#time to fucking bring him back in voice clips and pictures and snippets

[theconfusedartist]

hehe have internet back. I'm talking yet again~

but like, I get it. Shaun and Rebecca aren't going to get close to Desmond after what happened to Clay (hence why they always call him 16, don't give Desmond the full disclosure on what happened) because it's easier to keep an emotional distance. They're assassins after all, and if they already know that Desmond is most likely going to die, what's the point in getting close? Another death, another 'occupational hazard' in the making.

Rebecca worked with Clay, knew who he was, but it's easier to refer to him by number rather than think of him as a person that met a bloody end. Shaun is probably thinking about the fact that the last time they had someone who interacted with the animus into the order, they murdered the mentor (Daniel), so who's to say that Desmond isn't a sleeper agent? They see him going through the bleeding effect, they hear him screaming in his sleep, they can tell he's losing it. It would be so much harder emotionally to get close to him only for him to die, so they keep their distance and let Lucy handle it.

And on Lucy's part, it's just another animus subject she has to watch fall to pieces, another person whose personality gets eroded away to nothing as they lose all sense of self. How many times had she asked for extraction? How many times of her pleas for help being ignored?

No one is coming to save them. She learned that in the seven years as a mole, forced to work alone without any backup or real communication, it's only a matter of time before he ends up like everyone of the other subjects she had to see die.

So for Shaun, Rebecca, and Lucy, why would they start treating Desmond like a friend or a real member of the team? To them it's inevitable that Desmond will have a painful end, but they got back Lucy, right? At least there's an upside.

And as for Desmond? He's going insane and no matter how much he tells them, no matter how much they see it happening; no one is coming to save him. Sure, he might be willingly going into the animus, but he better not complain! After all, 'he agreed to this'. It's not like he can ask to leave, because for all the narrative and team want to paint retrieving Desmond as a rescue, they aren't going to give him a choice in going back to the animus. The only difference in situation with the Assassins is that he isn't being forced into a coma, because he willingly agreed to it, but what would happen if he didn't?

Desmond only really has Lucy to ask for support, and she's busy setting up enough emotional walls so she doesn't get hurt, that it's a shadow of a relationship. They don't give him answers because they expect him to die anyways, so what's the point? For all the assassins talk about freedom and choice, they have very little to spare for their members in the modern day.

And maybe thats why the modern assassins revere the ancient assassins so much, they're a tale of what the order *should* be, what they were *told* they were fighting for, even as it's not practiced in their own modern order.

By the time AC3 has rolled around, the group has been around long enough and weathered enough together that at least they can have *fleeting* conversations about the big things; Lucy's death and apparent betrayal, Clay being left to die, but only in hurried and hushed whispers. What was already a fragile working relationship is strained by William.

The same William that claims he had 'no clue' that Lucy had turned traitor, but conviently leaves out the fact that he left her in enemy territory with no way out. The same William that lays Clay's death at Lucy's feet, despite the fact that there are emails to prove that William will push whatever limits he needs to in order to get info, no matter who it is.

The same William that treats the deaths of his members as 'occupational hazards' and leaves bodies and bases behind to the templars, even knowing that they're scraping their bodies and DNA for any information they can find. The same William that treats the death of his members as if they're all pieces on a board instead of real loves being lost.

The same William willing to punch his own son in front of other people just for asking to be treating with respect.

Like. I get it.

This is the mentor of the assassin order and he's willing to let his son go insane, willing to hit his son for speaking up, and somehow incompetent enough to get caught by the templars. He keeps plugging Desmond into the animus when he goes into a coma or into a fainting spell, because if he's going to die, might as well get as much from him as they can.

By the time it's clear that Desmond is going to die, they've been expecting it for months now, it's not a relief or anything they were expecting because despite how hard they tried to distance themselves from Desmond--it's hard to treat him like a number when he's alive in front of them.

Desmond dies, and all they have are regrets, wishing that they had memories of a friend rather than someone they knew as a walking USB for historical archives. Desmond dies and no one gets closure because the templars are still a problem so they gotta keep moving.

And Desmond dies to save the world, his entire life orchestrated to the final notes, knowing that every choice he thought was his own was carefully planned from the start.

maybe my desmond tags were a bit spicy but i said what i said

The modern team was a group of friends with Desmond as their work friend/colleague

Not hateful or anything, not malicious. They just... they ain't close like that, unfortunately

[lilac-den]

" your cuteness is making everyone stare. stop it. "

with Dolos, please? 🥺 sorry if this is late oh and thank you for the lovely if author :D

Thank you, anon, for the ask and the appreciation! :D Now onwards to the snippet!

Dolos x MC

It's during some fancy party of sorts, a formal event or something. Dolos has been through all sorts of these events, most of them to infiltrate and extract secrets. This time though, it's more of a social obligation; just a wedding for a friend of [Name]'s.

Much to the surprise of everyone, [Name] brought Dolos along as their plus one. Normally, this would give Dolos opportunities to flirt with [Name] grandly. After all, what romantic partner wouldn't attempt to flirt with one another?

But [Name] has a charm that flocks many to them, like moths to a flame. A fact that Dolos has always known, way before any of these arschlöcher* even got to breathe the same air as [Name].

Unfortunately, Dolos can't do anything about it because some of them are friends [Name] hadn't gotten to see for such a long time. Seeing the happy expression on their face, Dolos can tell they'd been wanting to catch up.

So Dolos simply resorts to sipping on their drink and keeping a watch on [Name], smartly dressed in a formal, dark green suit and black tie. Sometimes, Dolos admires the way a certain angle brings out a picture-perfect view and mentally maps out every inch and centimetre of [Name]'s expression. They dart their eyes to the bride and groom of the wedding, eying the dress and suit.

[Name] in a wedding dress or suit...That's some artistic inspiration right there.

"Hello."

Dolos's almost good mood dwindles away at that greeting, leaving a mental sigh in their wake before they turn to the owner with a courteous smile.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe we know each other."

Dolos is hoping that'll drive this stranger away - a man with slick back hair and an annoying grin on his face. Sadly, the man doesn't seem to get the message.

"I was wondering if a lovely, lonely soul like you would like a dance."

Smile. "Not interested."

"Oh, are you sure? I can-"

Dolos places a hand on the seat next to them in quick succession. "This seat is taken." Their tone is clipped and their gaze is cold. Normally, Dolos would let the person finish asking to avoid any assumptions or social disputes.

But fuck, was this bitch predictable? The way he's leaning closer than he should, how his smile is fixed and practised and even the way his eyes kept glancing down at their body instead of up to their face.

And he still has the audacity to try suggesting he can sit next to them, on a seat reserved for [Name]? Fat fucking chance.

"Dolly!"

A pleasant shiver runs down their back and they turn to the source, smiling widely at seeing [Name] walking up to them.

Then Dolos notice the smile is a bit tenser than what they were wearing earlier. No, not tense - sharper is probably more accurate.

"Who's your new friend?"

"Just someone minding someone else's business."

"Oh," [Name] smiles at the man, who is already opening his mouth to have a way of speech. Just when Dolos is tempted to stomp on the guy's foot with all the frustration they can put in, [Name] is moving between them and him. "In that case, thank you for your company but I'll take it from here."

The guy blinks, his eyes darting between Dolos and [Name]. When they land back on the latter, the stranger gives a grin that sets Dolos's blood boiling. "Oh. Then in that case, would a cutie like you be willing to-"

Dolos grasps [Name]'s hand in theirs and hooks their fingers together. Holding it up, almost right at his face, Dolos's voice drips with a hostile warning. "They're with me." Dolos doesn't even try to hide their anger. "Get the hint and get lost."

