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whenrockwasyoung19 · 3 years ago

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As a historian, I really want to do a piece on how 9/11 has been commemorated and how it’s been remembered by the people who lived through it and the generation that came up after. So I need to see 9/11 memes so I can determine what jokes about 9/11 are deemed acceptable by society, if any, and which ones are purely tasteless.

Having lived through that time, and remember the South Park era of comedy, I saw a lot of 9/11 jokes in the years after the attacks. They were tasteless then but laughing at them felt cathartic in a way. We’d all been through this collective trauma, and laughing at some shitty jokes was a way of coping with that trauma. But were these jokes tasteless? Probably.

I feel like as we get further away from the event, our memory of it gets more and more distorted. I think for a lot of people who weren’t there and don’t share that collective trauma they can be more cynical about it than the people that were. What do I mean by cynicism? This refers to a couple of trends I see in 9/11 discourse. The first is tasteless jokes, usually in the form of memes. The second is discourse that usually makes a lot of (false) comparisons between 9/11 and some other tragedy. This can be a comparison between some military mission performed by the US military or a natural disaster and most recently the pandemic. The emphasis in these comparisons is that 9/11 wasn’t that bad actually OR what America has done in retribution for 9/11 is worse than the original act itself. The latter point isn’t necessarily wrong but using a tragic event in which thousands of people lost their lives to do it, while an effective rhetorical strategy, can also come off as cynical and disrespectful to the people who survived it or lost family members. I feel like the best way to make that argument is to emphasize how horrible 9/11 was but explain that what the military did in response was perhaps even more destructive and cost more lives. I think deemphasizing how bad 9/11 was or just using it to make a political argument can read as disrespectful and not enough people find that tricky balance between political argument and disrespect.

As for the but such and such was worse, those people can shut up. Like I can entertain conversations about the actions of the US government and military in response to 9/11 because those are conversations worth having. This sort of cynical worldview doesn’t actually yield effective discourse. It essentially posits that because more people died in say a hurricane or an Earthquake that that event was a bigger tragedy. But as a historian, I can tell you that historians don’t claim that something is more significant or even more tragic or less tragic just because at some point in history a worse thing happened. Like as a historians were more aware than most how many bad things have happened in history, so there is no point in comparing all the tragic things to all of the other tragic things like some kind of mad web. Like there is no point in comparing a natural disaster to a terrorist attack because they are in no way similar other than the fact that innocent people died. They are far more dissimilar than similar, and comparing to disparate events that may not have even happened around the same time doesn’t make any sense. What points of comparison are we drawing and to what end? What does that really tell us about the society we’re living in or were living in during the time of these events? So just the business of comparing tragedies is a pointless endeavor but it also posits that the only thing that measures how tragic something is is it’s death toll and that’s not true. 9/11 is a tragedy not just because innocent people died but because of how meaningless their deaths were. They were caught in the crossfires of a conflict that these random office workers, flight attendants, flight passengers, and first responders had nothing to do with. An ongoing struggle between the East and the West, the dynamics between the most powerful nation on Earth and tiny subsections of a massive global religion has nothing to do with these people who died and yet they lost their lives anyway. Now that is true of any civilian attacks. But that’s the thing: there have been far worse civilian attacks in history, even some conducted by the US military (the Dresden bombings come to mind) but that’s kind of the problem with drawing comparisons. I can’t really say if the Dresden bombings and the Blitz were worse than 9/11. It simply doesn’t feel like my place to say to someone that suffered that your tragedy is actually smaller or less significant than this other tragedy that happened some other time. They are all hugely significant in their own ways, they are all tragedies, and they should all be remembered and discussed with reverence.

I do feel that a lot of the comparisons between 9/11 and some other tragedy come from this place of “why does the US make such a big deal about 9/11 and not xyz tragedy?” And this is a valid question but not all of the answers come down to “the US doesn’t care about xyz tragedy” or “the US only cares about itself!” So let’s go through some reasons why the anniversary of 9/11 is so widely covered. Firstly, it happened on our soil. Countries are always going to honor things that happened to them. It’s just a thing. If it affected the people in that country, then yeah they’re gonna go on and on about it. Secondly, it happened 20 years ago so it’s still in very recent living memory. Most people alive on the planet have vivid memories of that day, so most people still remember what that day felt like and want to honor the victims and commemorate it. Thirdly, all the cynical reasons. Yes the US is less concerned about anything else that’s happened outside of our borders. What happened to us matters more to anyone else. No this isn’t great but I’m just reporting the state of things. And yes, the US is selective about what it remembers and what it doesn’t, and the government has a history of struggling to acknowledge the bad things America has done. And lastly, America never really stopped being overly nationalistic like a lot of other countries did after the rise of fascism scared them out of ever doing that shit again. America just maintains its nationalism. Maybe one day it’ll have a more nuanced perspective of itself like other countries do but we’ll see. So yeah there are a lot of reasons why the US makes a big fucking deal about this day and will forever and not all of them are bad or reason to criticize.

Ok now to acknowledge the memes. God any time I tell kids not to make memes about 9/11 I feel like a grandma. I mean I could go on and on about how it’s disrespectful but the people making them know this and don’t care. I guess I’m more interested in understanding why people make memes about a national tragedy. I think it has to do with how 9/11 has been remembered which is largely clouded by all of the political and military stuff that happened as a result of it. For people who learned about 9/11 years after it happened, they didn’t experience these events in real time. For those of us who lived through it, we didn’t know all that was going to transpire because of it. On that day, all we really knew was that thousands of people were dead and more were going to die in the conflicts that would result from it. We didn’t know that the wars would last decades or how pointless it would all be in the end. We had no idea how shitty George Bush was or how incompetent his administration was. We definitely had no idea that Trump was coming. So for a lot of us, we can separate the mess that happened because of the attacks from our memories of the attacks. It’s so much easier for us to think only about the events of that day because we were there. We have specific memories of it which we can latch onto rather than just thinking about news footage or events that came later.

And the cynicism that people feel is somewhat earned. The attacks obviously spurned two decades of Islamaphobia as well as countless military attacks in the Middle East. For a lot of young people, they feel like they’re supporting Muslims or standing against Islamaphobia by disrespecting an event that prompted so much Islamaphobia. And I get that. But also that’s not the way to do show your support or take a stand. Keep in mind that the people who died that day had no idea what they were dying for. Most in their last moments probably didn’t even know it was a terrorist attack. The American people didn’t even realize the first plane was an attack. So it doesn’t really make sense to disrespect their memory when it’s not their fault that their deaths resulted in so much pain and suffering for the Muslim diaspora. Disrespect the people who were openly Islamaphobic after the attacks, criticize the American government for their actions in the Middle East. But not the people who had no control how their deaths were remembered or used by politicians, military leaders, white nationalists, and other racists to attack Muslim people.

As a historian, it’s my job to try to apply a historical context to people’s actions. A lot of people have done this to observe why people responded to the attacks the way they did. Now I want to use it to understand why so many young people feel at best indifferent to the events of that day and at worst resentful and disrespectful towards ur

#9/11

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onecanonlife · 4 years ago

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Wilbur has never had wings. He has long since resigned himself to that fact. However much of his father's blood runs through his veins, it is not enough to grant him that gift.

Wilbur comes back to life, and his back begins to ache.

(word count: 6,141)

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It’s stupid, but when his back first begins to ache, he assumes it’s old age.

The thing is that he doesn’t have any real frame of reference for what constitutes as old and what does not. His father is old, but his father has lived for literally thousands of years. Technoblade is not quite so old as that, but Technoblade never dies is more than just a catchphrase. Tommy is young, he’s sure of that much, but Tommy has days where he wakes up and his head and ribs won’t stop aching, remnants of that third death that have never quite left him, so Tommy is perhaps not the best gauge of what pains are and are not normal for a young person.

Wilbur doesn’t think that he’s particularly old. He’s still not yet thirty, unless he counts the void years. Then, he’s older than thirty. Then, he’s older than his own bones. He tries not to dwell on the void years, because dwelling on the void years gives him urges that he’s still learning how to ignore. Urges like informing everyone gaily and at length when the inevitable heat death of the universe will be, or giving everyone a graphic description of what happens at a microscopic level in the human body when it picks up a stomach bug.

The point is, he’s not very old. But he feels it, a lot of the time, so when he wakes up one morning and his back is killing him, he shrugs it off and goes about his day. It hurts, sure. It hurts kind of a lot. But he’s had worse. The void took him apart molecule by molecule and put him back together again so many times that he learned to love it, and compared to that, this is nothing at all.

Life in the Arctic has been—nice. It’s been nice, reconnecting with Phil, cautiously rebuilding his relationship with Technoblade. Tommy comes to visit a lot, and it’s odd, trying to juggle the kid he thinks of as a brother with his father and his father’s best friend, especially when there’s so much bad blood between the lot of them, but they make it work. And Ranboo is around a lot, and he’s a nice kid, and Niki stops by every so often, and it’s good to see her. No one else is very interested in coming to visit him, which is understandable, but she always smiles at him, and he knows that they’re still friends. Which is good.

He’s fairly sure that the four of them, Phil and Techno and Niki and Ranboo, have some sort of secret club thing going on. They always give him different answers when he asks about it; Niki blinks and tells him it’s a book club, and Ranboo does not blink because he does not have eyelids, but Ranboo claims that it’s a pet grooming society. So they’re lying to him for sure, and he thinks he could know the truth if he wanted to, if he tapped in just a bit more to those bits of void that have nestled in his heart. The temptation is strong, sometimes, but he resists.

He doesn’t want to mess with a good thing, is all. He’s found a peace here in the snow that he didn’t think he would be able to find outside of the grave. He is hesitant to call himself healing, but most days, when his head cries out for blood and fire and burning the world and himself along with it, he can push the idea away and carry on without trying to act on it. That is healing, perhaps.

Captain Puffy tells him it is, anyway, and he’s found that Captain Puffy tends to know what she’s talking about.

But so. His back hurts. And he expects it to stop after a while, because even old person aches surely can’t last forever. Except, it doesn’t, and in fact seems to only get worse over the next few days, to the point that he starts to worry that it’s going to begin interfering with his functionality. Which he doesn’t want. He needs freedom, freedom to go where he wants, even if where he wants to go usually isn’t very far. It’s the principle of the thing. He does not do well with confinement, with spaces that are too enclosed, and if this pain ends up laying him out in his room, he’s going to go insane.

Poor choice of words, that. But the point still stands, so he makes a decision. The decision is this: he’s simply not going to allow that to happen.

So he slaps a smile on his face and carries on with his business, and does his best to ignore the way his spine starts to feel like it’s cracking open and stabbing into the surrounding muscle. And he is a very good actor, if he does say so himself, so for the most part, no one seems to notice that anything is wrong. Phil asks him if he’s feeling alright, but he’s able to deflect by claiming fatigue, and Phil accepts the explanation easily. And the pain only increases, does not let up at all, but it’s a gradual sort of increase, so before too long, he figures out how to adjust to it. It’s fine. He’ll be fine.

And then Tommy stops by for a visit, and they’re chatting outside for a moment, and Tommy says something stupid and ridiculous, so he smacks him gently upside the head, which Tommy takes objection to. And then they’re wrestling, which makes the pain flare a bit, but it’s manageable, especially since he gets Tommy pinned in about four seconds flat, which. Is concerning, a bit, because he is not particularly strong, physically, so if he can pin Tommy, there are a lot of other people who could also definitely pin Tommy.

But he’s probably not thinking about it the right way. This was a play fight, not a real one, and it’s difficult, sometimes, to remember that the server is currently at peace.

He pins Tommy, both of them panting and grinning in the snow, and he doesn’t let up until Tommy admits defeat. And then he gets to his feet, and here is where he makes the error: he turns his back.

The snowball impacts him right between his shoulder blades. He stumbles forward with the force of it, and his knees hit the snow.

Tommy is already cackling, is calling him a bitch. Wilbur barely has time to think oh, shit before something spasms, and it’s like something has taken a knife to him from the inside out. He hears a strangled little scream, choked and agonized, and barely recognizes the fact that it’s coming from him, because black spots are dancing across his vision and his lungs aren’t inflating properly and he can hardly think.

“Oh, come on,” Tommy says, a wide smile still in his voice. “Don’t be such a pussy. I didn’t even pack any ice in.”

He can’t reply. The agony is centered where the snowball hit, but it’s radiating outward, and the whole of his back feels like it’s burning and freezing all at once, and he shudders violently, breaths coming in short, quick gasps. He clenches his fists, braces them against his thighs, pressing down hard enough to leave bruises.

“Wilbur?” Tommy asks, more uncertain. And then, Tommy is there, kneeling down in front of him, and his face goes all wide and panicky. “Wilbur? Holy shit, are you dying? Are you having a heart attack? A stroke? Are you freezing to death? Have I just killed you with a snowball? You’ve got three lives again, right? Where are you hurt, Wil, come one, you’ve got to tell me, you’ve gotta tell me so I can fix it, are you—”

“My back,” he manages, “my back’s been—my back’s been hurting, it wasn’t your fault, it’s just—” He cuts off with another gasp as all the muscles in his back convulse, tensing and untensing and tensing again and sending a wave of stabbing pain through his nerves.

“Oh, Prime,” Tommy says, “oh, Prime, alright, you’re gonna be fine, big man, let’s just get you inside, alright? Can you walk? Nevermind, just—” Tommy hooks his hands underneath his arms and hauls him to his feet, slinging one of his arms across his shoulders as soon as he can get them in the right position. He lets out a little whimper, and hates himself for doing so, just a little bit, but fuck, that hurts.

The stairs are a trial. His feet drag, and he would trip and fall flat on his face if it weren’t for Tommy. But then, they’re inside Phil’s house, and Tommy sits him down on Phil’s ratty little couch, and he immediately curls in on himself, hands gripping his forearms as if the pain will go away if he hugs himself hard enough.

“Okay, shirt off, Wil, let me see,” Tommy says, and he blinks dumbly for a moment.

“What?” he asks, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth.

“No, just—you’ve got to let me see what’s wrong, yeah?”

“‘S old man aches,” he mumbles, but doesn’t try to fight it when Tommy begins manhandling his arms, pushing at his coat sleeves.

“What the fuck are you on about?” Tommy demands. “You’re not that old. Who do you think you are, Philza fucking Minecraft? Come on, just let me see—” He finally manages to get the coat off, and then the shirt, and his skin erupts in gooseflesh as it’s exposed to the air. Tommy freezes.

“What?” he asks. “What is it, what’s—”

“I don’t,” Tommy says, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t, Wilbur, I don’t know what this is, I don’t—holy shit, that’s actually kind of scary. Um! No, nevermind, don’t pay attention to me, just keep um, breathing! Breathing is good! Breathing exercises!” He breathes in and out, loud and exaggerated. “See, just like that. I’m just gonna—”

And he puts a hand out, and before Wilbur can stop him, he rests it on his back. Light and cautious, but still too much, and Wilbur stuffs a fist into his mouth to stop himself from screaming. In the same motion, he flinches away, violently, but the damage has already been done. Because the contact hurts, a lot, but what’s worse is the horror, because in the split second that Tommy’s hand touched his skin, he could feel the way that it is wrong, that his back is wrong, that there is something terribly wrong. Because there are ridges protruding from his back, long and thick and raised, and it’s wrong and it hurts and Tommy’s right, actually, this is scary, he’s fucking scared.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Tommy is saying, “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I won’t do that again, I’m so sorry, Wilbur, are you okay? Please be okay, please—”

He nods, though it’s more like he lets his head fall and then painstakingly brings it back up a little.

“Okay, I think we need—” Tommy says. “I think that I don’t know what to do, so I think we need—” He takes a deep breath. “Phil! Phil!” Loud, panicked, earsplitting. Wilbur winces. “Phil! He is home, isn’t he? Phil!”

A second passes, and then, drifting up from the basement, a distant, “Tommy? Everything good?”

“Phil, get up here right fucking now!”

There is a beat of silence, and then there are footsteps, quiet at first but growing closer, and they are quick, hurried. Phil must have detected the genuine fear in Tommy’s voice, because Tommy and Phil generally stand on very shaky ground with each other, so while Phil will typically indulge Tommy in his whims, it depends on the day as to how far he’ll go, how quick he’ll respond. But it’s only a moment or two before Phil’s head pokes out of the floor, his hands clinging to the ladder, his face twisted in confusion.

“What on earth is the matter?” he asks, and then breaks off as his eyes land on Wilbur, who—he must be a sight. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. But terror flashes across Phil’s face, and he is crossing the floor in an instant, hands hovering over him, fluttering helplessly, though thankfully, he doesn’t touch.

“What’s wrong, where are you hurt, what—” The words come out in a jumbled flurry, but he stops just as abruptly, and Wilbur knows that he is looking at the horror show that is his back.

“It hurts, Phil,” he whispers.

“Okay,” Phil says, sounding—still concerned, but perhaps marginally calmer? “Okay, you’re going to be alright. I think I know what this is.” He settles himself on the couch right next to him and opens his arms, and Wilbur doesn’t hesitate before leaning forward, slumping against him. Phil seems to know better than to put any kind of pressure on his back, and instead places one hand on his arm and the other on the back of his head, threading his fingers through his hair.

“Then what the fuck is it?” Tommy demands.

“Tommy, I need you to run over to Techno’s and ask him for something for pain, and something for sleep. Can you do that for me?” Phil asks instead of answering, and perhaps Wilbur should be terrified by the implication that he’s going to need either of those things, but the promise of some kind of relief overrides any kind of trepidation.

“Like fuck I will,” Tommy says, “Not before you tell me what the fuck is wrong with him!”

Another convulsion wracks him. He bites his lip to keep from crying out, and tastes blood. His breath is hitching, and he can’t stop it.

“Tommy.” Phil’s voice is sharp, but then, Wilbur feels rather than hears him sigh. “It’s wings, I think. I don’t understand why now, but I went through this a long time ago, when I was very young. I recognize the signs. So Tommy, please.”

Tommy makes a surprised little sound. Wilbur isn’t looking, has his face buried in Phil’s shoulder, but he can imagine the look on his face: the slack jaw, the wide open eyes. And then, there are rushed footsteps retreating, and the door slamming, and Tommy’s muffled voice calling out for Technoblade.

And then, Wilbur processes what Phil just said.

He twists his head around so he can see his face, regretting it a moment later. Any kind of movement seems to make the pain worse, and he has to take a moment to tremble through it.

“Wings?” he whispers. “How?”

He’s never had wings.

If he were going to have wings, he would have gotten them a long time ago. He remembers nights spent as a child, staying up and hoping for feathered appendages to somehow miraculously appear on his back, just so he could be more like his dad. He remembers the crushing disappointment when he finally accepted that no matter how much divine blood runs in his veins, it is apparently not enough.

But he did accept it. He accepted it years ago. There is absolutely no reason for him to be developing wings now, as a fully-grown adult, but Phil sounds so very sure, and his back hurts so very much, and perhaps that’s consistent with actual appendages trying to sprout out of him.

“I don’t know,” Phil says. “I’ve never heard of it happening so late, even in avians. Which, I’m not exactly, but I got mine when I was a kid like they do, and I don’t—I don’t know, Wil, I really don’t, but I remember what it was like, yeah? I know what to do. It’s gonna suck for a little while, but you’re going to be fine, I promise.”

“Okay,” he croaks, “okay—” and then he has to stop talking, because the pain flares again, bright and intense and holy shit, but it’s worse this time, because now that he knows what’s going on, he can feel them. He can feel things inside of him, pushing against his muscles and his skin in ways that absolutely should not be possible, and there is too much of him to be contained in his body, and there are things inside of him trying to escape—

It’s almost like the way he gets when he thinks about the void too hard. Except not, because when he does that, he feels the urge to dissolve away, gently and peacefully, to let himself back into the quiet that is not quiet and the darkness that is not dark, where all the knowledge of the world is at his fingertips, too much for a mortal brain to contain and remain sane. That is not this. This is his own body trying to explode. There is no peace, no dissolution; it’s messy and physical and Prime he just wants it to stop.

He shifts in Phil’s grasp, fruitlessly trying to find a position that takes the pressure off, a little bit. It’s no use, of course, because he can still feel something moving under the skin of his back, and his vision whites out, and when he comes back to himself, he’s shivering, shivering and shaking and sobbing in Phil’s hold, and he doesn’t remember when he started crying but he can’t seem to make himself stop. Phil is keeping up a steady stream of soothing nonsense, and he latches onto the sound of his voice like it’s the only lifeline he has.

And then the door bursts open, and Wilbur doesn’t bother trying to look, but there are two sets of footsteps, not just one.

“Here,” Tommy says, panting, and there are several thumps, and several clinks, glass on glass.

“Oh god, don’t—and he’s doing it, he’s just dumping all of that on the floor. Don’t break those, Tommy, those aren’t splash pots. Have you never handled a potion before.” Technoblade pauses for a moment. “So, what exactly’s wrong with him? The child was making no sense at all.”

Wilbur thinks he detects a note of concern. But he’s not thinking clearly, and it’s always hard to tell anyway, with Technoblade.

“He’s got wings growing in,” Phil responds, voice clipped. Wilbur feels his hand leave his arm, and he whines at the loss of touch. And then another spasm, and he whines again, pressing his face harder into Phil’s shirt.

“Oh. Huh. Yes, that makes perfect sense, of course.”

Phil’s arm dips a bit, and Wilbur finds himself being moved, his head gently tilted back. Phil’s face comes into view, pale and blurry.

“You want to drink this for me, Wil?” he says, and then there is glass at his lips, and he parts them immediately. He doesn’t like being knocked out, doesn’t like the loss of control that comes with it, but if he has to be aware for another five minutes, he’s not going to be able to keep himself from screaming aloud.

He swallows, grimacing at the taste. The effects start hitting right away. His mind detaches from himself, and the pain drains from him. Every muscle goes lax.

He exhales.

“There we go,” Phil murmurs, “there we go. It’s gonna be alright, Wil. I’ll be here the whole time. You’re gonna be okay.”

The world falls away. He lets it. He trusts his father to catch him.

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He wakes up a few times, and each time, it hurts. Phil is always there, and usually, Tommy too, and sometimes Techno, and he can barely move but they always see that he’s awake, and they give him a potion and he’s under again, and he’s glad for it, because those moments of consciousness are a spiral of pain and confusion and his thoughts flying apart because he barely understands what’s going on or why he’s hurting and he just wants it to go away.

And then there is the time he wakes up and he thinks somebody is cutting his back open, and he can feel his own blood on his skin, sticky and hot, and he thrashes, trying to get away, and that makes the pain so much worse, and the sound that comes out of his mouth is inhuman, and he fights until a potion is poured down his throat and it’s back to sleep again.

