exists within Monoma, too, something Bakugou had grossly underestimated...

Kissing Monoma is different. Everything about Monoma is different. New. Refreshing. Unlike Izuku, who Bakugou's known for his whole life... He hardly knows anything about Monoma. He can't read him, predict him, and it's an exciting feeling, not knowing what the other is going to do next. He has to stay cautious, stay on his toes, and see what happens.

Regardless... Maybe, just this once, Monoma is right.

Slowly, Bakugou begins to push out of his chair. "Fine." Monoma's eyebrows raises. The scrape of the chair as it was pushed back seemed incredibly loud in the otherwise silent room, demanding his attention, and he blinks as he watches Bakugou start to rise up. "Hm? What? Really? Ha..."

It was the same as before, wasn't it? The way he flirts and teases, playing this little game with his words and never really catching on that he was actually, seriously trying - and succeeding - at lurking Bakugou in. That was a nice little feeling. A powerful one. His heart actually starts to feel like it's beating again, just a teeny tiny bit.

"... What if a teacher walks in? You can't exactly call this a punishment." Another weak, playful smile. "Unless that's what this is all really about. ... What do you think?" Bakugou, standing, glances towards the door. He squints for a few seconds, considering, before he walks over and clicks the button on the handle; subsequently locking them inside. "There," he says, and turns away. "Now nobody can get in. Happy?"

Then, walking towards Monoma, he stops at the desk in front of Monoma's and pulls out the chair, not caring about the sound it makes as he drags it. Though aware that doing this is only giving Monoma what he wants, he can't help himself. Possibly — probably — this is something he might want, too.

He settles it at the side of Monoma's desk and sits down, now only several inches away from him as he grasps Monoma by the shirt and brings him closer. Monoma almost wants to laugh as Bakugou locks the door. It's a nervous little giggle that burbles up in his chest, though he can't really place the reason why. Suddenly, he's claustrophobic.  Suddenly, his clothes are too tight, and his skin is suffocating, and there's no air in the room, and it's just him and Bakugou and all the thoughts and scars between them. His heart starts racing as he comes closer, and closer, and it's almost exactly like it was before, the way he's grabbed and simply pulled in.

He makes a small, fragile sound as their lips meet again. All over again, he's marveling at how soft they are, how delicately he's kissed, how this seemed to be the one thing Bakugou was still awkward and out of his element for. That especially was what was so addicting about it all.

It takes him a moment to kiss back. Truthfully, he's still feeling dazed, still a little disoriented, the memory of who kissed him last and how still sharp where it sat in his mind. But, after a few seconds of shock, he finally does with another noise muffled into the back of his throat, eyes slipping shut as their lips move  together. Bakugou's hands move instinctively to Monoma's upper arms, holding him there as he lists his head and deepens the contact. Mentally he memorizes the contours of Monoma's mouth, now they feel and how he kisses. It's frustrating, how Monoma can seem to do this so effortlessly, and Bakugou is only left with the sudden need to better him.

Eventually, he pulls away. He drops his head against Monoma's shoulder, letting out a breath as he works to, for the umpteenth time, regain his composure. It doesn't feel right, doing this with anyone but Izuku — because, back then, even if it had been a little awkward it was still them, they were both crap at this kind of thing...

"'S stupid," he says against Monoma, voice muffled. "I don't understand how anyone can handle it." And by it he means change, and how anyone could possibly manage to adjust when life takes a sudden turn — what the correct way to go about things is and what isn't. Just what to do.

He doesn't say all that, though. Instead he slumps against the other and manages an exhausted groan, wishing he could be asleep again. Anything sounds better than this. This was one of the parts he likes. When he can almost taste Bakugou's frustration and exhaustion nearly brimming past his skin, when he just stops and collapses into him. He likes how that feels, having his body against his. He likes being clutched on to. He moves automatically as his head falls against his shoulder, his own tilting towards him so he could plant a few kisses atop his head.

Then, he reaches up and wraps his arms around him, drawing him closer. It's a little awkward, and more than a little uncomfortable, what with the way their chairs are positioned, but he can't help but try and pull him in, as best as he can. His fingers dig a little into his back, the back of his shirt gathered into bunches inside his fists. Clinging to someone felt nice and bittersweet, a painful sort of comfort that honestly felt like it hurt more than it helped.

"... I don't think anyone can," he answers quietly, though he's not sure exactly what he's trying to convey. Maybe he's just thinking about breaking. Yeah. That sounds about right. It's the only thing he feels certain of in this moment, that the second he lets go of the boy in his arms, something inside him very well may shatter.

"..."

He kisses Bakugou's temple before he rests his head against his, sighing as he breathes the sweet smell of him in.