The stranger stands, shell-shocked. Just a glare from Dolos reminds him of his place and runs off packing. If Dolos imagines hard enough, they can see a tail tucked between his legs.

"Dolos?" [Name] asks, "You feeling alright?"

"Your cuteness is making everyone stare."

Dolos almost cringe at how desperate they sounded; how much have they drunk?

Dolos blinks upon the touch of a hand, one that sets their heart at ease in an instant. [Name]'s eyes are watching them now, scanning. Then Dolos gives a growl.

"Stop it."

[Name] tilts their head innocently. How cute are they to do that and leave them wanting? "Stop what?"

Dolos groans and resorts to wrapping their arms around [Name]'s waist. "Your cuteness," They answer as if they're stating the obvious, "you're using it to your advantage."

At this, [Name] puffs out a laugh. Didn't I just tell you to stop with the cuteness? You're making it harder for me to be intimidating, Dolos thinks with a possessive, internal groan.

"Dolos." [Name] calls them with that amused tone, both hands now on their cheeks. Dolos sighs and the tension leaves their body. But it doesn't escape their attention at [Name] suddenly climbing onto their lap, fitting each other like puzzle pieces.

A foxy grin stretches their lips.

"Tweety bird," a purr rumbles out of them, "is that vinegar I smell?**"

[Name] got cuter at the first signs of embarrassment on their face, those pretty eyes darting to the side as they act defiant. "What gave you that idea?"

"Hm..." Dolos gives a hum, hands grasping at the thighs before roaming upwards to the waist and hips, fingers being filled in [Name]'s flesh. "Just thought I smelled a burnt pride after what you did to the poor guy earlier. You didn't even let him finish his sentences."

"I didn't prevent him from finishing them." [Name] says in such a matter-of-fact tone, they might be able to convince someone else. Shame Dolos is the master of deceit and smells a lie from a mile away. "I just cut down right to the chase."

"Then you won't mind if I bring him back and let him finish what he was trying to say?"

The flare in [Name]'s eyes spark and they grab hold of their tie. Without missing a beat, they pull Dolos so close, their breaths nearly mingle together. A warmth spreads through their chest.

"Not a chance."

Dolos chuckles, low and quiet. Their arms tighten around [Name] in an embrace far too intimate to be anything other than a lover's.

"Then should we fly out of here and head back to our nest, my pretty, tweety bird?"

The smile in their eyes is all the reward Dolos needs.

----

*arschlöcher - assholes (arschloch - asshole)

**vinegar - in Chinese culture, drinking vinegar can also mean jealousy.

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

Hey, did you saw the film theory on Invader Zim on Membrane that Low-key makes sense

NO. IT. DOESN’T!

Okay, maybe this is my personal bias shining through, because I really don’t like Mattpatt sometimes... No. Okay, I have nothing against the guy personally. More frankly, I don’t like his fanbase or the way he structures his videos.

The way Mattpatt words and structures his videos acts like he’s the first person who thought of this idea, it’s the main contributor to why I stopped watching his videos a long time ago.

He speaks in a lot of rhetorics and strawman arguments rather than just saying what he wants to say. Like “If you don’t believe me... look no further then...” and that’s the one thing I ABSOLUTELY HATE on theory videos.

And some of Mattpatts own theories he doesn’t take seriously, but this is what you get when you base your INCOME off of youtube ad revenue and browse the reddit forums for new ideas. A completely monopolized way of theorizing. (and this is why there are several paragraphs in my current chapter of Tech Support of Zim’s Computer complaining about the concept of youtube entertainment in general.)

Sure, I don’t think Mattpatt will run out of theories... but I really hate the structure of his videos follows along strawman arguments, acting like he’s always arguing with an imaginary audience for entertainment value rather than just say what he wants to say.

That, and people will often cling to theories of someone with good editing software and a youtube channel then Their own opinions.

Something that I learned was incredibly dangerous to do. I learned my lesson with “That Guy with the Glasses dot com” and I don’t plan to act like I know something or am better than someone else cause I agree with someone who said something on youtube once.

I do watch Internet reviews and theory videos for entertainment, but that’s all they are to me. I don’t like to watch youtube videos to give me opinions on how I feel about things. And I seriously think a wide margin of his subscribers lack critical thinking skills at times, as well as a majority of the youtube audience, or from what I’ve seen in the comment section.

However, remember... These are just my thoughts on the matter... My thoughts are not law and I never claim them to be.

Like when I first joined the fandom and posed my GIR analysis questions... I even said:

“I don’t know if the fandom has talked about this in depth or not... I just got here... or if someone put it into this many words before but...”  

Also... the thing that bothers me about his Invader Zim theory...

A lot of Mattpatt’s sources are just..... Wrong...

(for the next few minutes I will be talking about this video, feel free to watch or don’t)

Okay.. “Membrane is an Irken” this has been a popular fan theory since before I even entered the fandom and there are old fics about this. I have read Irken Membrane stories before.

It’s not personally my cup of tea, but it’s fun to think about.

But the straws Mattpatt grasps in his video.... Really upset me because there is some thought to the theory back in the day.. ... Like back in 2002??? but like.... NOW?!

Okay, I’ll pick apart this a little... bit by bit...

He says that Membrane takes a hard stance against anything paranormal.

Kinda... but no.. Membrane never outright denies the existence of aliens. (except in ETF... which he mainly says out of frustration...) This is what Membrane says about “there are no aliens” in the show:

Membrane just says that there are no “intelligent” aliens...None that are able to travel the massive distance to Earth, anyways... If aliens existed at all, (like the cryptoids Dib talks of) they would have traveled the distance to the planet and communicated with them by now.

However, this is a nitpick of a minor issue. One that a majority of the fandom tends to overlook when viewing Professor Membrane and Dib’s relationship in general. 

And I do find it weird that he used this for evidence when he cut out the most important snippet from the full lecture he gives Dib here.... JUST to support his claim... as if he’s intentionally leaving that part out.... hmmmm

However, I can let this slide, because it’s a nitpick and really doesn’t change anything that Membrane is very dissuasive of Dib’s alien-hunting hobbies. (I have a theory as to why and I explain it here in my own way)

The point is, Membrane is dismissive of anything alien... maybe because he’s an Irken...okay, good, yes. fair. 

A lot of Mattpatts claims from then on are pretty solid, and I won’t bunk them with “But in my headcanon/Fanfic verse...”  Because what he is saying is all true.

Membrane denying the existence of aliens even after being taken to space jail doesn’t have much of an explanation and is played for comedy and there are many ways you can go with this, and I am not going to bring up my fanfics or my own headcanons to argue with him here.

Because there is no explanation, and he is going with the “Membrane is Irken” theory... So that’s very solid when he’s talking about Membrane denying the Hallucinations. 

Mattpatt claimed that Membrane wore his face covering at all times and had been dressed this way since he was a child.

I will not deny this. This is true.

However, isn’t bringing up Membrane’s childhood kinda put a hole in your own argument?

MEMBRANE WAS A CHILD.

He had been shown to have childhood memories in the comics and the show.

Irkens don’t really have a “Childhood” per say, at least not in the way that humans do. They are a smeet, then elite, then Invader..

If he’s claiming that Membrane came to earth as an Irken SMEET....How, why, and when? 

