#what's this? pixel art dropping once in a blue moon?

[heart-wit-strength]

It's always them

Secret santa gift for @just-another-anonomus <3

Taglist: @reyraccoon @hey-its-puddlesock @yourpersonaltimebomb @darcysd20 @waybrights @lili250307 @amisplacedalphabet

[courage-a-word-of-justice]

Aniplex Fugou Keiji Livestream | Fugou Keiji 2 | Kitsutsuki 2 - 4 | Arte 3 - 12 (FINAL) | Fruits Basket 27 - 32

During the Millionaire Detective: Unmissable livestream (part of FunimationCon and Aniplex Online Fest), I watched and took notes, so you might find these handy upon retrospect. To be honest, this is how I do the posts for magicalgirlsandcerulean’s livestreams as well, but there hasn’t been one of those in a while...

Otherwise, these are all normal notes.

Aniplex Fugou Keiji Livestream

Look out for the dancer from the OP

Onuki was the model for the dancing for the anime – he was told to do it out of the blue

Episode 11 might have one of these^ be relevant

Daisuke’s cup ramen has shark fin in it and he made the packaging from scratch – that’s why it’s so expensive!

The director Tomohiko Ito omits important information, allowing people to decide for themselves what happened. (Miyano) – This might be why the series is stylish. (MC)

Attractiveness of character design is important! (for adapting Fugou Keiji to modern day)

I’ve never watched a livestream where the stars were so conscious of their English and Chinese audiences! This was interesting, especially because Onuki is not normally known as a VA!

“We still have a little bit of recording to do.”

Fugou Keiji 2

I keep misunderstanding my own instructions…this starts again in July after ep 2.

Todai = Tokyo Daigaku (Uni).

I believe this is the 2nd time I’ve seen a rich person like commoner’s instant noodles, although I forget where I saw the 1stinstance.

Kambe switched to the back seat now, huh?

Ah! Now I remember! The first time was seeing spoilers for this episode on Twitter! (LOL)

I see Suzue has a sensible naming scheme for her data.

Hmm…judging by the Google hits, the name visible in the background (Betbeto bin Abura) is the Arabic prince from last time.

SYN-ACK. I see these guys did their work – that’s the final stage of the 3 stage handshake required for things like internet sockets (used to send “packets” of data).

Way to crash a party, Kambe siblings…(LOL)

I really wanna see someone draw Kato slapping (Daisuke) Kambe in the face with a wad of cash…or a “shut up and take my money” meme with Kambe in it.

I like how “special cup ramen” is on the purchases list and it costs 100000 yen. I also like how the reporter Mita was bought out for 5000000 yen (bigger than all the other individual costs except for buying out the Tower)…that’s how he showed up.

Kitsutsuki 2

I gotta finish this show and then pause it…3 shows in my normal lineup are safe.

Did Kindaichi take the bones of the fish out for Ishikawa…? Like a child would have had done for them?

Why is Ishikawa being referred to as “Hajime”…?

Draw this prostitute like one of your French girls…(LOL?)

Ishikawa clearly dropped those coins into that book earlier.

Way to diss the potential asexuality/celibacy in the house. I mean, it’s the 1800s – early 1900s, so there was less LGBTIQ+ stuff then and certainly the further back you go, the more sexual prowess becomes a sign of masculinity, but still, if the guy doesn’t want to go through with it, don’t force him.

Notice how the borders were pink for Ishikawa’s version and blue for Kindaichi’s.

Notably, Otaki didn’t seem to have that hairpin…but maybe that’s because we saw things from Ishikawa’s perspective.

Ooh…who are these bois? Also, crab.

Kitsutsuki 3

…cat? Now there’s a new perspective. That’s like saying the butler did it.

Yay! Hagiwara is Ume!

Notice Hagiwara’s version has a purple frame, while Yoshii (?) has yellow and another person has dark blue.

I think “consumption” was tuberculosis, once upon a time.

I love how the crowd is fed up with Ishikawa’s bulls***.

Ooh, chuuni Akutagawa…

In a Grove is the Rashomon story.

Tarou Hirai = Rampo Edogawa.

You stalker, future Rampo!

I kinda suspected Otaki when I thought through the possibilities…Ishikawa, Kindaichi, an outsider, Otaki (and as of this ep, Rampo too).

Gaiheikan? Is that Ishikawa and co.’s lodging?

Did they have pencils back in that day?

Kitsutsuki 4

Humouresques.

Kabayaki.

I think it was in Detective Conan that I learnt (one of) the only way(s) a man can get his nails done is by his wife doing it for him, possibly as a prank or to indicate he’s “taken”. Note this was early Detective Conan, so it’s very much a 90s attitude…considering the widespread acceptance of drag queens and the LGBTIQ+ movement these days.

Kozukata.

Lace flower.

Maichou seems to be a hybrid of Asahi Shinbun and Mainichi Shinbun.

