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sophiemsmsmsmgallery · 3 years

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I’ll tell you who SOPHIE was - she provided me with the soundtrack to my existence.

SOPHIE - a futuristic goddess, an ingenious music producer, ethereal visionary, a trans icon.... just an icon generally speaking - tragically passed away at the age of 34 in Athens, Greece after falling off a rooftop whilst attempting to capture a picture of the full moon. Her gut wrenching death brought me to tears. This is the first time a famous person’s death has affected me so deeply. Her bold, hyperkinetic approach to producing musical art was so impeccable and refreshing considering so much of modern day’s music tends to sound incredibly predictable. Whilst alive, visionary SOPHIE generated a following of intensely adoring, dedicated fans. Honestly, don’t EVER mess with a SOPHIE fan. Trust me!

She worked with the biggest popstars, rappers, K Pop groups, rappers and upcoming artists but still remained so humble despite her enormous talent. However, she hadn’t reached household name status during her life. Sadly, many people only had heard of SOPHIE after her tragic and unexpected death. This motivated me to write a piece dedicated to this beautiful and timeless mastermind. I do acknowledge that its been exceptionally challenging to summarise how SOPHIE impacted my life onto only a few pieces of paper. However, its the least I can do. Therefore, I present to all of you my written tribute which shall focus on how her extraordinary music has featured during key moments of my lifetime and expanded my initially narrow knowledge of beauty, gender and identity like never before.

Let’s commence this written tribute by travelling back in time to when I had just turned 15. During that time period, my disposition was extremely introverted. In all honesty, like almost all teenagers suffering the displeasing side effects of bloody puberty, I was barely approachable. I adopted the entire persona of a full time punk kid wearing a thick leather jacket whilst applying extremely heavy kohl eyeliner and dying my hair jet black - which looked devastating. I would also scribble quotes associated with the punk ideology and act like some pretentious snob towards anything that was unrelated to punk, industrial or rap music. That was the most rebellion I exuded at the time (trying not to feel complete despair as much as possible for my former teenage self)

That captious mentality caused by teenage angst was erased the minute I listened to a snippet of the musical force of nature named ‘BIPP’ by SOPHIE on a Swiss MTV sponsored advert. The high pitched vocals singing ‘However you’re feeling, I can make you feel better’ provided by Marcella and overall catchy, hyperkinetic production mesmerised me like there’s no tomorrow. Nothing had captivated my imagination like the timeless ‘BIPP’ did so I typed aggressively and rapidly into the Google search engine straight away. I had to know who the mastermind lurking behind this masterpiece was. I had to know of the mastermind who provided me with this pivotal musical epiphany. Then the capitalised name ‘SOPHIE’ popped up right in front of my eyes.

After listening to ‘BIPP’ in its entirety on repeat, I instantly began to read up on SOPHIE and stumbled upon her 2013 interview on BBC Radio 1 with SOPHIE where she concealed her identity by having her 5 year old niece respond to the host’s questions instead of herself. At the time, I assumed Sophie had implemented a voice changer to project the voice of an infant. SOPHIE’s dry humoured response, namely ,,I’ve got a cough!’’ to the host’s bewilderment over the child sounding voice stood out for me. Earlier in her career, SOPHIE’s anonymity prompted much speculation in the music industry and press. I always perceived this bizarre, hysterical act of Sophie’s as a ‘two middle fingers up’ to our environment fuelled by mainstream culture, especially how so many people obsess over notable figure’s personal business and public image instead of their artistic accomplishments far too often. This has to be the ultimate moment my own curiosity for Sophie’s ingenious musical productivity became insatiable. Later on, I would await the 2015 McDonalds commercial anxiously to have my ears blessed with her gratifying track ,Lemonade’ over and over. The synthesised sounds that fizz like pop rocks. Nabihah’s crisp vocals which repeat ‘Candy boys, c - c - candy boys’. The overall ear worm appeal of the track. Flawless!

In the meantime, I discovered that Sophie happened to be a very well known affiliate of the divisive,unique PC Music label based in London, England. During the time period, I was - to be quite frank - not an avid bubblegum bass or hyper-pop listener in the slightest. I worshipped bands such as The Clash, Dead Kennedys, Rammstein,Tool, The KLF and additionally adored rap music ranging from N.W.A to Eminem. They totally divert from the hyperkinetic, exaggerated take on the pop genre embraced by the PC Music label. However, my teenage idols and SOPHIE objectively share something fundamental in common - Through their trailblazing musical output, they push every single barrier possible and deconstruct what constitutes as ,normal’ in modern day society. Even just after releasing her first full length album ‘Product’, SOPHIE embodied a bold form of rebellion against society’s conventionality and unforgiving temperament by incorporating lyrics alluding to a mostly genderless nature and sexual fetishes eg BDSM. As an extremely naive, self conscious teenager, all of this completely perplexed but intrigued me. Any glimpse of art connected with an attitude of non conformity resonated with me in practically seconds and continues to even at 22.

This longing for anything unorthodox traces back to my own childhood. To explain some details about my background, I grew up in a rather small, very conservative village in Switzerland from the age of 9. Even uttering anything LGBT related would illicit responses ranging from loud gasps to shocked faces at my high school. As a non Swiss resident, the educational setting demonstrated to be more than challenging at times. One incident that stands out to me especially is when a classmate ranted about his disapproval of non Swiss inhabitants receiving Swiss pass and then continued with yelling ‘All my family voted for the SVP kick all of (you fucking foreign scum) out!’.Just to clarify, the SVP is the largest party in Switzerland and leans very far right politically. As you can presume, I was utterly distraught by this disconcerting interaction and confess to losing any fragment of self confidence remaining in that moment. Luckily the Swiss MTV channel existed, which was far more on trend with the times and embraced marginalised communities. I will forever cherish Swiss MTV introducing me to SOPHIE’s impeccable, lawless music and being a form of escapism in my bedroom from the racist, homophobic climate prevailing in my village.

At the age of 17, Graduation finally arrived at the door which was an absolute relief. A few hours later, the celebration party took place in a secluded barn and my boyfriend immersed himself into the role as DJ for the night. Towards the end, he sneakily included Product era classics including ‘Vyzee’ and ‘Hard’. I could barely contain my excitement. We all almost choked on the horrendous party smoke, spilt our cheap beer on each other’s outfits and chanted ‘Shake it up and make it fizz!’ and ‘I get so hard.’ Ironically, I believe my Swiss colleagues didn’t exactly recognise the discernible sexual connotations exhibited throughout the song which causes me to giggle ever so slightly looking back. However, it felt liberating hearing SOPHIE’s fiercely electronic, transparent music and seeing my classmates enjoying it - especially as all you would hear on most music outlets there was either dreary Indie or Luka Haenni - the Swiss equivalent to Justin Bieber. That’s the most I’m able to recollect from that peculiar night - aside from a trampoline burning to the ground due to someone placing a candle on it. After all that jazz, a thrillingly new chapter for myself - and even for SOPHIE - would unfold.

At 17, I returned to my place of birth, England, and enrolled at Sixth Form in the South to complete my A Levels. I initially felt extremely elated to move back to England and finally entering the era of adulthood in my life. However, the atmosphere at Sixth Form and in the South of England seemed ... so unfamiliar to me which was heartbreaking. My mind had totally adjusted to a Swiss and my mind endured unsettling feelings of anxiety during the entire first year at British college. However, SOPHIE’s music once again presented itself as a form of therapy for me. She released the ethereal, stunning ballad ‘It’s Okay To Cry’ during this time period. After watching its music video and deciphering the lyrics I realised... Oh my goodness, SOPHIE just came out as a transgender woman! I recall being touched by the exquisite, idiosyncratic song featuring 80s style synthesised arrangements. SOPHIE’S bravery mesmerised me. I knew in that moment, Sophie would revolutionise the music industry, especially the habitat of music production dominated by cisgender, heterosexual men. She proved my initial predictions right - and on many occasions.

The day after SOPHIE released ‘Its Okay To Cry’, I overheard an energetic conversation carried out by a few of fellow openly gay and trans classmates who I’m still acquainted with to this day. They couldn’t contain their excitement about SOPHIE.

Despite the crippling anxiety having affected me so severely at that point, I intervened and expressed my admiration for everything SOPHIE. I felt blessed attending a sixth form alongside gay, non binary, trans classmates who took pride in their identity and sexuality. It put my mind at ease being surrounded in a more progressive environment compared to the intolerant ambience pervading my village in Switzerland. SOPHIE’s music had connected me with such a progressive, solicitous and just simply amazing group of friends. They agreed with me that SOPHIE’s courageous move will impact the music world in such a striking manner and encourage more LGBT people to pursue their goals no matter how extravagant, especially an acclaimed music producer igniting the music industry like SOPHIE. Then all of a sudden they mentioned the track ‘Yeah Right’ and how it blew their mind away due to SOPHIE’s ‘badass as hell instrumentals.’ With all the shame in the world, I confessed I hadn’t heard it yet. Their facial expressions conveyed so much disappointment. One of my classmates quickly plugged their Bluetooth speaker into his laptop and then pressed the play button. From a personal perspective, ‘Yeah Right’ featuring Vince Staples and Kendrick Lamar perfectly stands out to me despite SOPHIE’s extensive and majestic discography to her name.

I contemplate the masterpiece as a pivotal moment in rap music history. Even during 2017, Sophie began exhibiting red lipstick, latex gloves, tight clothing corresponding to a more feminine image which totally distances from the aggressively macho image attached to the rap industry. From the moment Vince Staples commences with his lyrically cutting verses to Kendrick Lamar proceeding with his gripping and more than memorable cameo - I realised that a 3 minute long but significant moment music history in general simply named ‘Yeah Right’, had occurred. Her production on the track astonishes me due to its avant grade and timeless edge. To me, it is a masterpiece that echoes the the extremely distant future of music. I reckon we’ll be dancing to ‘Yeah Right’ at the club in 2137. For 4 consecutive years, ‘Yeah Right’ has been reigning champion of most listened to song on my Spotify account and can express with all certainty... it’s my all time favourite song. In all honesty, it cured me of my severe feelings of apprehension and anxiety at Sixth Form.

After regaining my confidence and FINALLY passing the dreaded driving test - after failing three times in a row - the first song I blasted on my speakers in my cheap, run down car was ‘Yeah Right’ and rather fittingly, Sophie’s live version of the officially unreleased ‘Burn Rubber’ whilst driving to university I was about to attend. I genuinely cried all the lyrics to the song whilst driving on the mundane roads of Southern England and FINALLY felt like a free, independent adult. Even during brief chapters of my life such as passing my driving test, SOPHIE made a crucial and ravishing appearance.

The last three years of my life have played out in a rather turbulent style. Towards the middle of 2018, the year unravelled in a fashion that I certainly hadn’t anticipated. I’ll summarise it to the best of my ability even thought it is extremely difficult to. My longtime best friend, the closest person to me, sadly died to long term chronic illness. I couldn’t articulate my utter grief into words and sadly still struggle to this day. It was a sudden blow to the heart which couldn’t be paralleled to anything else I’ve felt in my short lifetime. A month prior to her untimely passing, SOPHIE had released her acclaimed, gallant debut album ‘Oil Of Every Person’s Un Insides.’ Although OOEPUI is a extravagant, historic work of art, I shall describe how the tracks ‘Is it Cold In the Water’ and ‘Faceshopping’ impacted me.

I perceive ‘Is It Cold In The Water? as a hauntingly riveting piece of music, with vocals sung Cecile Believe that send shivers down my spine. The lyrics ‘Earth shaking, I feel alone’ encapsulated on a personal level how I couldn’t envision an existence without my best friend by my side mocking my naturally deep, monotone voice, her showing me a piece of clothing she had just designed herself as she was an aspiring designer and hurting with laughter whilst impersonating certain celebrities. My raging anger against the world intensified. I placed my formerly devoted belief in a higher existence under the microscope - a belief system that I unfortunately haven’t revisited ever since. ,Is It cold in the water’ epitomises the dilemma and hardship of entering unknown depths without any inkling of what overcoming the ‘cold water’ and how its aftermath would materialise, metaphorically speaking. I realised I had to place my feet in the cold water in order to heal and adjust to coping with my best friend’s death despite how petrifying the concept as such seemed at the time.

And then there’s the outstanding ‘Faceshopping.’ I’ll confess... when I originally listened to this track, I was rather, dare I say, baffled afterwards. The experimentally electronic provided by Sophie galvanised me as usual. However, as a cisgender woman who has dated men right up to the present moment, I was initially under the very ill informed assumption that I couldn’t identify with a lot of the album’s content produced by an trans woman. That display of shambolic ignorance was quickly put to rest when I analysed the lyrics of ‘Faceshopping’ with an open eye. It clicked that the song could symbolise more than one meaning. It examines the age of the internet and the lengths modern day go to in order to pass as beautiful, especially in the name of personal branding. Furthermore, the powerful track demonstrates SOPHIE’s mesmerisingly fervent opposition against what traditional values regard as beauty which is unquestionably ingenious. I feel the lyric ‘My shop is the face I front’ denotes a person’s individual freedom of complementing their psychical appearance - whether through simply makeup or plastic surgery - and evolving their true gender identity shouldn’t be shunned. As someone who has been extremely self conscious about my appearance since the tender age of 12 caused by several factors eg bullying at school, ‘Faceshopping’ uplifted my spirits and enlightened me that no influence other than my personal self shall control how I beautify my own body.

Skipping to 2020, the world has been transformed to a severe extent due to the Coronavirus infecting and heartbreakingly taking millions of people’s lives. With this almost dystopian nightmare occurring, I felt extremely poorly - physically speaking - which had been affecting me since October of the same year. Ultimately I was rushed into hospital in December. After countless physical evaluations and days passing by whilst lying in a lonesome hospital bed, my doctor informed me that due to the severity of my current condition, the likelihood of permanent infertility is extremely high. The news put me into a state of shock. After my doctor left the room, the tears couldn’t stop streaming down my face. I had always envisioned raising my own children. Forgive me for the hyperbolic language but in that moment I felt defeated.

With the prospect of my womanhood being affected forever, I put my headphones to shut out the continuous ambulance sirens blaring outside. I pressed Shuffle Play on my SoundCloud and the first song that appeared was SOPHIE’s ‘Heav3n Suspended Livestream’ version of ‘My Forever’. Cecile Believe reiterating ‘Everbody’s got to own their body’ so ethereally, and the song as a whole proved to be therapeutic in the moment. After pressing the repeat button 20 times - at the very least - I had ANOTHER epiphany: no establishment should dictate what constitutes as femininity or womanhood. Even in the modern day society, childless people continue to be stigmatised, often branded as ‘selfish’ or ‘undesirable’ in many communities. I applaud the progress we’ve made in terms of tackling stereotypes associated with infertility. However, more work still needs to be carried out on this matter. Although it’s only my individual interpretation of the song given the circumstances of my poorly health at the time, the lyrics reassured me that everybody’s - without a doubt - GOT to own their body. Gosh that sounds so rhetorical!