And then there is the time he wakes up, and people are talking in low, hushed tones. He can’t make out what they’re saying. He cracks his eyes open, and it’s Phil and Technoblade, deep in some discussion, both looking terribly concerned. He decides he’ll ask what’s wrong later, and then closes his eyes and goes back to sleep again.

And then there is the time he wakes up, and some part of him is moving, and he doesn’t understand what it is because it’s not any of his limbs, not his arms and not his legs, and it feels alien and foreign and his back feels like it’s been shoved under a woodchipper and then tossed through a paper shredder for good measure, and he’s not aware enough to know why, so he panics. There is a bit of the void that still dwells in his heart, and he calls on it, cries out to it, and it answers, comes rushing in around him, and his mind expands to peer into galaxies.

Philza is at his side a moment later, and he is able to look at him and see all the weight of years that lie behind his eyes, and all the years that lie ahead of him, and the moment of his death, all spiraling out like a tapestry and like a mass, and the music is atonal, confused, but a closer glance reveals it to be twelve-tone, order in the chaotic lines. Wilbur is with the void again, and his heart still beats, but it’s a near thing, and he could stop it if he chose.

“Do you want to know, Philza?” he asks, words spilling from his lips like rain, like the river, like the flood. “Do you want to know when it will happen? I can see it. I can see how some part of you wants it. All our histories are like tangled up threads, but they all come to an end, and I can see those endings, Philza, I can tell you about them if you like.”

Pain constricts Philza’s face, and Wilbur doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know who wouldn’t love the void and its peace and its everything.

“I know, Wilbur,” Philza says, “I know, but how about you come back to me now, okay? Come back to me?”

“We’re all little bits of code, Philza,” he informs him. “None of us are real. We’re little bits of code and words on a page and lines in a script written by our better selves. Nothing in this world really matters. We might as well have all the fun we can before the lights go out. Do you want to know when that will be, Philza? Not too long after you, Philza. Not too long at all. I told Tommy, he knows, he didn’t want to know but that’s alright, he’s better off for it, if he hasn’t forgotten.”

“Come back, Wil, come on,” Philza says, “you can do it. You’ve got a heartbeat, do you feel it?”

Philza takes his hand and places it over his heart, and—that’s right. He’s alive. He’d forgotten. The void spins, and then it tucks itself away again, waiting for the next moment he needs it, and he is left with only vague impressions of what he’s just said and a vague idea that everything hurts and something is wrong with his back and he’d like to go to sleep now, please.

“Alright, yeah,” Phil says, “here, you can have this, you can sleep. You’re doing so well, Wil, I promise it’s almost done.”

He takes the potion. Or tries to; Phil has to hold it for him.

“Okay,” he says faintly. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he hears Phil say, very far away. “So long as you come back, everything’s okay.”

He goes back to sleep again. He thinks he wakes up a few more times, but he doesn’t really remember. He doesn’t really want to.

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And then: awareness.

The first thing he processes is that everything aches, deeply and acutely, but none of it feels nearly as bad as it did before, and not even as bad as it’s been over the past couple of weeks. It’s irritating, painful, but more than manageable, really, practically a relief. The second thing he processes is that he’s lying on his stomach, and that there is something weighing him down.

His mind puzzles over this for a moment. He tries to roll over, to see what’s going on, but something stops him, and then he remembers: wings.

He’s got wings. There are wings on his back. Growing out of him. A part of his body. Wings.

As soon as he realizes that, he becomes aware of them. And it is so very strange, to suddenly have access to two extra limbs, to suddenly have additional body parts to move about and control. It’s a feeling impossible to describe, and he has to take several minutes to process it, to try to become accustomed to it. It doesn’t really work, but he tries moving them anyway, just a bit of a flex, and—

Ouch.

He groans, shoving his face into the pillow. A mistake. That was a mistake. He’d rather like to go back to sleep now and pretend that none of this is happening.

But his vocalization draws attention, and then there is a hand on his shoulder, gently brushing him just enough to feel, not enough to pain him. He turns his head to the side, reluctantly, and Phil is kneeling beside him, his face open and soft and clearly relieved, his lips curling into a slight smile.

“Hey,” he says. “How you feeling, Wil?”

He considers this, and decides on honesty. “Bit like I’ve been caught between a piston and a wall for the past couple of days,” he admits. “Better than before, though.”

“Good to hear,” Phil says, and then his face goes a bit more serious. “How much of that do you remember?”

“Not much?” he says. “I don’t think? Impressions, I guess. I know I wasn’t having a good time. I’m glad I don’t remember it too clearly. I was out for most of it, yeah?”

“Most of it,” Phil agrees, and Wilbur thinks that perhaps there is something he’s not saying, but he doesn’t feel like pressing the matter. He can guess what it is, anyway; there is a chill in his chest, and his thoughts feel just slightly more fractured than usual, so it’s not hard to assume what might have happened. Not hard to assume where he might have gone. He’s sure he’ll feel terrible about it when everything stops feeling so surreal.

He has wings.

“It’s over now?” he asks, and winces at the way his voice cracks. “It’s done?”

Phil’s eyes do the thing where they go immeasurably soft and crinkly at the edges, and it’s love and relief and sadness all at once. “It’s done,” he agrees, and then hesitates. “You’re not gonna be able to fly on them for a while, but would you like to see?”

He doesn’t understand why Phil is being so cautious about it. Of course he wants to see. If he’s going to be put through hell, he wants to see what came of it. He wants it to be worth it.

“Usually, when wings grow in, they’re all downy and shit. Like a baby bird,” Phil says, probably in response to whatever face he’s sure he’s making. “Flight feathers come in over the next few weeks.” He pauses again, and Wilbur thinks he understands his reticence, now, understands the still-present concern.

“But that’s not what happened with mine,” he states, and Phil shakes his head.

“Yours are fully fledged,” he says. “Probably part of why it hurt so much. I don’t know why, Wil. But do you wanna have a look?”

Wordless, he nods, and Phil takes that as his cue to reach out and help him sit upright. It’s far more effort than it should be, compounded by the fact that his sense of balance feels all wrong, and that’s going to take some getting used to, he can already tell. And he’s sore, like he’s run a marathon or fought another half dozen wars all in one go, and his head spins a little bit when he finally situates himself. He closes his eyes against it, breathing in sharply.

He feels Phil guiding his wings forward, into his field of vision. He opens his eyes.

They are very big, is the first thing he notices. They would have to be, of course, to hold his weight up. Magic and suspension of disbelief only stretches so far. They are very large, and the feathers are very large, and they are very angular and neat as well, so neat that someone has to have arranged them while he was unconscious, because there’s no way that they came out looking like that.

The color, though. The color. He swallows, hard.

They are black, perhaps. They look black. But he knows on an instinctive level that they are black in the same way that the void is black, and that if someone were to stare at them for too long, they would realize as much, would realize that actually, they are not black at all, but rather some color or some lack of color that is beyond human comprehension. The void translates as black to the human mind because it is as close as the human mind can get to true perception, and most of the time, Wilbur remembers it as black, but it was not, and his wings are not, and he is never going to be free of it, is he?

On some level, he knew that. Knew that the void is in him and about him, and no matter what he does, it will never leave him completely, not after all the years he spent with it, intertwined with the infinite nothing. But now he has wings on his back, and they should be a connection between him and Phil, should be something to celebrate, but he stares at the plumage and feels sick to his stomach.

“Wil?” Phil asks. He sounds confused, sounds worried by his reaction. “You okay, mate?”

He’s not sure how to phrase this in a way that Phil will understand. Not sure that he wants to.

“Void,” he manages, voice a broken whisper. “They look like void, Phil.”

He looks up just in time to see Phil’s face crumple.

“Wil—”

“They look just like it, Phil,” he continues. “Just like it. And I know I’m not always good about, about being here, about keeping myself stable, but I’m trying. I try to ignore it when it calls, I try not to reach out to it, and when I fail, I, I try to come back, I do, I swear. I can’t—I can’t have these, Phil, they’re from it, that’s why I’m getting them now, maybe it triggered something, I don’t know, but I can’t, Phil, I can’t—”

He reaches out toward them, intending to do—something, maybe, and Phil must have a better idea than he does, because his hand darts out and snags his, stopping him in his tracks.

“No, Wil, don’t do that, okay? We can work on it, we’ll figure it out, but please don’t—”

“You’re up!”

He and Phil both freeze, and as one, look to the door. Tommy is standing there, grinning like nobody’s business, and Technoblade is lurking behind him, his face contorted into an expression that looks like he wants to murder someone but really just means he’s feeling very awkward.

Tommy glances back and forth between the two of him, and his face slowly falls.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. “Nothing—I mean, it all went right, didn’t it?”

He blinks. Tilts his head slightly. Gently removes his hand from Phil’s grasp, and then spreads out his wings behind him, putting them on full display, as far out as he can make them go, and it aches and he’s not going to be able to hold them there for long, but it’s worth it. He wants Tommy to see. Because Tommy will know. Tommy remembers. And unlike him, Tommy hates to remember. Tommy hates the void. So perhaps this is an act of self-sabotage. That’s what Captain Puffy would say. But he does it anyway, because he wants someone else to see and understand, understand in a way he knows Phil won’t be able to.

“I’ve got void wings, Tommy,” he says, and a smile splits his face. “See them?”

Tommy’s eyes widen, and he flinches.

Gratification is not nearly as sweet as he thought it would be. Actually, he just sort of feels like crying.

But then, Tommy’s brows draw together. And he steps further into the room, coming closer and closer until he’s standing right up against the bed, staring at the feathers. Wilbur holds himself very still.

“I see,” Tommy says slowly, “but Wilbur, I’m not sure you do.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, and cranes his neck to try to see whatever Tommy’s looking at. For a moment, he doesn’t; there’s just the feathers, void feathers, death feathers, a reminder that—

But arctic sunlight slants through the window, and if he shifts his angle just a little bit—

The noise that escapes him is small and involuntary. He hopes no one calls him on it, but that’s the least of his concerns right now. Because the colors do not change, not exactly, but if he holds them to the light, the sun illuminates the feathers, haloing their edges in gold, and there is a sheen of color running across them, a sheen that ripples and moves as he shifts them in the sunbeam, and it is a beautiful, rich blue.

And they’re lovely.

“Oh,” he says, and Tommy laughs at him, the fucking gremlin.

“Yeah, fucking oh,” he says. “You’re such a moron. They’re so fucking ace, Wilbur.”

“I think that maybe you need to work on rememberin’,” Technoblade says from the doorway, “that you’re the sum of all your experiences, and not just one.”

Wilbur stares at him.

“Oh my god,” he finally says. “That’s so cheesy. Who the hell are you and what have you done with Technoblade?”

“Alright,” Techno grumbles, “see if I do anythin’ nice for you ever again. I didn’t come up here to receive this kind of treatment. This is an outrage.”

He laughs. He laughs, from the sheer relief of it, and his trepidation is melting away like snow in the sunshine, and he can allow himself to revel in it, to revel in the wings on his back, and he is sore and tired but this is what glory feels like, maybe, and perhaps he can fly into the air and there will be no wax to drip away.

Perhaps these wings are of the void, but they are of him, too.

And he looks to Phil again, and Phil is smiling at him, warm and happy. His own wings are flared out behind him, tattered at the edges, so many feathers torn or still missing entirely, and the more time that passes, the more and more likely it is that those feathers are never going to grow back, that Phil truly will never fly again. Phil has already resigned himself to it, he knows, but Wilbur has never given up hope, will never be able to bring himself to give up hope.

“It’s not fair that I can fly when you can’t,” he says quietly, and the room goes still and quiet. Especially when it’s my fault, he doesn’t say, though he knows everyone hears it.

“Wil,” Phil says, “nothing could bring me more joy than this.”

And Wilbur hears what he means: you, here.

So he flexes his wings and revels in the ache and revels in the sunshine and revels at his family, here, his father sitting by him and his friend-protege-brother poking at curiously at his feathers and Technoblade still in the doorway, not leaving even for all his grumbling. He revels in this, revels in this life, and for a time, the void recedes entirely.

And in its wake is the sunlight.

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remuscore · 3 years ago

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Decisions, Decisions

I am hurting everyone around me with subtext and knowledge of what happens in the future for these two. But still enjoy cute baby Roman :)

Warnings: Talk of pregnancy, implied child abuse, mention of infant death. It's pretty tame for the most part but send an ask if you need anything else added.

_____________

Remus focuses on breathing, keeping his chest from rising up and down too fast as to not disturb the tiny little thing in his arms. He leaned against his car, bouncing and struggling to get his mind to understand the events that had come to pass by him so fast.

Audri told him she was pregnant and was not going to be keeping the kid. Remus— the overwhelming stupid Remus― said he wanted it. She had agreed to carry the baby, but she refused to be a part of the kid’s life. No matter how much Remus begged that she at least keep in contact, she said she wanted nothing to do with them. Either of them. Which was unbelievably harsh, but Remus couldn't blame her. Because of him, she had had any unplanned pregnancy and had to take time off school because of it. She was a smart girl so this ruined her education for awhile.

And while Remus was getting everything from when he was a baby and getting everything all set up in his room, his parents had found out and were... less than happy. A big fight ended with a chunk of Remus’ hair ripped out of his head and his car filled with baby things. He didn’t even get a chance to grab his own stuff. Not even his backpack. He had to go to the last month of school in the same clothes and with nothing to do his work. Luckily enough, the locker room had rental clothes and a shower and his teachers let him use some extra materials they had. He didn't tell anyone what happened.

On the last few days of school, Remus had stared at the doors to the school early in the morning, wondering if he should still try taking the kid in. If he called up Audri and said he couldn’t, then she could find the kid a real family. Real parents that were stable enough to actually raise them right. Then, Remus would be allowed back home. He wouldn’t be close to dropping out next year. He would still have a chance to have a real life and be a real young adult and get to have kids at an acceptable age later when he had money and a place to live.

Something in him said no. He didn’t want to put any more worry on Audri. He decided he was going to pretend to still want to keep the kid, but then give them over to a person that could actually give them a good home. This was his fault anyways, might as well take the responsibility of making sure the baby is safe.

But standing here now, close to midnight with a very small and new born baby boy in his arms, staring at the hospital just a parking lot in front of him, Remus couldn’t make his legs move.

He was just so small.

“Nine pounds and six ounces,” Remus whispered. He didn’t know why he kept repeating what Audri had told him. He's been saying it like a mantra ever since she handed him over. “Nine pounds, six ounces, perfectly healthy and happy. Nine pounds, six ounces.”

Every breath felt so heavy and painful and he prayed that his― that the baby didn’t mind the fast beating of his heart. Why was this so terrifying? Remus has never been this scared before and it was all over a baby.

Whatever choice he made right now sealed the fate of his entire future. He was responsible for not only his life, but someone who couldn’t even lift their head yet. He has never been responsible for anything larger than a rat before in his life and that rat ended up dying because it went missing from it's cage and the feral cat that lived in their garage killed it. He shouldn’t be in charge of a baby.

“Fuck, what should I do?” Remus gasped. He pulled the baby closer to him, holding the back of his head and feeling the small patch of hair on his head. He was starting to panic and that was never good. Can babies read your vibes? Can the baby feel him panicking? “Fuck― fuck. What should I do?”

“Eli would know what to do,” Remus adjusted the baby so that they were chest to chest and his tiny head was on his shoulder. He squirmed and let out a few little whines as Remus slid down onto the wet asphalt under his tires. The bundle in his arms stopped squirming when Remus bounced him again. “Eli’s wife just got pregnant. He's been reading all these baby books and it's barely even a bump yet. I beat him to it.”

He laughed and leaned the baby away to look at him. He was practically falling asleep right here and now. His little pink lips covered in drool and his skin was starting to flake and dry up. His head was so big and fat that his little cheeks were acting like little pillows on his shoulders. He was just so incredibly tiny.

“You don’t even know who Eli is, you lucky shit,” Remus’ cheeks hurt from the smile that has yet to fall off his face. He just wanted to crush the baby’s tiny little head, he’s so fucking cute! “He’s my brother. Technically, anyways. Or maybe not anymore because my parents kicked me out. I might be disowned now. I could’ve had two brothers, you know. I think about that a lot actually. He was supposed to be my twin, but he had a lot of breathing problems and died about two months after being born. I wish he had stuck around. I could definitely use someone right now.”

The baby didn’t respond of course because he was just a baby. He didn’t understand a single thing going on. He didn’t know who Remus was or what he was saying or what was in store for him if Remus could just make a fucking decision. He was small and ignorant to everything for the next few years.

Remus didn’t expect how fast he would fall in love with this stupid little thing.

With that thought in mind, Remus held the baby in one arm and pushed himself to his feet. He didn’t glance back at the hospital as he opened the door to the passenger side and put him in his car seat. The little thing didn’t stir and continued sleeping calmly. Remus rushed to the driver’s side and buckled himself in. He turned on the engine and dialed the first number he could think of on his phone.

“Hey, Spencer, I know we haven’t talked in awhile, but long story short I need a place to stay because I was kicked out of my house for getting a girl pregnant—” Remus laughed at his friends response, wedging the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he started driving to his apartment. “Yeah, I know, but I gotta son now so— his name?”

Remus grabbed the phone with his hand again and glanced over at the baby. Audri never gave him a name. She didn’t want anything to do with them, so of course she didn’t care about his name, but Remus didn’t really plan to take the kid back. The hospital or adopter people were going to handle that.

“Uh… Roman,” Remus smiled and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, his name is Roman. Yeah, he was born just a few hours ago. June 4th.”

#remuscore #remus sanders #roman sanders #parent au #fic

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brlankinney · 3 years ago

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✨a long awaited michael hate list✨

last year during the first lockdown i decided to rewatch queer as folk again after a few years break from the show. michael has always been one of my least favourite characters and i just needed to rant about how annoying he is, so i have compiled a list of his worst moments. you’re welcome. i wrote all these in my notes app while watching and you will get them without any editing whatsoever. in chronological order:

s01e03 when justin turns up at woodys to find brian and michael yells at brian because he doesn’t want to babysit. while justin is talking to debbie!!! justin is just a young gay teen trying to fit in and michael is go angy? fuck off you piece of shit

s01e04 “this is about brian’s one night stand!” / “not just one” / “don’t bet on it”...... my dude.... my good dude michael..... i am pretty sure justin knows more about his own sex life than you do

s01e04 “unfortunately not this one” referring to justin when they were talking about the high suicide rates with gay teens.... michael was so jealous of a guy who had sex with brian that he was annoyed that he wasn’t feeling suicidal? cant relate

s01e10 when justin moved in at debbie’s place, getting michael’s old bedroom. why was he so annoyed? you’re a grown man, just turned 30 and that bedroom still has all your childhood things in it? grow the fuck up you childish man baby!!!!!

s01e17? when david and michael held the fundraiser for that senator and michael purposely didn’t invite any of his friends/family because he found them “embarrassing”, then porceeded to yell at his mum when they showed up anyway. the entire storyline of him feeling like he was sooo much better than all of them because he had been to france and got expensive stuff from david? horrible horrible man

s02e06 saying the only reason brian spends time with justin is because he feels guilty that justin was attacked. it’s almost like he doesn’t know his best friend? what a surprise!!!

s02e12? getting angry that brian and ben fucked at the white party long before michael even knew ben? brian had sex with everybody how did michael expect to find someone who hadnt fucked brian already? and why are you angry over your partner’s sexual history from before you even knew them?

s03e01 getting angry at justin for breaking up with brian (which is what he wanted to happen since fucking day 1) and then telling him that he isn’t part of the friendgroup anymore, as if they only tolerated him as long as he was with brian. fuck youuuuuu!!!!! honestly just the ENTIRE episode? upset that justin came to mel and lindsay’s party and that he brought ethan? it’s not your party! you don’t decide who is invited! SAYING BRIAN SHOULD HAVE LEFT JUSTIN DYING ON THE GROUND? literally just scum of the earth!! even if it was just because he was upset on brian’s behalf that should have never even crossed his mind!!!!

s03e04, he knew what kind of father brian was to gus so why was he so angry at the way melanie and lindsay wanted him to be a father to their next child? he would be the sperm donor and the child’s dad but he wouldn’t be part of the kid’s life more than brian was in gus’ life? how is that so hard to get? it’s not YOUR child? get your own if you want to be an actual dad????

s03e07? getting so pissed that ben didn’t want to include him in his HIV-positive life that he “threatened” to infect himself? show some support for your boyfriend instead maybe? what kind of weird move is it to almost stab yourself with a used needle? i totally get what he was trying to do but it’s a fucked up way of going about it

s03e08, while i dont completely agree with ben taking in hunter from the start and letting him spend the night (which probably has more to do with me being a woman who would have trouble defending herself in case anything should happen), the way michael acted as if hunter didn’t deserve any compassion was.. really bad? he even rolled his eyes when ben gave hunter money and a contact number for them that he could keep. hunter was a CHILD on the street, selling his body for money!!! how are you not more concerned!!!

bouncing off of that s03e10 why is michael getting angry that ben wants to care for this child!! he was in the fucking hospital and i get that now it’s a money problem but you are not listening to your partner? you are talking over him and not trying to come up with another solution to help care for this child!!!! i am FURIOUS

s04e08 convincing justin that they shouldnt mention to brian that they were aware that he had cancer and had the sugery, but then breaking down the first chance he gets and crying to brian about it? first of, this is NOT about you michael so sit your ass down!! and second of, i get that he was scared of losing brian but at least give justin a heads up that he told brian?? that’s the absolute least he could have done

THE ENTIRE FIFTH SEASON!!!! michael needed to SHUT UP about melanie and lindsay’s relationship problems in relation to jr because guess what? you’re not the primary parent, this doesn’t concern you! you were the sperm donor who was lucky enough to still be called the dad and be part of jr’s life!!!! shut up about how the baby lives in a broken home and how you want the baby? she’s not yours!!!!!! what is your PROBLEM!!! i will fist fight you

both him and debbie kept saying “whatever goes on between you [mel and linds] it doesn’t matter, the baby comes first”. don’t you think parents living seperately are better than parents living together but fighing all the time? the entire thing makes me so ANGRY

i MEAN the way michael thinks he is entitled to all information about lindsay and melanie’s relationship just because he was the sperm donor to their baby? insanity

“why won’t you let me have her?” GOD SHUT THE FUCK UP MICHAEL

s05e04 i get that michael might have been embarassed at the “housewarming” gift that brian got them and also at the word choices that brian makes but come on? monty and whoever started out by insulting not only the way brian chooses to live his own life but also his business? it’s a civil conversation and yeah brian could have used less harsh words but brian’s lifestyle isn’t new to other people? not even people outside of his small social group? let him live his own life and also let him defend his choices

e05e07 like i get it okay? brian came in late at night and shouted and blamed michael for his and justin’s breakup so of course michael would be annoyed but the way he said “he [justin] left because of YOU. who wouldn’t?” was completely uncalled for? it just really fucking bugs me? this is your best friend who is CLEARLY going through a bad breakup so maybe choose your words more carefully? MAYBE have some compassion just maybe?

when hunter left in season 5 and michael said “who else would have taken him in? made him family?” WHY WOULD YOU EVER SAY THAT ABOUT YOUR CHILD!!! WHY ARE YOU SUCH A PIECE OF SHIT michael really thinks he is the absolute shit and deserves the world for doing the smallest thing?

going through the show again really just fleshed out how fucking bad of a person he could be from time to time wow whats YOUR worst michael moment????