[Monkfish/dictionary/going home] - Is this how Ishikawa shows consideration…?

The purple letterrboxing is back but this time with Ishikawa…meaning that’s just an aesthetic thing for all flashbacks after all.

Just from vaguely hearing it (I’ve got the volume on low), the words are nodo tsuki/nodo zuki. “Throat moon/throat wound” works just as well, if not better.

Balsam flower.

Update: Since enough anime fulfilled the special COVID-19 criteria, Kitsutsuki was put on hold after this.

Fruits Basket 2 2 (27)

I’ve read Another, remember?…so I kind of know what happens.

Uo’s got purple nails…that’s surprisingly cute of her.

Aw, Kureno! Another Ume role!

Why is “shisho” (master) not translated…? A weird Tokyopop-era translation quirk?

Aw, Shisho cut his hair…? Bummer.

Who was that? Shigure…?(!) Update: We find out his name later in this ep.

“If you continue to change, I’ll continue to protect you.” – Another quote for the archive.

Great…I feel personally called out by this ep.

Fruits Basket 2 3 (28)

It seems all male designers wear their designs if they have no one else to wear them…at least, that’s what I’ve gathered from Hajime (Runway de Waratte) and Ayame.

I remember Ayame stood in for Yuki’s parents in the manga at one point. This must be it.

(Spoilers for later!) I also remember Mine and Ayame get married at the end…This is the prelude to that.

Dang, Ayame, you moment-ruiner!

Fruits Basket 2 4 (29)

Did anyone in the doorway hear about Hatsuharu turning into an ox?

To quote Sailor Mercury, “Douse yourself in water and repent!”

Ooh, window splitting Yuki and Haru. Nice cinematography going on here.

I bet all people think they only think about themselves, in one way or another.

Arashiyama tofu.

Yatsuhashi are great. They’re these sweet triangle things like samosas that come in various flavours. Mitarashi dango are sticky brown skewered balls of glutinous rice…which I’ve never had, but I’ve seen them in enough anime to know what they are.

I only just realised this, but Yuki’s hairstyle isn’t even on both sides, like Atsushi from BSD’s.

Huh…you can see a copy of Mogeta and Ari (as it turns out, “Ari” is the name of a character and not “ant” at all in this case) on Haru’s bed. There’s also an article in one of the magazines discussing how denim is the popular thing now and which types are in right now.

Fruits Basket 2 5 (30)

I realised Yuki isn’t calling Tohru by her first name – he’s going against Haru’s advice.

Hmm? Why should anyone ask a rabbit to hold their horses…? (LOL)

CGI cars…*sigh*

Tororo is grated yam, IIRC.

I learnt recently that nanban means “savage” or “uncivilised”…for a potato and chicken dish, the name and the contents don’t really match…Update: Nanban means “savage” (noun) or “barbarian”. Close enough.

17-26…age gap 9 years…yikes…

The words “(a happy, yet) caged bird” come to mind when Kureno describes himself. Also, Kureno is an Ume role! Yippee!

Ahh…young love…even if it has a bit of an awkward edge to it. Mind the (age) gap!

Me being the Ume stan, of course I want to hear those sweet nothings in his voice, even if it has to be via a proxy like Uotani…I wouldn’t be an Ume stan if I didn’t.

…Ah, I see. Uotani reminds me of Minare from Wave and vice versa.

Oh, I just remembered Akito is 20 or thereabouts. Kureno/Akito is only a bit more legal than Uotani and Kureno.

Arte 3

Notice Leo never once uses Arte’s name in the lady’s presence. Her name does have some infamy to it, after all.

“She’s got some guts.” – You say that at a live dissection…LOL.

Is this love~? What’s the age gap between Leo and Arte, anyway? Update: We know for sure Arte is older than 13…that’s it.

Make the things you want prominent with perspective and such. I thought that much was obvious, but for someone straightforward like Arte, I guess it ain’t so. (Maybe it’s because I’m self-taught to some degree when it comes to art.)

*sketching by candlelight* - You’re gonna ruin your eyes, Arte!

Arte, ma girl! You’re getting’ a raise! Good job!

Arte 4

Anime makes this courtesan stuff sound like a host club…(?)

I thought Leo was saying “Aria” for a second instead of Arte, LOL. I’m getting too used to that being my alias…

Arte 5

The speech bubble said “so annoying I could die”.

Arte 6

The video’s gone all pixelated…at least, the subs have…

I bet she’s going to fall over…Update: Nup, she didn’t.

Arte 7

I thought Yuri was a Russian name…or a Japanese one.

This is basically Oushitsu Kyoushi Heine all over again! (LOL)

I thought Yuri would be pushy…like, “Here’s an offer you can’t refuse.” That kind of thing. Likewise, I didn’t think Arte would refuse.

Leo? *dun-dun-DUN!*

Siena is apparently in Tuscany. Also, I did see the Silent Manga Audition page had a chapter on a pregnant woman, so this is ch. 17 or thereabouts.