After this pivotal awakening, I was rushed into surgery which lasted about two hours. The next day - feeling extremely lethargic - I woke up to the fantastic news that the doctors saved my physical health from infertility. I will always be so grateful for their treatment of me and my painful condition. Two weeks into recuperation post surgery, I had no choice but to exercise to boost my mental state caused by inactivity and to get my blood circulation going. As a lifelong, passionate dancer I conceptualised and performed a dance routine to SOPHIE’s club inspired, sublime ‘Take Me To Dubai’. - in front of my cracked bedroom mirror, ironically. Still, dancing again and no physical illness bringing me down felt like a individual rebirth. I was anticipating how 2021 would spell out for me - despite Covid 19 still permeating globally. 2021 finally arrived and not even a full month into the ‘glorious new year’, SOPHIE died.

I recall waking up to numerous messages and notifications capitalising the words: SOPHIE HAS DIED!’. In all honesty ... I froze. It didn’t register for about an hour. Afterwards, I couldn’t disguise the heartbreak and shock that SOPHIE was no longer with us - especially given the cause of her death. It’s been two weeks and I’ll acknowledge that I haven’t overcome the sentiment of anger and upset yet because of her untimely passing .The soundtrack to my existence is gone.

Whether SOPHIE’s musical stylings resonate with you or not, you can’t underestimate her fearless disposition and overwhelming talent. She inspired so many fans to embrace their true identity even when their environment was striving to silence them. She challenged our establishment’s shallow interpretation of beauty, gender and identity. Despite coming out as an trans woman and transphobia still being prevalent globally, SOPHIE didn’t let this form of prejudice stand in her way of achieving her dreams. Her revolutionary mark she left on the industry shall never be underemphasised by so many of us.

SOPHIE,

Thank you for everything. I will never ever forget you,

ROBS.

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years

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Meeting and Dating Matthew

(Not my gif || I couldn’t help myself)(Requested by @therealbitchshady )

(I’m so sorry for the incredibly long wait!! Hope you enjoy!)

- You met Matthew when the both of you were six years old. You became instant friends and continued to stay that way for years all the way up until the end of middle school/start of high school.

- For a while he was hung up on Kimberly but then one day he just started to notice you. It was like he was seeing you for the first time in years. You weren’t just y/n his best friend since childhood, you were actually really pretty and had a great personality… and since when did you have boobs?

- The moment he sees you in that new light he just can’t seem to turn the light off again. He’s been thrown into this loop and he feels completely out of place.

- This is all combining with him losing interest for Kim as he gets to know her as a person not just a pretty face so his entire life is being turned upside down piece by piece.

- Now everytime you hang out he ends up looking at you like you have two heads as he tries to figure out how the hell to abort his growing feelings for you.

- You notice a change in him and the way he acts around you but don’t really think much about it. Like sure he’s a bit more nervous and awkward around you but you sort of just assume it’s a puberty thing or something.

- Meanwhile he’s dying on the inside trying to act natural everytime you touch or tease him like you’ve always done.

- It’s normal for him to walk beside you when you’re with each other but now he trails behind you like a lost puppy debating if what he wants to say is the right thing to say. His heart nearly stops whenever you turn to talk to him about because ‘oh my god you’re so pretty’ and he doesn’t want to make a fool of himself since now he’s gotta worry about you finding him attractive.

- A ton of times he’s about to nervously confess his feelings but then you turn around and say something and completely throw him off.

- You know those scenes where the character is doing something while the other persons back is turned and then the person turns back around and the character just nervously smiles at them hoping they didn’t see anything as the person strikes up a conversation. (That’s you and him constantly)

- At some point he’s definitely purposefully hurt himself during a soccer game or practice just so you would help him bandage himself. He doesn’t even mind you teasing him and calling him a wimp, it’s all worth feeling you touch him.

- Laughing your head off when you find out he’s pretending to be a girl and afterwards tutoring him in all things teenage girl.

- Listen, I’m convinced you lended him a bra to help with the allusion and he just stared at it for an hour after you left his house. When you gave it to him he was absolutely speechless but it was like the heavens had opened up and swallowed him whole.

- He confesses to you after one of his games; he just takes off running from the field and doesn’t stop until he’s all the way at your house, still in full uniform with the wig. He knocks on your door and waits anxiously for you to answer; once you do, he barges in, tears off the wig and pulls you into a kiss.

- You sort of just stand there in awe before he pulls away and stutters out something along the lines of “me like you.”. You probably laugh at him but quickly pull him into another kiss before he thinks you’re rejecting him.

- Once you pull away he’s practically speechless until he manages to mutter out a “how about we go see a movie sometime” making you laugh again. But you do agree to the movie and in no time the two of you are officially dating.

- Soft kisses.

- You call him your “little ladybug” (usually jokingly), he pretends that he absolutely hates it but he kind of loves it.

“Sweetheart.”

- He uses it both sarcastically and genuinely depending on the moment. (I feel like he probably either started using it because of an mtv interview or because his mom calls him sweetheart and it just became his default pet name)

- He doesn’t really show a ton of affection/pda because he’s at that age where it’s still a little weird to him and he wants to seem cool. But if you come over and hug him or hold his hand he loses his mind and turns into a shy, red faced little goof.

- He goes to Julie for advice every now and again even though he’s nearly always confused by what she tries to tell him.

“Hey mom? How am I supposed to let y/n be as independent and strong as a young woman who just left home against all odds to make her dreams come true in the big city?”

- He daydreams about you constantly which is kind of sweet even if all of them are hormonal teenage smut fests.

- Really likes your legs but can’t exactly explain why. If you wear a skirt or shorts around him his eyes are going to be trained on them .

“They’re just all... nice… and soft.”

- He stares at your ass constantly; there will never be a day that goes by that you do not feel his eyes on your ass at least once. Chances are he’ll end up “accidentally” touching you too.

- That being said, he cannot for the life of him muster up the courage to innocently compliment you even though what he wants to say is swimming through his head. He might see you and instantly think “wow her hair looks really nice today” but god forbid he tries to say that.

- Could spot you in room in 0.02 seconds. He will always know where you are in a crowd or notice if you’re there or not there.

- He’s a surprisingly creative person. Doesn’t matter whether he’s helping you and fixing your problems or coming up with date ideas, you can be sure he’ll come up with something interesting.

- Milkshake/ice cream dates.

- Helping him study so he can stay on his sports teams without any problems.

- Watching him play soccer and attending all his games and practices.

- He always has this adorable smile on his face when he sees you in the bleachers and the minute the games over he goes to hug you. Even if you’ve attended every game he’s ever had he’s still surprised to see you there.

- He really wants to teach you how to play soccer(that is if you don’t already know how) so be prepared to face his puppy dog eyes if you attempt to refuse.

- He copies Chester when he isn’t sure what to do, like Chester gets his mom flowers all the time so Matthew goes and buys you some flowers.

- Sometimes he just randomly picks you up to prove that he can and “show off”. Like he’ll pick you up then flex at you with a goofy wink, while you giggle at him.

- He tries to convince you to go skinny dipping with him at least once.

- Don’t even think about going near him with makeup, having to wear a wig for months was enough “girlish nonsense” for him no matter how much you insist ‘eyeliner would look good on him’.

- He’ll let you braid his hair if you’re lucky but anything other than that gives him flashbacks to the ladybugs (even though he’ll admit it wasn’t the worst experience of his life).

“You know you were really pretty as a girl.”

“Damn right I was.”

- Anytime he thinks he’s annoyed you or you pretend to be mad at him he just repeatedly tell you he loves you until you smile.

“I love you. I love you. I looove youuu.”

- Accidentally calls you dude and ends up awkwardly correcting himself and apologizing even though you always say you don’t have a problem with it.

- He knows that you’ve seen him and his room as a complete mess before you were dating but everytime you’re supposed to hang out he goes on a mad man cleaning spree and makes everything look all prim and proper.

- His moms always kind of amused when you coming over makes him clean better than her yelling at him all week.

- He loves doing just about anything with you. Just hanging around the house? Great! Running errands? Lovely! Going to the arcade? Perfect. As long as it’s with you he’s happy.

- Watching tv with him. The instant you join him on the couch he wraps both his arms around you and pulls you into his side.

- He doesn’t really get jealous since he knows from experience how you act around other guys. It really just depends on if he knows how the guy feels about you or not.

- Like before you were together he could easily hear about all the boys who may or may not have had a crush on you and he still holds it to them even if they don’t have a crush on you anymore. They don’t know that he knows but he’ll be petty towards them.

- Making faces behind their back or just acting passive aggressive when they joke around with you or him. You definitely have to stifle your laughter sometimes.

- Fast food dates. You guys go to the movies like every week and after you’re done watching the two of you go out to lunch and get burgers.

- Stealing his shirts to sleep in.

- You never really fight, there’s never a reason to. The both of you were friends before you got together so you already knew what you were getting yourselves into. You had a lot of time to learn what the other person likes and doesn’t like so you can pretty much avoid most fights.

- Helping him deal with his temper and making sure he doesn’t sabotage himself during games.

- Slapping a hand over his mouth before he curses at someone or something.

- Talking with him about his feelings (and his father) whenever he needs to get something off his chest.

- His mother loves you; she thinks you’re a good influence on him (she chooses to ignore the whole helping him disguise himself as a girl alongside Chester thing).

- Chester appreciates you helping him with the whole “being a teenage girl” thing so you’re okay in his book. But whose he kidding, the whole family loves you.

- He may complain heavily and adamantly refuse when you first ask him but he’d honestly do just about anything for you.

- He has a really good heart and set of morals deep down even if they aren’t completely obvious all the time. He knows right and wrong and he’ll apologize/acknowledge if he’s wrong even if it means messing up his ego.

- He’s honestly such a supportive boyfriend even if he acts like a little bastard man.

- He’s an absolute cheerleader; literally anything you do is rewarded with applause.

- If you want a pep talk he’s your man, be prepared to feel motivated or at least feel a lot better.

“Well take it from me, you’re absolutely amazing and even if you weren’t I’d still love you just the same.”

- He imagines your wedding like two times a day so you can rest assured he isn’t ditching you anytime soon.

#90s movie headcanon #90s movie headcanons #90s movie imagine #90s imagine #90s movies #ladybugs #ladybugs imagine #ladybugs headcanons #ladybugs headcanon #ladybugs 1992 #jonathan brandis #matthew ladybugs #ladybugs 1992 matthew

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theramseyloft · 4 years

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Hi Dove mom!

This may not be the best format for me to get this information to you but I can't really think of any other way. I thought this page from the book I'm reading was really interesting and I was wondering if you could provide any insight into whether the pigeons in this experiment were actually figuring out the hierarchical order of the choices or if they were right about it just being value transfer. I think this book was published in 2014 so I'm thinking there may be better knowledge on pigeon cognition that can shed some more light on this and if anyone would know its you. (Also please tell ankhou hi from me)

Mother of Pigeons-

I think they actually did learn the value ranking asked of them in this experiment, but they are also capable of value transfer.

We can see both examples if we look at how a young bird integrates into the flock hierarchy on reaching maturity.

When a peep gets down from the nest, every flock mate makes a point to haze them.

That new individual gets to experience the strength, aggression, and experience of each of those older birds first hand.

They learn immediately that they are not physically able to fight the older bird and must defer.

But while they grow, they watch the adults.

Who defers to who? At what distance?

Who defers to NO ONE?

Who does no one defer to?

The wider a bubble of personal space a pigeon is granted by other pigeons of the same sex, the higher that individual is ranked.

Fighting and rivalry are not a cock exclusive thing in pigeons, though their altercations are the most violently overt and go on for longest.

They are also more likely to extend much further outside the nest.

Cocks fight outright to defend their claim to a nest, kick other birds out of their bubble of personal space, clear walking space, and disrupt rivals’ attempts to tread basically to prove he’s just that badass.

They compete through dance for the attention of the hens, and only the hens have any say over who they liked better.

Hens also fight each other outright over claim to an established nest and maintaining personal boundaries.

Both sexes are held accountable to a much more linear hierarchy at food time, like a pack of wolves or pride of lions.

The highest ranking, regardless of their sex, eat first, from the center of the foraging ground, where the pickings are best.

If you just dump out a pile of seed for ferals, you can tell who is highest ranking in that group.

It’s the individual that every one else parts for on their way to the center. The first to join him whose company is not protested is his wife.

There is significant transferal of status for wives.

The wife of the highest ranking cock is basically treated as an extension of him (that another cock maaaay be able to persuade to let him tread, so that his peeps can have the advantage of being raised by the Biggest, Baddest Man)

She is deferred to as if she were her Husband (because there will be hell to pay from her husband if any one is interpreted as harassing her!!!)

As the new young bird develops physically, they will realize that dodging is easier, and strikes hit with less impact than they used to.

They can shoulder through another bird of similar size, if that individual is less determined or experienced in body blocking.

So you will see peeps of similar size engaged in practice combat as young as five or six weeks old.

Fussing over who gets to eat first, or gets the more comfortable part of a perch they both like, usually with the winner shoving the loser off, or the loser opting to take the first step back.

Once established who is tougher, peaceful allopreening, feeding, or napping resumes.

The loser of that altercation will start deferring more often than contesting.

And the winner will try their luck with that adult from earlier than no one defers to.

They’ll work their way systematically up the hierarchy like that, until they either take the top spot, or more likely meet the bird they can’t beat.

If the bird that they can’t beat can't beat a higher ranking bird, our wee protagonist peep will not attempt to engage that higher ranking bird.

They will defer every time.

For example; In my loft right now, the highest ranking cock is

Sissy.

At 1.75lbs, and over a foot tall, he is the size of a small chicken.

He is, bar none, the largest, and physically strongest cock here.

He is a solid wall of wrath that every one immediately defers to, with the exceptions of hens that don’t want sex, and cocks defending their nests.

Sun Tsu, Emillio, and Mia are all older than him, but none can engage him in overt combat and win.

Emillio, despite being the smallest cock here, was used to being the second highest ranking because of his pure, tenacious aggression.