#queer as folk #i’m not putting it in the michael tag i’m not an idiot #qaf us #qaf

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luckycheesefoodie321 · 4 years ago

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SPOILERS

Ok but A Stepmothers Marchen/Fantasie of a Stepmother/A Stepmother’s fairytale is doing the whole timeline redo of a life filled with hardship where everyone seemingly hates the MC and she ends up dying a death full of regrets... to a timeline where you realise it’s been huge misunderstandings on everyone’s part and so this timeline they can work to reconcile

BUT ACTUALLY SHOWS THE RESULTS OF THE PREVIOUS TIMELINE

Where all the misunderstandings have played out for years to the point that the MC is estranged from her family (for reference she’s a widower of a much older husband who married her purely to be his stand in for when he die, and stepmother of four kids who seemingly resent her for acting like a “fake mom” but in reality are just scared of losing another parent and so distance themselves to avoid getting hurt but genuinely cherish the MC)

And that estrangement allows the fiancée to make the MC believe her eldest son doesn’t want her to attend his wedding, and the other kids also affirm her feeling she doesn’t belong (despite intending to leave after her son finally is old enough to inherit his father’s title) when they decide to be mean again...

But then the kids realise they’re probably not gonna see their stepmom once she leaves and finally decide that they shouldn’t have been mean for as long as they have and finally wanna reconcile and show how much they care

(There also hints that the eldest son who is only 2 years younger than the MC potentially had romantic feelings - tho obv never acted upon them bc she was his mother in name and very much in character - so he very much would’ve wanted her to attend and definitely wanted her to stay at the house a little longer bc he knew and the kids all know that they don’t actually want her to leave)

BUT THEN THERES A PLOT TO ASSASSINATE HER NOW THAT THE TITLE HAS BEEN TURNED OVER TO THE ELDEST SON WHO THEY THINK WOULD BE WEAK AGAINST THEM AND DESPITE HER SUPPOSEDLY BAD REPUTATION IN SOCIETY SHE WOULD BE TOUTED AS A MARTYR AND WOULD RESULT IN THE CHURCH SOMEHOW BEING PROMOTED

But all that aside... SHE GETS MURDERED IN THIS TIMELINE and bro. The fallout is goddamn intense.

The utter heartbreak from the children is so heavy and their regret at never reconciling with her is so painful I’m over here like damn y’all really had to hit me like that after spending all my love in the happy timeline where she and the kids become a real family...

But anyway yeah it’s really good, go read it. I hope the manhwa covers more of Nora and Shuli’s story bc I’m ready for the lingerie scene XD

#a stepmother's marchen #fantasie of a stepmother #a stepmother’s fairytale #shuli von neuschwanstein #or however tf you spell her name #spoilers #manga #manhwa

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tilta-whirl · 3 years ago

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Hiii!

Can i have a match up for fnaf security breach if that's ok?

I’m 5’3,female,ambivert and i love to draw and am pretty good at it(though it leans more on a cutesy style)!

Draws anyone i enjoy hanging out with or if they ask me since i honestly i don't mind drawing them if asked.

When meeting new people I'm pretty shy but still engage in a conversation if the other person has started it,i also get more loud and outgoing if i know the person enough but otherwise i get a bit too shy to introduce myself to others i don't know yet.

Gets attached fast once i find someone that talks to me and i might start rambling on about anything once i get comfortable with them-

Might get a bit quiet if there's too many people i don't know and just stick to people i know and talk to them if able to.

Not exactly the best sleeping schedule,might stay up a bit too late at night and accidentally pass out atleast once or twice a day unless I'm talking with someone or something interesting is going on.

Pretty good with kids since i had to babysit a few kids when i was younger and still currently sometimes do when asked,I'm more of a entertainer than anything despite being a bit lazy at times.

Also a bit shy at first but more outgoing as times goes on when interacting with kids.

Have this weird thing going on where i enjoy creepy/spooky things to the point where i find them fascinating despite being scared.

Also when nervous or doing an activity that looks a bit scary,i calm myself by saying things like "oh noooo,I'm gonna die" which somehow calms me down and if someone is with me then i jokingly say "if I'm dying,you're dying me with meeee(insert crazy laugh out of being nervous)"

Sorry if this was a bit long but hope it was enough!

This is actually my first time actually interacting on tumblr so i was a bit nervous about this but hopefully i did this correctly!

But anyway,hope you have a good rest of the day/night and thank you if you end up doing this!

I give you.. Sundrop! Sunnydrop? Sun?

The solar daycare attendant!

When you first meet them it’s probably one of the daycare kids introducing you. Wether it’s a little sibling, cousin, or some random kid you befriended, Sundrop is more than happy to see that the kids like you.

When you start entertaining the kids, probably putting on a mock concert, Sundrop is grateful that they can clean up without the kids making an even bigger mess.

Absolutely will pick you up and hold you like a ferret.

Probably calls you “My Helper” when you’re first starting to help out. Oh yeah they definitely manage to get you hired as a worker at the daycare.

Finds your drawings adorable. They find you adorable. You’re so cute, being so shy around bigger crowds but getting along with them and the children easily.

Moon... well Moondrop doesn’t really care about you, and the only reason they don’t torment you like everyone else is because Sundrop likes you. More than anyone else. Moondrop finds it strange and doesn’t want whatever you did to Sundrop to happen to them too.

Your obsession with creepy things somehow keeps you from leaving your job even after Sundrop starts glitching and acting strange. Maybe it’s the curiosity?

Once Sundrop finally realizes just why exactly their wires spark when you hold their hand, it’s over.

They start calling you “Sunshine” and cheesy names like “Shnook-ems” or “Honey bunches”

Trying to leave will get you hunted down by Moondrop (who does it only because Sundrop starts throwing a fit and destroying the daycare trying to you.)

Luckily Sundrop is more manipulative than violent so you’ll never have to worry about getting hurt.

Not intentionally anyway.

A good night/day to you as well!

#fnaf #security breach #yandere

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wavesmp3 · 3 years ago

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[ksw] clouds

sunwoo x reader

wc. 5k warnings: medical inaccuracies, death, illness, hospitals, overall just a pretty heavy piece genre can only be described as an absolute mess inspired mainly by san junipero but also slightly by charlie kaufman and wong kar wai

a/n: this is supposed to be told nonlinearly but like the creation of it was very messy so i have no clue if it actually worked, so good luck trying to make this piece make sense of this :)

act iii. scene iii.

Sunwoo sits and watches the sun shift from pink and blue to an impossible shade of green. And it’s then he knows that without a doubt Clara has ruined the color green for him. Because instead of marveling at the color of the sky, Sunwoo is reminded of the doors in her apartment building.

“Thought I might find you here.” The voice of a stranger who Sunwoo loved once upon a time says behind him. He tries like hell not to turn around. Not to lean back towards the voice and wait for your hand on his shoulder or your shin knocking familiarly against his back. He focuses on the waves crashing below instead. The roar of the water beneath him is deafening, but only if you let it be. He does, and he almost forgets that you’re behind him.

“Where’d you go?” You ask, now sitting next to him, tugging at the long grass.

“I’m right here.”

“And what about in there?” You bring a finger up and poke at the side of his forehead.

He turns to you, facing you in full. He takes in your features like it’s the first time all over again. And, oh, he wishes he knew before how many firsts you already had together. This is just another. This is just the first time he’s seen you in the past six months and remembered the thousands of times he’s seen your face before.

He studied your cheeks. The one he now recalls running the back of his palm over after you left for the Cloud.

He memorizes, for the millionth time, your eyes. He used to swear they were darker than they are, but then he saw them in the sun. He was dying back then; then he saw your eyes and you saved him. Just like that.

Mr. Choi was right of course. As he always must be. You and him are like an old married couple. Not like. You are. Almost were.

“I had lunch with Mr. Choi today.” He tells you.

You squint at him. “I know. It’s Thursday.” You pull out a piece of the grass. “What’d he make?”

“Ramen.”

“Was it good?”

“It was okay.”

“Too spicy?”

Suwnoo answers with a sigh, looking away from you and back towards the water. The deafening waves crash against the cliffside. “I know you looked at your file.” He finally says. You stop pulling at the grass. You still. “Mr. Choi told me.”

After he says it, there’s a silence that isn’t actually silent at all. The waves rage below his feet. The seagulls are there too, beneath, above, somewhere, everywhere. And then, of course, there’s you and Sunwoo, trying to be silent over the static in your heads and the machines you’re hooked up to in a universe far far away.

“Did he tell you about my file?”

He looks at you again. “No.”

“Oh.” You look away, brows furrowed, lick your lips, and then turn back to him. “So why are you upset?”

“After he told me, I went and I…”

“You didn’t.”

“I looked at mine.”

There’s another silence, except that this time it really is quiet. Sunwoo read once whilst in a rabbit hole of medical research that true silence only happens in a vacuum, where there is no medium for sound waves to travel through. This must be that. This place, the files, Mr. Choi and Mr. Chan, Clara and her apartment building full of green doors--it’s a vacuum. And they stick people in it then call it the Cloud. They call it extra time. But it isn’t. It’s nothing and he’s stuck in the middle of it. So Sunwo stares at you, straight through the vacuum of time and space you’re both lost in, waits for you to say something, and then waits for himself to hear it.

“You looked?” You finally say, voice folding in on itself.

“Yes.” Sunwoo’s own voice is barely there. You must be reading his lips which you’ve always been good at anyways.

“So you know now?”

“I always knew, and now, I remember.”

act i. scene iv.

There’s been an accident.

That’s what they say when the sun falls out of the sky and the world starts spinning in the wrong direction. It’s how they show up at Sunwoo’s door painted in shades of blue and red, with authority in their arms and hands on their hips. How they prepare him for the looming moment where they rip past his skin, blood, bone to shoot a gun straight at his heart. I’m so sorry for your loss, they say leaving him with a bullet lodged somewhere between his left and right atrium.

And those are the four words that play over and over and over in Sunwoo’s head as he gets to the hospital. Those are the words that crawl inside his open chest and turn him blue and black with infection. There’s been an accident, he remembers, staring at the extraordinary measures taken to keep your heart beating and lungs beating. This is it. Except that the accident isn’t that you’re dying, but that you’re dying. It’s always supposed to have been him. He’s supposed to be the one stuffed with tubes and hooked up to monitors, the one whose life is hanging on by a thread, and you’re supposed to be the one that saves him. It all feels like a play that’s gone horribly wrong because everyone switched parts after intermission without telling him. At what point did you steal the role of dying protagonist from him?

We did everything we could, a stranger in a white coat says. Except that it’s not some stranger, it’s your colleague and co-worker because this is the hospital you work at and the hospital Sunwoo met you in. There was too much damage to the brain, they explain as the image of their tear-stricken face goes from your friend during intern year to the doctor who operated on you as your brain went dead.

“We have two options, right?” Sunwoo is far too familiar with surgery and all this. He knows from his hospital days what’s supposed to happen next. But apparently, things have changed since then.

“Actually, there’s a third option.”

Sunwoo doesn’t waste a second. He jumps out of the chair stained red from his bleeding heart and asks: “What is it?”

“We can upload them.”

act iii. scene ii.

In fifty days of living in the cloud, Sunwoo has learned all about the people that he shares a building with. There’s Mr. Chan who lives behind a vomit green on the same floor as him and who hasn’t left his room since last January. There’s also Mr. Choi, who lives behind the emerald door and invites Suwoo over for lunch every Thursday. Clara lives upstairs, where the walls are painted in various shades of green--olive, seaweed, moss, hunter, shamrock, sage, and others that Sunwoo tries not to think too deeply about. He’s only met Clara once in the past fifty days and has no particular wish to see her again. He hadn’t expected her to be a kid. Cancer, you told him after their introduction in the lobby, poor girl was only seven. As said before, Sunwoo tries not to think about it.

And then of course there’s you behind the forest green door who has been slowly showing him all the good places. There’s the beach where you spent the day making seashell necklaces. The cafe which serves its tea too sweet for him, but sweet enough to be considered your favorite. Sunwoo just gets the chocolate bread. You took him downtown. To a club. The tallest building. And to midtown where the amusement park is.

But his favorite place you’ve taken him so far is the cliffside above the beach, where the waves crash against the rocks in a way that can only be described as violent. That day you and him laid in the grass and stared at the clouds with your heads dangling just over the edge and water spraying the backs of your necks. That day you turned to him and told him you’re sorry. For what, he asked. I’m so sorry you’re sick, you said, but it’s nice to have you around here. I think in a sense, we’ve both been waiting for this. Then, you smiled and stole all of the blood from his body. So yeah, that day, that place--it’s his favorite.

Today, you take him on a hike up a mountain.

“Do you believe in an afterlife?” You ask him after having spent thirty minutes silently staring at the view from the best peak.

“One after this?”

“Yeah. I guess. Although, I’m not so convinced this counts.”

“I don’t know.” Sunwoo shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Do you think we’d be able to be with our loved ones in it?”

His chest lurches. “If there is one, yes.”

“Do you think it’ll be different than this?”

Sunwoo turns to you finally. “Why are you asking about this?”

You shake your head. “Nevermind. It’s a stupid question.”

He turns back towards the view. From here, he can make out Clara’s building. He thinks about her, about Mr. Choi and Mr. Chan, who he recently found out were once married but who haven’t spoken since Mr. Chan read his file in January, and he thinks about you and about him.

“I think,” Sunwoo says, loud enough so that you can hear after wandering a little bit away from him, “that whatever the afterlife is, if it does exist, it’ll be worth it.”

You turn to him, but don’t make any move to come near him again. “And if it doesn’t exist?”

“Then life will have been worth it.”

The corner of your lip lifts. “I like that.”

Sunwoo only nods at the sentiment, and after a long while, he builds enough courage to ask, “you’ve been here a really long time, haven’t you?”

“Time doesn't work as linearly in the cloud as it does in the real world. Sometimes it feels like I got here and then you arrived the very next day.” You turn back towards the view and exhale heavily.

“But yes. I’ve been here for an eternity.”

act ii. scene i.

Before he actually sees you, Sunwoo feels you. Not you, in particular, but something in the distance, a presence in the corner of the room and a pair of eyes watching him from somewhere far away.

The scariest part is how much the feeling doesn’t actually scare him.

Two days after that, he starts to see you in the flesh. He tells himself that his mind is playing tricks on him, that the person he saw in the produce aisle wasn’t actually you at all and was just a stranger with the same hair.

He doesn’t go straight home from the store that day. Instead, he stops by the hospital and checks in on you, but even that doesn’t do anything about the fact that he sees a shadow of you behind the bed.

The day after that, you speak to him. Standing in the middle of his kitchen in broad daylight, you speak, you say hello, and the first thing Sunwoo thinks is that he’s dead.

You aren’t, you reply. You’re a zombie, he reasons, here for my brain. I’m not. A ghost. No. Are you, here Sunwoo falters, fear flooding out of his body to make room for the briefest blotch of hope that’s crushed almost immediately by you saying: I’m not alive, Sunwoo. You saw me in the hospital yesterday.

“So then,” he swallows, “what are you?”

I’m here. You look at him, stare at his face and without a sliver of doubt say, I’m here for you.

Sunwoo knows it’s impossible. You can’t be here. You can’t. And yet, you are.

Three years ago Sunwoo was told he had three months left to live, and he still remembers how impossibly you saved him from the brink of death. He remembers how impossible things happen all the time, and how impossibly possible it is that this is one of them. He steps towards you, touches your face, and feels the real, impossible thing against his hand.

“You’re here.”

On the fifth day of your haunting, Sunwoo finally has the sense to ask why.

Why what?

“Why are you here?”

I’m here for you.

“Stop saying that.”

But I am, you tell him. You asked, and that’s the answer. I’m a doctor, Sunwoo. I’m here for you.

Then, finally, he hears what you’ve been saying for the past five days. You’re here for him.

And the thing about doctors is that they’re there for you when you need them.

“I’m sick.”

Yes, you answer quietly, although it wasn’t a question.

“Again.”

I’m so sorry.

“You’re a hallucination, aren’t you?” Sunwoo’s shocked by how sad that makes him, how disappointing it is. “I’ve been hallucinating.”

Find me in the Cloud, Sunwoo. There’s something I want to say.

You’re gone by the time he gets to the hospital.

act iii. scene i.

Sunwoo stares at the hall of green doors, eyes darting from door to door in an attempt to stare down the shades until they confess which one of them is tea green.

“Clara, the landlord, likes colors.” A voice says from behind him. “Every couple of months she repaints all of the doors in different shades of the same one. Before the green, it was yellow.”

Sunwoo turns around to face you. When your eyes find him, they go blank for the smallest of moments. You give him a look that goes right through him, turning him inside out like you’ve seen the underside of his skin. It irks him.

“I’m Sunwoo. I’m new.”

You gulp. “You’re here.” He doesn’t know what to make of the statement. Do all people in the cloud act like this? “Why?”

Sunwoo nods, maybe you’re not so weird as much as you just have a weird way of posing questions. “I was told I’m sick.”

“I’m sorry.” You say, frowning like you actually might feel back for him.

“Have you been here a while then?” You nod. “Can I ask how long?” You shake your head. Sunwoo doesn’t think too much about it. Instead, he returns your earlier question “Why are you here?”

“Brain dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

You ignore it and point to a door down the hall. “I’m forest green. You?”

“Tea green. But I can’t find-”

You tap the door in front of him. “This one, genius.”

“Oh.” He laughs awkwardly. “Thanks.”

Your mouth parts as if to say something, and your face goes blank again. He feels his skin turning itself inside out because of it. “Have you read your file yet?”

He shakes his head. “I just got here.”

You inhale, softening, and mutter an ‘okay’. You continue down the hall towards your door. Sunwoo is stuck in place. “I can show you around here, if you like. Take you to all the cool places.”

Sunwoo takes you up on it.

A forest green door slams shut down the hallway.

act i. scene ii.

“Thank you for taking me out of the hospital.” Sunwoo says, exhaling. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to a park like this.”

And it’s true, he really can’t. He’s been sick for so long now, and has been through a multitude of treatment plans and too many surgeries. When you’re sick and have 9 surgeons turn you down after asking them to save your life, you forget the joy of being outside and feeling the sun on your skin. You were the first doctor to agree to the surgery. You’re the only doctor to have ever treated Sunwoo like he wasn’t dying, like he was actually going to live.

“You don’t have to thank me. This is good for me too.” You say, head resting against the park bench and eyes closed.

Sunwoo inhales, taking in the park with all his senses. A visceral sort of thing you learn to do as often as possible when you’ve been as close to death as frequently as he has. He feels the wood beneath his body and the grass beneath his feet. He feels the light on his skin and the wind pushing against his arms and nose. He listens to the kids screaming at the playground at the bottom of the hill and to the dogs barking within the dog park beside it. He takes all this in, relishes in it for the last time as a dying person.

You sigh. “One more surgery.”

“And then I’ll be done with this sickness.”

You smile. He pretends not to see. “And then you’ll be done.”

“Thank you for saving my life.”

“Don’t do that.”

“No. Seriously.”

You smile again, this time at him. Sunwoo doesn’t have to pretend not to see. “I haven’t finished saving it yet.”

He leans back against the bench and closes his eyes. “But you will.”

You tap on your coffee cup. “Honestly though, you did more work than me.” Sunwoo frowns while you take a sip. “The other nine doctors you called are good doctors, and they made the same judgement call I would have made for any other patient. No sane doctor would have agreed to treat you. But you were the reason I said yes. You had such faith that you were going to live and so much faith that I could do it that I believed you. I might be the one doing the technical saving, but you, Sunwoo, you’re the one who convinced me to do it. You saved yourself.”

He stares at you. The light hits your eyes like it’s finding a way to break through them. In truth, before Sunwoo got sick, he didn’t think he was scared of death, but he is. He’s terrified of it. Sunwoo realized it two weeks after his diagnosis and the day after he was wrongly told he only had three more months left to live. But now, for the first time since he was diagnosed, he doesn't feel so afraid of it. Despite how far he’s come and how close he is to beating this fucking illness, while staring at the light woven through your eyes, Sunwoo thinks he could live with himself if he dropped dead tonight.

That thought alone, is almost as terrifying as death used to be.

act iii. scene v.

“I saw your ghost, you know.” It’s the first thing Sunwoo has said to you in over two weeks. “It wasn’t actually you though, was it?” You don’t even bother looking up from your cup of tea. Through the silence, Sunwoo orders a coffee.

“I didn’t know that.” The coffee turns lukewarm. “It wasn’t me.” You push an uneaten half of chocolate bread towards him. “It’s in your brain this time. Symptoms can include hallucinations.”

“Think you can still save me?” You can’t. If you know that much, you know he’s out of medical miracles, and that this time, he really won’t survive it. But it’s a joke. And you laugh at it.

“Definitely not. I never really liked neurosurgery.”

And all at once, he’s painfully aware of your friend somewhere in the real world that does like it but watched anyways as your brain died before her, split wide open.

“Anyways, how do you know all of this?” But what Sunwoo really wants to say is brains are killer. Literally. Figuratively.

“I’ve known since we...“ you hesitate, mouth stuck halfway through a word he can’t place. “After last time, I read your chart and looked at your scans.” Sunwoo nods. He expected as much. He doesn’t ask how you got them. “I’m sorry you're sick again.” You say to him quietly. “I’m sorry you’re dying.”

“I’m sorry you’re dead.” As soon as the words have left his mouth, he regrets them. Because you aren’t. And he knows you too well to think you’d look past the technicality.

You scoff, shake your head slightly, and with a spiteful smile say, “Can I say it?”

Sunwoo only sighs. “Let’s start over instead.”

You nod. He pushes the chocolate bread back.

act iii. scene iv.

Mr. Choi was the one to recommend that Sunwoo give you and himself space. It’s been a month since you and him last spoke, since that moment hovering above the waves after he read his file and after he found out you read yours. He misses you, and has been for so long now. Mr. Choi was wrong. Sunwoo’s standing outside your forest green door to prove it.

You open the door before he can knock. There’s no shock in your voice when you say his name, like you’ve been waiting for this day, expecting it.

He looks behind you, at your apartment in Clara’s building that looks just like your apartment in the real world. The same one he cleaned out after you died, still filled with things he gave to your family or donated or took back to his place. He wants to crumble just looking at it again. “Can I come in?”