Is Ruthanna not getting the money because she’s pregnant…?

Epidemic? The Black Death?...Speaking of which, Arte is very much of that ganbaru spirit. By being progressive for her time, she becomes ordinary in our time.

Ohhhhhhh! It’s a reverse harem in progress here!...This would be a good otome game, come to think of it. It’s framed the same way.

Leo can be surprisingly childish at times, don’t you think?

Arte 8

…Really? She fell overboard? *raises eyebrow*

Ooh, china (with and without capitalisation).

Is this another sarcastic child…? Oh, bother. Still, I can see why Hamefura crossed over with Arte now…Katarina vs. Catarina!

Arte 9

Bigoli is a type of pasta, as can be guessed from context.

The kanji for the episode title literally translate to “bad child”! Like the Tones and I song, LOL!

Mikata (ally).

Arte 10

This episode is giving off a Katarina x Gimo ship vibe…but with how young they are, I’m not sure I should ship it. They’re 6, aren’t they…?

Oh, you can see Katarina and Sofia’s hug in one of the ED frames.

Arte 11

Arte’s let her hair grow out…

An Italian man…bowed. In Renaissance Italy. Now I understand what all the ANN complaints are for.

What’s up with that kid’s face…? *grumbles*

Leo’s just being Leo, I see.

That’s right, Angelo and Leo never met.

Instead of a father or a brother overly cherishing his daughter, it’s the uncle…I never thought I’d see the day I saw something like that.

Arte 12 (FINAL)

Is this like Orientalism, but with gender…? (What would you call that?)

Lemme guess…Leo is working on the church mural and so he’s away?

Was that Leo, in the middle of the mural somewhere…?

Another Japanese bow in this anime, which is set in Italy.

But where is Arte herself in that mural?

Fine = end.

Fruits Basket 31

The word Momiji is using is “hisso” or something like that. Hissho is secretary, so the translator made it “secret getaway” to make it work.

That hat! *laser stare*

*one of the textbooks has “high school chemistry” on it* Tohru can do chemistry?! I suck at chemistry!

The episode title is translated as “Are you really this stupid?” It seems the real line for that was “Are you an idiot?”

Something about high school girls appeared in my head when Haru mentioned Shigure wanting to see Tohru in her tight swimsuit…*mumbles grumpily about pervs*

Kyo’s not wet, even though he got in the water! Amazing!

I think it’s sad that Tohru responds to “stupid girl” like it’s her own name.

“…that makes you suspect me?” seems better.

The Akito and Shigure age gap is somewhere between 6 and 8 years, IIRC.

Fruits Basket 32

Tohru switched from okaasan (mother) to okattekita (a formal past tense verb meaning either “bought”, “lent” or “won” based on the characters…which I don’t have a reference for). I assume because it was so off the mark, the subbers chose a similarly off the mark word.

“When I was a kid, I thought watermelons would sprout in my stomach if I ate the seeds.”

We only know about Kyo’s dad so far…hmm…what about the mother? Update: (TW: suicide) I think it was at this point we already knew that Kyo’s mother didn’t love him and committed suicide, but it’s not certain until later.

Why do doctors always use scalpels and syringes as weapons…? I mean, even Jakurai’s symbol in ARB is a syringe!

I’ve been wondering…how big is the Sohma family? Is it diluted enough that Haru and Rin can love each other without genetic problems for their child/ren? (From Another, I would say the answer is “yes”, but shoujo normally doesn’t care about this sort of thing, which is why I ask in the first place.)

Shigure seems like the type to say, “U mad, bro?”

The mansion looks like the one in Haruhi Suzumiya, if I remember the appearance of that one correctly.

[outroshooky]

imagine | ksj

⇢ genre: drabble (postbreakup!au) (angst, some fluff)

⇢ pairing: kim seokjin x reader

⇢ word count: 2.5k

⇢ prompt: “why can’t you imagine a world like that?”

⇢ warnings: swearing and heartbreak. have fun, y’all.

⇢ a/n: i’ve been listening to thank u, next as an album a lot for the last few weeks. kudos to ariana grande and imagine for this one, as well as she’s all yours by loote.

Nobody ever said pad thai was the healthiest of dinners, but it certainly hit the spot on cold, rainy evenings when you found yourself bent over textbooks, immersed in criminal psychology like the nerd that you are.

Chinese food has become your go-to more and more these past few weeks, the heat on your tongue from Kung Pao chicken and lo mein warming you up from the inside. All it seems to do outside your apartment windows is storm, the world outside rendered a permanent color swatch of gray. Pewter were the clouds that settled low over campus, bellies distended with wrath. Abalone was the muted light that filtered through your bedroom blinds, dim and barely-there. Slate were the bricks of the achy old home directly facing your own, looming in your window, lashed wet and whipped by the never-ending rainfall.

A depressing existence, certainly.