That kinda raises more questions than it answers.... What are you proving by bringing up Membrane’s baby pictures on Earth exactly? It kind of works against your own argument? 

Saying that they’re Irken because they all have the same hair.... that’s just stupid... and he’s citing the Invader Zim wiki on this .... oh boy.

Yeah, Like before I watched the show I thought Dib and Disguised Zim were the same character or brothers...

But I don’t think character design here is a solid enough reason in this case... At least not when it comes to the hairstyles... That’s a stretch.

“Hmmm Membrane’s hair forms an M shape... What could the M stand for? Mirken?! SUSPICIOUS!” (this is just a joke)

Also... the lack of ears thing... He did say it would be hard for Membrane to hear if his headpiece was covering his ears, but not necessarily... The entire thing is a headset and he is the man of science, he can really do whatever the fuck he wants cause Science is like magic in a show like this. So if Membrane wears a headset that doesn’t obstruct his hearing at all, I can buy it... Also.. it’s equally possible his ears got blown off in a chem lab accident or he’s legally deaf and that headset acts as a hearing aide and HELPS him hear... 

Actually, I always noticed how in Membrane’s original design from the show, the headset looked a lot like a hearing aid. Specifically one with a head clip, It’s one of the things I first noticed about his design in the show.

And it’s just something I always assumed because he’s a scientist who deals with explosions in his face on a daily basis... (in fact he experiences one in episode 2B) So on first viewing, I thought that his headset served as a hearing aid as well as prescription glasses and a communication device. 

I’m just throwing out possibilities because the “lack of ears” is also kinda a stretch.

Mattpatt complaining about “lack of nose” however... Okay, yeah I’ll give him that one. It’s a character design choice that is a little odd for Professor Membrane, but it does fit with the Irken theory, since a majority of human characters, in fact, all have noses. So, Yes the “lack of nose” does fit more into the Irken theory. 

However.... Florpus anime Membrane DOES have a nose...

Meant to be drawn in a more semi-realistic artsyle, you can clearly see the bridge of his nose here.

And he looks very similar to anime Dib... Sooooo... Shrug-city... 

It’s likely that Membrane not having a nose in the show is simply a stylistic choice than anything else. Basically, the bridge of the nose is there... we just don’t see it.

Especially since Nightmare Membrane has a nose as well..

Membrane is like Home Improvement’s Wilson. We will never see his face, and that’s part of the gag. The man probably sleeps in his labcoat honestly...

I also find the voice pattern thing a bit of a stretch. Membrane and Zim are just eccentric characters who yell to emote or emphasize a point or emote stronger. And Membrane’s inflections are never the same as Zim’s.

Remember, no other Irken TALKS like Zim. Professor Membrane doesn’t really go around screaming: “I AM PROFESSOR MEMBRANE” either..... 

If anything... it just kinda proves both characters have auditory processing issues or hearing problems more then anything.

And there is a lot of screaming on this show.... Screaming from Dib, screaming from Membrane, Screaming from GIR, screaming from Zim... Screaming is funny... and characters scream so much that the characters with their mouths wide open is somewhat a staple of the show.

This is more because of Johnen Vasquez’s voice direction...

Especially since no other Irken really talks like Zim..

Zim’s manor of Speach is strictly a Zim thing and not an Irken thing.

Professor Membrane’s manner of speech is simply a Membrane thing and not a human thing.

I will give Mattpatt that. That a lot of tech in the show looks similar to Membrane’s. I feel this is mostly a stylistic choice, but it really does fit in with the Irken theory. 

Like that Zim just so happens to use the same operating system as Dib is played off as a joke. But it does add some small credence to the theory here... I need to point out when he does get it right... some pats on the back.

These are very good points and does follow through with what he’s trying to prove by the end of the day.

(even if Membrane was lying about the destruction of all mankind with the beans thing, but that’s a minor nitpick here) 

But his entire paragraph comparing Membrane’s tech to Irken tech is a really good one. Props there.

This whole paragraph about there being only Tall or short irkens cause their society is height based and there are no “medium-sized” irkens....cause they were “dealt with”

Okay.

....

Sure Mattpatt. Let’s just entirely ignore the existence of the Frylord and this entire character even though you mentioned it in the synopsis at the start of your video... Showing that Taller irkens are in positions of power against the shorter, also... Zim is a tiny irken... there are many Irkens that stand taller then Zim.

Being tall in Irken society is a rarity, and Almighty Tallest Purple said that he and Red “became” the Tallest. How? We don’t know, but we do know at one point the current Tallest looked like this:

How do Irkens get that Tall? Body modifications? Maybe... it’s never explained, but considering the Frylord is super big and probably eats a lot of snacks might have something to do with it. We don’t know.

It’s safe to say that being Tall in their society is a rarity and Tallests are either born or made special from the cloning chamber from the get go.

Not to mention, Membrane is Taller than the current Tallest are already...

 and you said earlier in the video that Membrane would have gone to Earth as a child...

When he was no taller than a wrapped Christmas box of socks...

So why would Membrane take refuge on Earth at this point? Mattpatt says that Membrane was sent on a mission to Earth because the Tallest felt threatened by his rule...

BY MEMBRANE’S RULE?!?

HE’S THE SIZE OF A CHRISTMAS BOX OF SOCKS!

What do they have to be threatened by? 

Because... Mattpatt DID bring up Membrane as a child earlier in the video... meaning Membrane came to earth when he was about the same size as Zim.

SO THEY HAD NOTHING TO BE WORRIED ABOUT AND HAD NO EVIDENCE TO BELIEVE MEMBRANE WOULD GROW TO BE TALL ORE EVEN VIEW HIM AS A THREAT

You bunked your own argument. Congradulations.

Membrane conquered the world through his inventions. In a way, sure. Membrane Labs does own a lot of stuff. But he doesn’t own everything. A majority of the Corporations that keep the population stupid usually don’t have anything to do with Membrane Labs and aren’t affiliated at all. 

But this does fit into the “Membrane is an Irken” theory so I will give him that one.

However, Membrane being an evil corporate dictator is a hot take I never really appreciate at all and I can never get behind it.

It hits too close to home in the real world, and I always like to view Membrane as a self-made man and a World loving hippie at his core who just wants to make the world a better place, much like his son, but he actively does something about it. (which can also be why he encourages Dib with real science so much cause he knows Dib wants to save the Earth as much as he does)

Just calling Membrane a capitalist billionaire that doesn’t care about the little guy kinda seems disingenuous towards his character for me. 

Especially when Membrane in “Ten Minutes to Doom” created a machine (foodio) that completely end world hunger... which was in BETA in the unreleased episode...

 but by the time the movie rolls around... Foodio exists... past his BETA, meaning that he’s probably no expensive than a common household microwave and can materialize food from nothing:

Yeah. Membrane completely ended world hunger off-screen. thanks. (something no capitalist would ever do...)

Membrane also does appearances for charity (in the comics), and often takes funding for sponsorships when he is low on funds and he had to find a cure for pig mouth. 

Sure “Membrane conquered the world” fits the Irken theory...

But I never appreciate that take on his character and that is admittedly, very personal bais. 

I just wanted to say my peace a little bit here about how I 100% don’t vibe with the “Membrane capitalist/billionaire scum” especially since he ended world hunger...and invented a cure for the un-common cold.

Works for the theory, so good on Mattpatt for that one, but I personally don’t vibe with it.