“It’s only been a month.”

And he knows what you mean by it. Three months is the recommended time off after reading one’s file. To reacclimate, they say, to process. But the insinuation that Sunwoo was supposed to go three months without seeing you makes him feel sick. The insinuation that after a year of being without you in the real world he was supposed to be without you here too, enrages him. Then he remembers how long you’ve been here, and how long you’ve been doing this and feels slightly murderous.

All he says is: “It’s been a lot longer than that for you.”

Your lip twitches. You lock and unlock the open forest green door five times before saying, “Are you sure?”

He nods. You let him in.

Sunwoo used to imagine what it would be like to meet you again in the Cloud one day. He imagined tears and hugs and kisses. He imagined i love you’s and i hate you’s and i miss you. He imagined the scenario more times than can possibly be considered healthy. But he imagined something. He was waiting for the day. Waiting for this day. But this moment, sitting at your round wood table while you boil water for tea, is nothing like the million different ways he imagined seeing you again.

And as you set down two mismatched mugs and take the seat across from him, he doesn’t even try to create one of them. “How long has it been since you read your file?”

You watch the steam rise from your tea for a long moment, then stand, grab the sugar and pour a spoonful of it into your tea. You take another spoonful and look at him expectantly. “Want some?” He nods, and you pour the sugar into his. You stir the tea then taste, then cringe, then add more sugar and then ask if he wants it. He refuses. You stir again. Sunwoo watches the whirlpool and waits the eternity it takes you to say: “I read it on my first day.”

You put the sugar away, satisfied with the tea’s sweetness while Sunwoo marvels at how long you’ve known and how silently you’ve been carrying the knowledge of you and him since he came. And that knowledge is what makes him finally remember one of the reasons he came. “Is there something you want to tell me?” You look up at him when he asks it, exhaling like you’ve been wanting to bring it up for so long now, which Sunwoo guesses isn’t as much of a simile as he thinks it is.

“Yes, actually. I…” you hesitate, flicking the mug as if the right words will come hopping out of the tea. Sunwoo watches for it. “I’ve just been here for a long time now, Sunwoo.”

“Two years isn’t that long.”

“Time doesn’t work the same here as it does down there.” You tell him tiredly. “It’s been decades.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“In the beginning, I didn’t mind the waiting. I knew you were on your way, but I just,” you hesitate, “I didn’t think it’d take so long for you to come back to me.”

Sunwoo covers your hand with his. “I’m sorry.” You twist your palm into it, squeeze, then pull your hand away. Sunwoo swallows. “I came as fast as I could.”

“I know. I waited.”

“Do you regret it?” Sunwoo’s terrified of what the answer might be.

You don’t give it. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then?”

“I’ve been here for so long, and,” your head drops, voice breaking under the weight it carries, “it’s been so lonely.”

“But I’m here now.” Sunwoo says, leaning forward against the table. “You aren’t alone anymore.”

“I know you’re here. I know, and I thought that would fix it, but it didn’t. Seeing you in the hall that day was so bittersweet, because you were here but that also meant you were somewhere else dying. Because you were here and I still felt lonely.” You stop, chugg the remaining bits of your tea, and then wipe your cheeks. “Do you get what I’m saying?”

“No.” But it’s a lie. He does get it. He knows all about loneliness and the way it creeps inside, so slyly. The way it starts small and then grows, feeding on negligence, until it's too big for your body. He knows how it sits inside you, for all its enormity, and spills into everything. He knows how it lingers. How it has nothing to do with people or lack of them and everything to do with grief. Sunwoo knows all about loneliness. The day he read his file he felt a dam of it burst open within him.

“I’m saying that in the real world I saved you, and now it’s your turn to save me.” You gulp. “I’m saying that I want you to unplug me.”

It takes a moment for Sunwoo to even register what you’ve said, but when he does remember the life support that’s keeping your body alive somewhere in a universe far away, he doesn’t say anything. He just stands and walks out of your apartment.

act i. scene iii.

“Doctor, please present.” The attending announces, stepping into Sunwoo’s room for rounds.

“Mr. Kim,” a resident starts, flipping open his chart, “was diagnosed 14 months ago and has gone through several different treatment plans. When he came to us, the illness had spread and was deemed inoperable and untreatable by several other physicians. Our treatment plan was aggressive and grueling but ultimately, effective. Sunwoo is 20 days post op from his third and final surgery. The surgery went extremely well with no complications and his vitals were excellent. He has been a model patient all throughout recovery, and according to our latest scans, he is also now illness free…”

Sunwoo doesn’t even bother listening to the rest.

“So, now that I’m no longer a patient, if I ask you out on a date, will you actually say yes?”

“Well,” you say, signing his discharge papers, “only one way to know.”

“What is it?”

You look up at him, smiling. “Ask me again.”

He does.

You say yes.

act iii. scene v. take ii.

“I saw your ghost.” The first thing Sunwoo says after the last failed attempt.

You look up from your tea. “It wasn’t me.”

“I know.” Sunwoo orders another coffee. “But the hallucination was how I knew I was sick again. It made me feel like you were trying to warn me, like you were up here somewhere caring from a distance. Right after I pieced it all together you told me to find you here and that there was something you wanted to say.” The coffee turns lukewarm again. Sunwoo can’t bring himself to say it. You sigh and push the same piece of chocolate bread back towards him. This time, he takes a bite from it. And with a mouthful of chocolate bread, he cries, “I just got you back, and now you want to leave all over again.”

You frown. “I didn’t want to leave the first time, and it’s different now.”

“How?”

“I want to go. Isn’t that worth something?”

“And what about what I want?”

“Oh, Sunwoo,” you say, “I’m sorry you’re sick. The hallucination was you and your head, but for what it’s worth, I have been up here caring from a distance. I still…” you don’t need to say the words. He knows. He never had to doubt it. “I never stopped.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked of me.” Sunwoo tells you. He made the decision last week but today, right now, with your confession still falling through the air, is the first time he’s had the stomach to swallow it. “And I’ll do it. I will. I just need some time. You’ve had so long and in comparison I’ve had nothing.”

“Okay.” You say simply.

“How long can you give me?”

You smile. “You know I’d give you an eternity if you asked for it.”

“I’m scared.” Sunwoo confesses then. “I know it’s what you want, but selfishly, I don’t want to let you again. I don’t know if I’m a big enough person to do it.”

“I do.” You say to him, leaning forward against the table and looking straight through him. “I know because I was your doctor. I have cut inside your body, seen all your organs, and during surgery two, I held your heart in my hands. I felt it beating. So I know exactly how big it is, and I know it’s big enough for this”

Sunwoo feels the heart you worked so hard to repair bursting inside of him.

“God. Why’d you have to read your file so soon?”

You laugh. “I missed you. I couldn’t help it.”

And just like that, you’ve stolen the entire concept of fear from him.

“I’m ready.”

“What?”

He looks at you and feels the loneliness slither away.

“Ask me again.”

#sunwoo x reader #sunwoo scenarios #sunwoo imagines #sunwoo fanfic #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fanfic #sunwoo fluff #sunwoo angst #mine #*clouds

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kaypeace21 · 3 years ago

Text

Will’s fear of clowns

*Ps -not mine. this is a submission from an anon. tw: for s.a. It’s an interesting submission. ANON-please make a tumblr account already . I’m begging you XD

Hi! It’s me, Lonnie Meth Anon. Back with more depressing thoughts about Lonnie!

I just read your post on Jonathan’s ab*se at the hands of Lonnie, and I second it all. It breaks my heart. But it also got me thinking deeper about Will’s fear of clowns. I think you’re right that part of the horror for Will is that the clown attacks in bed. The bed is, obviously, like you say, a common site for s*xual assault. (Doesn’t El’s picture of “three legged Brenner” also have a bed in it? In a picture with not much else?) The fact that Will needed Joyce to sleep with him for a week suggests he was specifically feeling unsafe in bed, or at night.

But maybe it’s not just the location of the attack in Poltergeist that Will found so harrowing. Maybe it’s the combination of that location with the fact of a clown being the attacker.

I think Lonnie might have dressed up as a clown for Will’s birthday one year, and something happened.

In this instance, I don’t think Joyce would know what happened. I think the incident in her mind would be something like “Lonnie dressed up and Will was scared of the costume”. She might even have thought it was cute. Just a typical little kid fear of something mundane. When she teases him about Poltergeist, she doesn’t actually say the movie was the START of his fear of clowns. Just that he was afraid of that particular clown. The general fear of clowns could have been an older one, going back to when Will was even younger.

Maybe Will even liked clowns, before whatever happened with Lonnie turned them into a source of fear for him. Will has a lion plushie (lions are commonly found in the circus) and the circus seems like the kind of vibrant, colorful environment full of outcast, that a young gay kid would really enjoy. If Will did like circuses and Lonnie poisoned that for him, that’s just another reason to hate Lonnie. But it definitely seems possible.

Lonnie is a deadbeat dad in general, but we’ve seen before that he’s capable of faking the “family man” act in front of Joyce and their neighbors. We’ve also seen that even though he treats Will horribly, he would also try and keep Will on his side with father son bonding activities, like baseball. And Will’s birthday is one of the few occasions Lonnie makes a half-assed kind of effort, even when there’s nothing directly in it for him. He sends that card, even though it’s late. Maybe Joyce made called him up and made him send it, but she always seemed happy to keep Lonnie out of the picture. She didn’t even want to involve him when Will went missing. And we know Jonathan would never try and facilitate more interactions between Lonnie and Will. So it seems like Lonnie did this of his own accord, when he realized he’d missed the day. Kind of weird. And it’s classic abuser behavior, to make contact on an anniversary date, reminding you they exist and you can’t escape them. Reminding you to keep quiet. Or hoping you’ll miss them, remember the “good times” when they made an effort, and let them back into your life. (Ugh.)

So, anyway, back to my theory. Young Will likes circuses, and the Byers family are poor, so they can’t afford to take him to one, or throw him a party at an ice cream parlor or a bowling alley, like other kids. It makes sense that they would have a party at home instead, and that the family themselves might dress up. We know Joyce made Will’s Ghostbusters costume in season two, and a clown is a pretty easy costume. Most of it is just make up. It’s possible the whole thing was Joyce’s idea, and she made the costume, and Lonnie just went along with it to look like a good dad in her eyes.

Remember how we see Bob (Will’s new father figure) dressing up in costume for Halloween? Joyce loves it. This is a thing good dads do, to have fun with their kids. That’s also the same episode we see Will scared by a guy in a clown costume, and Jonathan is hyper-protective of him that night. School is okay, but he doesn’t want him trick or treating. (Like he knows that school is a safe environment, but in other contexts, costumes and parties might be a trigger for Will.) Jonathan is convinced to leave Will and “let him have fun” and what happens? The clown attacks. Later that night Jonathan goes to a costume party himself, where he finds Nancy upset and takes her safely home. Maybe this is how Will’s birthday party ended - with Jonathan finding Will upset, and trying to comfort him. The whole night could be playing out like a parallel to that birthday party, from Jonathan’s perspective.

What actually happened with Will and Lonnie is up for debate. It’s possible there was a s*xual assault, and that’s why the clown scene in Poltergeist was such a trigger for Will. Or maybe Lonnie thought circuses weren’t “manly” enough for his son to like, and actively tried to scare Will, so he wouldn’t like them anymore. It’s hard to know. Something would have happened though, and probably something pretty formative, because the fear of clowns lasts a long time.

Something else interesting is that when Mr Clarke is talking about the Upside Down in season one, he uses the metaphor of the flea and the acrobat. Acrobats are a main act in the circus, and, well … fleas. Flea circuses. That’s a thing. Maybe it’s a hint that the trauma that created the Upside Down was circus / clown - related?

Kali, El, and their gang wear clown masks too, when they’re going to confront their childhood trauma, and the child-like Alexei is surrounded by clowns when he is killed at the fair.

Clowns are just so associated with birthday parties and little kids, that it doesn’t seem like a coincidence to me they’re Will’s biggest fear. Especially as the show keeps dropping hints about Lonnie and Will’s birthday. It feels like there’s more to the story. I have a horrible feeling SOMETHING happened.

RESPONE (kaypeace):

I think it’s very possible-that maybe he did dress as a clown for Will’s birthday and something happened. We have alexi (paralleled to Will) playing carnival games with kids. Then he's attacked by the Lonnie-look alike : and alexi looks at his wound then stares at all the clowns laughing around him. Joyce and Murray find Alexi bleeding/dy*ng next to a clown statue. As joyce looks in horror and Murray says to her, he was “only gone for a second” (which sounds like something you’d say in relation to a kid you were supposed to watch-running off ). We also had sarah at age 7 die while wearing a gown with clowns on it (Will: it was a 7 the demogorgan it got me). Death of innocence symbolism? Hopper also describes his depression as a cave- he goes through the carnival ride where it mentions a "cave of horrors", which had decor of a tiger and a clown painting. So yeah... whatever happened probably isn't good. So- there may be some symbolism there in relation to Will’s past. Not only because (like I and you have mentioned before) Lonnie is highly associated with birthdays. And canonically we know he mentally scarred jonathan on his b-day. But also, s4’s ‘victor creel’ may be an easteregg to the xmen character victor creed- who had a tradition of tra*matizing family members specifically on their bdays

As another alternative:I could also totally see Lonnie “ruining” circuses for Will because it’s not “manly” to him. Like how Jonathan liked thumper the rabbit-from the film bambi. in the film, Thumper is bambi’s bff, and the hunters are the bad guys who k*ll Bambi’s mother and terrorize all the wildlife. SO yeah- making Jonathan become a hunter, and k*ll a rabbit ,despite this fact, is really messed up. And shows Lonnie has already tried to ‘ruin’ things the boys like. By mentally scarring them in one way or another…

I also mentioned how Will’s bday could even be a trigger for jonathan in a diff post.

if the s4 bts calender hinting it’ll be near Will’s bday and easter it could be relevant to Jonathan.we know in s1 el has tra*matic flashbacks when seeing certain things- coke, closet, cat, etc. And Will in s2 has his ‘anniversary effect’ where memories flood back based on the time of year.But like … Easter has bunnies - could seeing rabbits jog stuff up for Jonathan? El seeing a cat made her have a flashback of brenner trying to make her kill a cat. Would Jonathan seeing like Easter bunny decor jog up a flashback of lonnie making him kill a rabbit? (It happened on his bday too). So Will’s b day being around easter would only fuel that memory. (heck even popped balloons may trigger gunshot symbolism idk). And then for Will there is clowns that could be a tr*gger at a party.

The flea and the acrobat analogy (in relation to Will and circuses is very interesting) and could be foreshadowing- it’s even a title for an episode so I feel like it’s narratively an important hint to …something. similar to a s1 ep being called “the bathtub”. Also, Will was compared to a circus flea- which were placed in an enclosed space, where heat was applied as they jumped and tried to escape the increasing temperatures as they burned .Which could relate to my theory about Will having a se*zure due his body overheating due to Lonnie injecting him with m*th.

If Will’s bday is in s4- I feel like Lonnie will come back in some capacity (flashback or literally). The ‘sorry, I forgot you b day’ card from Lonnie in s2, in Lonnie’s shed Joyce mentioning Will’s b day, the rainbow ‘happy birthday cup’ placed next to Will at Mike’s -while Will explains the supernatural, Lonnie already tra*matizing Jonathan on his bday, etc…

#submission #stranger things theory #will byers #lonnie byers

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authoressofdarkness · 4 years ago

Text

Sick of his world and with nothing left to hold him there, Peter Parker decides to travel to an alternate universe. Once there, it doesn’t take long for that world’s Tony Stark to find him and take an interest.

(Trigger warning for suicidal ideation. Alll photos are from Pinterest.)

He’d expected it to hurt.

Well, okay, maybe not hurt, exactly. But he hadn’t expected it to feel good either. Traveling through time and space probably wasn’t going to have the greatest of affects on his body.

And that was assuming he even lived, which… hey, he wasn’t sure of, and he hadn’t particularly cared. Why would he? There was nothing left for him in his universe. No family, no friends, not even Spider-Man. All dead, gone, or impossible. And as an unmated omega with no remaining family, he’d either be forced into a bond with someone he didn’t know, or he’d become a ward of the state.

If he was going to run anyway, running somewhere it might be different seemed like the best way to go about it. So he did his research, put the time into it. If wasn’t too far of a leap from what he’d already been working on. And of course he knew things could go wrong, or that he could die — especially if he was already dead in the new universe, he didn’t know what that would mean for him. But even death was better than where he was right now, so whatever. He didn’t care. Not really. Might even be preferable, actually. His powers had made it impossible to try to end things on his own. If he lost those in the new universe… well. All the better, really.

And he’s not wrong. It’s not exactly a comfortable feeling. Especially when he comes crashing down onto the concrete roof of a building, since he hadn’t had much way to control for landing or where he would end up, and immediately snaps the wrist of his stronger hand trying to catch himself.

Fucking great. He can’t die, just get painfully injured. Now he can’t even sling webs. He has no idea where he is and no idea how to get off this roof without his webs. Unless…

He crawls over to the edge of the roof and looks down. Thinks about it. It’s a long, long way down. Possible, but if it didn’t kill him… painful. So painful. And he’d risk exposing himself and facing a fate worse than death in this world that he has no idea what to expect from or where to find the tech to escape from, so...

“Planning to jump?”

The cool voice comes from somewhere behind him. Peter looks up in surprise — both at the fact that he’d been so deep in thought he hadn’t heard anyone approaching, and also at the voice itself. It was the last thing he’d expected to hear, and the image is even more confusing.

Because in his universe, Tony Stark is dead. But the man hovering behind him is definitely Tony Stark. So he’s alive in this world, but… undeniably different. The deadly silent blue and silver armor he’s wearing proves that beyond any doubt. More technologically advanced, for sure, and also more… well. If the way his eyes glow blue are any indication, he’s certainly not human.

Peter gives himself a moment to take him in, then shrugs, looking back over the edge of the roof. His mind spins with thoughts, but he’s in no hurry to act on them. “Maybe. I haven’t decided yet,” he says honestly.

He feels those eyes on his back, and Tony’s quiet for a moment, considering. “Not exactly what I expected to find when I detected a break in the time continuum,” he admits finally. “Why come to another world just to commit suicide?” He sounds genuinely curious.

Peter shrugs. “I was hoping the jump would kill me, but it didn’t. Or that I’d merge with myself from this world, and die that way. Didn’t work, either.” He looks down. “I don’t think this one will do it, either. My body would knit itself back together too quickly.”

“You’re not human.” It’s a statement, not a question. He almost sounds… fascinated?

“Not entirely. I got bitten by a spider in high school. Been different ever since.” Peter sighs. Maybe he should be worried, telling him all this. Maybe he shouldn’t be doing it. But he’s just so far past caring at this point. “Did you come here to kill me?” he asks, not worried, just tired and a bit curious. What had this Tony Stark intended to do about a break in the continuum? Was he good? The outfit change, the fact he wasn’t human — and a glance around the abnormally quiet city — led him to believe he wasn’t near as merciful as the old Tony, at least.

“If I had to. If you were going to be too annoying, or a potential threat.”

“And now?”

A pause. “Now I’m more inclined to keep you, I think.”

The response startles a laugh out of him. He hadn’t expected that, particularly the honesty in what or why if he’d said no. But he’s not scared, really. Maybe he should be, but actually… “Keep me? You think that’s a good idea?”

“It sounds like a fantastic idea.” Tony moves up behind him, not quite touching him but hovering just close enough for the hairs on the back of Peter’s neck to stand up. “You’re young. Cute. Unmated, I can smell that. You’re obviously smart to be hopping through time and space. You’ve got nothing left, true — perhaps no reason to live, but no reason to die, either. And in your case, dying is so much trouble.” His breath tickles the back of Peter’s neck. “You and I could do so much, kid. I could give you a reason to live — or at least an outlet when living becomes too much. You’ve already figured out you can’t do it on your own. Help me, and I’ll help you.”

Peter considers it. He’s not wrong. And yeah, okay, this obviously isn’t the same Tony Stark from his world. He’s different. Certainly not a hero, at least. But he’s familiar, and what he’s offering…

He turns around, slowly getting to his feet on the roof. Tony is waiting, hovering just a little above the ground with a hand held out to him. He takes it. With a cocky grin, Tony pulls him against his body, an arm holding him in place, and they’re off.

#untitled moodboard #alternate universe #mcu au #marvel alternate universe #alpha tony stark #sim tony stark #omega peter parker #starker #ironspider #ironspider moodboard #starker moodboard #starker aesthetic #ironspider aesthetic #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #parallel universes #alternate universe travelling #untitled drabble #tw: suicidal ideation

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idnek83 · 3 years ago

Text

By Your Side - chapter 2/3

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Soda Kazuichi/Tanaka Gundham

Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, No Game Spoilers, Coming Out, Hurt/Comfort, Verbal and Physical Abuse, Homophobia, Other Tags To Be Added

Summary: The epilogue of Aid, in which Soda finally comes out to those around him, and accomplishes a goal he’s had ever since that fateful day in the beach house.

Chapter: 1, 2

Read on Ao3

This Chapter: Soda comes out to his father and things go about as poorly as one would expect. But maybe he hasn't lost nearly as much as he thinks.

Please mind the tags. This chapter contains non-graphic depictions of verbal and physical abuse. If you don’t want to read it but would like to know what happened, please read the summary in the ending notes on AO3

_____________________

Coming out to his friends had been so easy that he had almost convinced himself that coming out to his dad could be easy too.

It wasn’t that bad really, he only hit him a few times, he’d been beaten worse for breaking things in the garage.

He was glad he told Gundham not to come though.

“You’re already such a useless fuckin’ disappointment-”

Really, watching how Gundham would react to his father’s abuse would probably have been way harder to take.

“Now you ain’t even gonna have a kid and continue the family? Too busy suckin’ dick like a disgusting-”

At this point his dad was pretty much just repeating himself. Earlier, Soda had tried to appease his father by pointing out that he was actually still interested in women, so technically he might still have a kid someday.

But his father wasn’t listening, so he gave up.

He didn’t really want kids anyways.

He was too scared he’d end up like his dad.

“-outta my house before I throw you out!”

Oh, that was new. He probably should have been listening better. He really was useless.

“What?”

“I said you best get your ass outta my house real quick, or I’m gonna throw ya out, and don’t even think ‘bout coming back unless you’re ready to put this gay shit behind you.”

His father’s entire face was red, a few ugly veins stood out on his forehead, and he looked cartoonishly angry.

Soda couldn’t help but think it was almost funny.

“Can I, um, can I grab some of my stuff first?”

Soda wasn’t really sure how he was acting so calm, it always happened when things with his dad got really bad. Calm didn’t stop his father from hitting him, but it usually stopped him from hitting harder.