In fact, the weather is not the only thing that seems to have turned a chilled back on you. In one dramatically splintering fragment, your friends have drifted away from you, too. Yoongi no longer comes around to talk some obscure bit of politics with you; Taehyung suddenly finds excuses to spend his time pouring over copies of art manuscripts dating back to the Renaissance. Your cold brew seems to have lost its vanilla flavor; the sweetness brews stagnant on your tongue. Even the majestic portraits of the university’s founding fathers, poised and proud in their frames, appear to be frowning down on you.

It’s as if the universe is trying to tell you something. Which, judging by all of those things plus the daily horoscopes that light up your phone screen, it probably is.

Sunday, 12:47 PM. Your day at a glance. Sometimes, you’re doing the work without being aware of it.

“You missed date night on Friday.”

“I did? Oh my god babe, I’m so sorry. Can we do it this Sunday instead? Or maybe Wednesday?”

“I have work on Sunday and a mandatory civics exam on Wednesday.”

“Well, how about next week?”

“This is the third one in a row you’ve missed, Seokjin.”

Yesterday, 12:53 PM. Your day at a glance. Think of trusting people as an act of generosity today.

“I thought you said you were studying with Yoongi in the library tonight.”

The door creaks closed. “I was. There’s a group project coming up that we’re nervous for.”

A text notification lights up your phone, the gentle ping! way more cheery than necessary.

myg: where’s your boyfriend? he’s supposed to be here. it’s been two hours and his coffee is getting cold.

And, perhaps, your favorite:

Nine hours ago. Your day at a glance. Don’t be scared to tell each other the truth.

myg: there’s nothing wrong with me, but i think you need to take some time for yourself, so we’re giving you some space. we’re all worried about you.

Perhaps this whole message-from-the-universe thing is more obvious than you thought it was.

You roll your eyes and take another bite of your takeout, leaning over your textbook with renewed, nearly reckless abandon.

The universe would have to wait. You had an examination on court cases tomorrow that you could not afford to fail.

It’s late the next time you look at the clock, so late that night has spilled over into the early morning, and for once, it’s quiet outside.

The streetlights reflect on the tearstained panes of your window, droplets of gold shimmering tranquil. Branches scratch at the glass with persistence, but not insistence. The lamp’s glow burns soft in the darkness of your bedroom, and the pen flows moot in your aching grasp, working endlessly for four hours- no, five. Your eyes grow heavy in the light that seems to be dying evermore, the bulb fading and flickering, threatening total extinction.

Perhaps a brief, merciful rest is in order.

Your head hits the cover of your notebook and you’re asleep without a second thought.

A single chime resounds in the stillness of your apartment, a sound that conditions your weary head to instantly lift from your pillow of study materials. You blink; your eyes are dry and sticky from exhaustion, but your dark laptop screen is awakened with color, so alive and so brightly blue that you squint for a moment, pupils overwhelmed.

Incoming call: campus-wide handsome💕💕💕

Relief.

Relief floods your system like water pouring from a broken dam, leaking and sinking and filling every nook, every cranny. Relief, ease; the feelings spurt color into your darkened world, the details sharpening as if brought into focus by an empyrean lens. Relief, him. This is normal; everything will be fine, he’s calling to talk it out, finally. He’s ready to come clean, to own up to his mistakes and mishaps and god, you will too, because you are far from perfect. Two broken halves, reunited by the glow of pixels on an electronic screen.

You move, almost automatically, to accept the call.

On the other side of the screen, your boyfriend sits, blurry with a poor connection. He is effortlessly handsome barefaced, an oversized hoodie thrown on casually, brown locks mussed in a style only he could pull off. His brow is more pronounced in the shadows of his dorm room, his almond eyes tired but hopeful. He's never looked so domestically kissable; your heart twists at the thought.

When Seokjin speaks, he’s quiet with the reverence of night-time, that sacred morning space when the world pauses to take a breath of its own. Everything is on the table, but nothing is off limits. “Hey, gorgeous.”

“Hi,” you breathe.

He scratches at the back of his neck, fingers disappearing in the strands of hair that lick at his ears. “I know that this isn’t really warranted and is probably going to sound weird, but I needed to hear your voice. It’s late, but- I don’t know, I missed it. I missed you.”

Your heart soars. “I missed you too Jinnie, more than I’d like to admit in all honesty.”

A smile pulls at his lips, wonderfully plush and sweet. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.” 

You gaze into the camera at him. Him, the person with the world in the palm of his hands. Him, the student whom nearly every one of his professors fawned over, the son of one of the most distinguished politicians in the region. Him, who had caught your eye at the nearby coffee shop one late afternoon shift and stolen your heart with a spilled cappuccino all over his brand new slacks. Him, who stares at you with java eyes and a tender heart, so close but so, so far away.

There’s a beat of silence that falls as you stare at him, and he clears his throat. “Baby, I’ve been thinking.”

“About?”

“Us.”