Mattpatt compared Zim and Dib’s head shape as something to argue... Like because Dib has a similar head shape to Zim... that Dib has to be an alien... Okay... But If you look at the Invader Zim artbook (which I own)

The show has a very distinct look on how they draw characters’ heads. It’s a very distinct stylistic choice and there are pages upon pages in the artbook describing the style and how it looks in motion, and many revision notes to the Korean animators.

There are lots of pages on the artbook describing in detail the differences between the main characters’ heads, what to do, and what not to do.

It’s a difficult style to replicate, and Dib having a big head was mostly a joke from the showrunners to the showrunners, cause they kept drawing Dib’s head slightly bigger to make him look more appealing.

A majority of the audience doesn’t really notice because all the children in the show have big heads. All the kids are like 3-4 feet tall and have huge heads. 

Also... Dib’s head is far more rounder then Zim’s in the comics and the Movie... comparing their head shape as an arguing point, when Dib’s head shape changed midway season 1 when the designs got slightly more streamlined is just... bad form..

Dib and Zim’s heads never really look the same from the early episodes as they do later on.

Comparing this character design similarity just because of the artstyle is really stupid.

This is the most infuriating thing about the video... because Mattpatt disproves his own argument with his own footage not a few seconds earlier. 

He claims that Gaz sarcastically mentioning she has a squeedly spooch is a canon fact...... but ... hmm.. Mattpatt... can I rewind the footage of your video, please?

Where’s her squeedly spooch?

IS IT BEHIND HER CLEARLY HUMAN ORGANS?! I DON’T SEE IT?

And this isn’t just a stylistic choice... here’s a picture of another human’s organs for comparison.

Mattpatt literally disproved his own argument and ignored the fact that we saw an X-ray of Gaz’s organs in the very same episode...

Gaz doesn’t have a squeedly spooch and she literally was being sarcastic.

and the whole thing is disproved very easily.

Everything Mattpatt says in between those two points, about Dib being taken aboard an alien ship as a baby, and that there is no mother, and the Clone theory... That is all good stuff and this is what the theory video should have speculated and focused on, because there is some digging to be had here... I feel he focused a lot on the wrong points in his video...

And this is the most outrageous point he makes in his video. It’s the thing that pissed me off the most... and lead me to write this essay in the first place.

He claimed Eric Trueheart himself confirmed the clone theory and had story plans where Dib would discover his clone origins.

HE DID NOT!

IN FACT, Eric Trueheart himself published Volume One of the Invader Zim script book AND THIS IS WHAT HE SAID:

Eric neither confirmed nor denied the rumor.

But for Mattpatt to blatantly say that Eric said that Clone Dib was a planned thing by the screenwriters?!

He is BLATANTLY putting words into a Screenwriter’s mouth! Something that you should NEVER do.

Because it is 100% a lie.

He had no source for this claim. He probably just read the same rumor on the wiki and has no source.

This is the reason why I don’t trust videos like Mattpatt. The truth is often stretched for entertainment value, or information is just made up to prove “they were right” about whatever the topic of the day was. He doesn’t even bother to cite the source he got “Eric Trueheart’s word of mouth” from... because it was wrong.

Sorry if this whole thing is more hostile than it intended to be... But Mattpatt was looking at the ENTIRELY wrong evidence for this show....

Irken Membrane is a fun theory... but Mattpatt picked the entirely wrong topics and points of discussion, even to the point of hiding the truth and straight-up lying to his audience about his sources.

It’s kinda like saying “Birds eat ghost peppers because they’re part dragon and dragons can handle spicy food”

While, yeah, Birds are descended from dinos, it’s kinda missing the full story there and it’s not the reason why birds can eat spicy food.

Irken Membrane is a fun fan theory... do what you want with it. I am not here to dissuade Irken Membrane headcanons...

I’m just here to encourage critical thinking, and perhaps NOT put words into content creators' mouths when there is no credible source for it just because it benefits your argument.

[hh-sweetashoney]

Snippet from Ch. 6 of Nothing Sweeter

Y’all can have little a spoilers, as a treat:

Now that the constant state of panic you were in has subsided, your eyes start to wander. The scarring you’d vaguely noticed on Alastor before is substantial. Most of his torso is marred with slashes and the occasional burn mark, but what really draws your eye are the large bite marks and ragged tears. The markings almost resemble an animal mauling. Actually, the more you look at him the more it obviously looks like he was torn into by some kind of canine. Maybe more than one, even.

Next to you Alastor stiffens when he sees where your gaze has settled. You decide not to push. Instead you tilt your head to indicate the distinctly different set of scars; clean, sharp, some looking almost intentional.

“What’s that from?”

You wouldn’t go so far as to describe him as relieved, but Alastor’s shoulders drop slightly as he answers, buttoning his shirt back up.

“Like I said, sweetheart. Power comes at a cost. And I’ve made myself very, very powerful.”

His smile is wild and sharp. There’s that self-assured pride rearing its head again. It suits him. The moment is lost as he sways slightly in place.

You sigh, then glare as he pretends staunchly that it didn’t happen.

“Stubborn as a mule,” you mutter, tugging at his sleeve.

“Hypocrite,” he chimes, letting you pull him slightly then stopping. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you to lay down.”

“I’m fine.” His voice is clipped.

“Yeah well maybe I just want to pet your hair, did you think of that?”

(You will pretend to have said that on purpose. You’re couching your selfless request for him to chill the fuck out in selfish motivations. Obviously. Fuck.)

“Excuse me?” He lurches sideways out of your grip, but you snatch at his injured hand. He stops with a gritted hiss of static.

“Quit being so difficult! Besides, you owe me right now.”

Alastor sputters, outraged.

“We made a deal,” he says, tone ominous.

“Not for that-” his expression shifts, confused, “-I mean when you bit me!”

He looks incredulous. “You’re the one who offered!”

“Yeah, well- you’re the one who made it necessary!”

“You bit me too-”

“-You mean I bit you back,”

“You stabbed me!”

“You’re welcome.”

He stares at you, seemingly at a loss. You take the opportunity to pull him forward again. He lets you this time, limbs loose with mild shock.

After a brief and awkward round of limb-placement negotiations that have you taking an elbow to the face twice (the second time was not an accident, damn it), Alastor ends up stretched out on the couch, his head on your lap.

“Never bring this up again,” he tells you.

You don’t answer, hand hovering above his fluffy hair.

“Honey? Agree, right now.”

“Only if I can pet your hair.”

He shuts you down instantly.

“Not a chance.”

“That’s fine! Guess I’ll send this pic to Angel, then. He’ll probably have some fun things to say about it.” You hold up your phone, where the full screen is taken up by a slightly blurry image you’d gotten while he was busy making a nuisance of himself.

His eyes narrow as a tendril of shadow whips out from under the couch and smacks it out of your hand. You hear it land out of sight with a sharp crunch as it thuds against the hallway floor. There’s no way your shitty hell-quality screen survived that.

“...”

“You owe me twice now.”

“You get one minute,” he says, relenting.

“Five.”

“One.”

“Five and I’ll delete the picture.” You’re banking on Alastor being too technologically illiterate to realize how unlikely it is you’ll salvage anything at all from that phone. It pays off; after a brief silent standoff he huffs, throwing his head back so that his antlers smack painfully into your sternum. Asshole.

“Fine. And you’ll never speak of this again.”

[soaptunes]

Soap’s 2020 AOTY Reviews: JPEGMAFIA - EP!