[kieren-fucking-walker]

this is me asking about ur wips

This is so open ended and I love it but remember you asked for it so i’m gonna give the rundown:(These are all for DGHDA btw)

To Know series:Dirk Gently - Part 3 and the culmination of the main story I wanted to write. (There will be two add ons). This is my current priority but it’s being stubborn af and hard to write and I can’t work out why. It’s going to be angsty but hopefully toned more bittersweet than all out angst like the last ones. (All going well it should have a happy/hopeful ending but we’ll see.)Dirk Gently (Part 2): 1st Optional add on to main series, will look at Dirk when we first met him and follow him through the events of the first season. I have bits and pieces planned out for this but it’s not my first priority because i think this one might give me a bit of trouble too. Todd Brotzman: 2nd Optional add on to main series. Will be Brotzly (I couldn’t resist). Will be set after S2, will look at Todd/the relationship through Dirk’s eyes, will involve past-sharing, will not be too angsty (with luck). Currently have quite a bit of this one planned out but I need to get the other written first to make it come out properly. I’m excited for this one, it’ll be very cathartic and lovely to write I think.

(Under a cut bc this post got hella long)

My AU:Angels and Demons, baby. Todd is a disgruntled angel who is grounded for reasons that will not be told until the story. He’s not fallen but he’s definitely been sent to time out for doing something that’s actually wayyyy worse than anyone realises. Dirk is a… happy go lucky demon? He’s a dodgy little shit but he’s not evil. He has a backstory that I’m having hella fun planning and working out the dynamics for this world is super fun. They’re gonna fix the universe with help from their friends. Featuring: Punk Angel Amanda who got sick of the rules and fell to earth so she could actually help instead of watch. The Rowdies as Hellhounds. Farah as a fierce warrior angel (who bends the rules to talk to Todd and Amanda). Dirk’s dubious ‘demonic’ activity (is it evil or is he just weird, who knows?). Todd who can’t stop getting his feathers in a bunch. Blackwing being literally Hell. Some very painful Icarus references. Some super duper sweet romance all worked up in the middle there. Awkward courting and enthusiastic gestures on both sides. It’ll be good when I actually get round to writing it.Other Bits and Pieces:Todd the walking fashion disaster: A WIP I have had almost finished since Shapes and Colours aired (I know, I know). That outfit is too good for Todd to have managed to put it together, Dirk dressed him (fite me). Featuring: bad fashion, gay thoughts. It only needs like, 1 more paragraph to be finished and yet. Technically the first fic I wrote for this fandom but it’s not finished and doesn’t count. Soft Domestic Bullshit: It’s so fluffy it makes me sick looking at it. I’m not really a fluff writer so I set myself this challenge and it’s actually coming along quite nicely. If you wanna know what a grossly cute quiet morning in bed for Todd and Dirk looks like this is the one for you. The “almost too emo to be porn” porn: It’s working title is “they have sex, todd cries”. Porn is a rarity for me so we’ll see if it ever sees the light of AO3 BUT it’s been wonderful and therapeutic and lovely to write so far. It’s very emo. Something Else: Not angst, not fluff, not really any category. How Dirk and Todd come to see each other as home. Okay. Maybe it’s fluff. Another one that comes in stops and starts but I’m enjoying playing around with. Dirk Gently holds his cards close to his chest (but he might let you peek if you’re nice): A one shot about how I think the most likely way Dirk would tell Todd about Blackwing would go. Not difficult to write in a traditional sense, but hard to pace. Lots of insecurities. I’ve been working on this one for ages and it’s very much slow and steady but getting there. Meet the Parents, ‘where the hell have you been young man?’ Edition: Todd’s parents have been worried sick about him and Amanda just up and disappearing. They turn up at the agency and Dirk is thoroughly unprepared for this. Mostly based off of Todd’s “can I at least call my parents?” line from s2 ep1. He knows they’ll worry. Some kind of closure: Riggins comes to Dirk looking for forgiveness. They talk. It’s a lot, but he does get something out of it. A favourite of mine right now. How Farah Black Realised She’s A Lesbian: A prompt I got the other day that sent me into a writing flurry. It’s such a good idea and I’m loving this one but I’ve hit a road block. Honestly the free-est easiest one to write right now. Markings (Brotzly): Something someone prompted me with ages ago that I think was intended as nsfw but I just made it angsty. And cute in parts! Definitely cute but there’s angst in there too. An all out angst fest featuring Mr Priest: This is one I’m writing mostly for my own amusement and may never see the light of day but he’s a fun character to write and when I’m struggling making headway with some of the ones I take more seriously I like to hash it out over here in this WIP. The 7 other prompts in my inbox: I’m working on them I swear. Most likely to be drabbles/short installments. I like to use prompts as quick exercises when I’m stuck/dragged down by bigger projects and some of you guys have the best imaginations so I’m incredibly thankful for them. These will see the light of day at some point I promise. And there we have it. Most of these are literally a couple of paragraphs from being finished and I struggle the most with endings but I’m determined not to abandon them so here are some things you can expect to see coming your way over the next few months from me. I may well have forgotten some but as you can see I have an over active imagination and have given myself a lot to do BUT multiple projects at once is how I work best and it’ll be the luck of the draw what gets written first. Sorry this is so long. If any of you want to ask more about any of these please do, talking about stuff I’m working on helps me keep inspired and makes me feel like I have to do it because someone knows about it. Thank you SO much for asking. I feel better having just written this all out.