A prickle of worry in your stomach. “What about us?”

“Do you remember that night when you made your mom’s pasta from scratch for the first time?”

Your brows furrow. “What about it?”

“That was the night we slow danced in the kitchen to Sinatra,” he reminisces. “It was just us and the moon, dancing on the tile while Frank crooned. I miss that.”

Your heart leaps at the happy memory, burning clear in your mind.

Seokjin waggles his brows as he places one hand on your waist, the gentle pressure of his hand on your hip comforting. You’re in sweatpants and an old shirt; he’s in a suit, having just come off his internship at a local firm. But he’s looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, your cheeks pink with the heat of the kitchen and your sleeves splattered with tomato sauce. And in that moment you are wholly, completely enrapturing to him, so much that he just had to ask you to dance, to hold you tight to his chest as the vinyl in the hallway plays and you have carved a moment out of chaos for yourselves, you only.

“May I have this dance, little chef?”

“You may, my handsome lawyer.”

“I only passed the bar exam, like, five months ago.”

“Shut up and dance with me, you coward.”

“I’m shutting up now.”

“And I miss that day we spent at the arboretum a few hours away, walking between the roses and talking about anything and everything,” Seokjin continues. “Or the times we’d bring Chinese food over Yoongi and Jimin’s dorm room and play Cards Against Humanity for hours on end.”

Seokjin kneels to cradle a flower delicately between his fingers, studying the pastels etched like ink into the petals. “You know, your lips are as beautiful as those petals,” you blurt. “And as soft, too.” He blushes a deep crimson all the way to his ears, and you laugh aloud.

Cheeks stuffed round and full with dumplings, you nearly choke at the card you draw from the stack. “Gordon Ramsay’s what?” The room is filled with howls of mirth and this, you think to yourself, this must be heaven.

“Even the moments when you’d cry because the stress was too much, or when I had that emergency hospital trip and you found out in the middle of your lecture.”

Chest heaving, lungs stabbing, fear. Stress and exhaustion and anxiety, bearing down their cruel weight on your shoulders, twisting each thought just enough to make it hurt. You’re crying into your hands, a hiccup punctuating each fresh sob, when your apartment door is opening and he’s stumbling in and then his arms are around you. He’s clutching you so tight you feel as though your ribs are cracking, insisting that he must hold you together when you feel yourself shattering into infinitesimal pieces, finds it in himself to pluck each shard from his palm and put it together to find you again. You, the everlasting heartbeat of his microcosm, a little slice of paradise to which no one else holds the key.

Chest heaving again, but it’s pure panic that floods your veins this time, seeps frigid into your blood. In a rush you’re dropping your phone into your bag, practically throwing your laptop and your books into your backpack with one hand, scrabbling for your car keys with the other. A text from Yoongi you’ll never forget: this isn’t an emergency, but jin had a severe allergic reaction to the seafood we got for lunch. he’s on his way to the hospital right now. Never in your life had you driven twenty-five miles an hour over the speed limit before that day, but he was awake and alert when you saw him next, enough to give you a crooked thumbs-up as he smiled behind the nebulizer.

“I don’t know why I’m thinking of all this. I guess I just wanted to call you and tell you that I love you and I miss you, and I’m thinking of you. It’s late, but you’re the only thing on my mind, and really, just- I’m sorry for everything that’s been going on lately.” You can hear the earnest pleading in his voice, the ache in his soul. He means what he says, and a pang of guilt throbs at the surface.

“I really do love you,” he continues. “I love you like every star shines in the midday sky, even when they’re too bright to be seen. I love the way your nose scrunches when you laugh and how your eyebrows furrow when you study at night and how your teeth aren’t quite straight; they’re perfect the way they are. I love your little unorthodox habits, your quirks and flaws and your talents too. I love you, okay? I love you for who you are and I promise we will get through this, I swear it even if it takes every ounce of energy I have.”

His voice breaks when he says okay; he says those three words like he's trying to embed them into your soul, carve them into your psyche, promise you that even though this has been falling apart at the seams, he loves you. Somehow, someway, it will last. The end isn’t near; that's not possible. Not while he loves you like this, and you love him too, love him with every ounce of your soul.

“Seokjin, I-” you begin.

CRASH!

Thunder explodes outside your window and you jolt, hand lashing out, knocking over your cup of pens and pencils that sits expectantly on your desk. It is if the sky is cleaving itself in two, lightning splitting the sky with an explosion of light and thunder howling with a cacophony of darkness. Rain pours down, spilling from the gutters down your sill; you can hear a faint dripping from the bathroom and realize the ceiling is leaking again, just like it has every day for the last two and a half weeks.

You raise a hand to your cheek and trace the square imprints in the skin from your laptop keyboard. There’s a kink in your neck that aches like the devil, your spine aching after the uncomfortable position you contorted yourself into pre-nap and you are so groggy at first that nothing seems out of the ordinary, and you move to message Seokjin that you accidentally took a nap, and you loved him, too.