This EP (!) is really just a collection of all the loose singles Peggy dropped on a roughly monthly basis over the course of 2020. Despite that, and maybe even because of it, it’s still a contender for best rap project of the year.

I feel like I’m getting tired of saying that JPEGMAFIA is one of the most creative artists making experimental hip-hop right now. Even more tired of that appellation is Peggy himself, who on one track here proudly shouts out, “Fuck the underground, I’m going pop.” Of course, on the same song (the raucous, clattering “COVERED IN MONEY!”) he claims he beats his dick when he looks in the mirror and compares his gun to Portia La Rossi’s strap-on, so. Take that as you will. 

It’s strange that Peggy’s 2019 album All My Heroes Are Cornballs is over a year old now. That isn’t that long ago, but a lifetime has happened since then, and the thing still sounds more immediate than most projects that dropped this year. The same is true of 2018’s Veteran, but both projects have some songs that fall short. I won’t get specific, this isn’t a review of those albums, but a few tracks on both are experiments that don’t pan out - they get lost in the weeds of harshness and strange samples, they lack strong hooks or funny bars, they follow an obscure groove that’s hard to get a handle on. EP! proves that cut down to its essential moments, a JPEGMAFIA record can be a 25-minute blast. 

This is only 8 songs, we can take it track-by-track, which I think we’ll be doing for any EP reviews I do on here.

The first song is “BALD!,” a song that dropped in February, just before the pandemic turned this singles series into a quarantine project. If your first thought is that the beat sounds like something out of an obscure Nintendo racing game, that’s because it is - the main sample here is from Ridge Racer 3D for the 3DS. In pretty much every picture of JPEGMAFIA you can find from before this song’s release, he’s wearing a bandana or sweatband or something around his forehead, but this song literally served as the announcement to his fanbase that he’d shaved his head. This is a fucking hilarious concept for a song to begin with, but the beat is genuinely pretty and Peggy’s flow is merciless. Knocking the breakbeats out from under the synths makes them wash out and sound like the audio equivalent of a shitty screensaver, which I mean in the best way possible. 

BEST BAR: “Hairline proof God needs balance, BALD.”

“COVERED IN MONEY!” is a serious contender for song of the year for me. I would absolutely love to watch this guy figure out a beat, because the instrumental on this goes unbelievably hard and simultaneously makes no sense at all. It’s squeaky, stomping, clattering, shambolic, and feels like it’s completely falling apart. Does a beat like this come together in his head first? The drum pattern is borderline nonsensical, did it just come from him messing around in ProTools? I would genuinely love to know, he’s seriously a gifted producer and I wish he’d produce more for other rappers. Somehow Peggy hops into a triplet flow on top of this wonderful mess, the overall impression ending up somewhere in the ballpark of a cartoon character rapping while bouncing on a rusty pogo stick. The man namedrops Ving Rhames, Cannibal Ox, Bernie Mac, and the aforementioned Portia La Rossi all on the same song, and he’s really out for blood on this one, it’s one of his best flows ever. The way he makes the listener wait for the “fuck the underground” line is flawless, he’s slipping between time signatures effortlessly. He does an amazing job of wrangling the herky-jerky rhythms of the beat on the hook, making one of his stickiest choruses yet with the instant-classic line about “borderline dressing in drag.” There’s a beat switch about halfway through the song, which Genius tells me is a second half tilted “The Devil Wears Prada,” but “BALD!” has a lyric about them fucking up his lyrics on Genius, so, you know. It’s not as much fun beat-wise but his bars are just as good, and the song ties up with Peggy repeatedly apologizing and claiming he’s just been “shitted on.” This track is a must-listen, in my opinion, definitely one of the best of the year.

BEST BAR: “I’m covered in money, I’m out for the bag, I flew out the country, borderline dressin’ in drag.”

The sensual R&B of “BODYGUARD!” isn’t a total departure from stuff Peggy has done before - “Jesus Forgive Me, I Am A Thot” had some of those vibes and “Free The Frail” proved that not only can he write a great melodic song, he’s a respectable singer. Bodyguard is Sexy Peggy coming to full fruition though, warm synths draping around  soft beats and lyrics that could’ve come out of any 90’s hit. Peggy’s ear for a nice chord progression is evident, and there’s still strange touches like clipped vocals, off-kilter melodies, background chatter, and what sounds like a bicycle chain winding as part of the beat. This one took awhile to grow on me but it definitely did, and it provides a much-needed moment of calm on the EP.

BEST BAR: N/A, but I do like “who’s gonna turn me? Bitches gotta earn me.”

Then comes the remix of “BALD!” with Denzel Curry. The beat kicks in in the same way as it did before, and Peggy’s first verse is identical, but the entire back two-thirds of the song is one furious verse from Denzel. At first, his section gets a more muscular version of the racing game beat, but midway through, Peggy drops the drums out and just lets Denzel do his thing over a skeletal, washed-out instrumental. He spans a wide array of topics, from his stress over violence in his hometown, to loss of touch with his friends, to how cutting his famous dreads let him feel freer and more in control of himself. It’s a very cool verse, and I appreciate him linking it back to the haircut theme in an original way.

BEST BAR: “Dreadlocks had your boy like Sideshow Bob”

“CUTIE PIE!” puts Peggy on a genuine boom-bap beat, with nonstop flexing about his production chops. He gets pretty specific, and the title is apt given how genuinely adorable the sounds on the beat are. This one rolls almost normal for a JPEGMAFIA song, and despite the trove of weird references and the colorful atmosphere, it feels almost like a breakthrough, like he’s being more realistic or candid in his boasting. Like these are genuine points of pride for him and not just braggadocio, you know? Props for the music video here too, it’s definitely one of the best of the bunch. Super distinctive and weird, with Peggy hiding behind cacti and dancing in the middle of the desert with a near-nude woman.

BEST BAR: “Your beats inaccurate, muddy low end and you over-compressin’, ‘cuz you don’t know what you doin’, so y’all be stackin’ it, don’t know the diff so they just hold and attack it.”

The beat on “THE BENDS!” is almost oppressive, orchestra hits and a glacial pace lending the track a dark atmosphere. Autotune slurs Peggy’s bars, and the lyrics are relentlessly cynical and bleak. His actual political beliefs are obfuscated behind humor like “caught a body in a MAGA hat” as usual, but he ends the song with a breathy “fuck Trump,” so that much is clear. The glowing synth lines under the heavy saw bass give the first verse a cinematic quality, the “fantasies, fantasies, fantasies” line only adding to that. This is one of the briefer cuts, and one of the weaker ones too, but even this one has a ton of personality. 

BEST BAR: “Strap on my hip ‘cuz I’m bitter and old, Mountain Dew sippers, they hating the scroll”

“ROUGH 7” is EP!’s only true miss, and it’s definitely not Peggy’s fault. The beat is shadowy and evasive, and his verse is ice-cold, but the featured rapper, Tommy Genesis, kind of flattens the song. Her adlibs are cringe-inducing and her rapping is flat and devoid of personality, she tries to do the emo-rap scream double-track but it doesn’t work with her style, especially since what she’s rapping about isn’t tragic or even sad at all. The track picks up instantly once Peggy comes on, as usual he can slither into the cracks of an unusual beat and inject his cartoonish, acrobatic character into it. This is a topically unremarkable verse by JPEGMAFIA standards, but he leans into the beat’s rhythms like on “COVERED IN MONEY!” and it ends up working out in his favor and restabilizing the song by the close. His dejected “wow.” and “huh.” and “nasty.” adlibs help make it too, it’s really kind of ridiculous to compare his adlibs to Genesis’s.