This little bird introduced himself to a young adult Utility King cock by latching onto his face like a bulldog and making himself impossible to dislodge with out ripping off his opponents feathes.

Every time Hoya lost enough feathers to dislodge Emillio from his face, Emillio latched right back on until Hoya ran from him.

Until now, what ever wife Emillio has taken has been deferred to by all but Sissy and his Wife.

Vynni is the third youngest of our adult cocks.

But he’s also the second biggest, and the most densely muscled and feathered of all of our adults.

He’s gunning to take Emillio’s place in the hierarchy by brute force, because he’s just realized he can.

Emillio kinda bit himself in the ass by going out of his way to harass Vynni and his wife when ever he saw them (that whole just to prove he’s badass thing), and both Vynni and Ellie realized that he’s tiny compared to them.

Physically lifting and throwing him out of a nest box is nothing for either of the pair.

Lilly is the second youngest adult cock, a tenacious, fearsome rival for any new birds, and the first to greet the introduction of any adult that proves aggressive.

He doesn’t care if they are bigger than him.

If a new adult challenges every one as soon as they come in the loft, Lilly answers with an instantaneous attack.

He has never challenged Emillio, though, because every one but Sissy has deferred to him for as long as Lilly has been alive.

Right now, he’s Vynni’s most aggressive rival, but Vynni wins every fight and chases Lilly’s wife out of what ever nest box he catches her in.

But I can’t really consider Vynni or Lilly to be the second or third highest ranked.

Betty and his wife, Hagrid are a pair that both Vynni and Lilly immediately and automatically defer to.

Most of the rest of the loft clears immediately out of any nest they check out.

Mia and his wife have a pretty much uncontested nest, but they defer to other cocks on the ground.

PJ will occasionally try to sneak into Mia’s nest, but flees from him or Cara if he’s caught there.

But even Vynni and Lilly won’t attempt to fight PJ for his wife, Escher’s favorite nest.

Silk and Pippin have nest boxes that they can easily defend even from bigger cocks, but a low social ranking on the ground.

Sun Tsu seems to be smack on the bottom of the hierarchy with neither nest nor wife to his name, and no ability to defend against the bigger boys.

Cody has a higher rank than Sun Tsu by virtue of having taken a mate, hatched peeps, and soundly defended his nest box, but he mostly defers to older cocks.

Samhi has not yet finished going through puberty, despite being older than Cody, so his status is lower than Sun Tsu’s.

It’s only ever at the very top and the very bottom where the hierarchy of a pigeon flock in their home loft is linear.

In the middle, as long as younger birds are coming of age, the rankings are always contested.

And that doesn’t even take into account the way the chain of command immediately shifts once any group goes any distance away from the nesting grounds.

But those can be covered in other asks. ^v^

TLDR;

Pigeons are capable of both learning a linear ranking system AND utilizing value transfer and probably did both in the cited experiment.

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stoiccthulhu · 3 years

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Update time...actually, why should these be titled? I mean, whats the point of writing a title to these if all I’m going to do is ramble on and on with no specific topic of discussion, just several things on my mind?

Election day 2020 happened yesterday and I voted for nobody. And if I would have voiced my polling choice I would have voted for the candidate I see as being the best option in line with my thoughts and opinions concerning the state of the world at the moment as well as the future.

You can insert whomever you want to believe that would be based off an assumption and a look at my internetting footprint, but you would be wrong, but that’s part of the fun of interpreting what I’m writing down for you in the future. Trying to figure out what I’m actually saying. While it makes complete sense to me, because you don’t have the hidden key phrase you can’t decipher what it is that I am putting to digital paper.

I get it, I’m an asshole.

And this isn’t, completely, a justification towards my actions but a direct result of your intervention within my life that has caused this behaviour. Think of it sort of like a self-fulfilling prophecy. You interpreted me, came back, and intervened in any little way imaginable. Negatively or positively, but no matter your justification, it was still an intervention that didn’t need to happen because, as Malcolm once said, “Life, finds a way.” And just like destiny, it will find a way. But enough of all that crazy talk, you’re here because you want to hear all about my political leanings and to unravel the mystery as to this anonymous random on the internet’s preferred presidential choice in the election that has already passed.

But before I do that, let’s get some shit off my chest because I tend to swear and if you don’t like it, go the hell away. I’m sick of people being sensitive over everything. As if they’re looking for any reason to complain or get offended nowadays.

“The internet has given everyone in (the world) a voice, and evidently everyone in (the world) has chosen to use that voice to bitch about (anyone they find offensive)” -Holden McNeil (with some modern revisions)

And that’s why I’ve chose not to be PC in this thing, whenever I feel the urge to put pen to paper, relatively speaking.

Like, let’s see who I can offend right off the bat.

Women need to start getting punched more and treated like human beings instead of china dolls. If you’re a pro-gender equality advocate, and you’re a woman, you need to be willing to be punched in the face for doing ANYTHING a man would otherwise be punched in the face for. They also need to be held accountable for the shit they do to everyone. I am a strong supporter in believing that no matter what women say about women controlling the government and such, while women have great communication skills, they have the worst track record when it comes to not being aggressive, biologically speaking.

In the wild, whom are normally the more aggressive of the genders? Whom is usually the one more protective of the young? more willing to go out to hunt?

To be fair, I have a very limited knowledge when it comes to the animal kingdom. But, I mean, the Black Widow is normally depicted as being a deadly female, the female preying mantis devours the head of her mate after they’re done mating. There are so many, example, of females being worse than males in nature its hard to ignore. And, to add religious believers to the list of people offended, if you’re not ignorant to science and knowledge, or at least the pursuit of it, we evolved over a long period of time from apes, which, by nature, makes us, humans, not white people, black people, yellow people(to stick to the color scheme), brown people(gotta throw the other Asian people’s in there as well), animals. Highly evolved and communicative animals, but animals none the less. Was that supposed to be one word? Nonetheless?

Doesn’t matter. So, if you stick with my logic, you’ll see that women are terrible. Terrible. But, because men like to have sex with females as opposed to men for the most part in today’s society women have a stranglehold on the pelvic reason of an entire world, which means they can make anyone, for the most part, do anything they want and see things their way, even if they’re saying the sky is as green as the skies of Namek. An example of this is perfectly laid out in a clip from That 70′s Show. Kelso and Hyde prove women can’t play fight because they’ll turn it real, for whatever reason, just because they’re girls. To prove this, Kelso and Hyde play fight, and it looks bad, but they stop, laugh, and hug it out. Then Jackie and Donna play fight, starting out playfully, but then turning it into hair pulling and needing to be pulled apart. Both visibly angry.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jUwxxJvtQnI

(OK, my memory was bad, it was Eric and Hyde, and it was set up differently, but the concept is still there.)

And I get it, they’re actors, being paid to do what the script is telling them to do, but it is true. Girls are worst during puberty as well, from what I’ve heard. And I get it, I have a biased standpoint being a male, but in today's culture that shouldn’t matter, it’s about what’s being said, not my gender.

Now that women are out of the way, lets also as black people, but not specifically black people, its more of a systemic form of racism that I believe shouldn’t exist. In which, if you are not of that specific race, you are not allowed to say the n-word. What makes me giggle right now is that with just that sentence every single person reading this probably got a bit riled up. A bit ruffled in the feathers because I’m not a black person. And if you weren’t, you are now, knowing what you know now.

So let me provide you with some context so you can understand how I’m not racist at the same time as saying what I said above.

I enjoy rap music and hip-hop, as do a lot of people throughout the world, black or otherwise. Which, in this current climate, would be considered one of the forms of cultural appropriation we tend to sweep under the rug because it doesn’t fit our narrative of being offended about something. Because I like rap music I tend to learn the word to all of the songs I enjoy listening to. Because I learn the words to the songs that I enjoy listening to I sing along. But, because I’m not black, I have to ruin my flow to edit myself just because the artist chose to use nigger in their song. Which, as an artist, is their choice.

Now, why should I have to edit myself? I have tried to replace it with “wigger”, but because of the closeness of the words, I felt that would still be offensive if I was ever overheard by the wrong black person who, understandably, would be mad if they heard a pasty white boy say the word nigger without any context.

I just think, unless the person is using the word in a hateful way, directed at the person the speaker either personally knows or is conciously speaking about, as in “i hate that nigger” or “you’re a nigger”. If it’s something like that, totally beat the shit out of that racist.

But if you’re singing along to Wu-Tang, and you say:

I be that insane nigga from the psycho ward I'm on the trigger, plus I got the Wu-Tang sword So how you figure, that you can even fuck with mine? Hey, yo, RZA! Hit me with that shit one time! And pull a foul, niggas, save the beef for the cow I'm milkin' this ho, this is my show, Tical! The fuck you wanna do on this mic piece, duke? I'm like a sniper, hyper off the ginseng root PLO Style, buddha monks with the owls Now who's the fuckin' man? Meth-Tical It shouldn’t be labelled as being racist.

There is more rattling around in my head right now, things that I’ve been thinking about for years, and things that have been bothering me for just about as long, but for now those were the two that fell out when I vomited all over my keyboard.

And if you’re offended. Get over it. You need to start.

Oh, I almost forgot. I was going to tell you whom it was I was going to vote for yesterday if I had voted for anybody. Jokingly I wanted to write-in “Obi-Wan Kenobi”. But in truth I was going to vote for Biden. Not because I thought he was the better candidate, but because there was not a good option at all, he was just the lesser of two evils. This election has made me decide I want a third option when it comes to my politicians, or at least, get rid of political parties all together. We spend so much time infighting and holding each other back instead of up no real change has happened in the past decade? Longer? And whatever change that does happen gets nitpicked apart so much it becomes a shell of its former self. But, enough about that. I have a baby demanding eggs and waffles and I still need to tag this.

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tentendeservedbetter · 5 years

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home is where my team is - Chapter 1

Summary: It wasn’t supposed to be like this; none of them wanted to end up on the same team as one another. They never interacted with each other, having the most classmate relationship out of all the team, and they didn’t know how to after they were assigned. They were too different, from their abilities to their personalities.

One is loud and confident. One is shy and passive. One is stubborn and quiet.

If you were to ask any one of Team 8 back then, they would agree that their team combination was a random gamble made from the head of the village, a simple copy of their parent’s team; but even then, they knew they were a family, a tight-knit family unlike most teams, and they were sure as hell going to stick together through thick or thin.

This story revolves around Team 8 and their journey from 12 year old Genins to one of the heroic Shinobi of the Leaf to fight in the Fourth Great Ninja War. Follow the ups and downs of one of the most renowned tracking teams from Konoha, and how they tackle tough mission, family drama, angsty adolescence, and …one another.

Characters: (Main) Hinata Hyuga, Kiba Inuzuka, Shino Aburame, Kurenai Yuhi,

Pairings (much later on, but will be explored): NaruHina, TamaKiba, background KurenAsuma, ShikaTema, SasuSaku, InoSai, etc.

Read also here: AO3 | FFNET

Next Chapter

A/N: Yeah, so remember that post I made about writing about team 8 growing up with one another rand exploring their dynamics….well here it is! I finally wrote the first chapter woooh! Check out the alternative formats that I provided to read more details about this fic before commencing, because there are some notes I made there; but other than that, here it is! a team 8 fic! I hope you all hop on for this ride!

***

The metallic part of the blue headband sitting on his forehead gleamed brightly under the pale yellow lights of the bathroom as he adjusted it with a hand, staring at the rectangle mirror. It was his first time wearing it- he just had to make sure that it sat perfectly straight, for all to see.

After another few minutes of untying and retying the blue fabric around his head, he was finally satisfied with the tightness of the band as well as how his brown hair, short and spiked, was overtop. He grinned stupidly at his reflection, his red markings lifting with the smile as he zipped up his hoodie, leaving just enough space for his collarbone, protruding with the fine mesh liner on top, out.

He looked good.

Really fucking good.

Watch out Konoha! he thought as he flashed a pose, glancing over her shoulder towards the mirror, his index and thumb over his chin as he tried to look cool. Kiba Inuzuka is here to stay! First Genin, and then-!

"Kiba!" The voice of his elder sister called out from outside the door, interrupting the beginning of his monologue. "Mom said that if you don't get your ass downstairs right now, she's gonna take that headband and break it in half!"

You'd think she'd learn to be nicer after Dad, Kiba thought bitterly as his smile fell, keeping the words to himself, knowing there were prying ears all around him, human and non-human.

There were many skills that the Inuzuka clan specializes in, their mastery of those techniques making them prime trackers in any reconnaissance mission and manhunt; and while animal training and handling is what they are often known for, taming even the most feral beast, there are many personal skills that only the clan members could really hone and specialize in that relates to their animal counterparts instincts. Touch, smell, hearing, you name it; if the dogs can do it, then you can bet your bottom ryo than an Inuzuka can too.

Most only concentrated on honing their smelling skills, scent being one of the easiest ways to identify approaching foes and friends. Everyone and everything has a scent, and it was the most obvious identifier that people tend to overlook. Even water, scientifically known as being an odourless liquid, have distinct smells only if you can tune the chakra in your nose hard enough.

His mother, however, had not only the strongest sense of smell of the clan, an obvious trait for the leader of their clan, but she had the additional skill of having the hypersensitive hearing of a dog, honing her chakra to connect to her eardrums while keeping it up with her nose. The ability to do both at the same time is pretty outstanding, considering the amount of control you need to streamline chakra to different channels, the slightest faltering potentially leading to damage to your senses.

Kiba remembered the nights he would try to escape from home to meet up with a few boys to hang out; he had left his sweaters and shirts with the strongest scents underneath the blanket of his bed, before attempting to slowly, and quietly, cross over the wooden floors of his room towards the window. Every single time, he tweaked his technique, eventually figuring out which boards made the most noise and mapping the perfect route, making sure it was the dead of night when everyone, including his mother, would be in deep sleep. Every single time, he would attempt to reduce the number of steps he took towards the door, making his steps more agile and fast, yet delicate, with each movement, not wasting any time.

And every single time, without fail, his mom would be waiting at the end of the road where the path splits in four. And every single time, without fail, she would kick his ass before dragging him by the ear back down the road to the house.

And every single time Kiba asked how she knew that he had escaped, she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "You're always so loud, stomping all over the floors like that! I can hear your footsteps every single time!"

In hindsight, those escapes trained him to become much more agile and calculative than he ever was before, his mother's reprimands being more of a driving force for him to be a better shinobi than to deter him. When he got his trusty ninken during the last year of the Academy, he trained him to be just as agile and strategic as him, to the point that he had eventually learned to evade his mother with his trusty sidekick.