You press the power button on your laptop. No response.

You frown and try again, running your hand across the body of the machine, cold and unresponsive to the touch.

Cold and unresponsive?

But you were just-

No.

No.

Seokjin was just here. He was just here; you just saw him onscreen, you’d call him in a moment and things would be just how they were.

Just how they were two weeks ago, when he’d told you over a caramel macchiato that this, whatever beautiful thing you had cultivated, was beyond repair. That he couldn’t have more of his energy sapped by this relationship that you had put so much of yourself towards, giving him everything he could possibly want, and yet at the end of it all, you’re the one whose face is spat upon with scorn. He promised you that you would get through this, and yet there is no promise because this is already over, and the second time the thunder crashes in your ears like a symphony of pure sound, you cry aloud. It felt so fucking real to have him there, him, the color on your canvas, the brightness of your everyday life turned up like an old television dial.

The lamp still shines buttery gold, all these hours later. Now it matches the tinge of dawn that peeks through a break in the angry clouds, spreading its vibrant fingers like ivy seeking a trellis.

It is so easy to imagine a world in which your laptop merely died, cutting off your proclamation of love to him. So easy to imagine him in his dorm on campus, body crooked as he sleeps curled in on himself, buried under a pile of blankets when your body can’t provide him the heat. So easy to pretend as though none of this nightmare, this hellish denial had never even happened to begin with.

But you can’t anymore.

You can’t hold onto every experience. Give yourself permission to forget.

Your phone vibrates with a notification.

Fortunate are those who can appreciate the basic goods of life with awe, pleasure, wonder and ecstasy, again and again for the first time.

[studyoing]

question tag thing

tagged by @studywithbread thankyou soosos much!!

Rules: Answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people

LAST:

1. Drink: hot chocolate 2. Phone call: grandma 3. Text message: ‘WOW’ from my friend bc i ditched science excursion to catch up on much needed schoolwork whoops (and i was a bit sick anyway so) 4. Song you listened to: listening to taken for a fool by the strokes rn but the laast one dræem girl by no vacation i think? 5. Time you cried: a few days ago bc i missed the bus (i hate getting dropped of by my mum?? idk why?? think bc i feel self conscious walking into school when there are lots of people but other than that i dont cry v easily

HAVE YOU: 6. Dated someone twice: nope 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: on the cheek & not really? it was year 1 8. Been cheated on: apparently my grade 1 bf cheated on me jerk 9. Lost someone special: yup 10. Been depressed: yup 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: nope

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS: 12-14: blue, green, orange/yellow

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU: 15. Made new friends: yeah i’m pretty sure! 16. Fallen out of love: idk what ““““love”“““ is so  17. Laughed until you cried: yes but it’s kind of scary hysterical crying laughter so  18. Found out someone was talking about you: yea this girl my group is friends w straight up said she hated me sosos much in grade 8 & 9 (reminds me of the fact a lot actually thanks) 19. Met someone who changed you: yep, both bad n good but mostly bad 20. Found out who your friends are: nope! 21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: nope

GENERAL: 22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: i don’t have fb anymore but when i did, like 99% of them 23. Do you have any pets: 2 cats & a dog 24. Do you want to change your name: nah my name is ok  25. What did you do for your last Birthday: man i can’t remember.. o wait i went to the movies and literally 1/4 of the ppl i invited showed up and noone from my current group hahahhgashgfsdjggkd  26. What time did you wake up: a little before 9?  27. What were you doing at midnight last night: sleeping i think 28. Name something you can’t wait for: leaving school & moving byebye 29. When was the last time you saw your mom: a few hours ago 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: my looks? might actually have decent friends orrr like... mental health OR grades 31. What are you listening to right now: no music, but my fan is on and sometimes the cars outside are loud enough to hear 32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: yes a few 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: stepdad 34. Most visited websites: tumblr and uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh netflix

LOST QUESTIONS. I JUST PUT IN RANDOM INFO ABOUT ME 35. Mole/s: yeah a few 36. Mark/s: a cat scratch that will probably be there forever 37. Childhood dream: when i was a kid and we had that ‘write down what u wanna be and paint a picture’ thing in kindergarten i drew a person and wrote ‘i want to be a person’ and tbh... me 38. Hair color: light brown? ‘brown like u rolled in mud’ 39. Long or short hair: on me or someone else? both is cute 40. Do you have a crush on someone: kind of idk  41. What do you like about yourself: uh. long eyelashes 42. Piercings: probably not 43. Blood type: idk man 44. Nickname: ains and uhhh well my grade 8 history teacher still calls me ash bc he’s convinced my name is ashley 45. Relationship status: single 46. Zodiac: libra 47. Pronouns: she/her 48. Favorite TV Show: uhhh freaks and geeks or scrubs or futurama or lots