His father’s eyes narrowed and his shoulders tensed in a way Soda had learned meant he should start preparing to be hit again, but to his surprise his father just turned and stormed away after mumbling “Ya got 15 fucking minutes,” followed by a string of insults Soda knew were supposed to be hurtful, but hardly affected him anymore.

It’s hard to feel rain drops when you’re already soaked.

He walked to his room an sat on the bed.

He just stared.

What was he supposed to do? Pack? Most his stuff was already in his dorm at Hope’s Peak. Why had he asked to get his stuff when there wasn’t even anything important here?

He looked vacantly around his room.

It was pretty sparse. Just some dirty clothes thrown around on old worn-out furniture. There was a picture of him and his dad on the nightstand.

Maybe he should take that? People always take photos with them in movies and shit, so that’s probably what he’s supposed to do, right?

He threw it out the window instead.

It probably should have made him feel something, but he just felt numb.

He grabbed a pillowcase and stared filling it with his clothes and some of the random junk he had sitting around, not really paying attention to what he was doing.

Was this the last time he would ever be in this room? In this house?

The thought made him freeze.

He was about to lose the only home he’d ever had.

He swallowed a lump in his throat and laid down on his bed, tried to remember the feeling of it and the image of his ceiling.

It was stupid, but he felt like he would miss staring at that ceiling, suddenly every little bump and scratch felt like an important part of who he was. He had stared at it his whole life and now he just… wouldn’t be able to ever again.

He felt like he was upset about the wrong thing, but he couldn’t stop the tears from coming to his eyes anyway.

He was definitely going to miss that ceiling.

There was a knock at the door.

Shit, had it been 15 minutes already?

He stood and grabbed his sack of stuff, wiped his face, and opened the door to his room for what was probably the last time.

No one was there.

He checked his phone to see if his time was actually up, maybe he was just hearing things.

He had 12 missed calls from Gundham and twice as many unanswered texts.

There was another knock at the door.

Not his room door.

The front door.

Oh god, no.

He ran to the front door and pulled it open. He wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Gundham standing there looking both incredibly concerned and incredibly angry.

He was surprised when he didn’t immediately shove both himself and his boyfriend out the door like he had been planning to though.

Something about seeing Gundham just then, seeing the man he felt so safe around right as he was losing his home broke him, and instead of pushing Gundham back and away from the building like he should, he wrapped his arms around him and choked a sob into his chest.

Gundham held him tightly, and for a moment Soda didn’t feel so lost.

And then his dad found them.

“And this is the fucking guy? Really went with the fruitiest fucker you could, huh? Couldn’t pick one that at least looks like a girl could ya, ya little-”

He couldn’t take it if his father and Gundham started fighting. He needed to leave. Now.

He tried to nudge Gundham back, but Gundham just held him tighter.

“Cease your barking, foul beast.”

No.

Gundham shifted, partially shielding Soda from his father. He was definitely getting ready to fight.

No no no.

“I will not allow you to-”

The venom in Gundham’s raised voice sent a chill down Soda’s spine that he wished wasn’t so familiar.

He needed to stop this before it got bad, before he started fearing Gundham’s voice the same way he feared his father’s.

“Gundham, please, don’t.”

It was quiet, pathetic, and mumbled into Gundham’s chest. If his father had heard it he would have laughed and mocked him more, there’s not way it would have stopped him.

But it stopped Gundham.

He felt Gundham tense for a moment, before stroking Soda’s hair and muttering an apology against his temple. It was the exact kind of tender comfort Soda had never dared dream of receiving during one of his father’s episodes.

It made him cling to Gundham harder.

Yeah, his dad really didn’t appreciate that.

Soda was pretty sure Gundham was literally biting his tongue as the two of them walked away from the house, trailed by every insult and threat his father could think to utter. Only once they made it to the sidewalk did Gundham pause and look back. Soda could see him seething, knew Gundham needed to say something, and just pressed his head against Gundham’s shoulder, allowing him to finally speak up.

He didn’t have the energy to stop him anyways.

Gundham locked eyes with Soda’s father and tightened his arm protectively around Soda’s back.

He just hoped Gundham wouldn’t yell again.

“May you one day find enough love to know your actions were wrong.”

It was hardly any louder than Gundham’s usual speaking voice, but the moment of silence that followed it told Soda that his father had indeed heard it.

The renewed vigor of his threats after, however, told him his father didn’t care for the words.

–

Soda wasn’t 100% sure how they got back to campus.

He vaguely remembers being on a bus and hiding his face against Gundham’s neck, doing his best not to cry in public.

He didn’t need more people seeing how pathetic he was.

He remembers the warmth of Gundham’s hand on his back and the soothing sound of his voice, though he can’t really remember anything he said.

He was so useless he couldn’t even pay attention when someone was trying to comfort him.

It wasn’t until they were walking through the doors of their dorm building that he really felt like he was able to focus again. Something about being in a familiar place just made his mind come back from… wherever it had been.

The first thing he noticed was that he didn’t have the pillowcase he had shoved all his shit in.

He didn’t have the pillowcase.

His heartbeat picked up.

He didn’t have his stuff.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

He didn’t have a house,

His knees buckled.

He didn’t have a home.

He fell. He felt sick. He felt like he was dying.

Gundham was saying something. He couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t hear anything but his own too loud heartbeat and his brain’s assurance that he had lost everything and that he might as well just die.

Suddenly he was being carried. He wanted to protest but he couldn’t catch his breath, so he just gasped and choked pathetically in Gundham’s arms until he was slowly lowered onto a bed.

His bed.

His bed in his dorm room, covered in his dirty clothes and his unwashed blankets.

Soda gripped the sheets, his sheets, and something about it made the knot in his chest loosen.

He could breathe again.

He opened his eyes, unsure when he had closed them, and looked down at Gundham, who was crouched down before him holding his limp hands in his own.

A small smile graced Gundham’s face when Soda met his eyes.

“Have you returned to me, my love?”

Soda’s mouth felt dry, so he just nodded.

Gundham stood, slowly, the same way Soda knew he would around a frightened animal, and lifted one of Soda’s hands to gently press his lips to his knuckles.

“Do you keep ice in your fridge, dear consort?”

The question felt bizarre. Ice? Was this an overlord thing? He really wasn’t in the mood for that crap…

He managed to choke out a confused “Huh?”

“Ice, my dearest, is there any in your fridge? We must treat your wounds.”

Soda blinked slowly, waiting for his mind to process what was happening.

His wounds?

Oh.

He must have a blackeye.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll get it.”

When he stood Gundham moved as if to stop him, and he felt anger bubble up in his stomach.

“I said I’ll fucking get it! I’m not that fucking useless!”

He regretted it the second he finished speaking. Gundham’s shocked face hurt him more than anything else that night had.

In his mind his raised voice echoed and distorted until he couldn’t tell it from his father’s.

He was on his knees again, sobbing an apology, as gentle arms slowly wrapped around him and a deep voice offered forgiveness he didn’t deserve.

They must have been close enough to his minifridge for Gundham to reach it, as he suddenly felt something cold being lightly pressed into his hands.

It was an icepack he nearly forgot he owned, Mikan had handed them out to everyone in class on a particularly hot day that summer.

He pressed it to his eye, only then did he notice the dull throbbing pain of it.

He let himself fall forward into Gundham’s chest again.

“‘m sorry.” He mumbled again.

“My beloved consort, I can hardly imagine the pain you are feeling at this moment.” A soft kiss to his forehead. “I will remain by your side as you fight the demons which plague you, however unpleasant they may be.”

The words struck fear in Soda’s heart.

“No.”

“My dear?”

“I don’t want that, Gundham.” He took a shaky breath “I don’t want you to be with me if I’m treating you like shit. I don’t care if I’m hurt or whatever, if I treat you like shit you leave, okay?”

“It’s understandable that-”

“No. Gundham, please, I just-” another shaky breath as he pulled far enough away from Gundham that he could meet his eyes “- I don’t want to end up like him, okay? So you can’t… you can’t just let me get away with this shit. E-even when I’m upset.”

Gundham took a moment to consider his words, looking unconvinced.

“Please Gundham. I couldn’t… I couldn’t take it if I hurt you.”

Gundham stroked his cheek and finally nodded.

“Then I will do my best to keep your behavior in check, and in return I will ask only one thing.”

Soda smiled and cocked his head.

“Yeah?”

“You must be kind to yourself as well, dearest.”

It caught him off-guard.

“You have made a habit of speaking of yourself in a depreciating manner. I will not allow you to speak to me in such a way, and I will not allow you to speak to yourself in such a way either.” Gundham smiled and cupped Soda’s chin. “You are the consort of the great Overlord of Ice, my love, all must treat you with respect.”

Soda couldn’t help but laugh a little. It made his face hurt even worse, but it was worth it.

Gundham pulled him close again and quietly chuckled along with him.

Eventually they stood, and Soda looked around his room until he found a mostly clean face cloth to wrap the icepack in, before pressing it back to his swollen eye.

Gundham simply stood in the middle of the room, seemingly uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

“Um, Gundham? What’s, uh, what’s up?” Gundham looking nervous made Soda feel nervous, it was just too unlike him.

“I am… simply unsure if I should stay.”

“Huh?”

Gundham hadn’t once hesitated to spend the night in Soda’s room since they had returned from their vacation.

“I would be happy to stay with you this night, my dear consort, but…you have gone through so much so quickly, I would understand if you wished to have some time alone, or simply some time away from me, as I am .”

Soda was about to protest, of course he wanted Gundham around right now, having the person you love around in a crisis was like the number one thing you were supposed to want, right?

But the more he thought about it the more he realized Gundham had a point. Maybe he felt calm for the moment, but he was sure he’d have another outburst soon, and as much as he appreciated Gundham’s comfort and reassurance, sometimes a guy really just needs to let himself have a good long ugly cry in private, just to get it all out.

“Actually, yeah… I think, um, I think maybe I’ll sleep alone tonight? If that’s alright?”

“Of course it is alright, dearest.”

Gundham smiled for a second before it faltered.

“But please, do not hesitate to contact me if you need anything, my love. Truly anything, big or small, I will do my best to accommodate you.”

Soda smiled a little but could already feel his emotions welling up again at Gundham’s hesitance.

“I will, Gundham. Or? I won’t I guess? Uh, I mean, I’ll text you if I need anything, okay? Just, uh, try not to worry about me to much for now, alright? I’ll… be okay.”

He’d probably be okay, right?

“Of course, I’ll do my best.” Gundham moved to the door as Soda opened it, turning back as he walked through it. “I love you, my dear Soda.”

Soda felt his throat tightening again.

“L-love you too, Gundham.” Maybe it was a little choked, maybe he closed the door a little too fast, but maybe he just didn’t want Gundham to have to deal with any more of his crying that night.

He waited a moment for Gundham’s shadow to disappear from below the door, before once again sliding to his knees.

He expected to sob, the way he had before, but to his surprise he just breathed out a few more shaky breaths.

Maybe he had had enough of his own crying for one night too.

Maybe he just needed another minute.

He decided he might as well get ready for bed. He looked around his room for some cleanish pajamas and found a shirt Gundham had forgotten at some point. It passed the sniff test, smelling only mildly like BO but mostly like Gundham, so he threw it on along with some loose shorts he was mostly certain he had only slept in a few times that week.

He still didn’t feel like crying.

Soda sat on his bed and pulled out his phone, maybe he should just ask Gundham to come back if he wasn’t going to have another breakdown…

He felt guilty when he saw all the still unread messages from Gundham, but he’d deal with those later. For now, he was more interested in some of the other texts he had.

He had told most his friends that he was planning to come out to his father today, so there were a decent number of texts asking how things went.

As he scrolled through his various messages he began to feel guilty, many of his classmates had not only asked how things went but had followed up a while later with concerned messages. Fuyuhiko had even threatened to send some of “his guys” to Soda’s house - to Soda’s Father’s house - if he didn’t respond soon.

Luckily it seemed like Gundham had done some damage control while Soda had been out of it, as there were also a few messages saying things like “Gundham says you’re safe, but I’m here to talk if you need it!” and offering various words of support and love.

So, turns out he wasn’t done crying.

What had he done to deserve such good friends? He was just a stupid fuck-up and yet there were so many people ruining their nights by worrying about him. The worst part was he couldn’t even find the energy to respond to them. These people were making the effort to try to reach out to him and he couldn’t even do them the courtesy of responding.

His dad was right, he was useless.

He opened the rest of his messages without reading them, just to clear the notifications, then fell face first onto his pillow and tried not to sob. His throat was starting to feel sore, and all the crying really wasn’t helping.

His phone vibrated and he ignored it.

It vibrated again.

And again.

He grabbed it to put it on silent, but the most recent message caught his eye.

I swear dude if you don’t respond in the next five minute I’m coming back and kicking your ass.

It was Hajime. He and Nagito had decided to go camping for the weekend, and he had been pretty upset when Soda had told him he was going to talk to his dad while Hajime was out of town. Soda had insisted it would be fine and that Hajime should still go, and Hajime had only agreed on the condition that Soda would keep him updated with how things went.

Something he very much did not do.

He shot off a quick “I’m fine,” and almost immediately after he hit send his phone began ringing.

The bastard had tricked him, he couldn’t say he hadn’t noticed Hajime calling now.

He sighed and answered his phone.

“Yeah?” His voice was kind of scratchy, but he didn’t think he sounded like he was crying at least.

To his surprise, instead of the snarky response he had been expecting, he simply heard a relieved sigh and a slightly distant sounding “He’s okay,” before a louder “You had me really worried man.”

Soda choked back another sob. Hajime sounded so genuinely relieved, he could only imagine how worried he must have been.

And he had been planning on just letting him worry…

God he was an asshole.

“I…” Soda really didn’t know what to say.

“It’s okay, I heard from Gundham so I know I should have just dropped it but… I dunno, man, I just really needed to hear your voice I guess? Like to be sure you’re alive?”

Soda let out a deep, shaky breath. He knew Hajime would be able to hear it over the phone, but he needed to calm himself down.

“S-sorry Haj. I shoulda just texted you. It’s my fault for being such a fuck up.”

“Soda, shut the fuck up right now or I actually am going to come back there and kick your ass. You’re not a fuck up, your dad’s a piece of shit, and you 100% are not allowed to feel shitty about not responding to people while you’re in the middle of a fucking crisis, got it?”

Soda froze before laughing at Hajime’s outburst.

“Weren’t you the one g-getting mad at me for not responding, d-dude?” He did his best to keep his voice light, but he couldn’t quite manage it.

“Yeah I know, I shouldn’t have. I probably just made you feel worse, huh?”

Soda paused for a moment.

“Yes and no?”

“What’s that supposed to mean, dude?”

“L-like… yeah seeing your messages and shit made me feel… really shitty, but… now that we’re talking I feel… I dunno, man, just... less shitty?”

There was a quick burst of static that Soda assumed must have been an amused huff from Hajime.

“Soda?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, man, okay? Don’t forget that.”

Tears welled up in his eyes and he had to swallow around a lump in his throat before responding.

“I love you too, Haj…”

There was a brief pause, both of them feeling a little awkward about being so open, but enjoying the feeling none the less, then-

“No homo.”

They said it at the same time.

Soda’s body shook with laughter, he could hear Hajime howling on the other end of the call and could just barely make out Nagito asking what was so funny in the background. His face hurt so bad, but he couldn’t really make himself care just then.

When their laughter died down Soda sighed.

“Thanks for this, Haj. I… I think I really needed to hear some of that shit…”

“Anytime, Soda.”

There was a brief pause and Soda knew Hajime was debating whether he should end the call or not.

He didn’t want to cut into Hajime’s camping date for too long, so he made the choice for him.

“Anyways, I’m feeling pretty tired, so I’m gonna head to bed now.”

“Okay, man, just… call me if you need to talk more, okay?”

“And risk catching you while you’re in the bone zone? No thanks, dude.”

“First off, never call it that again, second, I’m serious, Soda, call me.”

“Yeah, yeah, dude.”

“Soda.”

“I will. I promise! If I need to talk I’ll call you, even if I think you’re probably fucking, okay? Happy?”

“Yes. Now get some sleep.”

“Okay, mom. Good night.”

Soda heard Hajime’s faint chuckle as he hung-up, and found himself genuinely smiling for what felt like the first time that night.

Sure, maybe him and Hajime weren’t great at actually talking about heavy shit with each other without making it all into some kind of joke, but maybe jokes were the exact kind of thing he needed right then.

Jokes and something to fucking drink.

All the crying he had done that night had really killed his throat, and while the laughing had felt better, it had still just made him that much more aware of how dry his mouth was.

His phone buzzed as he stood to look for a drink. He picked it up expecting to find some snarky message from Hajime, only to see Sonia’s name on his screen instead.

Hello Soda, I do not mean to bother you, but I have made too much tea, and was wondering if you would like some.

Soda smiled at the message. ‘Made too much tea,’ as if Sonia wasn’t a master when it came to all things tea related.

I can leave some at your door if you are not in the mood to chat! I don’t mind!

Was he in the mood to chat? Talking with Hajime had been great, exactly what he needed probably, but would talking with Sonia be the same?

Their relationship had significantly improved over the past few months, the two of them would even sometimes hangout without Gundham around now, but they had never really talked about serious stuff before, they always just kept things light.

But he could really go for some tea, and maybe letting someone other than Gundham see that he was alive and in one piece would help him stop feeling so guilty about ignoring his friends.

Tea sounds good, thanks. I wouldn’t mind a quick chat either.

Great! I’ll be right over! ヾ(^▽^*)

Less than a minute passed before Soda heard light footsteps coming down the hall. He did his best to throw most of the dirty clothes scattered around into the laundry basket and hide some of the clutter before Sonia made it to his door.

“Soda? It’s me, I’d knock but my hands are full.”

“Be right there.” He lanced around his room and deemed it acceptable before pressing his icepack back against his eye and opening the door.

Sonia smiled brightly at him, and he pretended not to notice the way her smile faltered when she first registered the icepack as he invited her in.

There was a small, low table in the middle of the room and Soda gestured for Sonia to set the tea down there. They both sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment, maybe this had been a bad idea after all, Soda wasn’t really in the mood to stumble through an awkward conversation right now.

Sonia reached for a cup at the same moment Soda did, and the strange mirrored movement caused them both to giggle a little, breaking some of the tension.

“I am sorry for coming over like this, I admit I simply wanted to check that you were okay and didn’t prepare a topic for conversations.”

“It’s alright, Sonia. I mean, I kind of knew, you never mess up tea.” Soda smiled at her as best he could while holding the icepack to his eye.

“I apologize for being deceitful.” She smiled back. “I simply couldn’t think of-”

Soda shifted the icepack in his hand, pulling it back from his face to readjust the cloth wrapped around it, only for Sonia to abruptly stop talking and cover her mouth.

Oh right, his eye probably looked pretty messed up right now.

He covered it back up quickly.

“Sorry Sonia, it’s-”

Sonia stood, and Soda assumed she was about to excuse herself, but instead she stepped around the table, knelt beside him, and pulled him into one of the tightest hugs he had ever experienced.

“I’m so sorry Soda. You d-don’t deserve any of this.” Was she… crying? “Your… the man who did this doesn’t deserve you as a son.” He could hear it for sure now, she was definitely crying. The lump in his throat came back in full force, and he had to fight not to sob along with her.

“S-Sonia, it’s alright, d-don’t cry…” God now he was crying.

“It’s not alright!” She yelled and pulled him further against her. Soda hid his face against her shoulder. “It’s really not alright, Soda…”

Sonia rubbed Soda’s back gently with one hand, while stroking his hair and keeping him close with the other, while he sobbed against her and did his best not to get any snot on her clothes.

She was soft and warm and comforting, and he couldn’t help but remember being held in much the same way by his mother, years ago before she had passed.

It made him sob harder, but Sonia just kept holding him.

They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other and crying together while their tea got cold.

Eventually, after they had both calmed down a little, Sonia released him, shifting her hand from Soda’s head and back to hold his free hand instead.

“Soda, I…” she looked up, into his good eye, “I think you’re very brave.”

He couldn’t help but blush.

“N-not really, I mean I was pretty scared…”

“But you are!” Sonia lifted his hand and clasped it between her own, holding it between her chest and his. “I don’t believe I would ever have been able to speak to my parents of my preferences had I not know before hand that they would be supportive! But you did! I think that makes you extremely brave!”

He didn’t feel brave, but maybe she had a point…

Wait.

“Your preferences?”

Sonia blinked and tilted her head.

“Gundham didn’t tell you?”

“N-no?” Wait, was the girl he had spent so long being creepily obsessed with not even into guys to begin with? “Sonia, are you, uh, not into dudes?”

“Oh, no I am, but I like women as well.” She blushed a little, but smiled. “I believe we are the same in that regard, correct?”

He just nodded.

Damn, first Hajime and now Sonia? He really needed to stop assuming all his friends were straight.

“But, uh, doesn’t that get complicated? Like with you being a princess and all?”

Why the fuck had he said that. That was like the opposite of the right thing to say.

He was definitely 2 for 2 with fucking up when his friends came out to him.

“Oh, a little. I am expected to produce an heir one day, but there are ways to do that even if my partner and I are not able to do so on our own.”

“Ah, right, that makes sense.”

Soda nodded and decided to chug his cold tea to stop himself from saying anything else dumb.

Sonia visibly cringed as he drank but didn’t stop him.

“You know I don’t mind making you some more, Soda.” She spoke as he lowered his now empty cup.

“N-no thanks, it’s good. Even cold it tastes fine.” He did his best to smile convincingly.

Sonia quirked an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, instead smoothing out her skirt and giving her own cold cup of tea a disdainful look.

There was another slightly awkward silence before she stood once more.

“Then I think… If you would not like any more tea, I shall leave and allow you to rest for the night.”

“Ah, yeah. Thank you… for the tea and… thank you.” Soda stood as he spoke, and Sonia reached out to squeeze his hand once more before gathering her things and heading for the door.

“Good night Soda, sleep well!”

“You too, Sonia.”

“Oh, and…” Sonia smiled and paused for a moment, flicking he eyes down to Soda’s chest. “You look very good in that shirt. It’s cute on you.”

With that she left, letting Soda close the door behind her.

His shirt is cute? What shirt was he even wearing?

He looked down.

He felt his whole face heat with embarrassment as he remembered he had thrown on one of Gundham’s shirts earlier.

Oh.

“It looks cute on you.”

So Sonia had definitely recognized it.

He covered his face with both hands and laughed at himself. Why was he even this embarrassed? Sonia had been one of the first people to know him and Gundham were dating. He was just being dumb.

He pulled the shirt up to his nose and inhaled, smiling.

He was pretty sure he knew the exact night the shirt had ended up in his room. They had both been a little drunk and giggly, happy in each other’s arms as they had collapsed onto Soda’s bed.