But today was the day he turns into a man, goddammit! He's officially a Genin, a full-fledged shinobi of the Hidden Leaf! He wasn't some little kid; he was an adult, an agent of his own life, and he can do whatever the hell he wanted to! There's no way he was gonna let his sister, or his mom for that matter, boss him around!

Kiba opened the door much more aggressively than he intended to, but stopped it before the knob could hit the bathroom wall with a loud sound. His eyes narrowed at his sister, who had taken the position of squatting down on one knee, petting his dog, Akamaru, who usually stood valiantly while Kiba was inside the bathroom, ready to attack anyone who dares interrupt him, was wagging his little white tail happily while his tongue stuck out. Only his sister could reduce Akamaru to the cute little puppy that he was.

It annoyed Kiba to no end.

"Stop that!" Kiba said harshly at Hana, wanting to show Akamaru that he was still in command, but his voice cracked at the end, puberty not being so kind to the preteen, while Hana stood up slowly, hovering over Kiba by a good six inches, an amused smirk on her face, making the red markings on her face that were the same as his rise up as well. Akamaru immediately bounded away from Hana go Kiba's side, happily barking at him before sitting and patiently waiting for his next move.

He had assumed that she had already left for work, yet her long brown was left out, unlike in her usual ponytail she would wear, and she had no bag in sight indicating she was ready for work. She immediately plugged her nose with her hand, flinching slightly when Kiba took another step out of the bathroom, yet she maintained her stature.

"God, could you put anymore cologne?" She asked mockingly, as she wafted the air with her free hand, to dissipate the smell.

"What, why?" Kiba quickly replied defensively, while Hana shook her head.

"You smell like you doused yourself with a bottle of eau de garçon," Hana replied.

"Eau de l'homme," he corrected as he crossed his arms over his chest, trying to puff his chest out to make himself look bigger despite his sister still hovering over him. It didn't help that his sister's arms, fully exposed thanks to the white tank top she wore, were essentially the width of Akamaru's body. And his body is pretty big, but it was mostly leaner muscle. Hers, on the other hand, were both big and filled with muscle.

The gods clearly have favourites.

"You're far from a man, kid," she mocked, lightly pinching one of his cheeks, pulling it up and down playfully. "And what you're wearing proves that."

"What's wrong with my cologne?" Kiba nearly cried as he pulled out of her fingers, the pain of her pinch leaving his cheek stinging and red.

"I swear, no matter what generation it is, preteen boys abuse cologne like it's nobody's business," Hana said with a sigh before letting go of her nose and grabbing ahold of the hood of his sweater, pulling him closer. She inhaled sharply, before asking, "When was the last time you've washed this sweater? Actually…" Another quick inhale. "When was the last time you took a bath?"

"I did this morning," Kiba lied, trying to pull away, but to no avail, his sister had unfortunately inherited their mother's iron grip and simply held on tighter without budging.

"Liar," Hana replied without missing a beat, an eyebrow raised as she tried to force her smile into a frown. "You still smell like sweat from your training yesterday. When did you actually take a bath?"

There was a slight silence between them as Kiba tried to stare his sister down, but her piercing eyes broke him and he glanced away, heat rising up his neck.

"Yesterday morning," Kiba mumbled in defeat and Hana immediately let him go, simply waiting for him to continue. His strong facade broke as easily as it came, and he couldn’t help but continue in a whine, "But I jumped into the training ground river afterwards!"

"The river still carries bacteria," Hana groaned, shaking her head. "You have to take proper care of your body."

"Yeah yeah," Kiba waved off her comment as he tried to slip away down the hall so he could go to the main floor, a talk she had had with him before, but she immediately put her foot down to impede him.

"I'm serious, Kiba," Hana continued, a much more serious tone to her voice, one she rarely used unless she absolutely needed to command the room. "And your body is the only vessel you have in this life. Keeping it in tip top shape, whatever that may be, is important not only for your health, but also your line of duty as well."

"Yeah, I know," Kiba nodded along, the intensity of her voice made him uncomfortable as he shifted slightly on his feet. Hana looked at his for a moment, narrow eyes shifting over his headband to his face.

"You're now a Shinobi of the Leaf," Hana replied slowly. "You are no longer a child. And you no longer belong to yourself and to the clan anymore; you belong to the Village as well."

"To protect and serve the Village first," Kiba dully repeated the words he was forced to learn for his theory class, the Shinobi Rules. "A shinobi must set aside his emotions in order to be in shape to serve and protect their village with a sound mind and a doubtless heart."

He expected Hana to be satisfied with his words and let him get on with his day - hell, even he was surprised he still remembered that rule, being one of the longer ones from the book.

Instead, he noticed her eyes falter slightly, her eyebrows twitched inwards, as if more taken aback by his words than happy.

"Yes, exactly," she finally said, her voice sounding somewhat solemn, before her face softened as she reached over his head with a head and started mushing his hair aggressively. "Look at you, actually remembering what you learned at the Academy!"

"Stop, you're gonna mess up my hair!"

"It already looks like a mess," Hana replied before letting go. Kiba immediately ran off down the hallway, Akamaru trailing with as much speed behind him as he bounded down a flight of stairs.

"Have fun," he could hear his sister call from the top floor as he reached the end of the stairs, the bathroom door shutting behind her immediately afterwards as he smiled to himself.

I will, he thought to himself as he ran down the long stretch of hallway towards the dining room, the smell of cooked meat growing stronger with every step, enticing him and making him salivate slightly.

"What's for breakfast?" he asked as he slid the door open quickly, thought he already knew the answer just from the scent - a fresh pot of tea, omelettes with vegetables, rice fresh from the rice cooker, and a whole lot of bacon.

His mother was sitting at the opposite end of the table facing towards the door, a hand on her hip and a half of a chopstick in the other hand as something sharp grazed the side of his ear, a modest thwunk behind him from the wall. The mood of the room shifted immediately, making the hair on his neck stand up while goosebumps ran down is spine, as he froze on sight, taken aback by what had just happened. Even Akamaru started to whine, and he could see him cower his head under his tiny paws, trying to look away.

"You know the rules, Kiba," Tsume said with a growl, her voice authorative and strong. "No breakfast for people who sleep in!"

"B-but Mom-" Kiba started, but she didn't let him finish.

"Rules are rules!" She said, as she took another pair of chopsticks from the table and started to pick out the long strips of meat from the plate, streaked with crisp browned line from the pan, and onto her rice bowl. There were only three strips left on the plate. "If you don't come downstairs by the time Kuromaru is finished eating, you don't get any food!"

He eats before I even wake up! Kiba cried as he gawked at his mother, at a loss of words. He glanced over to Kuromaru, Tsume's companion ninken, who stood straight looking out the sliding door to the backyard nearby, basking in the morning light. He looked over towards Kiba, looking ethereal in his black fur highlighted with yellow streaks of the sun, and moved his head fully to look with his left eye, the only eye that he could use, the other covered with an eyepatch. Kiba could have sworn that the old dog smirked at him, a sparkle of amusement flashing over his yellow pupils.

Kiba tried hard not to let Kuromaru get to him, but he knew the dog thought more than he would say- and right now, he was mocking Kiba for being scolded by his mother like a little pup.

"C'mon, I was busy training late last night!" Kiba exclaimed as he took another cautious step forward, ready for his mother's next move. "Today is-"

"Your first day as a Genin," Tsume interjected. "But as a Shinobi, you can't just lounge around and sleep in when you have duties to perform. When I was your age, I had countless missions where I had to wake up at the crack of down with only a few minutes of rest in order to track down enemies and-"

Here she goes again. Kiba tried not to roll his eyes. He felt that his mom always over exaggerated her experiences on the field in order to scare him into obeying, and maybe some of the things did happen? But she didn't have to do this spiel first thing in the morning. He tried to tune her out, but curse his sensitive ears- the words were still processed by his brain.

"- and you can't sleep in for mission deadlines!" Tsume finished, as she took another chopstick full of rice from her bowl, satisfied with her spiel.

Kiba watched her for a moment, glaring at her swallowing the rice, before asking in a dull voice, "...So can I eat?"

"No!" Tsume exclaimed as she slammed her chopsticks clean onto the table, a loud bang resonating from the wood.

"C'mon Mom, I'm a growing boy! I need to eat!"

“No!”

“Please Mom!” Akamaru barked, trying to show his support, and Tsume glared intently at the puppy, making him once again cower and take a step back behind Kiba’s leg.

“Hush now, pup,” Tsume said to Akamaru, putting her finger over her lips.

"Why are we fighting so early in the morning?" Hana called from the end of the hallway, the creaking of the floorboards growing louder as she approached the entrance of the dining room, peering through with a slight curiosity.

She looked fresh and ready for a new day, her hair pulled back with two strands left to shape her face, and opted out the tank top for a long sleeved shirt. She gave Kiba a quick smile of acknowledgment (that Kiba returned with a frown) before brushing past him towards the dinner table, slipping the messenger bag off her shoulder.

"You got a shift at the clinic today?" Tsume asked in a calmer tone as Hana took a seat at the table, nodding to her mother’s question as she set her messenger bag against the leg of her seat. “Shirogane is really making you work.”

"Yeah, but it can’t be helped,” Hana replied as she reached over to the pot of rice from Tsume, using the small white spatula to scrape the fresh rice into the bowl that sat in front of her. Kiba could feel a low growl from his abdomen, and he held onto it, trying to subdue it in front of them. “We’re getting a group of new resident students today, and he wanted me to teach them. I’m going to be there more often now, so I can keep Kiba in check while you're gone on missions.”

"I'm still here, you know!" Kiba exclaimed, annoyed how they both ignored him, but they continued their conversation without so much as a glance.

“Oh right, the new veterinary students you were talking about,” Tsume said as she slid the plate of omelettes towards Hana, who took her chopsticks to pick it up. “Isn’t Isamu’s daughter in school to be a vet too?”

“Yeah, his eldest,” Hana nodded as she started to mix the egg with the rice, steam still floating on top of it, mixing together into a beautiful concoction. “She only started last year, so she has a few years before I could take her under my wing, if she survives.”

Tsume chuckled, as she picked up her cup of tea, saying, "She has a good head on her shoulders. She'll be fine."

"Hey, why does she get to eat!" Kiba finally interrupted their conversation, his annoyance at its peak, gesturing (but not pointing, he still wants to keep his finger) at Hana, who took a satisfying bite of her omelette rice. "She only got ready after I woke up!"

Tsume immediately slammed her cup onto the table when he finished, silence falling immediately over him.

“Hana gets to eat because she actually keeps track of time and never showed up late to a mission or her work for the past six years,” Tsume said with a cautious tone. “You, on the other hand…”

She suddenly raised her hand, the other half of the chopstick she had used earlier already in her hand, steadying her arm to throw it the way she would throw a kunai.

Kiba readied himself to dodge the throw, but the chopstick never came straight his way; it zipped at an angle above him, missing him by the tip of his hair. Kiba followed the trajectory of the throw towards the wall above the doorway, and found the red wood sticking out right beside the clock that hung up there. He shifted his eyes towards the clock, looking at the hands, reading the time.

9:30, he read. 9:30…

“I’m late!” he yelped, and Tsume tutted as she watched her son scramble over towards his bag that sat on the side of the couch.

“It’s your first day and you couldn’t even get ready on time,” Tsume hummed.

Hana in the meantime was eating her meal slowly, savouring the moment as she watched the two bicker. After watching Kiba chaotically try to look through his bag to make sure he had everything, she finally said, “Mom, look at him. Just let him take something for the road.”

“Yeah, for the road!” Kiba agreed, slinging his bag over his shoulder quickly.

Tsume scowled at Hana, before looking at Kiba, observing him with piercing eyes. After a moment, she shook her head lightly.

"Fine. Take it and go," Tsume sighed, running a hand on the side of her brown hair, attempting to tame the spikes only to make it bounce back up. "This is the last time I'll let you eat after sleeping in!"

"Yeah!" He exclaimed as he scooped up the last three strips of bacon from the plate and ran towards the door quickly, Akamaru waiting until he passed through the frame to follow him.

When Tsume was sure he was out of earshot down the hall, she sighed while softening her face, "I don't know what I'm going to do with that boy."

"Are you going to tell him the real time?" Hana asked, and Tsume shrugged.

"Nah, he'll figure it out himself."

There was a slight pause between them as they listened to Kiba scramble about at the front, trying to find his shoes so he could leave.

"You know, looking at him be this young and become a Genin is unsettling," Hana suddenly said after swallowing another bite, pausing in the middle of picking up a piece of egg with her chopsticks as she glanced over to Tsume, who took another long sip of her tea. “It’s hard to believe I looked that small when I became a Genin. I can’t imagine Kiba being responsible for half the things they’ll make him do.”

"That's only if he becomes a Genin," Tsume replied with a slight grimace on his face. “You know who’s going to be his Jonin leader?”

“I heard, but it can’t be too bad for him,” Hana said with a small smile, fondly remembering her first day after graduating from the Academy. “He might be spunky, but Kiba knows how to work well with others. You made sure of it.”

Kiba quickly slipped on his sandals, strapping them on tightly and zipping the backside up, making sure they are securely on before he leaves. He opened the door, letting Akamaru bound out onto the small set of stairs leading down to the path towards the front gates. Once he was sure he had everything he needed, he took one last look at the mirror that hung on the wall above the shoe rack, making sure his headband sat on properly.

"I’m off!" Kiba quickly called out as he shut the door behind him before stuffing the three strips of bacon in his mouth. "Le'z gwo A'amaru!"

"Yes!" Akamaru barked in agreement and they took off side by side, the morning sun shining down on their faces as they run down the road, trying not to trip.

***

"Yo, Kiba! Where’s the fire?"

Kiba stopped in his tracks, the heel of his foot skidding the dirt road, quickly turning over to the source of the voice that was behind him. He followed the familiar scent towards the side of the road, and saw a boy around his age continue to walk at an even pace, an easygoing grin on his face as he approached Kiba.

“Itsuki... why so ...slow?” Kiba managed asked between pants, trying to control his breathing rate as he stood still as adrenaline caught up to him. Akamaru caught up right beside him, panting with his tongue out, waiting for his next move. “Aren’t we... late?”

“Nah man, we still got another hour until it’s 10,” Itsuki replied, his black eyebrows pulled in, confused at his friend’s words. “Did you run all the way here?”

“Dude...I swear it was 9:30 when I left,” Kiba replied, now his eyebrows contorting in confusion. Itsuki looked over to the watch on his right wrist, reading the hands along the plate.