49. Tattoos: none and idk if i’d ever be able to commit to one so!

50. Right or left hand: right handed but hopefully ambi one day?? 51. Surgery: never thankfully 52. Hair dyed in different color: nope 53. Sport: none but definitely wanna do a martial art does that count 55. Vacation: not really besides school trip to germany and a few close to home 56. Pair of trainers: uhh u mean my favourite?? probably my breaking black n white nikes theyve taken me to germany and singapore and like everywhere else

MORE GENERAL: 57. Eating: bagel crisps rn aka my favourite thing 58. Drinking: nothin 59. I’m about to: finish a poem 61. Waiting for: dinner i guess 62. Want: to finish my english speech 63. Get married: maybe?? (if i even can) but like idk... marriage seems so final lol 64. Career: uhhhhhhhhh legit no idea

WHICH IS BETTER 65. Hugs or kisses: idk but hugs r nice 66. Lips or eyes: lips? i dont pay much attention to eyes so lips i guess 67. Shorter or taller: depends but i wouldn’t wanna date any guy shorter than me :/ 68. Older or younger: uhh i’ve only ever dated guys younger than me bc theyve always been in my grade and i was kept down so younger than everyone else but i’ve almost dated a few older guys it’s ntb 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: uhh idk i don’t like either of mine 71. Sensitive or loud: sensitive 72. Hook up or relationship: relationship 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: uh idk a bit of both

HAVE YOU EVER: 74. Kissed a Stranger: nope 75. Drank hard liquor: nope 76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: yep 77. Turned someone down: yep 78. Sex on the first date: nope 79. Broken someone’s heart: apparently 80. Had your heart broken: i don’t think so  81. Been arrested: nope 82. Cried when someone died: yah 83. Fallen for a friend: probably

DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 84. Yourself: no im the most unreliable 85. Miracles: i guess 86. Love at first sight: uhh idk man....there was this cute guy at fish n chip shop once....... 87. Santa Claus: nope 88. Kiss on the first date: yeah i guess so depends

OTHER: 90. Current best friend name: idk anymore 91. Eye color: blue/grey idk depends on how u look at it 92. Favorite movie: no idea but i liked a bunch of childhood movies and i like... actually maybe secret life of walter mitty 

NOW, TAG 20 PEOPLE:

sorry i keep tagging u guys in stuff u dont have to do it @coffeeandnotes @honestlysstudying @blood--pixels @takenotesforyourlife @peachnotebook  @academic-moon @studyingisabella @skiesandjournals @goghstudies i can’t really think of anyone else but feel freeee

[soap-brain]

Starry Night

so i was rubbing some lotion onto my legs on sunday and then i thought of the first sentence and everything went downhill from there on.

@annie-thyme this would be the full thing

The sky is lit up with stars. All of it, expanded from one side of the horizon to the other, blanketing and making you feel tiny and alone and like the only, the most important person in the universe at the same time. No clouds, and maybe it’s a new moon, or a full moon, but it’s all there, stretched out, making the miles feel like lightyears and the hours like seconds. Cold, hard, unforgiving, and when you didn’t plan your route accordingly, when you’re in the dead of some mid-American state or in the Rockies or anywhere where you could drive for days without passing what could properly defined as civilization, it’s going to swallow you up. Could be weeks before a truck passes you in that particular bend, because you’re the only person on the world right now.

And it’s - it’s so peaceful, so beautiful. Just this, just the car’s engine and the stars, wide awake, cutting through the silence.

And hell, Dean doesn’t drink and drive, barely ever apart from the odd mistake here and there, once a year or less, but he could swear - he could swear when it’s like this, when Sam’s sleeping in the passenger seat or in the back or just elsewhere, when he’s all alone - he can hear it. The cosmos. The universe. Hear it talk. Smell it. Almost touch it. Crisp night air slipping under his collar after the Impala turned onto gravel for a short stop, headlights cut off, silence all around, maybe just the metal of the hood under his thighs and the wind rustling the plants, that almost-not-quite shiver because it’s crisply cold, or cool, keeping you sharp and wide awake, eyes wide open, taking in shaking breaths. He’s reached for the stars more than once, trying and failing, feeling so close yet so far. He could swear he can smell it, touch it, feel it, hear it, the vast expanse that goes in all the directions on the compass, and above.

It’s magical, and Dean’s seen enough magic that that word doesn’t sound right, but Heavenly doesn’t fit, either, but he’s not good enough with words to describe this. It makes something in his heart ache, and when he really thinks about it he thinks he was born for this life on the road.

And the stars - he kind of feels like when it’s like that they’re his. Which is stupid, of course, because it’s the most conceited thing he’s ever thought. Things like this, things so, so beautiful, so … ethereal - they’re not meant for him, not for a man as, you know, as bad as him.

Well. It’s the second most conceited thing he’s ever thought.

But still. Nights like this sometimes feels like the only wealth he’s ever had. He’s not the kind of guy to wax poetically about anything, ever, but … yeah, that’s kind of how it is, and he’s not about to give that up, share that, this special thing, with anybody else.