BEST BAR: “Light a square n*** up like Billie Jean.”

Peggy closes the EP with “living single,” probably the second-best song either. He sings a surprisingly heartfelt interpolation of Mariah Carey’s “Always Be My Baby” as the hook, bringing to mind his has-to-be-heard-to-be-believed cover of “Call Me Maybe.” This beat could pass for vaporwave, its slurred groove and downshifted vocal snippets lending an atmosphere to it like Peggy is sitting outside a club smoking after too much alcohol. The stabbing synth riff that breaks through the fuzz keeps him on his toes and lets him work up a relatively speedy flow over the dazed instrumental. I’m not sure why I rate this one so highly, but the vibes are excellent and this is one of the best verses on the project for sure, it’s another one where he really hooks his flow into the off-kilter lurch of the beat. That may be my favorite thing about him as a rapper, the way he can tie himself to a beat and make sure it’s working for him instead of being outshined by it, even if it’s completely insane.

BEST BAR: “Champagne for the pain and sufferin’, fans same color as voice of Tim Duncan” 

Hoo, I wrote a ton about that. Maybe I won’t go track by track for the next EP, this is way too long already. In any case, I think due to its brevity and release method this great little record is going to get passed up on a ton of year-end lists, which is a damn shame. It has easily some of JPEGMAFIA’s best work on it - with no time for filler or botched experiments, Peggy delivered a tight, consistent, outrageously entertaining experimental rap joyride.

[maxmiz]

So I wrote some fanfiction of the Blitz Boys - specifically Tala and my headcanon about his mother. Read on!

Okay so I decided to come out of my shell and write some fanfic after a while, so I’m a bit rusty. It’s a one shot and not too long. I hope that you guys will find some time to read it and hopefully shall like it. If you do read it, please leave some feedback if you feel like it. It’s always nice for us writers to know that we’re not screaming into the void. 

Please keep in mind that this fanfic is based on my headcanon which you can find here. There might be a bit of swearing here, so fair warning to all. Also I’ve used dub names. I’ve written it in two small parts on this post itself. So it won’t take a lot of time to read. Happy reading and thanks!

P.S. I have imagined them as fully grown adults here. Not written them as per their anime/manga age.

FAMILY

Part 1

“Ballerinas? Really? You bought a fucking magazine on ballerinas?”

“What? C’mon, Bryan. If they can twist and turn the way they do while dancing, imagine how flexible they can be elsewhere,” said the petite young Russian, winking at his skeptical teammate. The constant downpour outside did nothing to dampen his spirits as he put the magazine on the table and snuggled up against the wall next to his chair under an enormous blanket that could have easily been mistaken for a carpet.

“Ohh, you do not want to say that in front of Tala,” said Bryan, shaking his head. Kneeling down on the floor, he pulled the ottoman away from under Ian’s feet towards himself, causing Ian to scowl and mumble an indistinct, “Oi!”

Bryan ignored his younger teammate’s protest and relaxed his legs on it.

“Anyway. Why wouldn’t I talk about it in front of Tala? ’The fuck would he have to say about that? It’s not like I make eyes at him for his choices or question his kinks,” said Ian, rolling his eyes.

“Kinks? Tala? Please,” said Bryan, chortling.

“What? Even someone as mysteriously quiet as Kai is a serial bangeroo. Don’t tell me that Tala’s a saint,” said Ian.

“Oh no, Tala’s as much of a saint as Boris is a legitimate member of the clergy, but the guy’s asexual. You know that too. Give him a break. Or is the concept too difficult for you to wrap your tiny head around?” said Bryan, frowning.  

“Why are you always so defensive about Tala? It’s like you’re in love with him…oooh, Bryan wuvs Tala,” said Ian, teasingly.

“What are you, five?” said Bryan, disdainfully, refilling his glass with some more vodka.

“No, he’s just a twenty year old with the IQ of an intoxicated hamster,” said a slightly rough voice from behind them.

A burly young man walked into the balcony carrying an oddly discoloured sack over his broad shoulder.

“Ah, Spencer. How nice of you to make an entrance with your…whatever that is,” said Ian, unenthusiastically. “So, were you out there knocking out people’s teeth and labelling them in alphabetical order for your personal collection?”

“No. Don’t be ridiculous,” said Spencer, dismissively. “I don’t label them in alphabetical order. I just keep them all in colour-coded jars.”

“You know, with you, it’s actually hard to say when you’re joking,” said Ian, passing Spencer a drink. “What is in that sack, anyway?”

“I bet you my right nut that it’s a collection of some really questionable DVDs,” said Bryan, chuckling.

“I could add your teeth to my collection. Maybe we could tape that on one of my blank ones?” suggested Spencer, cheekily.

“Aww Spence, are you being threatening? Weren’t you the one who cried watching Harry Potter?” said Bryan, mockingly.

“Well, Dobby really was a nice elf!” protested Spencer.

“Cut the crap, guys. What’s in the sack?” said Ian, clearly impatient for an answer and disinterested in all the banter.

“Flyers,” said Spencer, flatly.

“Flyers? For what? Are you trying to enter the Mr. Russia contest again?” said Bryan.

Spencer dropped the sack on the floor and aimed a kick at Bryan’s shin, but Bryan lunged out of his chair before he could touch him.

“Oho…someone shares my taste in bendy ballerinas,” said Ian, pulling out a flyer from the sack that had fallen at his feet.

Bryan’s face turned serious for a moment and he looked at Spencer curiously. “Why do you have a sack full of flyers about ballerinas?”

Spencer shrugged. “I don’t know. Ask Tala. He asked me to pick it up from that collector near the electronics store. These are really old flyers. Almost as old as us.”

“Where is he?” said Bryan. As calm as he tried to sound, there was a hint of panic in his voice.

“Why do you ask?” said Ian, noticing the change in his tone and expression.

“Answer the goddamned question,” said Bryan, impatiently.

“I don’t know. He went for a walk. Try his cell,” said Ian.

“His cell’s at a repair shop, you forgetful little shit,” snapped Bryan.

“Whoa…what’s got you all riled up? You sound–”

But before Ian could complete his sentence, Bryan had already left.

Walking down the staircase towards the gate, only one thought kept echoing at the back of Bryan’s head. He’s figured it out.

Part 2

Snow and rain. These were the two things that he had bitterly cried about on several occasions in his somewhat distant past when he was out on the streets, scavenging for food and hoping that some kind stranger would lend him a blanket to sleep in with his friend. But now he walked over the damp, slippery road with an umbrella in his hand knowing that if not anything else, the snow was at his command.

He had very little memory left of his time before the Abbey. The few scraps of it that had remained in his mind after Boris’ efforts at deleting them were like tattered photographs that floated about in a dark unending void – unfathomable and unconnected. Sometimes he felt as though Bryan remembered snippets of their time before the Abbey – maybe even about his family. But for some reason Bryan never talked about it and he never asked.

It was also not entirely unexpected for him to find that there were no official records of him or his family anywhere in the databases of the government. Boris was a man with infinite connections in high places and it was not too far-fetched for him to imagine the depths to which he would have sunken to dehumanize the boys and turn them into his slaves.

Walking down the musty lanes of Mardov, an old forgotten street in a corner of Moscow, Tala debated with himself for a moment as to whether or not he should close him umbrella. Even as the rain had stopped, the water, that had collected over the slanting rooftops of the houses on either side of this unusually narrow lane, kept cascading down over his head mercilessly.