"Nah, dude," Itsuki said, a grin on his face as he extended his arm, showing the watch face to Kiba, letting him read it. Indeed, the small hand was on the 9, with the smaller hand only halfway through it's round. Kiba couldn't comprehend this conflict of time, when it struck it like a pound of bricks on his head.

She changed the time! Kiba thought, eyes furrowed and gritting his teeth in anger, a little image of his mother mocking him with her laugh popping into his head. It could only make sense...the must have changed the living room clock to throw him off. He knew for a fact that he woke up on time; he gave himself plenty of time to get ready before leaving for his first day as a Genin!

Itsuki laughed at his face, the brown of his pupils twinkling with amusement. "Did your mom move the clock ahead again?"

Akamaru let out whine when he heard his words, and Kiba leaned down to pick the exhausted pup in hands, sticking him on the part where he would zip up his grey sweater, letting his hang his head and paws out. Itsuki took the opportunity to give Akamaru a pat on the head, while Kiba replied through gritted teeth, a bit flustered at having to admit it, "Yeah she did."

"Damn, go Ms. Inuzuka," Itsuki said with a light laugh as he put his hands into the front pocket of his shirt. "I'm glad my mom isn't a drill sergeant!"

"Yeah, yeah," he waved off his comment with a huff, something he hears often from his friends who have known him for so long. Tsume truly was ruthless with her rules; she even went as far as to pull this stunt on him.

Kiba walked alongside his friend, taking in what Itsuki was wearing. Now that they officially graduated from the Academy, it only made sense to wear clothes that would suit their new job. When Kiba had first met Itsuki back when he was in normal school before Shinobi school, he would often be prim and minimal, with a shirt tucked into his pants with a belt, his hair coiffed to the side in a side part as his mother liked it. Kiba’s ferality has worn him down, though; he wore a deep red hoodie that warmed his tan skin with short sleeves, his blue headband fastened on his upper left arm, and black pants that went up to his knees, pockets lined on both the top and the bottom. He was wearing the grey armour mesh tights underneath, up until midway to his calves, and he trades his usual runners for black sandals. His black hair was free of any gel, spiking up in a slight slope upwards, revealing a hoop earring on his helix, a sort of present from himself to celebrate graduating from the Academy, something his mother completely disapproved of but it was too late.

Kiba had considered getting a piercing, the needle they used on Itsuki looking enticing, but he knew that Tsume and Hana would have ripped the earring off as soon as he walked through the door, both doing it for different reasons; for Tsume, it would be without asking permission, and for Hana, it would be for infection control.

“Look who’s up ahead,” Itsuki pointed out, and Kiba immediately looked up, noticing a different scents that was also familiar waft in the air. Kiba grinned, as Itsuki yelled out, “Natsuo! Hold up!”

Another boy around their age with ashy brown hair glanced back at them after hearing his name, his headband proudly gleaming under the sunshine.

“Yo,” the brown haired boy, Natsuo, said with a lopsided grin, pulled up the sleeve of his long blue sleeve underneath his loose tank top and giving Itsuki a props. They had all been friends from before entering the Academy, thought the duo had met Natsuo a year beforehand. Despite this, he was still close to them, making up a three-quarters gang that they usually were in.

“Look at you, showing off your headband,” Kiba teased as he gave a playful punch to his shoulder, before Itsuki put him a light headlock, while Kiba attacked his brown locks by ruffling them. “Save the theatrics for us, Michy!”

“Chill out!” Natsuo exclaimed with a laugh as he slipped out of the headlock, running a hand through his hair. “Oh and what, you're not showing off your headband?”

“I'm allowed to show it off," Kiba chuckled, flicking the plate of Natsuo's headband lightly, square on the Konoha symbol .

A specific scent was suddenly in the air that caught his attention, and he could feel his heart skipped a beat when he recognised it instantly. It was a soft, flowery scent, mixed with the freshness of the Konoha pines found in a certain part of town, and despite it being extremely faint, his nose was able to amplify it a bit more. He tried his best not to look around to follow the scent, instead using his eyes to quickly scanned around them. They were quickly approaching the source of the scent at the opposite side of the road, and Kiba could feel his back straighten a bit more.

“Oh oh! She’s close!” Akamaru barked excitedly from inside his jacket, moving his head around to see if he could catch a glimpse of the person emitting this smell, now already in their immediate area. Kiba glanced ahead to the road, trying not to look as to not draw his friend’s attention, but his eyes betrayed him as it caught sight of long purple hair coming out of a store with a bag in hand.

“Don’t look now Kiba, but I think that’s your future wife,” Natsuo mocking before Kiba elbowed him harshly in the side of his ribs, feeling the tips of his ears burning.

“I’m going to call her over,” Itsuki snickered, and before Kiba could refuse, he yelled out, “Akane! What are you doing loitering around?”

A girl immediately looked towards them as they approached her (well, they were walking towards her, Itsuki had to drag Kiba by the arm), her brown eyes fluttering up towards them as her pink lips broke into a smile.

“I’m getting some dango,” Akane replied, her voice smooth and high, as she lifted the bag up towards the boys, a hand on her hips. “You guys want some?”

“Do I?” Natsuo said as he took the bag from her hand, and perused the contents, taking out a tupperware with the dango inside, still fresh with steam.

“Ah!” Akane exclaimed immediately when she looked over at Kiba, and she took a step closer. Kiba had to stop himself from taking a step back, and refrained from holding his breath. “Akamaru! You cute little thing!”

“Pet me! Pet me!” Akamaru barked happily as Akane started to scratch the back of his ears, cooing at him.

“Stop, you’re spoiling him,” Kiba replied after finding his voice but didn’t make her stop, allowing her to pick Akamaru in her arm as she cradled in one hand.

“But Kiba,” Akane pouted at Kiba, blinking her eyes in a fluttery way. “He’s so cute!”

“I am!” Akamaru barked in agreement, his tail wagging as Akane continued to rub his neck, scratching it just where he likes it.

“What the hell are you wearing, Akane?” Itsuki asked after taking a bite of dango from the tupperware, gesturing mindlessly at her clothing.

Akane’s eyebrows pulled into a frown, and she scowled at the boy. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Nothing,” Itsuki said with a slight shrug. “It’s just weird.”

“I think what Natsuo is wearing is weirder,” Akane replied with an eye roll. “He’s wearing a shirt over a shirt. That’s stupid.”

“I didn’t know you were the fashion police,” Natsuo scowled as Akane swiped back the bag from his hand when he reached his second dango, still balancing Akamaru in one arm.

“What do you think, Kiba?”Akane asked in a lighter voice, smiling at him as she swayed slightly. “How do I look?”

She was wearing a sleeveless faded green shirt that went up to her waist, her blue pants sitting on her hips, the mesh armour shirt covering her abdomen. So far, it was normal, though she had wrapped her hand with white bandages up until her past her wrists, despite never wearing them before and not being that keen of taijutsu, and the sleeves of her mesh armour shirt went up to her elbows. Her headplate had been taken off of the usual blue fabric and was stitched onto a black one, and hung around her neck loosely. Her sandals were a black like her headband, but there was an extra layer underneath to make her taller, though Kiba wasn’t sure if it would help her with her abilities or were for show. Probably like Itsuki's earring, it was for show.

But despite this, he immediately thought that she looked, to put it frankly, Cute as hell.

Out of the group, Akane was the last one to join, completing the quartet when they entered the Academy. She was an outgoing girl, with a sharp mouth and equally sharp eyes, having a particular sense of humour that suited them very well. Not only that, but she was one of the cutest girls in the class, akin to the likes of two other girls in their class, a Sakura Haruno and an Ino Yamanaka. But where they were failed to be cute naturally, she excelled at it incredibly - to people who didn’t know her. She was hot-tempered with Kiba, persistent with her way, and while Kiba would normally not be complacent, his crush on her let her get some leeway with certain situations (plus, he was kind of into it).

They weren’t dating, actually, far from it, and he wasn’t even sure if it was a mutual feeling to begin with. He wouldn’t mind dating her, though, and he was planning to ask her out after they got used to being a Genin. He didn’t want to rush anything, knowing they had time. Right now, he was focused on being a great ninja, the likes of what his mother is, and his foremothers as well.

Kiba went with a neutral route, grinning and shrugged, “It’s okay. Not as good as what I’m wearing.”

Akane tried to hide her smile at his joke, giving him a slight nudge with her elbow, both hands being full, saying in a light, sugary tone, “Shut up!”

"We'll see how long you'll last in it," Itsuki said with a grin, as they continued to walk down the road, still trying to make it on time to the Academy. Akane handed back Akamaru to Kiba, who immediately placed him back in his sweater, not wanting to tire the puppy out so soon in the day. He could see Akane walk beside him, a step closer into him, but it was probably so she could see the others properly while talking.

“This is it, huh,” Itsuki mumbled mindlessly, and they all looked at him curiously to continue. “We’re officially Shinobi from this day on.”

“Damn right, we are,” Kiba said cockily, a grin on his face. “Can’t wait to finally go on missions and get out of Konoha for once! Maybe even leave the Land of Fire!"

"You might not get out all that much to begin with," Akane hummed beside him, trying to keep up with their longer strides. "We'll probably get simple D rank missions around the Village or in the farmlands."

"Aw, that’s right- so we won’t even be fighting then!” Natsuo groaned with a frown. “What’s the point of learning all this ninjutsu if we won’t be using it on anyone!”

“Let’s wait and see what we get,” Kiba replied. “But there’s no way I’m not going to be stuck with some lame missions. Isn’t that right, Akamaru?”

Akamaru barked in agreement, and Akane laughed, "Hopefully we can work together!"

"Yeah, but usually D-rank missions only need three-man squads, right?" Itsuko replied lightly. "Three out of four of us might end up on one team, and the last one left is gonna end up with randos."

"It alternates a lot, it's not permanent," Kiba said, mindlessly patting Akamaru's head gently, an unconscious habit when he was was hanging off the neckline of his sweater or hoodie.

It made Kiba slightly antsy at the thought of separating from his friends since he found out this information; they have been through so much together, through the ups and downs of their Academy years, through every endurance testing to written exams. And now to potentially be separated from one another despite not needing to be made him anxious.

Kiba was an easy going guy, he knew how to make friends easily, but it was always with like minded people. What if he had to work with someone stubborn and gets in his way? Or someone passive and won't take initiative? He worked so long with his friends that it's hard for him to imagine them separating and not working together as often.

"The least they could do is split the group in half," Kiba continued lightheartedly, with his usual grin. "Don't worry about it."

***

They made their way up the staircase to the third floor where there now old classroom was, the sound of students chattering and laughing could be heard through the closed sliding door leading into their classroom. When they walked in, the class was nearly filled with students, the right bench in the second row to the lower floor being empty.

Kiba scanned the rows of the students as they walked down the steps to the empty seats, plenty of familiar faces crowding around benches to talk to their friends. He noticed, however, the slight buzz in the air, bitter and confused glances over towards the direction of the wide windows against the other side of the room, some people whispering amongst themselves.

"Sup," Kiba greeted a group of boys nearby the entrance they walked through, at the top row of the classroom, who were also gawking towards that direction. "What's going? Why's everyone looking paranoid."

"Dudes," one of the boys said, ushering Kiba and his friends closer. "You're not going to believe this! Guess who passed the Academy exams?"

Before Kiba could ask who, he heard a familiar voice drawl out from the other side of the classroom, "Naruto, what are you doing here?"

Kiba leaned over to look at the window side of the classroom, and he saw the familiar spiky ponytail of his classmate, Shikamaru Nara, slouching over the second bench from the top of the room. He could only see another one of his classmates, the prodigious genius of his year, Sasuke Uchiha, sitting further along the bench closer to the window, but that was not who Shikamaru was talking about, no. He leaned even forward to see past Shikamaru, narrowing his eyes.

Lo and behold, in his obnoxiously orange tracksuit and spiky blond hair to match, there sat Naruto Uzumaki, class clown and world class idiot, with the biggest grin in the world as he held his headband plate with one hand, showing it off.

"This isn't a class for drop-outs, you know," Shikamaru continued, shoving his hands in pockets.

"Do ya see this Shikamaru?" Naruto said loudly and confidently, flashing the headband up and down. "See, it? It's a Konoha headband, which means I passed! From now one I'm going to be a shinobi training alongside you! Believe it!"

"I don't believe it," Itsuko said in a hushed voice, watching the spectacle before them. "I could have sworn Naruto failed."

Kiba tutted slightly, annoyed at what he was seeing. Naruto was the last person he expected to see. They were all there for the same final exam; he saw it with his own eyes, he couldn't conjure up a Clone, and when he did, it was a blanched body with no energy or Chakra whatsoever. How did he end up passing, out of the blue?

“Hey, Kiba” Akane asked, in a hushed tone, a slight grin on her face. “What if you end up working with your friend over there?”

Kiba grimaced at her words. He only hung out with Naruto for a bit, whenever they wanted to skip out of class to go to the training hall, Naruto and Shikamaru being the only ones who would be willing to do so with another one of their classmates, Choji Akimichi. Naruto and Kiba weren’t friends, no, far from it; they were just acquaintances, at most, and even then it was limited to being his classmate, and those few times they skipped together. Naruto was a fun guy, he won’t lie, and he knew how to goof around and have a good time; but that’s all he knows what to do. At some point, his slack in ninjutsu and fooling around got old real quick- Kiba had to detach himself from being associated with him, not wanting to be pulled down with him. It didn’t help that he was an easy target for many to make jokes about; Kiba didn’t want to put in the spotlight with him, he still had pride.

It doesn't matter, Kiba thought. I'll be fine as long as I don't have missions with him!

Before he could reply, the door they had entered suddenly slid open with a loud bang, and the sound of angry struggle was heard.

"Move Billboard Brow!"

"Shut up Ino-pig!"

Kiba looked over at the door, and could feel his temples stinging immediately. Great, more annoying people…

Two girls, one with long pink hair flowing and one with long blonde hair in a ponytail, tumbled through the door frame in unison, luckily landing on their feet. Two girls, stood in place for a moment, sweat dripping down their flushed faces, panting hard as they leaned on their knees.

“Not bad, Sakura,” the blonde girl managed to say between pants, not bothering to look at her companion.

The pink haired girl managed to smirk crookedly, but was panting equally as hard, and she said, “I told you Ino...I’d beat you.”

He heard Natsuo let out a low whistle, and Kiba could see Natsuo staring at the two girls, eyes ogling at the blonde girl, Ino Yamanaka. He elbowed him to draw his attention away, and said in an annoyed tone, “What are you, a pervy old man?”