Or he was. Back when he thought that the most conceited thing he’s ever thought was believing these nights were meant for him alone.

Because then Cas came along and Dean somehow fooled himself into believing that the angel might be, you know, in love with him. Which is stupid of course, since heh, Dean’s very much heterosexual and Cas - or his vessel - is only agreeably looking. Doesn’t mean he wants to, you know, do anything with him. Just because the angel became a bit of a fix point in Dean’s life - and he’s always doing this standing too close, staring too much thing - it doesn’t mean that Dean wants anything from him. His blue eyes aren’t that special, and there’s probably tons of guys with that jawline, those plush lips, this warm rumbly voice, and Dean doesn’t want anything from him. It’s not… something he wants, or needs, and he doesn’t think of, well, Cas and his - the way he is, special, kind of wonderful in his own way. There’s nothing … between them, or whatever. It’s just comforting, another person, not just him and Sam, that’s all. He’s straight.

And just like the presence of Sam sleeping in the passenger seat kind of fades away in those nights, those starry nights (and ha, that’s an art joke, a nerd joke because Dean’s not really that stupid, it’s all just pretend), Cas … fades away, too. Not in a bad way, but the way he just sits in the back seat, barely moving, and Dean’s got the road in front of him, a few feet lit up by Baby’s headlights, the rest glowing softly with the light of the moon and the stars. He doesn’t use his mirrors - what for? - and so … yeah, he forgets that Cas is there. And Sam. He just forgets, too caught up in his own thoughts, the engine noise, the night and the stars.

Sometimes his eyes do float back to the rearview mirror and he startles a bit on the inside when he sees Cas’ face there, but the longer he’s with them, the more Dean loses himself in these nights, becomes one with the car, the blanket of the night, the miles they make.

And one night, when it’s especially beautiful and they’re in the mountains, high above everything else, on a winding road that overlooks a huge valley, Dean eventually pulls over, staring at the vast expanse, flicking off the headlights and killing the engine. He barely hears the door creak when he steps out, gravel rolling under his shoe, the gust of wind that greets him sending a shiver down his spine. He lets the door slip close, won’t allow another sound to tear through the night.

They’re on the edge of a cliff, a several hundred feet drop down to the tips of the forest down there. Dean rolls a small stone to the absolute edge with the tip of his shoe, watching it tumble down by its own weight until he can’t see it anymore, rushing of the trees loud in his ears, the Impala’s engine cooling down with soft little ticks.

The air is clear and he’s trying to look as far as he can, silently convinced that the pixel-like vagueness of everything too far away is the atoms that he can see. Or something. Shit, he doesn’t know anything, but this is great. It feels like time stopped for a while here, and this atmosphere here won’t allow him to think farther than of the right here, right now.

Each breath in the cool mountain air is like a huge weight lifting off his shoulders, his chest, his heart. Fuck, but if he could stay here forever …

Dean leans back against the Impala’s hood, one heel hooked against Baby’s bumper, arms loosely at his side, feeling the smooth warm metal with calloused fingertips, and he breathes again. Serene, that’s the word he was looking for. He lets his shoulders fall, jaw soften, relaxes his forehead, straightens his back.

A stronger breeze makes the trees almost roar, a bird crying out somewhere, and a door on the Impala opens with its trademark squeak. The bubble is so close to bursting and Dean can feel his heart tense with the need of holding on to something nice, just once.

So he doesn’t look to see who it is, eyes desperately trained ahead. The Impala shifts a bit under the other person’s weight, suspension making a tiny sound that feels like a gunshot and leaves Dean’s ears ringing.

A hand lies so closely to Dean’s own that he can feel the heat radiating off it, but he’s too proud to pull his own back, wants to keep his moment too much.

It’s Cas, he realizes after his eyes flick inadvertently to the side, Cas who’s sitting there in his ill-fitting trench coat, eyes wide and head tilted upwards, looking at the stars, stars shining in his eyes, and maybe … maybe Dean is willing to share his stars. Just once.

And then, because Dean can’t keep his stupid mouth shut, he blurts out: “Can you hear it?” The firmament, the universe, the cosmos, the night, the stars, his heartbeat.

    “Yes,” Castiel replies simply, exhaling softly, and the world aligns again. Dean relaxes his arm, lets his hand blanket Cas’, the coil in his stomach uncurling, breathing again.

Cas is radiating heat through his hand and Dean wants to move closer somehow, not snuggling with Cas, just … sharing his heat.

Their shoulders touch together. Dean doesn’t voice his sigh of relief, air softly escaping through his lips without sound.

Yeah, he might be alright with sharing his stars.

ok also this is precisely 1.450 words long and i’m kinda proud. also i’m thinking of doing a second part where cas takes out his wings and flies around a little and dean is even more awed

and then the potential second part and this would become sort of a three piece thing together with this 

thoughts?