Soda’s heart throbbed at the memory.

He wanted to see Gundham.

It had gotten pretty late though, maybe sending a text first would be a good idea.

Soda picked up his phone and clicked on Gundham’s name to open the messaging tab, pausing once he did.

Three little dots appeared at the bottom of the conversation, then disappeared, then appeared again.

Soda waited, but a message never came through.

Was Gundham… unsure? Soda watched the dots and imagined his boyfriend typing and erasing messages, unsure what to say or even if he should say anything, and the thought made him smile.

He decided to put Gundham out of his misery.

I’m coming over. Let’s watch a movie

He grabbed a random movie off his shelf, he didn’t really care what they watched. His phone buzzed, then buzzed again.

Dearest, I know you need space right now, but I just wanted to remind you that I love you and that you may call on me for anyt

Ignore that! I did not mean to send it!

I am happy to hear you are coming to my abode, my consort, I will ensure it is ready for you.

So he really had been sitting there trying to come up with the perfect message to send Soda, huh?

God, Gundham was such a dork.

Soda loved him for it.

–

He wasn’t really sure what time it was. Movie credits were scrolling across the little TV screen on the other side of the room, playing gentle music over Gundham’s quiet snores.

Soda rolled himself over, leaving his head on Gundham’s chest but shifting from his side to his back, and stared at the ceiling.

He had spent a good many nights in this room over the past few months, but the ceiling wasn’t familiar the way the one back in his father’s house had been. He didn’t think he’d cry if he never saw this one again.

Gundham grunted in his sleep and wrapped an arm around Soda’s back.

But he’d cry if he never got to see Gundham again. Or Sonia, or Hajime, or any of his friends. Even Nagito.

He’d cry if he lost them, he’d cry if they got hurt, and he’d cry if they cried.

Because he loved them.

Because they loved him.

Because even if he had lost the home he had known all his life, many of his own possessions, and even the man he had called father, he realized he hadn’t lost everything.

His home was with Hajime, while they laughed and made jokes at each other’s expense.

His home was with Sonia, making polite conversation and sipping tea so good he could hardly believe it was store bought.

His home was here, in Gundham’s arms late at night, feeling safe and secure even as his whole world was being turned on its head.

His home was with the people he loved.

All he had lost that night was a house.

#Soudam #Soda kazuichi #kazuichi soda #gundham tanaka #fic #My writing #Fic Aid

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thatsassyhufflepuff · 4 years ago

Text

Hello!

It is currently past midnight. I decided to make a post where I’d put all my favorite Dramione quotes so I can look back on them and squeal. That’s all.

✨✨✨

1. “You love fighting with me just as I love fighting with you, that’s why we do it so well.” He smirked down at her and pressed a kiss to her lips. “This house is just as much yours as it is mine, I’m sorry I made you feel anything less than that.” His thumb traced the edges of her lips before she reached up and took his hand in hers.”

2. “Hey, hey, none of that.” He gently admonished, “Granger, I can’t tell you whether or not we moved in too soon. I can say that this feels right, waking up with you, going to bed with you, even cleaning up all the hair you shed in the shower- how are you not bald? I am convinced your hair has magical properties all on its own-'' He grunted when she smacked him in the side. “What I mean is Granger, I want you for a long time, longer than I’ve ever wanted anyone else if I’m being honest. I’d have been kidding myself if I thought falling in love with a swotty pain in the arse Gryffindor would’ve been easy.”

Transformation

happy_valley

—

1. “Expecting a challenge--some tired but emphatic refusal to take Muggle medicine--I braced myself for the inevitable argument. He turned his head to my hand resting on his shoulder, kissed a knuckle, and went back to sleep.

I didn't stop shaking until I reached the Boots.”

2. “and given how I feel about you, you'd think I'd do everything in my power to ruin your marriage. Having him believe it was you acting on his behalf, seizing an opportunity that was tailor-made for him will not get me what I want. Sadly, the opposite is also true. I know you don't believe me, but I actually thought making him happy would make you happy.”

3. “I am not most women," I pointed out. "Hence the slapping."

"No, I admit they broke the mold when they made you. That's why I'm absolutely madly in love with you. Head over heels. Dizzy with desire. Crazy--”

4. “He shrugged and his mouth flattened into a line. "It's been a grim few months. I'm only human. Have I told you that I love it when you're stern with me? Your mouth gets all prissy and adorable. Like you've eaten a sweet lemon. A silly metaphor but somehow apt." He pursed his lips”

5. “Someday I hope you'll look at me, and I won't see that half-second of disgust with which your gaze always greets me. Anyway, it's not true. I want you because I love you.”

6. “He kissed me on the forehead and then despite his previous admission, he wrapped me in an embrace, his breath hot against my ear. "I love you. I know you don't believe me, but I do. And aside from the fact you are beautiful and smart and articulate and sexy, most importantly, you're the only person I know who has the guts and determination to stop me from becoming my father."

The Politician's Wife

pir8fancier

—

1. “After what felt like a lifetime and at the same time a split second, they parted, gazing into one another’s eyes with the passion they both felt. Hermione’s eyes implored him to say what she wanted him to say – that this wasn’t the end, that they would have another chance, that he wouldn’t give up – but he couldn’t lie to her. He would never lie to her.”

2. “Hermione just stared at the floor, biting her lip and feeling as though every dream she had ever had had been crushed. Maybe it had. “I wanted to save you,” she whispered, finally meeting his gaze. “I wanted to save you.”

Draco stepped forward, taking one moment more to touch her face with the back of his hand and memorize the deep brown of her eyes. “You did,” he said simply.

And there was no more to be said”

3. “Draco didn’t let her finish. His hands cradled her head as he kissed her, softly as first just like the night before, and then harder, with more passion and intensity. She returned the kiss with everything in her might, trying to say what she wanted to say – “I love you” – without words”

4. “She wasn’t going to give up though. Hope was in front of her now, and she had almost been afraid that such a thing was lost to her forever. Draco may have given up on saving himself, but Hermione wasn��t about to do the same. She loved him – that she knew for sure – and she was going to make sure Draco got his second chance.

She’d die before she let anything tell her otherwise.”

5. “I’m not leaving without you,” she said firmly. He didn’t reply, just set his mouth in a firm line. She wished she could make him feel what she felt – a certainty that this wasn’t the end for him, that she was going to fight until her last breath to give him the freedom he had suffered for. She wanted to reach out and hold him, to cradle his face in her hands and tell him that they would make it to the end together.

“This is your time, Hermione,” he said, reaching out and taking one of her hands in both of his. “This is what you’ve been waiting for.”

“It’s your time, too,” she said, and she hoped she sounded as confident as she felt. “This is your second chance.”

6. “Draco gave her an imploring look, gripping her upper arms and forcing her to look right into his eyes. “Hermione, you know how I feel. I’ve never told you, but you must know. So when I tell you that dying for you and your cause and my cause is the closest I’ll ever get to being whole again, believe me.” He paused, reaching his hand up to push the straggling bangs out of Hermione’s eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Hermione Granger, and I can never thank you enough. So just let me help you in the only way I know how.”

7. “Hermione could feel tears forming in her eyes, and she quickly reached up to pull Draco into her arms. He held onto her tightly, trying to memorize every detail of her for the last time. When they pulled away, Draco swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked into her warm brown eyes. There’s never enough time for us.”

8. “You may not have forgiven yourself,” Hermione whispered to him, laying her face against his shoulder as he shook with sobs. “But we already have. One day, you’ll learn to see yourself the way we do.”

Bittersweet and Strange

UndiscoveredQueen19

—

“Hermione, I love you." She didn't smile, she didn't say anything back either. She just kept looking up at him. He wondered she even heard him. He knew it was wrong to say it in this moment, but he didn't know if either of them would survive. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you until now. But I love you. So much." He kissed her forehead.”

A Future Uncertain

LightsWrites

—

“Suddenly, Draco laughed, a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? Well, I guess it’s the least I owe you.”

He leaned closer to her, looking straight into her eyes, and she suddenly felt the urge to draw back and run away. She made herself sit still.

“I love you, Hermione. I think I have for a long time,”

Seven Years and a Day

Dark Rose

—

“She was half expecting him to just walk through the door but Draco surprised her when he suddenly turned around and returned to her side. She lifted an eyebrow but before she could say anything, Draco drew her into a hug.

“Goodnight.” His whisper tickled her ear.

She could barely return his hug when Draco pulled away with an impish grin. She knew he knew she was going to think of him for the rest of the night. ‘Darn it. Bloody Draco Malfoy.”

A cornucopia of noncoincidences

muffin_reverie

—

“Draco..." She felt a little uneasy.

"I love you." He had said it before, but the words had never sounded so fierce. "I won't let him hurt you.”

Alternate History

Furare

—

“You’re beautiful and compassionate and funny and… I know you probably hear it all the time but you’re brilliant and I plan on telling you that every bloody day. You make me want to buy a shop and sell potions and make my own way in this world doing something I love and something I excel at, but it’s more than that it’s… it’s…”

She waited him out.

“It’s bells on a hill with you, Granger.”

Bells on a Hill

HeyJude19

—

1. “Draco opened the door the rest of the way and pulled her into his arms; he held her tightly as if he would never let her go, as if he could push all the hurt away. She could feel his heart beating and its constant rhythm soothed her, as did the steady rise and fall of his chest. Gradually her sobs slowed, then stopped. She pulled away from him, wiping her eyes.

"Do you want us to stay?" he asked quietly. She shook her head, and he tilted her chin so their gaze met. "Hermione, will you be okay today? Tell me the truth. I hate that we're leaving you alone today."

She looked into his eyes and saw deep concern and worry. "Yes," she said weakly. "Thank you."

Draco wrapped her in his arms again, then released her and leaned down and kissed her forehead. "See you soon." He turned and left her standing there before he lost the ability and the resolve to leave.”

2. “Harry scrunched his nose in distaste. "How can you watch that rubbish?"

"It's actually really good, Potter."

"Whatever." Harry studied Hermione. She looked so peaceful that it hurt him to think of what was ahead for her, for all of them, really. "She's beautiful."

Draco looked at her as well, and without thinking about what he was doing, said, "Yeah, she is.”

3. “Hermione scowled and continued to hit him, but stopped yelling. Draco carried her into the house, up the stairs, and into her room. He set her down on the bed. She tried to get up; he grabbed her wrists and held her down.

She struggled, but when she looked into Draco's eyes, she saw they were wet. She lay still, holding his gaze.

"Don't make me Immobilize you."

She nodded. He released her wrists and took one of her hands in his. "I promise to come back, if you promise to stay," he said softly.”

4. “He kissed her with everything he had, all the fear, longing, pain, and joy he felt. He kissed her because he was scared to die, and he too wanted to see where this would go. He kissed her because of the secrets he kept from her, willing her to trust him, to believe him, to know that he would tell her. He told her he loved her, he would do anything for her, would die for her, would even try to live for her.”

We Learned the Sea

floorcoaster

—

1. “You are mine, Hermione, I don’t want anyone mistaking you for single again or even thinking of trying to coax you away from me.” He laid his hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “Granger…Hermione…I love you.”

2. “The look of shock on her face matched his own. He hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t even realized that he had those feelings for her, that he would recognize them as such. He was in unfamiliar waters and suddenly scared to death. He meant them, he loved her, and it terrified him because he had never loved anyone before.”

Something In the Way She Moves

Snapes_Godess

—

“Draco leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together and nuzzled her nose.

“Take it. Take my heart, and take the remainder of my soul as well. You can even filet my heart and crush my soul if you wish. It doesn’t matter, since in actuality, they’ve probably been already yours to break for a very long time.”

5 am, waking up

mysterious_intentions

—

“The deflated bits of his countenance inflated with her admission, until he felt as though he would float through the air. Moving his hands along the curves of her sides, he pulled her flush against his chest. "I love you, Hermione."

The admission left him in a single breath, causing Hermione to arch her back so that she could look him in the eye. She searched his depths, seemingly inspecting for any sign of deception. Finding none, a smile spread across her face. "I love you, too.”

I Carry Your Heart

TheMourningMadam

—

#draco malfoy #harry potter #draco fluff #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfiction #dramione #draco x hermione

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khaleesiofalicante · 3 years ago

Note

Yeah, here I am once again. Appearing after the chaos I created 😂 but OMG WE HAVE ONLY ONE CHAPTER LEFT?? AND THEN THERE COMES THE ANGST?? I'M READY😎

I'm glad to inform you I finished the homework and I have only two assignments and two exams left that I will today :)) It was like:

Me: Maybe I should do this tomorrow??

Brain: But what about Dani?? And the chapter??

Me: Fuck, you are right, I need to do this :(

But anyways, here I am:

"He had been woken up by music, by love, by violence and by nightmares. And out of all those times, out of all those centuries, this was easily his favourite way to wake up." just the beginning and I'm having lots of feels🥺🥺

“Happy anniversary,” Magnus grinned against the other man’s mouth. “Happy anniversary,” Alec whispered. Fifteen years.Fifteen years since Alec Lightwood loved one man so much that he had changed the world for him." 15 YEARS? HRJWKDJDJ LOVE THEM💙

"Magnus understood why his son was acting all over the place. The boy was supposed to take up the position of Consul after Alec" *singing "Oh baby, no baby, you got it all wrong baby" *

"Next thing he knew, Alec was on top of him. His mouth was on Magnus. Where, exactly, Magnus didn’t notice – or care. He liked Alec everywhere." OH WELL, THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY! 😏

"Not the kind of banging he had hoped to start the day with to be honest." OH god😂😂 I love this man. He is the bane of my existence!” (I just- The puns are killing me 😂)

“It might be karma, darling,” (He got a point. Karma is a bitch)

“Since when do you have a problem with excessive glitter?” (Yeah Alec, Your excuses are getting worst 😂)

"You better do it, or I will tell everyone about your secret" YOU LITTLE SHIT!

"That child is the reincarnation of Christopher Lightwood!” 😂😂 i literally scared my dog cause I laughed so hard!!

"There were whispers and rumours all over the shadow world that Angel Raziel had given up on Alec’s Clave." OH THE FUCK NO!! I SWEAR I WILL THROW SOME HANDS AT HEAVEN!! "Because if Magnus found out Raziel was the one causing all this pain for Alec, he would march up to heaven and set the bastard on fire himself." FUCK YEAH. I'M COMING WITH YOU!! 🔪 🔪

“Livia Blackthorn had been listening through the Idris wards to gather pieces of information that might be crucial for Alec’s Council.” I KNEW IT. I KNEW IT WAS LIVVY!!

Selena is Ragnor’s favorite!!! I LOVE IT

“The shadowhunter was a good influence on him. Magnus hoped Alec would see it sooner rather than later.”😂😂 You love him Alec and you know it!!

“She walked over to Magnus and hugged him tightly. And he sensed it immediately. The second heartbeat.” What?? WHAT??? I ALMOST SCREAMED. OMG. OMG

“Magnus stared at the necklace. The necklace he had bought in the 19th century for Camille. The necklace that had ended up in the hands of Will Herondale and then his sister. The necklace that had belonged to the Lightwood family for generations.” OMG SHE IS GIVING HIM THE LIGHTWOOD NECKLACE!!! THAT THING LITERALLY COMPLETE THE CIRCLE. BELONGED TO MAGNUS, CAMILLE, WILL, CECILY, ALL THE LIGHTWOODS AND THE MAGNU’S SON!!

I'm freaking out now because Izzy doesn't know??? Or maybe she does???And it's waiting to tell them?? I feel like a worried parent!!!

“But he knew it was all part of growing up. He would never pressure them to talk about their feelings or force them to make themselves vulnerable. All he could do was be there for them when they were ready to let it all out. “Do you want to tell me about it?” Magnus asked. He tried. Just in case.” What do I see here? Parenting doing right💙💙

“If you want love, you must be willing to accept the vulnerability that comes with it.” I just. This man gives the best advice ever!!

“I’ll try,” Rafael promised. “I don’t like lying.” “I know,” Magnus smiled. “So much like your dad.” But Alec did lie though. Magnus pushed the thought away. (Why is this such a rollercoaster??)

“His children were so much like his husband that sometimes it made Magnus wonder if they needed him at all. It was a ridiculous thought of course. But it stilled swam around his head. Sometimes a part of him thought it would be better if Alec had been the one to stay back and Magnus was the one to leave. The kids would be better off with Alec, his mind said. He always knew what to do with them.” IT'S NOT OK TO MAKE ME CRY WHEN I HAVE AN EXAM IN 3 MINUTES!!

Back from my exam 😂😂 And don’t worry. Just got one mistake :))

“Max of course was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans. His regular look. But just below the pearl necklace wrapped around his neck was the Lightwood necklace.” YES. MAX WEARING THE LIGHTWOOD NECKLACE!!

“Alec walked out of their bedroom a moment later, and Magnus quite literally felt his heart stutter. Fifteen years. Fifteen years of loving and Alec still made his heart stutter.” They are the reason I believe in love💙💙

“If Magnus wasn’t wrong, he could see the thin layer of kohl under Alec’s blue eyes. Alec rarely enjoyed wearing makeup. But he rarely enjoyed saying no to children too. Magnus threw Rafael a grateful smile and the boy winked back.” Magnus and Rafael getting Alec to wear makeup is my will to live 😂😂

“The words died on Alec’s lips when his eyes fell on Magnus. The man sighed as he stared at Magnus. Fifteen years. Fifteen years and Magnus still took Alec’s breath away.” Jagcydwjendieu I’m emo

What?” Magnus asked coyly. “Is it too much?” “You know damn well it’s not,” Alec hissed and pulled Magnus towards him. “You look perfect. How do you look so perfect?” “Because I am standing next to you,” Magnus smiled.( They bad/perfect flirting it's just *chef kiss*)

“Bapak is a good looking one in the family,” Rafael pointed out. “You are the chaotic one and I am the smart one.” “What am I then?” Alec asked dryly. “A sack of potatoes?” “You’re the sexy one,” Magnus grinned. “A sexy sack of potatoes.” (THAT FAMILY IS KILLING ME IN THE GOOD WAY💙💙)

Magnus nudged Rafael on the back. The boy sighed and walked to his brother. “Come,” he took Max’s hand and led him to his bedroom. “Let’s find you something nice to wear, okay?” Max mumbled again but followed Rafael anyway. (I just can’t with all the love this family has!!!)

“Nope,” Alec said. “They are stuck with me.” “And you’re stuck with me,” Magnus replied. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else, Magnus,” Alec randomly speaks poetry… And he says he is not good with words??

“Selena was wearing a blue crop top with the words “MIND YOUR OWN UTEREUS” written in gold. David was in a simple sky-blue t-shirt, the colour of Max’s magic.” OK BUT THEM?? THEY’RE BEAUTIFUL

“Max hadn't changed his clothes. But he was wearing a blue leather jacket that belonged to Rafael. He looked happy about it.” I said it once and I will say it again. They are the definition of siblings

NO!! IT'S TIME FOR THE TOAST. I’M GOING TO CRY!!

"To Alec and Magnus - for being themselves and inspiring everyone else to do the same." CHEERS TO THAT BRO!!

“Isabelle,” Magnus called gently. “Let’s go easy on the champagne tonight, yes?” YES IZZY. I’M WORRIED ABOUT YOU AND YOU NEED TO REST AND BE PROTECTED OK? OK

“The argument of “who gave the best gift” had started when Jace and Izzy had gotten drunk on vodka. It didn’t help that Alec had gotten drunk as well. All three Lightwood siblings had then proceeded to have an argument about who had the best spouse. The whole night had been drunken chaos. “

“So, Magnus had let his husband be that 18-year-old boy again. The boy who got drunk and fought with his siblings and sang songs about Magnus’ pretty eyes” 💙💙💙💙 This is just to pure

Ok, I feel like this is the chapter of the snippet from a long time ago. The one of Alec and Magnus in the closet while Mavid were talking, but I’m not sure

Why couldn’t this boy just cause chaos during his travel year like the rest of them? Why did he actually study and do his research as recommended?😂😂LMAOO

“Magnus didn’t know why. But the room suddenly felt rather hot. Poor David noticed his discomfort and came to his rescue. But unfortunately, the rescue attempt only made it worse” David, I love you with all my entire heart, but seriously??

DANI, NO! We have already been through this!! I have trauma out of this!!

OK, ok. It could have been worst

“But the time for talking was done. They were living it now.” I SWEAR I’M NOT CRYING!!

“Afraid of what?” Magnus asked. “I’m afraid you won’t find me attractive,” Alec said so quietly that Magnus barely heard it (MY HEART!!)

“But death is so much better than this. It’s so much better than waiting for the day you look at me and I no longer see that spark in your eyes.” THIS. THIS WAS THE DEAD OF ME

Fuck, i have an exam in 5 minutes and now I’m crying

Finally out of the exam 😂 This teacher literally asks us a question from the guidebook and if it's not 100% what it said there, then we fail

But going back to this HOLY SHIT I LOVE MAGNUS!!

“Did something say something to you?” Jace demanded, standing up angrily. “Because I swear by the angel-” “Nobody said anything, Jace!” Alec rolled his eyes. “I own a mirror!” “And is this mirror broken or something?” Isabelle asked incredulously. “Alec, honestly!” (I BELIEVE IN LIGHTWOOD SIBLINGS SUPREMACY!!)

“Yeah, man!” Simon nodded. “You are objectively good looking.” “Objectively good looking?” Jace snorted. “Excuse you, but my parabatai is smoking hot! He is a freaking prize, okay? If we had a magazine for hot shadowhunters, you would be on the cover page. Every single issue.” “Okay, that’s enough!” Alec interrupted. “Magnus, are you happy? Now all my friends have told me I am pretty.” “I said smoking hot,” Jace corrected. (*Sighs* I fucking love parabatai)

“Dad, I don’t know why you are so worried,” Max said in a bored tone. “You’re a total DILF.” David choked on his champagne and Jace patted him on the back. I’m dying jajdhuwejdjkew😂😂

“It means Dashing and Irresistible Looking Father” Singing again *Oh baby, no baby, you got it all wrong baby* Idk when this turned from Alec feeling self conscious to Thirsting Over Alec Lightwood-Bane but I’m here for it. Seriously. My mom is in front of me. She thinks and doing homework. And I’m just trying to keep a straight face (so hard) This is not working. I’m about to scream😂😂

2I can’t understand how you could look at yourself and not see what I see.”

“They stared at the picture on Max’s wall. The picture of Max and Rafael grinning ear to ear when they had visited Peru to piss Magnus off.” THOSE LIL SHITS!

tiEvery me they call each other baby my skin clears and i have three more years of life

“No,” Magnus managed a smile. “Sometimes things are just sad. So, you need to let yourself be sad.” 💙💙

“It’s Max!” Alec said. “We have to hide!" “Hide? This is our home!” (OH BOY😂😂)

I KNEW THIS WAS GOING TO HAVE THE SCENE!! “When I die, I will love you from my grave,” David said now. “I will love you from heaven.” WHY DO THEY ALL SPEAK POETRY?