“Can’t I check them out, dude?” Natsuo mumbled back to for only his ears, annoyed at Kiba policing him, and Kiba rolled his eyes.

The pink haired girl, Sakura Haruno, ran across the top floor towards the stairs that led in between the benches along the window wall and the centre benches. Ino followed right behind her, stopping at a step above her, pushing Shikamaru back away from the second row bench near the window. Kiba could feel a grin on his face, and he settled a bit on his spot, waiting.

“This ought to be good,” Itsuki said, knowing full well what was going to happen, and they all watched with anticipation.

Naruto attempted to get up from his seat to greet them, but before he could a ‘hey’ out of his mouth, Sakura pushed him aside, saying as she pointed at the empty space between Sasuke and Naruto, “Hey Sasuke, is anyone sitting there?”

From the distance, Kiba couldn’t see Sasuke reaction, but he knew the name was like opening a floodgate; the moment the Uchiha prodigy was mentioned in any vicinity, you could be sure there would be a group of girls that would gather around him, vying for his attention. Kiba could admit it himself, Sasuke was a pretty boy, with jet black hair and side bangs shaping his face, and onyx eyes that gave him an air of mystery, his face more chiselled and refined than the average boy their age. That’s not to say Kiba was jealous of the attention Sasuke receives, no, far from it; he doesn’t know how Sasuke goes about his life and training without a flock chasing after him, and he knew he wouldn’t survive if he were Sasuke.

Speaking of a flock, there was one forming around Sakura right now, her question triggering other girls from their class to gather near the bench, forming a chain to keep one another out.

“Listen up, forehead!” Ino said, with a clenched fist, being one of said girls who like Sasuke. “I walked into the classroom before you, so I get to sit next to Sasuke first!”

“Actually, I was here before either of you,” another girl said, crossing her arms over her chest. “So I get to sit next to Sasuke!”

“No way, I was here before all of you!” Another girl piped in. “If anything, I should sit next to Sasuke.”

“Don’t you want to fight for a spot next to Uchiha?” Kiba whispered to Akane, who let out a small chuckle.

“Maybe you should try,” she replied with a small wink, making his heart skip a beat, as the group of girls started to argue loudly with one another. Suddenly, there was a silence over the group of girls as they turned their attention from one another back to the bench.

Kiba could see what they were staring at, and he was surprised to see it as well; directly in front of Sasuke, on top of the table, was the spunky blond squatting down to be face-to-face with the raven-haired boy. Tension filled that area immediately as Naruto glared at Sasuke, and Kiba could only assume that Sasuke was returning the look with as much intensity.

"Naruto!" Sakura exclaimed angrily, fists clenched up in front of his chest. "What are you doing to Sasuke!"

"That idiot," Kiba said, eyes never leaving the scene. "Is he trying to pick a fight right now?"

Before the girls could start yelling at Naruto, there was another hush that fell over them a few gasps amongst the crowd. Even the kids who weren’t paying attention to them looked with wide eyes, mouth agape at what they saw.

Kiba was taken aback too, but his grin widened even more at the spectacle, trying to suppress the mocking laugh that swelled up in his stomach. A boy in the row in front of Sasuke was moving his arms around, and his elbow landed square onto Naruto’s back, pushing the blond forward unwilling and…

Made his lips lock with Sasuke’s.

Tension in the room flared, and the rest was expected; the flock of girls, with their menacing glares and cracking their knuckles, ganged up on Naruto and well...let’s just say the poor guy got a few bruises here and there.

“What a dumbass,” Akane said mockingly. “He got it coming to him.”

As if the gods were just waiting for this to happen, the door at the front of the classroom slid open, and entered their now ex-homeroom teacher, Iruka Umino, with a folder under his arm, wearing his usual attire of the long blue sleeved shirt underneath his faded green Chunin vest. He looked at the students with a confused look, the group of girls still flocking around Sasuke and Naruto now lying along the stairs, the light scar across the bridge of his lifting with his scrunched up nose.

“What happened here?” Iruka asked, and the group immediately replied with a quick ‘nothing!’ before dissipating. Sakura had managed to shimmy her way next to Sasuke during the disorder, while Naruto got up quickly at Iruka’s voice, clamouring up into the seat.

Iruka didn’t buy their word, but he didn’t press on, and he looked towards the rest of the classroom, with a slight smile growing on his face. He continued, “It looks like everyone is here! Can you all please take your seats!”

The students did not hesitate to take their places along the benches immediately, the previous tension that was in the room now replaced with excitement. Kiba slipped into one of the benches, and Akane sat beside him, with Natsuo and Itsuki following suite. He picked Akamaru out of his jacket and placed him on top of his head, as to not squeeze him against the table.

Iruka walked up to the desk in front of the chalkboard, setting down his folder, and waited for the classroom to settle into silence for him to begin.

“From this day forward, you are no longer Academy student, but shinobi of the Leaf,” Iruka said with a light voice, shifting his gaze between the students. “However, you are only at the level of Genin, a junior ninja, and there your journey of being excellent ninja is still ahead of you. Soon you will all be able to take missions for the Village. But due to you being brand new shinobi, we will be putting you in 3-man squads, with each team having a Jonin sensei to guide you!"

What?! Kiba thought, his eyebrows drawing in closer as he slightly shook one of his legs up and down impatiently, leaning onto the table. They're assigning us to teams?!

"You will have to follow your sensei's orders in order to complete your missions," Iruka continued with the same smooth rhythm. He picked up the folder and opened it, holding it in one hand. "We tried to balance each team's strength and weaknesses to form an equal squad with various members."

"What!" A few kids shouted at the same time, Natsuo joining as well, and the class went into a slight frenzy.

"Aw man, we're being assigned into teams?" Itsuko said with a slight huff. "What if Iruka-sensei splits the group? What if he only puts three of us in a team and leaves one in a group of randos?"

"I hope not," Akane mumbled. "You think he'd do that?"

"Nah, he would only split it half and half," Kiba said with a slight wave of his hand. "Iruka-sensei wouldn't do us like that."

Would he? Maybe he would split their group up, considering that they were being split to make the powers equal. Maybe it's to combine their different skills to have an optimal team situation.

"Settle down, everyone," Iruka said in a louder voice to overpower the chatter and everyone stopped talking, though the glaring faces still remained. "This is so that team would be well balanced and have optimal chance of completing missions! They were already premade, so there is no way to change your assigned teams."

The classroom was filled with groans, but nobody objected. When Iruka was satisfied with their silence, he looked down to his folder, and said, "Now, I'll call out each team number and the members of that squad. First up...Team 1!"

"God, I sure hope I don't end up with Naruto," Kiba heard Itsuko said in a hushed voice as Iruka continued down the list, and Kiba nodded along. Anyone but Naruto.

"Next up is Team 6," Iruka said, and Kiba could see Iruka's eyes flicker up towards their group before returning to the paper. "Akane Moritaka...Itsuko Akabane…"

C'mon, Iruka-sensei, split us in half, Kiba prayed in his mind, keeping his eyes planted on Iruka as he started to call out the last name.

"And Natsuo Hirota."

Kiba could feel a weight over his shoulders when he heard the last name called. He gritted his teeth slightly, feeling overwhelmed and underwhelmed at the same time.

Great...he's the one who's going to end up with randos.

"Kiba..." Akane started, leaning over to him, but Kiba just smiled at her, not wanting any sympathy.

"It's cool," he said courtly, leaning into his arms as he did before, maintaining his voice level. "There has to be a reason they made that team."

"Let's hope you got a good team," Natsuo said in a hushed voice.

"Team 7," Iruka continued, paying no heed to any whispered words. "Sakura Haruno...Naruto Uzumaki."

Kiba could see Naruto clenched in fist in a happy motion, a stupid grin on his face while Sakura banged her head on top of the table, misery surrounding her like a cloud. He crossed his fingers.

Please don't put me on their team...please don't put me on their team...

"And...Sasuke Uchiha." Now it was Sakura's turn to smile brightly, Naruto banging his head on top of the table. Kiba grinned, happy he dodged a bullet.

Before Iruka could continue, Naruto got up from his seat, and proclaimed in his whiny, loud voice, "Sensei! Why does an outstanding shinobi like me have to end up with that guy!?"

Iruka stared at Naruto for a second, before his eyebrows pulled into a frown, and he placed his hands on his hips, leaning forward as if talking to a child.

"Because Sasuke's grades were the best of all 27 graduates," Iruka started with a cool voice. "And yours was dead last. We have to balance out the teams, remember? You do understand, right?"

Snickers ran through the classroom, and before Naruto could sit down, Sasuke said in the lowest of voices, "Just don't get in my way...dead last."

Kiba had to stifle his laugh as Naruto readied himself to fight Sasuke with a yell, Sakura having to stand up to push him down into his seat.

This team is a mess, Kiba thought to himself as Iruka-sensei told them to settle down, taking a few more minutes for Naruto to actually sit down and instead glare at Sasuke. How are they going to go on missions if all they do is argue?

"Okay, moving on," Iruka said with a slight sigh, looking at his clipboard. "For Team 8… Kiba Inuzuka."

Please let me have someone good on my team.

"Hinata Hyuuga. And Shino Aburame."

Kiba could really feel the weight increasing over him as his jaw opened slightly gaped at the names Iruka called out. He could hear all his friends giggle and chuckle, and he turned to glare at them.

"You got the two weirdos," Natsuo whispered to Kiba. "Nice one, Kiba!"

"Shut up," Kiba hissed, as he started to scour the classroom, looking for the faces to the names Iruka called out.

He spotted Hinata Hyuuga almost immediately, her sitting in the back row as she often did, alone with no one near her, with her short deep blue bangs covering her forehead, her forehead protector around her neck, almost covering her chin. The oversized wooly jacket she wore hung over her, and she didn't look up, staring at a spot on her desk with her big, white eyes, and fidgeting her index fingers together.

Harmless and shy, she wouldn't willingly hurt a fly, and everyone in the class knew it; they didn't understand why she was in the Academy to begin with, her benign ways counteracting the shinobi lifestyle. It was her revered Hyuuga name, the ones with the fame Kekkei Genkai, the Byakugan, that forced her to be a shinobi. But even then, as the so-called 'princess' of the clan, Kiba would have assumed that the clan wouldn't let her out of her sight and wouldn't enroll her as a field shinobi- either she had no fear of being hurt or her clan didn't care whether she died. He wouldn't bet on the first option.

He continued to look, and near the front, on the bench on their aisle, was the boy they called Shino Aburame, all alone with no one around, the rest of the classmates sitting there keeping a good amount of space between them and the boy. Kiba couldn't see his face, only his coiled, tall brown hair being seen poking out of a light grey trench coat that covered half his face and nearly went passed his wrists loosely.

Hinata, he's fine with, her silence and fidgeting being weird, though not being a big deal for him, but Shino was a different issue. He was a weirdo and everyone knows it; he wasn't loud or outgoing, he didn't talk for the most part, and he always wore those black sunglasses indoors and outdoors, never revealing his eyes.

The only time Kiba ever interacted with Shino was when he was playing football with his classmates, and he was ready to kick the winning goal, when Shino told him to stop. He did stop, mostly by surprise because it was the first time he heard Shino speak, and he wasn't expecting his voice to be as loud as it was, and Shino walked up towards the ball, leaning down to pick up…

A ladybug. A tiny, red ladybug, that had flown on top of the ball and would have literally been apart of the winning goal if Kiba kicked the ball. Shino picked the bug up, and said in a low voice to Kiba, without ever looking at him, "Watch what you do next time. You almost hurt an insect because of your lack of perception."

And with those words, Shino walked off the field towards a tree, never turning back, and leaving Kiba frozen in confusion, before it was replaced with anger. Confusion over the entire interaction, and anger because of how Shino called him a dumbass for not using his eyes. Kiba wanted to argue with him, but he didn't know what to say- and Itsuko had told him to let Shino be Shino, and to just ignore him, he does these types of things often.

Out of all the people in the world, why these two though?! Kiba buried his head into his folded arms, careful not to tip too far and make Akamaru fly off his head. Bug boy and the quiet girl- do the gods hate me or something?!

"Team 10," Iruka's voice broke his thoughts, and he glanced back up to the.

"Ino Yamanaka. Shikamaru Nara. Choji Akimichi."

Kiba could hear the blonde girl's cry of pain at her name being read along with the two other boys from across the room. At least he was not the only one who had a problem with his squad assignment.

After Iruka went through the rest of the list, he finally finished by saying, "The Jonins should be arriving this afternoon. In the meantime, we'll have a break. Make sure to be back by 1 o'clock sharp!"

"Yes sensei," Kiba mumbled with the rest of the students as they got up from their seats, trying his best not to break face as he stood up and bowed with the rest of the class.

#hinata hyuga #kiba inuzuka #shino aburame #team 8 #kurenai yuhi #hinata #kiba #shino #team 8 fanfic #naruhina #tamakiba #kurenai #hana inuzuka #tsume inuzuka #hinata hyuuga #my fanfiction #homeiswheremyteamis

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thephantomofthe-internet · 6 years

Text

Homeward Bound: Chapter 3

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader, Billy Hargrove x Henderson!Reader

Chapter Summary: Family fun time? Not so much...

Word Count: 2,056

Warnings: Swearing

Permanent Tag: @hotstuffhargrove @denimjacketkisses @hargrovesgoldilocks @hipsmcgee

Series Tag: @kurt-nightcrawler @alonewolfblog @baebee35 @supernatural-pants @bucky4cap45

You’d recognize Dustin’s voice anywhere. It was the most definitive thing about him nowadays. But you hadn’t seen him in person in so long that even when you pushed away from Steve to greet him, your whole face faltered into a look of shock.

“Holy shit, look at you! You got all buff!” you cried, rushing over to envelope him into a hug. Dustin laughed and you suddenly felt very at home; his voice hadn’t changed since you left, it was still the same post-puberty tone and slight lisp that stuck around after even after he got his new teeth. He was both familiar and deeply unfamiliar to you, but you didn’t care. You hadn’t realized how much your heart ached to see him until you did.

“Holy shit, you’ve been here less than a day and you’ve already been picked up by the cops.” Dustin replied easily, waving to Steve with a toothy grin “Hey dude! What she do?” he said.

“Hey bud!” Steve waved back, picking up your bags and walking them up to the already open door, dropping them in the foyer.

“Why didn’t you tell me Harrington was a cop?” you whispered harshly in his ear, pulling away with a tight smile.

“Didn’t think it mattered, why? Does it?” Dustin replied, raising a curious eyebrow, his gaze turning soft and giddy.