He slipped his hand into the pocket of his trench-coat and pulled out a small newspaper clipping.

Faced with a severe cash crunch, acclaimed former ballerina Olga Ivanova-Lipovsky to tutor prospective ballerinas at her humble residence at Mardov Studio.

Tala glanced at the title of the clipping again and sighed. As a celebrity himself, Tala had never been much of a fan of such tabloids. So it was with much disdain that he had read through the article to find out about the colourful and possibly exaggerated life of this once exuberant and well-known ballerina. It was riddled with stories of her period of substance abuse, multiple affairs, political involvement, four failed marriages – including one abusive marriage from which she claimed to have escaped after her drunk husband had beaten her, done everything to extinguish her career and relegate her to nothing more than a ballet teacher – and two children. One alive and pursuing a career in architecture and one dead.

One dead. Tala pushed down the lump in his throat and proceeded to walk down the lane, wrinkling his nose. The stench on the street was unbearable.

He had wondered for several years, as he had watched Wolborg materialize, as to why his bit-beast was different. His bit-beast was artificial and was created at the Abbey according to what would be compatible with him. Yet, by tapping into the minds of his teammates, Boris had created bit-beasts that symbolized nothing more than the creatures that were best suited to their personalities.

He had even summoned Wolborg and tried to connect to her spiritually, hoping for some answers. But the only reply that he had got to his question of why she appeared as a woman whenever he released her was, “Watch me, little one.”

Her answer had confused him to a significant degree until the rather odd dream that he had had one night about a beautiful red-haired woman twirling around endlessly to Tchaikovsky’s tunes. He had woken up bathed in sweat the next morning, utterly befuddled, and since then had devoted himself to finding out the connection between his bit-beast and ballet.

Watch me, little one.

Under all his layers of warm clothing, the voice inside his head still ran a chill down his spine.

After almost an eternity of walking and silent contemplation, Tala came to a sharp halt near a window. A board with the word ‘Lipovsky’ hung from a nail on the door next to it.

Unable to help himself and unsure of whether he could bring himself to ring the doorbell, he peered in through the window of the dimly lit room.

It was a quaintly untidy room, with clothes strewn all over the couch and books lying open on a table with tiny cigarette butts surrounding them. Frowning, Tala looked at the wall. A number of photographs hung from the wall – some with pictures of the red-headed ballerina smiling and dancing, and some with another young red-headed girl standing next to her.

However, it was the last photograph that really surprised him. Tala gasped as he saw a photograph of himself holding the Beyblade World Championship trophy hanging right next to the photograph of his mother. An unwitting smile appeared on his face and he stared at the photograph in complete disbelief.

“Pick up your clothes from the couch, Nina,” said a sharp voice from inside.

Tala instinctively moved away from the window and hid by the door, carefully positioning himself in such a way as to be able to continue to look into the room.

“I’ll do it, mama,” said a young woman in a bored voice, entering the room.

Soon after, a middle aged woman glided into the room, with a cigarette in her hand.

A wave of indistinguishable emotions, both happy and sad, washed over Tala as he stared longingly at the woman who stood inside the room chiding his half-sister. Even as she was barely forty five, there were visible wrinkles on her face and a hint of cynicism in her eyes. Be that as it may, she was still breathtakingly beautiful, and age and her battle with addiction had done little to rob away the grace in her step and the touch of youthfulness in her smile that he had seen on the flyers containing pictures of his mother.

Tala felt his fingers inching towards the doorbell when he was broken out of his reverie by Nina’s voice.

“Mom, Alex drew a portrait of me and framed it. But where do I hang it? Just look at how cluttered the wall is. There are no more nails to hang anything from!” said she, irritably, waving a rather unflattering sketch of herself in front her mother.

“I’ll make space,” replied Olga, casually taking off Tala’s photograph from the wall and tossing it into the small dustbin by the couch.

The frame shattered inside it and for a moment, Olga glanced at it and frowned. Then she looked at her daughter and gestured at the wall, before walking away without another word.

Tala felt his hand shaking as he lowered it from the doorbell. An unexpected tear trickled down his cold cheek and he took a step back, feeling strangely crushed.

“Need a drink?” said a familiar voice from behind him.

Tala glanced over his shoulder to see Bryan standing there looking at him sympathetically. He hastily wiped his tear and turned around, his expression as cold as it had always been.

“You knew,” said Tala, unceremoniously.

Bryan shrugged. “I did.”

“Hm.”

“Your family is waiting for you with a couple of bottles of vodka on the balcony, you know,” said Bryan.

Tala made no response and quietly joined Bryan as they walked back past puddles and patches of snow.

“Tell anyone about this and I bench you,” said Tala, coldly.

“Aye, captain,” said Bryan, smiling.

For a brief second, Bryan could have sworn that there was a smile on Tala’s face as well.

You’re welcome, buddy, thought Bryan to himself, as they made their way together through the unforgiving weather towards home.

[goshiyachi]

Right there

Fandom: Haikyuu!! Pairing: Matsukawa Issei/ Oikawa Tooru Summary: Given the circumstances, Oikawa and Matsukawa would do everything again in a heartbeat. Prompts Used: Tastes, Habits, Over the years from @matsuoiweek A/N: Inspired by @ui536’s art.

Or read in Ao3.

Their meetings were drastically different when they were alone. It was a simple truth. The way they continued to organize while maintain a strict line from their rendezvous. They had rules placed, people to disillusion and stumble into a reality that barely cared about their whims. Oikawa wasn’t sure when their games turned into something deeper. Or when Matsukawa began to brush his tears in tender strokes. All Oikawa knew was that when they first started to experiment with each other there was this edge between them. Cutting them off from all the proper outlets and instead pushing them to mingle with their highs and scatter before anything good went too deep. Back then, either teen just continued faltering without much present remorse. Pure adolescence was toxic enough the way society has given them pre-models to finish constructing in a preexisted form.

Oikawa already knew since middle school that he was average in most realms. Having discovered who influenced his foolish habits only made him aware of possible downfalls that could lead him astray. Power and fame didn’t suite him like most assumed. He enjoyed snippets of it like another local teen hot throb; but for the most part Oikawa felt like he could cut that aspect out and still function alright. It wasn’t like he was aiming to be saint in public and privately (not after catching Matsukawa’s voice). But at least a decent guy living with a pure passion for his career but without sacrificing everything completely. He was greedy that way. Which was why when high school came along and he laid eyes on, Matsukawa Issei, something hit him. Harder than Iwaizumi’s punches but sneakier that when his siblings ate his desserts before he came home from late volleyball practice.

It wasn’t like the time he liked a girl in elementary school and got to hold her hold that same afternoon. Rather stronger and far more dangerous. Alone in his own thoughts Oikawa became aware of the heat that radiated throughout his body. It was animalistic and foreign. There was shame that crawled his throat when he woke up countless of nights when he remembered how Matsukawa tasted like the sweets he ate during lunch breaks. But that was just it; when Matsukawa casually called out to him Oikawa felt something hovering them clashed and remerge into something far more enclosed and secretive; more alluring than it should have been in the first place. It meant that there was something wrong with him.

Matsukawa was probably the same the way he always knew which empty classrooms to go to when he needed to be close to him. Oikawa couldn’t ever complain the way he was memorized the way Matsukawa could push his buttons with only a little time frame. It was awful the way they grew better to lie in front of others for the sake of keeping their meetings hushed. Yet what Oikawa couldn’t ignore was the fact that he had a bigger fan club than expected; a club that was far clingier than what he wanted. He appreciated their support; how he could not. But when they cut off his already limited time with Matsukawa it made him almost reevaluate his life choices.