Don’t let him go, Magnus whispered to Max inside his heart. Don’t ever let him get away.” MAVID IS JUST SO FUCKING BEAUTIFUL!

“He wondered how strong a person must be to not give up on guardian angels and the idea of heaven after being dragged through hell by his demon of a father.” My boy is strong af

“I don’t believe in angels or heaven,” Alec said then. “But I feel blessed to be loved by you too.” Magnus smiled against Alec’s neck. “Stop stealing David’s dialogues.”💙💙 I have said this to much but I love them

“For the rest of the night, they danced and laughed and drank and smiled. Of course, there was the sadness of time hanging over their heads. But they ignored it. They focused on the love in front of them.” These lines are just amazing

“And sorry,” David said quickly. “I apologize if I said something out of turn before. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble-” BOY COULD YOU STOP BEING PERFECT??

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think it matters who you brought the necklace for,” David said, his blue eyes on Magnus. “Everything you do is out of love, Mr. Lightwood-Bane. And I think that’s beautiful.” EVEN MAGNUS STAY SPEECHLESS!!

“That’s not what I meant,” Jace shook his head. “David and Max. A shadowhunter and a warlock. They are together. They are happy. That’s cause of you, Alec. You and Magnus did that.” Magnus smiled at this husband. “Listen to your parabatai. He gets wise so very rarely.” YES THEY DID. I’M SO FUCKING PROUD!

“But he did it now. For Alec. Because Alexander Lightwood always has been and always will be his only exception.” The Malec feelings I’m getting from this are to much

“Magnus smiled. “How do I look?” “Immaculate,” Alec whispered. In the mirror, Magnus could see himself. His dark hair was woven with strands of gray. He had wrinkles on his face, just around the eyes. When Magnus smiled, his eyes crinkled.” OMG OMG!! I’M CRYING

“Magnus took Alec’s hand in his and put it over his heart. “Promise me you will stop smoking.” THANK YOU MAGNUS. LITERALLY THANK YOU!!

“I don’t care how they look at me. I care how you look at me," Alec smiled softly. "Because I only ever look back at you, Magnus.” Alec says these things like they aren’t worth a museum

I would never tell you what to do with your body, Alexander. But-” “Well, you tell me sometimes,” Alec snickered against his mouth. “Stop making jokes to avoid serious conversations,” Magnus slapped his husband on the arm. “That’s my thing.”😂😂

“Magnus stayed awake that night. He stayed awake and told his brain to cherish every single memory from tonight. That’s how Magnus spent every night. He would stay awake and ask his mind to remember.” THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL AND ACCURATE I ACTUALLY FORGET ITS NOT CANON

“And then he dreamt.In his dream, he saw them again. But they weren’t smiling this time.” :) Seriously?? SERIOUSLY? I’M SO DONE, YET I’M STILL HERE??

Ugh this was so beautiful i just can- I closed Tumblr so I didn’t get spoiled 😂 Amazing as always and I’m just going to have Malec feels for the rest of the day.

P.s. I was listening to One Last Time by LP and got even more emo 💙💙

This whole thing me so emo wtf 😭😭😭

I love your reactions so much 🥺🥺🥺

Also you reading fanfiction minutes before the exam is such a big dick move istg never change bro 😎

#lbaf

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darth-does-stuff · 3 years ago

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triggers: cursing, assholes, helicopter parents, mentions of being a ‘gifted kid’, losing someone mention/implication, dying mention/implication, public being stressful, tell me if i need to add anything please!!

“Hey, Pat, why do you act so differently when doing the superhero gig?” Virgil asked casually, hanging upside down off the couch. His eyes widened as he realized what he said and quickly added, “Only if you wanna answer, of course.” He coughed awkwardly, staring resolutely up at the ceiling.

Patton snorted softly, leaning back in the armchair. “‘S alright, Vee. I’m fine with answering,” he moved around slightly as he tried to get comfortable before sighing. “The reason I act so bubbly and cheerful when in the costume is, 1, because of the fucking mayor. Dude’s a prick who believes that if you aren’t happy, you can’t possibly be a superhero. If you don’t act happy, let the mask slip for even a second, he threatens to boot you from the city and reveal your identity, the asshole,” he rolled his eyes, muttering some colorful things under his breath.

“Anyways, besides the insolent mayor, the public just expects us to act like that. For Roman, it isn’t as much of a problem, considering he’s sort of just naturally like that. But even for him, it gets straining and tiring after a while. The public pushes that expectation of being bright and peppy and charming to a whole new, unobtainable, and frankly unhealthy level,” Patton explained, leaning his head against his fist. “But yeah, I guess. Hope that explains it.”

The two vigilantes sat there as they pondered that for a moment before Virgil spoke up softly, but with no less feeling in his voice, “Why do the corrupt people always have to be the ones that have power?”

Logan snorted contemptuously, “Normal people don’t need that power. They’re usually content with their lot in life, at least the ones that aren’t too affected by dumbass decisions. But corrupt people? If they get even the slightest taste of power, hell, they don’t even need to have gotten that, they’ll claw their way to the top, to those positions of power. Because they’re determined enough to make it there, because they won’t let anyone get in their way. And we’re the ones that have to deal with the collateral damage from them and their decisions.”

“It’s such a shame,” Roman said quietly, picking fuzz off the carpet. “People might have actual happy lives if it weren’t for these—these monsters,” his fist clenched, the knuckles going white as he experienced a wave of strong emotions.

Patton gave a mirthless laugh, “That’s offensive to monsters. The fuckers are so much worse.”

Logan stared directly at the ground, already knowing what question was going to come next. His phone was blowing up, going through different games apps and games as his powers went slightly haywire. He took a deep breath just as the question came.

“Hey, Logan…if you don’t mind me asking…why do you also act so different in the mask? I mean, you’re much more…” Roman struggled to find the correct word, “humorous when you’re not in the costume. I’m just kinda wondering if it’s for sort of similar reasons as Pat’s?”

Logan let out a deep sigh, staring at the ground for a moment before looking up, leaning back up against the wall. “I don’t mind. It’s kind of complicated I guess. There’s just a lot of layers to it,” he said quietly, his phone finally turning off. “As a kid, my mom and dad were essentially helicopter parents. I was their first kid and they were so worried they’d mess up somehow. They didn’t let me play with the other kids that much, didn’t let me put up posters in my room or decorate it, made me focus on my studies and school.

At around 12, they finally relaxed. I had a 4 year old brother by then and my baby sister had been born a month ago. I was free to do so much more suddenly. But…I didn’t. Because I was scared. I stuck to what I knew, my studies and my books. I was pegged as ‘the gifted kid’. And, y’know what? I could live with that. I could deal with being whispered about, ‘Oh, he’s that smart kid right?’ ‘Yeah, it’s kinda freaky how he knows so much,’” he mimicked the students' whispering voices.

“Just as long as I was taken seriously, as long as I wasn’t a joke, I could live with it. But during…I think it was around either senior year in high school or freshman year in college, I realized that I…didn’t want that. I wanted to joke around, I wanted to relax, I wanted to unwind, I wanted to finally be myself. But there was always that part of me that did want to be taken seriously and that translated to my superhero persona, I guess. And being a vigilante, I had to work doubly hard to be taken seriously. People always seemed to be aware that I wasn’t a superhero, always assuming that I failed to become one, when in reality it was my choice. But they just assumed that being a vigilante was somehow inferior to being a superhero, as if they couldn’t accept that, hey! News flash, they might even be equals!” he did sarcastic jazz hands before letting his arms fall limply to his sides, his head falling back onto the wall.

“I just…I had to be taken seriously, y’know? Else people might not listen to me and I could…” he swallowed. “I could lose them,” he whispered hoarsely. Virgil stiffened slightly at the last sentence, before consciously making his muscles relax. The two vigilantes shared a small glance before Logan resumed talking.

“But when I’m out of the suit, I don’t need to worry about that stuff. I can just…be myself. I don’t need to worry about being listened to, being considered a joke, because there’s not many real consequences with that. Nobody’s gonna literally die if they don’t follow my instructions. Sure, I might get a little annoyed, but ultimately I can just flip them off and move on,” he shrugged slightly, just a small lift of the shoulders.

The two superheroes' mouths formed in silent ‘O’. “Damn,” Roman whispered, his hand still at his side as the fuzz lay forgotten on the carpet.

Patton chuckled mirthlessly, resting his cheek on his fist. “Guess this city’s really fucked up, huh?” he asked tiredly, the bags under his eyes obvious.

Virgil’s mouth quirked upwards at the corners, “And that’s why we’re here.”

authors notes: gotta love them one shots ghdshadsfjsa. this one shot basically just explains the distinction between their superhero/vigilante personas and their actual personalities and the reasons behind them.

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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YYH Recaps: Episode 1, Surprised to be Dead

Hello, all you hypothetical readers! It's a beautiful spring day and I have a free afternoon ahead of me, so what better time to start another massive project while I guilty stuff my other WIPs deep into the depths of my hard drive? Yeah. Iffy life choices aside, someone mentioned a few weeks back that they'd love for me to recap a show I have more positive things to say about than negative (RIP RWBY) and ever since Netflix announced that their live-action adaptation of Yu Yu Hakusho is in the works, I've been itching for a re-watch of the anime. With the RWBY hiatus underway, it seemed like the perfect time to fulfill both desires.

Before we begin though, I'd like to touch on a few things that are going to influence this project.

First, YYH is near and dear to my heart. Written by Yoshihiro Togashi in the early 1990s and later adapted for an American audience by Funimation, I had the pleasure of experiencing this story five different ways: as a serialized tale in Shonen Jump, a binge read when I had the money to buy the manga, tiny snippets of the anime on Adult Swim late at night — don't tell my parents ;) — as an after-school treat on Toonami, and then years later as a re-watch when I introduced it to a friend (who, in turn, blessed me by having us watch Fullmetal Alchemist next). I used to keep a Hiei bookmark in everything I was reading, the spirit gun made it into our witch-wolf-space adventures on the playground (middle school was wild), and there was a long period of my life where I tried very hard to teach myself to stand with my hands behind my back, precisely as Genkai does. Spoiler alert: I failed. So to say I love the series is... a little bit of an understatement. I bring this up simply as a way of demonstrating that there's more than a bit of nostalgia attached to YYH for me and that will inevitably cloud my reading of it. How can it not? So that's just something to keep in mind as I work through a series that, like any having hit its 30th birthday, has its outdated, flawed, and other questionable aspects.

Second, but very much connected to the first point, is that these are pretty casual recaps. I summarize and extrapolate, focusing primarily on plot and dialogue (but with the occasional cinematography aspect tossed in). I'm not conducting research on the cultural history here — something that will come up at least once in this episode — I'm not arguing an overarching thesis, and I've never been someone who focuses on the author/production/trivia of a series. I'm here for the story as the story is presented to the viewer. If you've read my RWBY Recaps, this will function precisely the same way, with the only difference being I'm engaging with a finished text as opposed to an ongoing one, so there’s a lot less, “Maybe ___ will happen” theorizing going on.

Third, I obviously recommend that you watch the show yourself (you can find it on YouTube!), but you don't have to know the series to follow along. As these massive paragraphs attest, I tend to be both detailed and verbose, so we'll be covering every major plot point — and most of the smaller ones too.

Finally, I'm working from the dub. I know, I know, the horror. But it's what I grew up on and, honestly, I think it's superior to the sub. YYH's dubbing is in a class all its own and to this day there are very few shows that compare to it. Trust me, it's a good call.

That's enough of the boring chit-chat though. Let's get started!

Our very first episode "Surprised to be Dead" opens on a crowded street. We see lots of traffic, people going about their business, and a pedestrian crossing sign that, crucially, turns red. This is our normality and, like in every genre story, you need to break that normality at some point so that the protagonists can go on their fantastical/supernatural/science fiction journey. YYH eases us into things by first breaking the normality of an everyday afternoon: there's a screech of tires, quick shots of a man pushing a child out of the way of an oncoming car, and then his back is hitting the windshield. We begin this story with a horrible — but otherwise mundane — car crash.

Now, these flashes alone have a fair bit to unpack. Despite later getting a brief shot of the man's scared face right before he's hit, the moment's focus is really on the child. He's the one foregrounded in the initial, slow-mo shot. He's the one who appears in color while the man is kept in shadow. This isn't just a hit, it's a rescue. The camera is also careful to follow the soccer ball this kid was playing with (more on that later in the episode), with it flying through the air as the man is hit and bouncing to a stop in the street, acting as the dramatic finish. It's childhood! It's innocence! It's play on a sunny afternoon! And it's all gone wrong.

This moment is chaotic and even a bit confusing. Not in the sense of what's happening — that is quite obviously a guy being hit by a car — but who the victims are, how precisely this came about, or even why we're meant to care about this beyond a generic capacity to feel for other human (fictional) beings... that's all removed. And it works. As the crash takes place, the camera pans across the stunned crowd and we, the viewer, become a part of that crowd. They don't know what precisely is going on either. We're all just horrified onlookers as a sudden tragedy takes place. We're all watching the same show.

So everyone realizes this guy has been hit. People are staring in shock and someone calls for an ambulance. We see the driver fall to his knees in the street, distraught, shakily saying, "I didn't mean to..." It's a very serious and emotional scene that —

— is immediately tempered by this guy waking up, complete with a cute 'pop!' sound effect when he opens his eyes.

This is YYH's brand, this Very Serious Circumstances skillfully interwoven with casual indifference/comedy. It's admittedly far from a unique brand, but it's an excellent choice given that this is the same attitude that will drive 99% of our protagonist's interaction with the world.

Speaking of said protagonist, our guy wakes up, opens his eyes, and realizes that he's floating. There's a great, disorientating shot from his perspective where everything is upside down, causing him to nearly fall out of the air. Well would you look at that, he's as confused as we are. It's our audience surrogate!

A narrator says, "And so it all begins. This boy's name is Yusuke, he's fourteen years old, and he's supposed to be the hero of this story. But oddly enough, he's dead."

Game of Thrones might have made it popular, but YYH did it better.

(Yeah, yeah, I know one death kick-starts the journey and the other is a shocking twist. Just let me have this.)

Now, it's a weird introduction, right? At least at the end. The announcement that change has occurred, a name, an age... that all checks out. But "supposed to be the hero"? What the hell is that “supposed to” mean? Our narrator gives us the easy, surface answer: "But oddly enough, he's dead." We're capitalizing here on the audience's expectation that death ends a character's journey and though they may have been a hero previously, they can no longer be one moving forward. That function within the story has passed. So it's this intriguing question of, "What kind of hero do you have when that hero is dead from the start?" but as we'll see soon, there's an additional meaning here of, "How can Yusuke be the hero?" As this premiere sets up, Yusuke doesn't act like the hero is “supposed to” act.

Until he saved this kid.

But right now he's just confused: "Okay, this is weird. Stupid weird."

Two EMTs arrive on the scene and are hilariously useless. You know how in any medical drama a doctor will stop CPR after a couple of seconds because obviously you're not going to spend half the episode on realism? Well, that's this only a thousand times worse. One guy just looks at the kid and announces he's fine except for some bumps and bruises. Meanwhile, the kid is sobbing.

"Well, at least one of them is," replies the other EMT, because I guess he can tell Yusuke is beyond hope without taking a pulse or anything? "I hate cleanup," he complains as they load his body onto a stretcher because that's? An empathetic response to have??

Honestly this scene is wild.

Yusuke is understandably upset that he's, you know, dead and all. He starts hounding the EMTs who, unable to hear him, just go about their business of taking the kid and his body to the hospital. "You think you can just do whatever you want because you have that stupid uniform on? You can't just write me off. Listen to me!" and Yusuke tries to punch one of the EMTs in the head, resulting in him floating right through.

What a great way to introduce your protagonist's personality. We see here that when things go wrong Yusuke's default emotion is anger and it starts creeping in even before he thinks the others are ignoring him: "Stupid weird." He has problems with authority — "You think you can just do whatever you want because you have that stupid uniform on?" — is used to others listening when he gets angry — "You can't just write me off!" — and is poised to use violence at the slightest provocation. Yusuke is a guy who, right now at least, is ready to punch first and ask questions later.

As Yusuke floats back up into the air and the ambulance drives away, he finally cools down enough to try and think his way out of this. "It's not like this is the first time you've been in a jam,” he thinks. Yusuke recalls that yeah, something was different about today...

...he actually went to school.

Catch me laughing that this idiot boy equates the weirdness of him dying with going to school. Good lord.

Anyway, this jumpstarts our flashback. We open on a generic, anime middle school (that always feels like a high school to me) where the principal is calling for Yusuke through the loud speaker. Oooo someone’s in trouble! We follow a young girl up to the rooftop and she gets a classic hair-blowing-in-the-wind moment to establish that she's our love interest. Meet Keiko Yukimura.

Keiko finds Yusuke hanging out and immediately starts lecturing him for trying to chew gum and refusing to wear the boys' uniform. "Oh, give me a break, Keiko. I look better in green." Note that it's here we learn her name and it's an easy, casual way to introduce it. I bring this up because Yusuke's introduction via our narrator is very much... not that. It's an on your nose statement about his name, age, and importance to the story, and if you're just starting the show in 2021, it might come across as a rather armature move. Like something out of a kid's show, perhaps. Yet here we see that this was a deliberate choice, considering that YYH is capable of introducing character information naturally when it wants to.

This moment also tells us that Yusuke cares a great deal about his image. More on that in a bit. Because Keiko isn't finished her list of grievances yet, going on to say that his attendance record has hurt their entire class, hurt her as class representative, and if he keeps going down this path he won't even graduate middle school. "Sometimes I think you don't care about anyone but yourself and then you don't even do that right!"

They're legit complaints. Too bad Yusuke is busy looking up Keiko's skirt.

Yeeeeah. Sadly, this is common for anime, particularly a 90s anime like YYH. Even presumably more progressive series like My Hero Academia feature characters like Mineta, whose entire personality is being a pervert, and the creation of abilities that "require" kids/young women to be scantily clad. See: Yaoyorozu. YYH is no different in this regard, with various forms of sexual harassment functioning as a shorthand for how much Yusuke secretly likes Keiko. "Boys will be boys," right? Obviously not.

Like so many others series, the creators get away with it because they’re framing it as a bad thing. It's totally fine because look, Keiko slaps him! This is teaching the viewer how wrong this behavior is. Never mind that this is clearly an established habit between them, that Yusuke laughs off Keiko's discomfort, and that the whole scene is meant to be funny for the viewer. That's the real purpose here; it’s not a PSA on harassment.

That, and to establish the long-suffering love Keiko has for Yusuke in turn, largely stemming from a life-long friendship. "Dumb boy! He hasn't grown up a bit since he was four years old." We see that Keiko's early interactions with Yusuke have given her insight that others lack. As she heads down from the roof she runs into two girls hiding around the corner, too scared to come out lest "the great Urameshi" set his sights on them. Isn't Keiko terrified of what he might do to her? "Or worse, what others might say of it?" Like any classic high school middle school setting, one's reputation is king. Yusuke cares about how others see him — maintaining that tough boy attitude — and the girls care more about what the rest of the school might think of Keiko's interactions with him than the presumed harm Yusuke could do to her. They heard he can summon 2,000 men with just a whistle and that he "kills for fun!" But that means nothing in the face of people talking about you. Despite being one of the most popular girls in school, Keiko is the outsider here via her disinterest in what other people think.

The animation changes here, giving us a good look at how the girls picture Yusuke: tough, scowling, surrounded by shadows, and backed by an entire army.

In contrast, we've already seen what Yusuke is really like.

Keiko laughs the image off too. Yusuke is more like a "lamb" than a killer and besides, he couldn't order around two people, let alone two hundred. "He doesn't have many friends."

"That's not what I heard," says one of the girls.

"Yeah," goes the other. "I think we would know."

Again, rumors rule here, with whispers in the hall considered more reliable than someone who interacts with Yusuke on a daily basis. Keiko doesn’t have a hope of changing their minds.

Oh, as a side note, I love that they gave Keiko Miyazaki-esque hair. It's very emotive.

Yusuke escapes outside where the principal is still calling for him to report to his office. He overhears a conversation around the corner and we cut to two boys, one of which is showing a wallet off to the other. He explains that some bully tried to rough him up, but he said he was Urameshi's cousin and the bully took off, dropping his wallet in the process. The guy's friend is impressed, but what is he going to do if Yusuke ever finds out he lied? Not to worry, he says, that "blockhead" would probably think it's true even if he did somehow hear.

Yusuke, obviously, does hear about this and he, also obviously, does not believe this guy is his cousin. He looms ominously and they scurry up against a wall, terrified and offering him the wallet as an apology.

"You think I want your money?" Yusuke yells.

YYH is, in many respects, a rather simple story, but I appreciate the hints of complexity in these otherwise straightforward interactions. It's not that this guy used Yusuke's name to steal a wallet, he used it as a form of protection against another bully — a far more sympathetic motivation. It's not that Yusuke's fearsome reputation has resulted in any genuine respect because once people think they're safe they reveal how little they think of his intelligence — he's a "blockhead." And Yusuke, though intimidating and violent, is not your average, schoolyard bully. He doesn't care about money, only the insult and the damage this guy using his name might have done to his reputation. There's a little more nuance here than you might otherwise expect.

Also, note how dark the boys' standard uniforms are and how much they blend into the rest of the world. Yusuke, as our protagonist, stands out in his bright clothing. He was right, he does look better in green!

So he's ready to clobber this kid when one of the teachers arrive: Mr. Iwamoto.

Iwamoto demands to know what's going on, but the boys are too terrified to rat Yusuke out. Noticing the wallet on the ground, he assumes that Yusuke was after their money, something that greatly offends him: "Whatever!" Iwamoto goes on to say that, "No good weeds like you should have been plucked a long time ago," making it clear that he considers Yusuke a hopeless case. The positive aspects that Keiko sees, as well as the complexity the viewer sees — to say nothing of his introduction of saving a kid — aren’t considered here.

Notably, Iwamoto exists in part to show us what Yusuke could become. Not a teacher (he's obviously not attending school enough for that!), but a cynical man who is cruel for cruelty's sake. Yusuke is already barreling down that path, ignoring Keiko's advice, terrorizing other students, trying to punch EMTs, etc. If his life (or afterlife...) hadn't changed through that accident, this is the kind of person Yusuke might have grown up to be, and we can see that clearly in the visual parallels between them. Dark haired men dressed in green who scowl with ease and toss out cutting insults. Yusuke is staring his future in the face.