Dustin had loved when you and Steve were together. Sure, at first he absolutely hated it; when he found out he didn’t speak to you for a week. But once you proved that your relationship wouldn’t affect the plan or his friendship with Steve, he warmed up to the relationship really quickly. But when you broke up, Dustin was your number one concern. He was so invested in it all, he called you guys the greatest couple he knew, that when you broke up he was more distraught than you. He spent the weeks before you left town altogether trying to convince you to take him back.

“It would’ve been nice to know so I didn’t have a heart attack in the blistering heat by the side of the road.” You replied tightly. Steve returned quickly, coming up to Dustin and slapping him gently on the shoulder with a smile.

“I’m gonna head out, man, see ya around.” He said, nodding towards his car.

“Aw come on dude, let’s chill for awhile. Y/N hasn’t been back in years, let’s show her the new shit at the arcade.” Dustin whined.

“It can wait dude, your sister just got back, she’s probably tired. Besides, I gotta go back to the station, duty calls you know?” he replied with a shrug. You nodded, smiling softly. You really couldn’t give a shit about the arcade nor could you really handle another drive with Steve, especially if it led to upwards of an hour with the boy.

“Come on, Dusty, we’ll go another day-I’ve got two weeks to see all the new things here. Let’s go find mom, yeah?” you said. Dustin sighed, but he nodded and turned back towards the house. You waved politely to Steve, who did the same and you headed inside without a second thought.

The house was cool and dark, just like you’d left it years ago. Wood paneling still covered the walls and along the staircase, photos lined the walls. You noted that the one you sent her of you in front of the Hollywood sign was hung proudly next to Dustin’s prom photo, signs of some invisible sense of growth in your mother’s eyes. Whatever she saw in those photos was beyond you, but the love and care in framing each memory was obvious and sweet. You kicked off your shoes without a second thought and grabbed your bags off the floor.

“Ma? I’m home!” you called upstairs with a smile. You heard the excited gasp from across the house and the padding of soft, heavy feet against the wood floors. You were enveloped in a hug before you could even react, making you drop your bags on the floor. The familiar smell of your mother nearly made you cry; powdery lavender perfume and laundry soap and something you couldn’t describe as anything other than your mother. It was intoxicating as it was aggressively familiar and comforting.

“Baby, welcome back I’ve missed you so much…” your mother said, her voice choked with tears and breathy.

“I missed you too, mommy…” you whispered, pressed a kiss onto the top of her head as sobs began to wrack her body, her shoulder shaking under your hands. Dustin took it upon himself to take your suitcase upstairs and drop it off in your old room.

With a heavy sniffle, she broke away from you, flashing a watery smile. “I’m gonna stop crying now, I swear, I just missed you, so did Richard. I’m glad you’re back.” She said, wiping her tears quickly and huffing out a heavy breath. You nodded, swallowing the hard lump in your throat.

“I know, I know, I promise I’ll try to come out more, okay? Just please stop crying, you’re making Dustin uncomfortable. I’m gonna unpack, okay?” you said, turning up the stairs.

“I’ll help, I wanna hear all about Los Angeles!” she cried, grabbing the grocery tote and marvelling at its weight “Oh goodness, Y/N, what’re you carrying around now, bricks? This is worse than your backpack in high school…”

“It’s my manuscript, mom, I’m editing my novel.” You said with a sigh, trudging up the stairs. Your mother nodded softly, muttering something about wasting your time on silly stories. You rolled your eyes, pushing the door open to your old room and pulling your bag onto your old bed.

The room hadn’t changed, much to your both comfort and dismay. The pastel purple paint on the walls was still chipped, the old posters of Madonna and Queen hanging limply on the walls with pushpins, the corners ripped and pages bloated from the humid heat of summer’s past. The old white and purple floral bedspread was still covering the bed; bleach stains from attempts at removing period blood and the one bright pink highlighter stain from a late night study session gone wrong. You noted the small stacking aerobics step in the corner and the piles of workout tapes on top of the ancient TV that your mother only let you have in your room when you were sick; the stand seemed to be a permanent fixture now. Everything in the room felt stale and out of place until you realized that you’d grown out of this space; this was your ugly cocoon and now you had a new home far away from here.

You dropped your suitcase on your bed and unzipped it, pulling out the nicest dress you owned, a pale yellow sundress with small white daisies running through the material, and hung it on your door. You dropped the cheap flats and the still half full bag on the floor.

“Where do you want this?” your mother asked awkwardly, heaving the bag higher into the air.

“On my desk please.” You said, sitting down on the bed, noting the still squeaky box spring and frame. Your mother dropped the bag haphazardly next to your old typewriter before sitting next to you on the bed.

“So…” she said with a shit eating grin “You seeing anyone special in Los Angeles?”

You sighed, suppressing an eye roll. “One, I live in San Diego, not L.A. And as for relationships, I am not in one at the moment.” You said diplomatically, leaning in to speak to her with a smile.

“Well…you know Steve Harrington’s still single…” your mother replied, dragging out the words with a sing song tone. Your smile fell into a hard line; you always forgot that your mother liked Steve about as much as Dustin did.

“Mom…” you sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “I have zero interest in Steve.”

“Oh come now! You can’t still be mad at him for things he did in the past. He’s changed now! He has a good job, he’s this close to being promoted to chief of police-” She said, holding up her fingers less than an inch apart from one another, a measurement for the closeness of his promotion.

“Mom!” you cut her off “I’m not mad at him anymore, I’m just not interested in dating him anymore, okay?” you said. She huffed, but nodded, standing up from the bed.

“Alright, alright I’ll let it go, but you gotta put on your happy pants around him, knowing Dustin he’ll be around all the time. He’s a big part of Dusty’s life now.” She replied, her voice turning stern and motherly.

You nodded “I have and will be nothing but civil with him. I mean he drove me here after all. I can handle him.” You replied.

Your mother looked at you quizzically “What?” she asked.

“Rental car broke down, long story.” You replied easily, shrugging it off.

“Alright, well dinner’s at seven. Dustin will either be going out or be bringing Steve here. I’ll let you know either way, alright?” she said. You nodded, smiling until the door shut and then letting it drop away as you fell back on the mattress, letting out a huge sigh.

You had lied when you said you weren’t mad at Steve anymore. You were just as mad as you were when it happened. It burned the pit of your stomach and made you want to strangle someone, usually him. It hurt your heart when people still thought you two were this perfect match. Because you weren’t. You were so far from perfect it wasn’t even funny.

Jonathan and Nancy were the perfect couple, finding solace and happiness despite the pain of what they’d seen. They were private investigators; Jonathan had an alternative rock ‘zine he published bi-monthly and Nancy had award winning Zinnias. They had two wonderful children who were growing up safe and calm. They went to couple’s therapy twice a month to stay on the same mental health page. They grew and weaved together like ivy. They were perfect.

Joyce and Hopper were the perfect couple, coming together despite immense pain. Joyce was long retired, getting a restraining order against her ex-husband, and living off the millions she won in the lawsuit against Hawkins Labs. Hopper loved her sons more than words could say and Will adored him. He still ran the Hawkins Police Station like a general, but he kept mainly to his desk, staying out of the field. Joyce loved little Jane with all her heart and made sure she went to the best school for kids in her situation, where she flourished. They treated each other with the love and patience the world never gave them, keeping each other’s anxiety and fears at bay as they stumbled through a world that had changed around them. They held each other close and made each other better. They were perfect.

You and Steve? God, you were so far from perfect it hurt. You were to sad, deeply flawed and broken people, which just didn’t work. Back then, you were too naïve, too giving. You hurt yourself with the amount of your heart you simply gave away. And Steve took and took until he drained you into nothing. You broke each other into bits and took the shattered pieces as keepsakes. You weren’t good together, you were toxic and broken and sad. You were not perfect.

And even now, you still weren’t perfect. You didn’t give as much sure, but now you demanded. You demanded better and more and faster than before. You demanded that people acted better and lived up to the standards you set them to. You wanted to be treated as you were certain you deserved to be treated. You wanted to be wanted and adored like you did when you were young but now you refused to give an inch for people. You shut them out, afraid to be broken again. You wouldn’t let men like Steve, known takers, back in when they hurt you. You’d rebuilt-put up higher walls, better defences, more traps. Steve might have healed, he might have forgiven himself, but you hadn’t. And you doubted you ever would.

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yeoldontknow · 6 years

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It Was The Night: 3

Author’s Note: i hope you all are enjoying this little story <3 i know its short and slow going but still! happy chanvember! Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female) Genre: drama; historical au; suspense; romance Rating (this chapter): PG Word Count: 2,070

III.

For the rest of the month, very little occurred that would cause one to be suspect of anything untoward within the walls of the opera. The days began to blur into one endless stream of music, costumes, and rehearsals, each the same as the last. Having turned seventeen with almost no pomp and circumstance, and priding myself on a rather mature sense of pragmatism, I very nearly forgot the incident altogether.

The fault, in my mind, was in the trick of the light and the general uneasiness one falls victim to when walking alone in dark corridors. In this resolve, I was resolute, moving through the opera house without any sort of fear, wholly unplagued by the memory.

Even still, as the thoughts of shadows moved through my mind, I found it impossible to replicate their motions with the flames of my candles. When each bit of darkness is unique, each sway of light singular and fleeting, how then can one prove they had seen anything at all? I deemed this memory a fallacy of youth, the last bit of my childhood fading as I moved towards womanhood, letting it die as I did memories of my emotional turmoil throughout puberty.

This was, of course, until the day a rather mysterious, five act opera appeared on the seat reserved for our illustrious conductor.

Morning rehearsals had barely just commenced, each choral member still shaking away the full shapes of our yawns, when Monsieur Letrouc shouted in a rage at the mess. We all bristled, I especially, at the thought of a manuscript left unaccounted for, or, at the very least, left about and carelessly forgotten. Sheet music for an opera, we were taught, is akin to the bible, something holy and therefore sacred. Such a thing is a guide, all answers contained within its dictation, and to leave it so recklessly behind is a cardinal sin of theatrical production.

While we waited for its owner to stake claim, Monsieur Letrouc’s brow furrowed from anger and disdain, to confusion, a bewildered sort of expression making haste along his features. Glancing over its cover, and even at its thickness, we soon realized this was not, as we assumed, the music for Les Abencérages but instead something different, and unexpected, altogether.

Penned by man named Aeon Smith and based on the tragedy of Antigone, it was regarded with much skepticism and laughter throughout the corps for being ‘terribly presumptuous,’ and assumed to be ‘absolute drivel by a first time writer.’ No one had ever heard search a name, not even the international members within the orchestra who hailed from London. This was a man born of obscurity, and was audaciously presenting his work to the most renowned corps in the country. We called him ignorant, we called him foolish, but soon we all were forced to wear the blush of embarrassed prejudice in the wake of the music.

On a spot of daring wit, one of the chamber string players took a page from Haemon’s death, tearing it from the script with raucous glee, and stood in the center of the stage with a wicked grin. At once, he made every effort for the performance to toe precariously on the line of the absurd. Though, try as he might, it was simply impossible to render the exquisite brilliance of the piece anything apart from perfection. With just one page, the orchestra had become lost in a wave of emotion and we were rendered into silence. There wasn’t much deliberation after that, it was simply agreed upon that this would be our show and we were swiftly given new lines to learn.

It was assumed the music was delivered by a night messenger from an English writer, with such a name as Smith we could only assume this was the nature of its origins. Whispers from the choir girls alluded to a member of the kitchens having composed such delights, while the boys each boasted to having written it themselves once alone and separated from their friends, scratching the notes into parchment by candlelight. I believed neither of such accounts, and instead took to obsessing over the memory of my shadowed angel.

Looking back, I do not know why I titled him as such. Perhaps, it was his lack of an origin that persuaded me to call him so, though I daresay there was a sort of divine truth in the name. In the end, I think my essence called to him, named him as my own before I had ever set eyes upon his face.

In those early days, logic told me there was no such person, but then where else could an opera, with such an unusual writer as Aeon Smith, come into existence? I had the pieces but was completely without the ability to connect them. Conclusions were drawn from one to the next without any thought to their sheer impossibilities. The script was far too clean and precise to have been written by a child, the pages free from stray porridge stains. In my mind, the biggest clue was that the tale was far too romantic to spawn from the dreary, unfeeling heart of an Englishman. Eventually, I decided that its parentage was of little import to me and what mattered most was that it existed, and, therefore, required the length of our souls in its performance.

In a sense, I was devout to this opera, and, thus, devout to Aeon Smith.

Soon after rehearsals commenced, I began to experiment with the bending of rules and the thrill of teenage rebellion. On one particular evening, I snuck out of the bed chambers with Jacqueline, Charlotte, and a publicly mild mannered girl named Annessa. There was such excitement to be had from slipping beneath the watchful eye of Madame Catherine, the pull of adult whim tugging gently on our fingers. It was fleeting, these sensations, but we chased after the temptation of autonomy with bare feet and flushes at our cheeks. Our favourite private insurrection was, as one would assume, the performance hall.

As members of the chorus, none among our group very talented ballet dancers neither were we full members of the corps, we were regulated to the sides of the stage for the full run of an opera. At night, with only the dim glow of an oil lamp as our spotlight, we would stand in its center. With my eyes closed, I could imagine the adoring eyes of an audience, the weight of an aria burning at the rim of my diaphragm. This was where I was meant to sing my prayers, before red velvet chairs, beneath the glory of a crystal chandelier. The gold of the room always drew me in, wrapped tightly around my breath to keep me fixed in a permanent state of awe.

Annessa, never one to admire the beauty or importance of cherished spaces, took to the very center with an eagerness that bordered on aggression and began to sing, loudly, the aria of Antigona’s death.

It was the only role in the entire opera we could even attempt to sing, the character written for that of a soprano. As not all of us had yet completed the trials of puberty, we were still viewed as half-formed singers, the lower end of the musical scales still perilously out of our reach. Though Ismene had, in my opinion, far more challenging and bewitching arias written for her character, Antigona was the only option for our group to idly learn. Yet, Annessa sang with such boisterous enthusiasm I found myself scowling in the heart of my sanctuary.

‘That is not how it’s meant to be sung,’ I shouted, stopping her in the middle of the aria. At my sides, my fingers were tense, twitching in irritation at her seeming indifference to the character’s lament.

‘Sorry?’ she asked, bewildered. She rounded on me with a hiss through grit teeth. Yet, she did not intimidate me.