Still, neither could deny that what connected them was smaller hitches of habits. Snippets of envy, greed and unwanted attention forced them to back away from each other. With school and peer pressure itching their skins there was more than enough clips of their meetings that melted them with desire to step away from the world and only focus of each other and their thoughts.  Incoherent gasps and rabid touches were all Oikawa needed to distract himself from losing his mind. Matsukawa was a perfect distraction for those occasions. It wasn’t like the habit that they created since their first year could be undone at this point.

Not when they couldn’t discount their interest with each other and the way their little adventures had caused the habit in the first place. Curiosity and pleasure were never the best options for the young and naïve; it caused hapless mistakes that could have been avoided. Matsukawa was the first to see it happen the way he eyed Oikawa in front of Iwaizumi’s scrutiny. He was already aware of the closeness Oikawa shared with Iwaizumi back then when he was introduced to them. But when he caught Oikawa’s best friend scowling at him disapprovingly and angrily, Matsukawa almost backed away from the intensity from it. And it probably had to do with the fact that Matsukawa could have sworn that one-time Iwaizumi almost (or had) caught him making Oikawa moan out his name out in board day light behind their gym. Either way, both scenarios reinforced the fact that Matsukawa and Oikawa were becoming sloppier with their mishaps.

But it wasn’t like Matsukawa would ever stop his impulses. He recognized the fact that couldn’t get enough of Oikawa; he was too addicted to even picture himself from stopping. It was practically a part of his life now, to call out his name, to entice the other to spend a few minutes or an hour (if he was lucky) with him. In his arms, within his reach and, sigh into a fictional paradise that resided deep into his soul. He was a lost cause; he was a believer that was he was fucked the moment he kissed Oikawa and learned that heaven was a fixed and false dream. He would live in hell instead, where he would have to be forced to recall all those sensations of watching Oikawa making a clear wall between them. He agreed back them for a fail safety to fall into in case something held him back. It didn’t work; or rather he underestimated his heart scrapping his rib cage when he tasted infatuation.

Oikawa bloomed in high school. Matsukawa could testify it the way he enamored him quickly. The fire that burned his skin expanded all the way to his toes and fingertips. They ached when the both them sought each other. To kiss all the exposed skin lingering between them, to cling to each other's limbs that draped one after another. It burned the oxygen around them the way they were always out of breath when they finished. Ushering into secluded corners without making a rucks or imprint into other people’s memories were always tricky; but it was always rewarded when they were alone and able to feel one’s lips.

Oikawa was more selfish, Matsukawa noticed over the years fooling around with him. He would always bite a little harder; but the difference was how Matsukawa was more mindful with his strokes, how he was able bring Oikawa down slow and merciful. He would always pride in himself for gaining the right tone for his voice to murmur the dirtiest syllables under Oikawa’s neck making the heat vibrating through them pass far more memorably and enjoyably. He just couldn’t get enough of being the reason why someone breathtaking such as Oikawa to beg, gasp, and moan under his command and touch. Which was why it wasn’t a surprise when he never denied himself of playfully flaunting his ego to Oikawa when they finished. Not when Oikawa’s cheeks were still flushed and eyes eye rolling with the same tease from earlier as if he was insinuating for another round.

Matsukawa had thought it would only be volleyball that would catch his eye. Or at least have a string of girls and a boy or two to deviate from boredom and curiosity.  He never got a girlfriend or ever found himself lip-locking with one. Instead he found his lips kissing only Oikawa. He watched Oikawa try to and occasional date others (although there were too many rabid fangirls in the mix for his liking). They never lasted which prompted him to seek Matsukawa who was always more willingly to waste his free hours with him. In the back of his mind Matsukawa never wanted to admit everything that was tattooed into his heart. After all, what was between them was something flimsy. There were no pillars to support them since the beginning.

They had prompted a promise that if whatever they had would end, there would be no hard feelings among them afterwards. But that was the problem right there. Lusting over someone was far easier to admit then coming into terms of falling in love with someone that was just supposed to be a causal fling and friend. Flings were detachable strings. Though Matsukawa was long gone since getting the okay to fool around with Oikawa. It was turmoil to harbor everything and explode when Oikawa asked for him. He didn’t know how the other felt; but he was sure that when high school would be over neither of them would ever see each other like did now. They would be framed as experiential obsessions. Nothing healthy rang into their affairs; Matsukawa could see the truth of it.

Still when he had Oikawa right next to him he was sure that something crumbled inside him. And he was sure Oikawa would eventually see what was behind his words later in life. But for now, all Matsukawa wanted to be was right there, in the present.

Whispering for a lost prayer was not something Oikawa would have pictured himself of doing when their school lost their last game. Or when a few weeks melted into their winter break. The hours were long and unforgiving as Oikawa sluggishly went through his mundane tasks. The volleyball court was still his second home, but lately all he ever wanted to do was to just lay on his bed and listen to Matsukawa’s heartbeat in sync with his. There was this domesticity that wanted to claim his thoughts. An old dream from watching his parents happily together was ringing his ears. He called Iwaizumi when his thoughts were too much but, by then he didn’t need for his best friend to understand what was happening to him.

All one look said enough: he was in love.

Oikawa Tooru was madly in fucking love to a boy he been fucking for too long. And now he was fearfully treading into reality of having to tell the world where he stood besides volleyball. He didn’t text Matsukawa right away. He didn’t stop Iwaizumi from giving him a lecture of being a dumbass. (He was already aware that he was one since the first time he called him one.) Mid-break he caught his silhouette passing a random park. The streets were semi-empty; his shoulders immediately went rigid when his voice cracked as he yelled out his name by habit. He turned around and caught his pathetic wave, nonetheless they ended up walking around the neighborhood while cracking jokes. It wasn’t until they made it to Oikawa’s home when he pulled him into his bedroom.

They didn’t do anything right away. Oikawa suddenly was the one that placed the borderlines around them making him wonder why suddenly did he wanted to keep distance he suddenly wanted to evaporate the other day ago. Matsukawa didn’t complain but held his gaze, watching him carefully as if he was waiting for Oikawa to tell him that they should end everything. But he didn’t. He took a deep breath though to calm his nerves when he motioned Matsukawa to lay his head on the bed. When he did, Oikawa mimicked him as looked straight at him. Under Matsukawa’s gaze was always trip; even when the silence was stretching for too long to be comfortable.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Matsukawa’s face didn’t change drastically the first ten seconds. It took the next ten. His eyes widen, his mouth hung a little before he bit it. He nodded in his sigh that turned into a quick small smile. “Oh…wow.” He looked carefully at Oikawa who was starting to back away. “That’s umm some really heavy and unexpected news there.”

He reached out to one of Oikawa’s arms before he was too far away from him, “But umm…Is it okay then to call you my boyfriend now?”

He didn’t hear any words from Oikawa the way he was roughly pushed up to Oikawa’s level; he didn’t mind it anyways the way he crashed his lips with him in confirmation. And while Matsukawa eventually told Oikawa how he felt since day one they both realized that eventually their little adventures mingled into the current present. Where it was accustomed to touch each other with ease. When it was finally time to stop the lies and finally sigh into each other embraces. And how they could finally sink into the right phases of their lives with wholehearted smiles (and a few more love bites in between).