For now he walks off with a final shot, "You shouldn't talk. It makes you sound stupid." This time Yusuke makes it to the school's entrance and tries to enjoy his second attempt at chewing gum, but someone hits him in the back of the head.

"Okay, somebody's DEAD — ah. Sorry, old man."

"That's Mr. Takenaka to you."

Our principal has finally left the office and hunted down Yusuke for himself! Putting this interaction immediately after the one with Iwamoto allows the viewer to compare them. Yusuke might be irreverent towards his principal, but it's clear there's still some kind of respect between them. Yusuke only starts threatening because he doesn’t realize who hit him and once he does realize it's Takenaka, he immediately apologizes. That "old man" comes across as a teasing insult and Yusuke allows himself to be briefly dragged back towards school, rather than throwing a now classic punch. In turn, Takenaka cares enough about Yusuke to try and keep him on the straight and narrow. He utilizes Yusuke's preferred language — violence — but in a casual way, nonthreatening way: slight hit to the back of his head, noogie, pulling him along by the ear.

It's the sort of physicality we're used to seeing in media between a parent and child who are outwardly antagonistic, but actually share a deep bond. Takenaka is also careful to frame their return to his office as a "discussion," not a punishment, and offers Yusuke tea along with the conversation. Whereas Iwamoto considers Yusuke to be a "weed" that should have been plucked from their school long ago, Takenaka is determined to help Yusuke bloom.

If we're continuing the flower metaphor :D

Yusuke isn't in the mood to play along though. He gets away by using a fake ear, startling Takenaka when it unexpectedly pulls free. Yusuke escapes the school grounds and Takenaka, suffering a back twinge from his fall, can't chase after him. Poor guy. I understand that pain lol.

Yusuke heads home where we're introduced to his mother, Atsuko. Most notable in her first shot is the soft lighting that highlights her looks. We're not told how old she is here, but I believe she's around 28 — and she looks it, if not younger. Given that Yusuke is 14, that means Atsuko was a mom at his age. This is a quick and subtle way to tell us about Yusuke's home life. There are more overt details in this scene — it's at least lunchtime and Atsuko hasn't left her bed yet, she demands that Yusuke make her coffee instead of greeting him, it's all meant to imply (before we actually see) that she's an alcoholic — but her age is another way to highlight the broken household here. There's no partner in sight and she clearly had Yusuke as a teenager. He hasn't had a strong parental figure to take care of him. If anything, Yusuke is taking care of Atsuko here.

"Oh great, mother of the year!" basically sums things up.

Atsuko wants to know why Yusuke isn't in school and he says that everyone is pissing him off today, particularly with their preaching. "Dear, if you hate preaching so much you should live on your own... but you can't do that, can you?" Alongside a rough upbringing, Yusuke is suffering from the common problem of being trapped in a dead-end life. He hates his school, his town, and coming home to find his mom hungover. Yusuke has no prospects and, outside of one principal, no one who is actively working to help him find some. Even the little things he hates, like being preached to, are unavoidable because if you want to live on your own, that requires money. Good luck pulling that off as a middle schooler whose only skill is street fighting!

Yusuke walks off in a huff, literally shouting in a street about what a bad day he's having (and hilariously scaring off pedestrians in the process). His shout brings trouble though. A couple guys appear to ambush him, their boss close behind. The music increases the tension, Yusuke's expression is serious, and we even get a Dutch angle thrown into the mix.

For any who don't know, the Dutch angle is a popular film technique to establish that something is wrong. There's tension in the scene, something uneasy is at play, and the world is now literally off center. It's perhaps most famously used in Do The Right Thing to establish the friction between an Italian-American pizzeria and the predominantly African American neighborhood it's based in.

But it's also used a great deal in horror as a way to say: yup, shit just got real. Scary real.

This Dutch angle introduces a character you may not appreciate at first, but absolutely should: Kazuma Kuwabara.

He's initially the comic relief and that's clear in his introduction. Within seconds we move from that intimidating arrival to, well, seeing him. To be clear, I've got nothing against redheads with big chins, but compared to Yusuke's design, Kuwabara is meant to be the funny looking one. His threat level plummets the moment we get a look at his face, especially in a series that will occasionally use looks as a (supposed) measure of intelligence.

Also, Kuwabara is dressed in light blue so, like Yusuke, we know he's important!

Any assumptions that his appearance isn’t meant to imply a goofy, embarrassing personality are put to rest when Kuwabara starts rambling about how they last time they fought Yusuke just got a cheap shot in and he'll definitely win this time. Yeah, he won't. Yusuke is thrilled by this diversion though and we get a shot of him looking almost as creepy as Keiko's friends think he is. Whatever else might be said about Yusuke, he is absolutely a monster in a fight.

Which we see here. If anyone picked up the series without knowing this was a fighting anime, they'll realize it now. Yusuke's choreography is stylized to show off his skill: he disappears with a 'whoosh' and dark lines to suggest inhuman speed,

attacking Kuwabara with a knee to the face, utilizes flying kicks, lands perfect, precision punches, and ends it all with the toe-tip landing we've come to expect of all powerful fighters. Kuwabara never even got a hit in.

Happy as a clam now, Yusuke wanders off whistling and Kuwabara's friends are left to pick up the pieces. AKA, his likely broken bones. I love that they're legit friends though and not just nameless goons for the sake of giving Kuwabara a small gang (though their names won't come up until later). "That makes 0 wins an 156 loses!" one of them cries, trying to get Kuwabara to stop ending up in the hospital, probably. We establish that Kuwabara is The Most Dramatic Ever when he pulls his broken body into a seated position, shouting, "No! I almost had him that time!"

Then he passes out.

Kuwabara, honey, you obviously did not almost have him, but god bless you for the outlook. The most optimistic thing on this Earth is a well-loved Golden Retriever, but Kuwabara comes in at a very close second.

With his dream to one day beat Yusuke in combat established, we cut to Yusuke wandering the street where the episode opened. "Okay, I'm remembering" he says in a voiceover. "After that I met the kid."

The soccer ball reappears as it rolls to a stop at Yusuke's feet. He grabs it and immediately starts yelling at the kid. Horrible protagonist, right? Well, Yusuke is trying to instill in him the danger of using this street as a playground, a worry the viewer already knows is 100% justified. “Listen, kid, that’s dangerous! There are cars going by that will splatter you into the pavement!” It's one of those quick moments where we get to enjoy Yusuke's duality: he's someone who is nearly making a toddler cry, but for rather understandable reasons. He's got the right idea, but needs to go about it in a more mature manner.

Which is precisely what he attempts to do. Sort of. Yusuke changes gears, though whether it's a more "mature" route is certainly up for debate lol. He tries entertaining the kid instead, raising and lowering the soccer ball to reveal goofy faces.

When these fail to impress, Yusuke goes full out by stuffing the ball into his pants, pushing his nose up with a pair of chopsticks he got from god knows where, and generally just putting on a display.

So Yusuke cares very deeply about his reputation... but only when it comes to those who are an established part of his life. Keiko, Mr. Takenaka, and the other kids at school all need to maintain a particular image of Yusuke, one that he's carefully cultivated. But random pedestrians on the street? Who cares about them? Let them talk.

This shows us that Yusuke does indeed have priorities over his own, selfish goals. Namely, the happiness of some kid is more important to him than looking "cool" for a bunch of strangers. Lots of characters with Yusuke's surface attitude would sneer at the idea of degrading themselves for — their words — some brat. But Yusuke, as we constantly see, actually does have that heart of gold. “Well, if all else fails I can still make kids happy.”

Although... I'm not sure what to make of his display itself. I have the distinct sense that there's something prejudiced here that I'm not able to fully articulate, what with the chopsticks, slanted eyes, bald head, and the like, though to be entirely frank I don't have enough knowledge of Japan's history to say precisely what it might be. Or, really, whether it exists at all. Just something to chew on.

What I am sure about though is the importance of having the child label Yusuke as monster — "Yeah, monster! — but in a delighted manner. Yusuke is indeed some kind a monster, someone who disappoints adults and terrifies his classmates, a demon fighter on the streets too, but here that identity is reworked into something positive.

Having successful secured a laugh, Yusuke tells the kid — calmly this time — to go play elsewhere. The toddler stares up at him with the blank expression only kids can manage.

Well, kids and whatever headspace I'm in after writing these metas.

To absolutely no one's surprise except Yusuke's, the kid does not go elsewhere. Instead, he continues kicking the ball down the street, causing Yusuke to exclaim, “Dammit, what’s the use? The kid can get smashed by a car for all I care!” Liar, liar.

The picture becomes desaturated as the kid kicks the ball and it flies into the street, time slowing down to show it landing precisely in the middle of the road. Yusuke again yells for him to stay put, but when has a toddler ever listened? He begins to walk into the road as our driver arrives, speeding, swerving, and paying more attention to the girl at his side than what's in front of him.

This time, we see the accident from the front with both Yusuke and the kid presented equally.

There's a cut to black and when we return we're in the present, Yusuke floating above the policemen now investigating the scene. “So that’s it? I’m roadkill?” As Yusuke realizes he's dead, specifically that he's a ghost, a voice goes,

"Bingo! Bingo! You win the prize!"

A woman has appeared who is quite obviously othered by the standards of the episode so far. Unlike the greens, blues, and browns of the series' modern clothes, she's dressed in hot pink kimono with blue hair to match. She's also, you know, floating on an oar.

“I didn’t expect you to figure it out so quickly," she says, referring to Yusuke's revelation that he's dead. Apparently, those who meet unexpected and/or violent ends tend to take some time coming to terms with their demise. It's a nice acknowledgment of Yusuke's intelligence in an interaction that's otherwise... not great for his self-esteem.

Meaning, this woman is about to drag him lol.

She introduces herself as Botan, pilot of the River Styx and guider of souls to the afterlife. You might also know her as the Grim Reaper.

(Hey, RWBY fans: I originally wrote that as Grimm Reaper 🤦‍♀️)

It's an claim Yusuke takes issue with because 1. Botan is too pretty to be the Grim Reaper and 2. If she was really some god of death she'd be taking this much more seriously, not laughing and saying, "Bingo!" For the audience this does two things. First, it acknowledges our own expectations and validates them. Yusuke's world isn't so far removed from our own that he takes Botan's looks and personality at face value, he also expected a skeleton with a scythe. So don't worry, all the weird stuff in this series is weird to our protagonist too. They'll be explanations. Or, even if there’s not, you’re not wrong for being surprised.

Second, it sets up the very common theme in YYH of undermining those common assumptions again and again and again. We've already seen it with Yusuke, wherein characters who look and act a certain way are, supposedly, destined to be that person and nothing more. Yusuke is meant to be just a "weed," a dumb, violent, angry loser who goes nowhere in life... but we already know he's more than that. Botan is supposed to be scary and serious, but she says nah, I want to be cute and bubbly instead. No character in YYH embodies who they're "supposed" to be when you look past those surface characterizations. They play the part of archetypes — and do keep certain parts of their expected personalities — but they're also far more well-rounded than that. Which yeah, is something most people expect from any story nowadays, but YYH is particularly adept at making you think you're watching Simple Show A only to turn around and surprise you with More Complex Show B.

It's great, trust me.

So Yusuke is pissed that Botan isn't adhering to those expectations, in the same way that he works hard to validate others expectations of him. He doesn't know how to deal with someone challenging his world view yet. Rather than angering Botan though, she just nods and says that this response makes sense for him. “Rather than being scared, or surprised, you yell a lot and tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about." Taking out a notebook, she quickly summarizes everything we learned in the flashback — minus Yusuke's complexities: he's fourteen, in middle school, is ill-tempered, violent, hates authority, and is a horrible student.

Typically, Yusuke responds by getting angry and trying to snatch the booklet out of her hands, only for Botan to pull it out of his reach, laughing. The tables have turned! Rather than being surrounded by people who cower at Yusuke's imposed authority, he now finds himself faced with someone who laughs at his transparent attempts to take control of the situation.

Calming down, Yusuke wants to know if the kid he saved is really alright and Botan offers to let him see for himself. That offer produces Yusuke's first, genuine smile.

They fly to the hospital where a doctor is in the process of giving the kid a clean bill of health, his mother crying with relief.

That's enough for Yusuke. “Alright, Botan, I’ve got no regrets, so you can take me to hell or wherever it is I’m going.”

That tells you all you need to know about Yusuke's self-worth, despite his bad boy attitude. His life is a dead-end as far as he can see and most of those around him haven't done anything to dissuade him of that idea. He says he doesn't care if the kid lives or dies, but then instinctively saves him. Post his death, Yusuke doesn't have anything he considers a regret, or anything he'd like to do before he leaves, like saying goodbye to a loved one. Oh, he's also pretty sure he's going to hell and has resigned himself to that without a fight.

Uplifting!

Botan just laughs though, saying that she's actually here to offer Yusuke an "ordeal" that could bring him back to life. See, he wasn't supposed to die today — let alone die saving a kid — and frankly they don't know what to do with him. It's another neat summary of what we've already learned: Yusuke is a far more complicated case than the afterlife assumed and now, when push comes to shove, deciding whether he belongs in heaven or hell is... muddled.

There's a fantastic story there about the problems with an afterlife that reduces a person's entire life to a few surface characteristics recorded in a book, refusing to acknowledge the context of their situation, or their capacity for change. “Run someone with your credentials a thousand times and they never would have saved a kid like that." Except, of course, Yusuke did save him, so those "credentials" are suspect, to say the least. However, YYH is not a story that explores these issues. Instead, I recommend you watch this!

Rather than being upset at the afterlife's low opinion of him (because let's be real, Yusuke shares it), he latches onto a little detail Botan let slip. If he wasn't supposed to die today... then was the kid?

Mmm... no. Actually, without the chaos of Yusuke jumping into the road, the driver would have swerved at the last second and the kid would have not only lived, but actually come out with one less scrape.

So Yusuke is obviously upset by this news! I would be too!! Holy shit, hang onto the "it's the thought that counts" message with everything you've got.

Also, don't think too much about the fact that the afterlife apparently knows exactly what will happen to people, down to how many cuts they accumulate in an accident. Also, don't think too much about where the afterlife foreseeing the crash begins and the unexpectedness of Yusuke interfering ends. That way lies madness. This will never come up again, so just let it go.

Sorry, 2013 me hijacked the post for a second.

As said, Yusuke is understandably upset by this revelation and as he fumes I'm reminded that this series likes to pull some amazing expressions.

Botan reiterates that it's all fine because Yusuke can come back to life. Weren't you listening? He should feel honored, in fact, considering that an offer like this only arrives every 100 years or so. Well, that explains why all of humanity isn't grappling with people coming back to life on the daily. One person every generation isn't going to cause much of a stir.

However, instead of jumping at the chance Yusuke announces that Botan is just like the teachers at school: she doesn't know what she's talking about. “You said yourself my life was kind of pathetic, right?” he says, going on to explain that everyone will be happier now that he's dead. His school won't have to deal with his behavior, Keiko won't have to nag him, and his mom will be able to party whenever she wants. It's a win-win for everyone involved.

Hmm, this feels familiar.

Don't worry, Yusuke doesn't need to experience a whole alternate reality to get the message.

“I’m sorry you feel that way at such an early age," Botan says and she is sorry, because despite her teasing nature that's a legitimately horrifying thing to believe. Yusuke won't budge though and after a little back-and-forth Botan leaves, telling Yusuke he should think it over while visiting his wake. She'll come back once he decides what to do.

“Do you have worms in your ears, lady? I did decide!” but Botan is long gone.

We cut to that night where Yusuke has indeed decided to attend his own wake. Maybe because of Botan's advice, maybe because he's just morbidly curious. We’re not given insight into the decision.

Atsuko is a mess, to put it mildly, not dressed for the occasion and sitting slumped against the way, staring vacantly as the guests offer their condolences. Yusuke is surprised by the fact that his entire class is here, but quickly writes them off when he sees two of the boys laughing. I'm on the fence about this detail, which I'll unpack in just a second.

First though, Yusuke sees Keiko exiting the house, inconsolable in her grief. She collapses on the ground with her two friends trying to offer comfort, despite the fact that they had nothing good to say about Yusuke himself. Good on them.

Before he can think too long on this though, Yusuke is distracted by Kuwabara's arrival. Unlike Keiko's crying, he expresses his grief through yelling. Specifically, yelling at Yusuke. For dying. For daring to "run away." His own friends are physically holding him back as he charges into the wake, screaming, “Who am I gonna fight now, huh? Who am I gonna fight?" It's not really about the fighting, of course. At least, not the fighting alone. "You’re supposed to be here for me," Kuwabara finishes, the punch he's thrown at Yusuke's photo going limp and catching his first tear.

You know, for all the goofy expressions, this show really is gorgeous. Just wait until we get to the fight animations.

Kuwabara's reaction is why I hesitate to write off the classmates like Yusuke has. Granted, we have no reason to believe that they care for him as Kuwabara does — they're nameless background characters defined only by their terror of "the great Urameshi" — but it's still a split second taken out of context. We don't know what they were laughing at, or if laughing is a part of their grief. God knows I personally laugh at the most inappropriate moments. If you tell me someone has just died there is a very good chance I will laugh awkwardly as I try to process that. It’s just a reflex. All of which I bring up not because these side characters are important, but because Yusuke's perception of his own worth is. The point of each of these moments is to show that those around him have always cared for him, even if Yusuke didn't notice. It's nice to think that extends to his classmates too. The variety likewise exists to show us how people grieve differently, with Kuwabara's friends not understanding that this is how he's working through the trauma: “This place is for mourning!” He is mourning, even if his way of mourning isn't as socially acceptable as Keiko's. So if screaming and throwing punches is valid, crying is valid, staring stoically in a drunk stupor is valid... why not laughter too?

Not likely, perhaps, but possible.

As an additional possibility to chew on, watching this premier again, it struck me how more emotional Kuwabara's scene is compared to Keiko's. Don't get me wrong, crying and calling Yusuke’s name gets the point across, but it's two seconds of generic grief compared to a much longer scene rife with intensity. When Kuwabara arrives the music swells and everyone is forced to pay attention to him. His grief is loud, violent, and given symbolism with his fist and the photo. There's more effort put into his reaction, frankly, so it wouldn't surprise me if fans started shipping them after this. That grief combined with an "enemies to lovers" possibility is a pretty potent mix. To be clear, Yusuke/Keiko is the (oh so obvious) canonical endgame and in the fandom Yusuke/Kuwabara can't compare to another slash ship that will turn up later, but this is a good example of how writers can craft some Very Gay Scenes without realizing it. When you have the girl crying prettily for a second and the guy absolutely losing his mind over Yusuke's death, questioning his purpose now, his support network, and then collapsing in grief... don't be surprised if your audience goes, "Oh hey, maybe they'd be a good couple instead."

But I digress.

The only people who are unquestioningly happy about Yusuke's passing are Mr. Iwamoto and his co-conspirator, Mr. Akashi. You know Akashi is another bad guy because he has bucked teeth and "ugliness" is an easy way to code for evilness. YYH is not immune to those mistakes :/

These two are really something else though, standing in the middle of a wake and claiming it's “too bad that car wasn’t big enough for them too," referring to Kuwabara and his friends. Wow! What stellar members of the academic community. Iwamoto goes on to say that Yusuke dying at least accomplished something good. Not, mind you, saving the life of a child, but rather looking good for their school's reputation. Akashi agrees, but says it's likely Yusuke only accidentally saved him while trying to steal the kid's lunch money. Remember, that accusation of theft is the one thing Yusuke has said outright that he does not do.

He's pissed listening to all this — wouldn't you be? — but knows by now he can't do anything about it. In another fantastic shot, Yusuke hovers his hand over Iwamoto's shoulder, desperate to grab him, when Takenaka's arrives there instead.

“What do you suppose is more disgraceful? That boy showing his misery, or your insensitive and idiotic words!”

HELL YEAH. You tell 'em, Mr. Takenaka.

Yusuke gets his third shock of the night at this passionate defense. Takenaka leaves the teachers to go pay his respects, but admits to Yusuke's picture that he just can't speak well of him. He was surprised to hear that Yusuke gave up his life for another and it's a fact that he acted selfishly. Though he doesn't say it in as many words, Takenaka explains that he's not grieving because Yusuke was a good person, but because it's so clear to him that he might have been. “Why didn’t you stay? You could have made something great out of yourself.”

Normally, "Why didn't you stay?" is just something for the living to grapple with, as the dead obviously don't have any say in what happens to them. But Yusuke does. It's here that the lighting grows soft again and Yusuke considers Takenaka's words. Keiko and Kuwabara grieve for who he was, but Takenaka grieves for who Yusuke could have been — someone that might still exist if Yusuke decides to undergo this ordeal.

Atsuko adds fuel to the emotional fire, breaking down and hiding her face in her knees.

Finally, the kid Yusuke saved arrives with his mother. Because yes, Yusuke saved him in every way that matters, considering no one else knows — or will know — that he'd have lived anyway. I like that the show doesn't allow that knowledge to undermine the emotion of their arrival, or what Yusuke’s act meant to them.

The mom tells her son to pay his respects and the kid thanks Yusuke for saving him, and for "making faces." He clearly doesn't get what's going on here. This is confirmed as the two leave and he asks his mom if he can play with Yusuke again tomorrow. “I know some people sounded angry at him, but he’s really nice!"

They're probably just crying because they want to play with him too, he thinks, which just makes his mom join in. Everyone is crying in this club tonight.

Those words are the cincher for Yusuke and with a brief montage of all the grief he's witnessed, he makes his decision.

We cut to later that night where Yusuke floats above the city, admiring the moon. Botan reappears and he asks, “Have you ever not known about something that seemed obvious to everyone else?” Yes, everyone has experienced that at one point or another. She asks if he's made his decision and Yusuke agrees to try and come back to life.

Emotional revelations out of the way, we're allowed another tone shift as Botan yells with joy, speeding off and causing Yusuke to grab hold of the end of her oar, lest he be left behind. Cranky as always, he demands to know where they're going. "To the spirit world, of course!" They're off to see someone who can explain the ordeal and give Yusuke the tool needed to complete it. Just hang on and enjoy the ride.

Thus ends our very first episode! Ah, the nostalgia. This is part one of a four arc series, with the anime cutting out a lot of the filler stories found at the start of the manga — a smart decision, I think. They primarily do the work of teaching Yusuke what he learned at the wake, so if you can accomplish that as quickly as the adaptation did, all the better. Especially since Yusuke needs to grow a great deal beyond the basic understanding that people might, sort of care for him, and that work will occur primarily through a job he's going to take on. The series isn't really about his death and it's not about an attempt to come back either — it's about what happens once you get that second chance. So this is the setup, but it's important setup all the same.

No need to skip ahead though. I've blathered enough for one recap. I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you when the writing gods next bless me with energy! 💜

#YYH #Yu Yu Hakusho #YYH recaps #mymetas

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