‘Antingona is about to die, she knows this fully,’ I explained gently. ‘She has disobeyed her uncle most egregiously, and has now been sentenced to be walled into a cave. At best, she would be reflective. Mostly, she would be sad, yet proud of her choices. She cremated her brother, defied the law, and loved with all her heart. So young and so in love with Haemon, mourning the future she will never have with him. And so, there is no happy ending. She sees Creon for who he really is, and absolutely cannot come to terms with the truth.’

I paused to bite my bottom lip and continued in a more resolved, severe tone, one I had never affixed to my voice.

‘There is no space for triumph here. I’ve never been one for grief, but I do understand mortality.’

It felt like a relief, saying it, letting her know that she had completely missed the point of the opera, the music, Aeon Smith himself. My thoughts and feelings had felt like a secret which was now being poorly kept, and I was grateful for the admission.

‘Well, if you’re so clever why don’t you sing it?’ Annessa challenged, finally, the sneer in her voice not going unnoticed by me, and likely the others.

I shall never know what sort of bravery possessed me the moment I accepted her demand, and only looking back now I can almost point towards the exhaustion of restraining my sudden, teenage competitive nature. In the end, I believe wanted this moment, wanted the pride, wanted the sin of it all - wanted, more than anything, to let the Godless city into my veins for once and for all. I took to the center of the stage with delight pulling at my shoulders, lifting my posture and with memories of a boasting Father Ezekiel lingering like phantoms in the back of the theatre.

And so I sang, with full voice and relaxed palms, jaw loosely set and diaphragm open. The words came easily, memorized through repetition in rehearsals and their natural cadences. As I sang, every act on stage became tangible. Soaked into my hands was the blood of my slain brother; before me, my young groom, with dagger in hand, visible only through a fissure of stones. My heart ached with closeted familial betrayal, and my tongue burned with the words I wanted to shout, at France and at God:

Do not believe that you alone can be right. The man who thinks that, The man who maintains that only he has the power To reason correctly, the gift to speak, to soul–– A man like that, when you know him, turns out empty.

I kept singing, wishing I could cry for all my losses and all my future gains, the vitriol pouring out of me in a deluge, much akin to flood.

You’ll never see me taken in by anything vile.

And then, with wide eyes, I saw the shadow looming in the dark at the top of the third level balcony. I remembered my ghost, my shadow in the mirror, and suddenly felt a surge of elation. Here now was proof and not just for my own eyes!

Immediately I stopped singing turning back to my friends, gesticulating vigorously into the dark, just beyond the glow of the oil lamps.

‘Look, in the balcony! The opera ghost!’

They all ran to me, squinting in the direction of my finger and I smirked, fully prepared to clarify the proof of childish, erroneous tales. But when I looked back, there remained only the night, with no welcome shadow to put conviction to my name. My friends laughed the entire way back to our quarters, laughed at my eagerness, my foolishness, my sudden, unpredicted turn towards belief. I’d never once scorned a shadow but, on that evening, I wanted the dark to wither beneath my feet.

The following morning there was a folded piece of parchment, sealed in blood red wax, placed directly in the center of the recital hall. As our conductor opened it, his brow grew over more into a concerned furrow and his eyes, upon completion of his read, bore into mine with tremendous distaste.

He read aloud:

‘By order of Aeon Smith, Y/F/N Y/L/N is to play the role of Antigona. There shall be no exceptions.’

#chanyeol x reader #chanyeol fanfic #kpoptrashtag #kwriterskollection #noonanet #chanyeol au #chanyeol scenario #chanyeol fanfiction #exo au #exo scenario #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #kpop fanfic #park chanyeol

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shinedownapollo · 6 years

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Apollo “Pol” Allen

Heir to Gemini

Profile

Name: Apollo Danger Allen

Birthday: June 9, 1999 (Gemini Sun, Aries Moon, Scorpio Rising)

Age: 18

Gender: Cis-Male

FC: Porter Robinson

Ability: Telekinesis

Apollo is a multi-tasker, a control freak, and deep thinker. His mind is always doing acrobatics--two, three, four thoughts at once. His first thought is instinctual, the second a correction, the third a refinement into an idea. Apollo has constructed a persona he presents to the world, the idea of Apollo. Everything he does has been considered and adjusted to fit the idea of Apollo. This makes social interactions quite the mental exercise for Apollo, but he’s adapted to quick thinking and assessment to keep up the image of himself he wishes to portray at all times. This mental juggling and innate need to have control over his image and his environment has manifested in the form of telekinesis. Just like he can juggle multiple thoughts at once, Apollo now has the ability to juggle multiple tasks. His telekinesis acts like an extra set of arms that stretch far beyond his natural reach. With his extra hands he can fold laundry and read a book all at once, or smoke a cigarette while looking at his phone and holding a cup of coffee. Apollo is skilled at using his telekinesis for fine dexterity tasks such as writing, but great feats of strength or force require much more effort and focus. At the moment, he can only lift things that he would be able to physically carry, but with training (literally lifting weights with his mind) he can grow beyond regular human strength limitations. When he is too angry or distressed to control his emotions, his powers become frantic, but less strong. He flings things away from him, shoves people against walls, smashes glass, but he does not have the focus required to lift anything large or heavy.

History:

Apollo was born in the Bronx of New York City. His parents were young artists, his father a singer/songwriter that played heartfelt music on the guitar, and his mother an edgy tattoo artist and modern painter. Apollo does not remember the days before the Allen family found the spotlight. His older sister, Ariadne, said they lived in a shitty apartment in the Bronx right next to a 24-hour liquor store, and you could hear the crackwhores screeching and the sirens wailing all night. Apollo would never know if she told the truth or just fabricated a dramatic lie for her own amusement. He was barely 4 years old, he couldn’t remember any of that time. The first thing he does remember is going to his father’s first record release party. Surrounded by large white men in business suits and women in low-cut shiny dresses, Apollo clung to his mother’s leg in absolute silence, burying his face in her black dress.

Peggie and Cale Allen moved to a sharp little townhouse in Manhattan within years of Cale’s record success. He was putting out new releases regularly, and with his success, Peggie’s renown as an artist took off as well. The gallery parties and the record company executives became regular visitors in Apollo’s young life. Despite the encouragement of his parents (”Just express yourself and you can achieve anything!”) Apollo remained a shy, closed-off child. He and his older sister were very similar in that aspect. While their parents were social superstars, living in the spotlight and brushing elbows with the social elite of New York, Pol and Adi preferred to remain on the sidelines with their noses in books.

Of course, his parents never stopped nurturing Apollo’s talents and dreams. As soon as he began to show interest in poetry, his parents bought him countless notebooks and fountain pens and poetry collections. Apollo carried a notebook with him wherever he went, furiously scribbling out one poem after another with his gaze locked on the pages.

The schoolyard was no different from gallery debut parties or the album release parties. Apollo, cripplingly shy and silent, hovered on the edges, long black hair hanging over his face, shrouded in a black hoodie, scratching poems into his notebook. If ever someone spoke to him, he would freeze up, his heart pounding wildly in his chest and his throat squeezing closed. Eventually, the students and teachers learned to ignore him, as trying to interact only sent the boy into a deer-in-headlights sort of panic. With how busy his parents were, always hard at work touring or creating or promoting, they rarely had much time to dote on their daughter and son. Cale was rarely home at all due to his rigorous touring schedule, but when he did come home they never failed to take a family vacation somewhere, all four of them.

Apollo was always more attached to his mother. When she was in her good moods, she cooked and cleaned and smothered her children with love in between passionate painting sessions in her personal studio. Unfortunately, every good swing came with a bad swing. Peggie was a manic-depressive survivor of heroin addiction, she’d managed to get clean after her life hit rock bottom, but the scars remained on both her skin and her mind. More than the drugs and the abuse, her own mind tormented her most. Every swing into spastic manic happiness came with swing back into lethargic violent depression. Her art flourished from both passionate crashes of emotion through her system, her children did not. Some nights, Apollo lie in his bed and listened to the explosions of shattering glass and the angry wails of disgust and the shredding of canvas. He would stare blankly at the ceiling and wonder if she will always be like this for the rest of her life. On the bad days, Ariadne was more of a mother to him than the depressed ghostly figment of his actual mother. Ariadne did the cooking, and the cleaning, she made sure Apollo got to school on time, but she was not the soft radiantly joyful woman Apollo missed so dearly. Ariadne’s cold nurturing could not fill the void in Apollo’s young heart.

Then, he met Sean Lauchlan. The boy didn’t do anything special. He wasn’t the smartest, or the most handsome, or the most charming. At only ten years old, Apollo wasn’t interested in any of that, anyway. But Sean did something so extraordinarily ordinary that the young poet’s heart nearly broke at the sight of it. Sean smiled at him. The redheaded boy with the scraped up knees had tripped and fallen at Apollo’s feet, and when Pol helped him up, the smile that spread across the boy’s face was like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds of his life for the very first time. Sean invited Apollo back to his house to play video games and eat ice cream. The two have been inseparable ever since.

As young boys they were curious, but not purposefully mischievous. Often, Ariadne had to play babysitter to the boys during their sleepovers in which neither boy ever wanted to go to sleep. They would chatter and laugh all night, play soccer out in the street, and sit on the porch steps watching the sunset and the orange streetlamps flicker on. All the while, Apollo wrote poems in his head about the flame-haired boy whose laughter chased all darkness away. When Sean’s mother passed away very suddenly, Apollo and his family were there to support their dear friends, Sean and his father Simon. Sean spent many nights at Apollo’s house while his father handled funeral arrangements and packing away her things. Sean was never quite the same after that, but Apollo didn’t care, he loved Sean with all his heart. He would do anything to make Sean happy again.

Puberty came around several years later and Sean changed again. He grew thick with muscle, his sharp jawline accentuated with stubble, the smell of his sweat hung on his clothing with delicious allure. Apollo was panicked to find himself dreaming of the boy at the most inappropriate of times, doing the most inappropriate of things. Pol himself was a late bloomer, he blamed his mother and her history of drug use. For over a year, Apollo watched his best friend sprout into a man while he remained small and scrawny and hairless. When puberty did finally strike, it stretched Apollo out to an intimidating height of over six feet tall. His muscles became more sharp and defined, though he did not bulk up like little Sean had. He was often compared to Abraham Lincoln by the other boys on the soccer team. Tall, lanky, and lean, they knew he was powerful, though he looked rather disproportionately shaped and awkward.

Apollo took the changes very poorly. His reaction was not sudden. There was no big traumatic event that led Apollo to change himself so dramatically. He simply evolved, as people do. He began to close off from others much like he had in his youth, before Sean. His insecurities and emotions manifested into walls around himself. Everything he feared became his greatest strength. Nobody could hurt him if he didn’t care. He put on a mask of masculinity, acting out in aggression and rejecting all things soft and emotional. That was the old Pol, the version of himself that felt pain. The new Pol no longer worried about what anyone thought of him. If they hated him, good. Less people for him to try and please.

He acted out, loudly and violently, to prove just how much he didn’t care about what anyone thought about him. (Of course all it proved was that he cared about everyone seeing him as a tough-as-nails bad boy without fear or frailness.) The behavior stuck when he realized how much attention he could get without ever having to say a word to anyone. It was the perfect way to satisfy the loneliness that clawed painfully in his chest, without ever approaching his deep ever-present fear of rejection. No one could ever break his fragile heart if he never offered it to anyone. He could never feel the pain of someone’s disappointment in him, if he never tried to please anyone. His gentle artist’s soul was safe behind his hardened mask of wild aggression.

The one person who never fled no matter how he pushed was his childhood best friend Sean. The boy laughed at Apollo’s antics, joined in on his mischief, unknowingly encouraged his bullying. The two boys dove in to wilder and wilder adventures of bad behavior, starting with under-aged drinking and escalating to thievery and vandalism. Apollo buried his shame deep. There was nothing wrong with being gay, but there was everything wrong with being obsessed with the boy you’ve known since you were ten years old. Sean had all the experience romancing girls into his bedroom with his careless charm. He was loved by everyone, a golden child full of light. Apollo knew Sean didn’t love him the same way. Even after he learned that Sean was bisexual, he still bottled up his feelings so tight they never could slip out. If he told Sean after years of playing the straight and uninterested bigot, Sean would surely hate him for lying to him. Soon, Apollo found himself trapped in a persona he couldn’t escape. To confess it was all an act would expose his weakness, would reveal all his lies, would tear down everything he did to make himself stronger. He refused to go back to the way he was, fragile, afraid, silent, lonely. He would never be that voiceless child again. So the lies continued.

He never did stop writing, however. The bookshelves in his room were filled from floor to ceiling with notebooks bursting with poetry. With the success of his father’s latest record and the release of his mother’s latest project, an art book collection of her paintings, the public was hungry for more of the edgy artistic super family. They wanted something new and young. The publishers approached Apollo with a deal. Pick out a collection of his poems, it would be published in thirteen languages and sold around the world in bookstores right between his father’s music and his mother’s art. He’d be famous before even turning eighteen. Emo kids would buy t-shirts with his poems on them. Teen girls would hang posters of his broody face on their walls. He didn’t even need to finish school, he could be famous right now. Apollo told them where to shove their publishing deal. He didn’t care if his dream to be a published poet, renowned around the world, was being offered to him on a silver plate. He was going to make a name for himself through his own work. He refused to ride on the fame of his parents and become the next teen heartthrob. They could keep their greedy money. Apollo wanted to make a difference. He wanted his words to carry meaning.

In the last semester of his senior year in high school, things began to get very strange. Sean revealed he had the unbelievable ability to run inhumanly fast, that someone called Aquarius had named Sean the heir to his power. Baffled and angry, Apollo researched the name to find it was a constellation of the Zodiac, the sign Sean had been born under. Something mysterious and magical had happened to Sean, and despite how much Apollo wanted to be jealous and suspicious, the pure glee on Sean’s face when he ran himself into exhaustion was just too beautiful to be angry at. Apollo decided not to worry about the how or why of Sean’s new ability and instead enjoyed using it for their entertainment, pulling pranks and practicing soccer at a new intense pace.

School had already let out for summer by the time Apollo’s eighteenth birthday came around. Pol had applied to a dozen universities. Abandoning his previous dreams of literature and poetry in defiance, as the art industry loomed over his head with greedy clasping fingers, Pol decided to go into psychology. He wasn’t sure how, but if he could make a difference to people like his mother, suffering from their own imbalanced brain processes, he knew he could be proud of himself for something. No acceptance letters had come yet. He was beginning to worry that his rebellious behavior had blocked him from his dreams.

That’s when Sean accidentally kicked a soccer ball at his face and he caught it without his hands. Apollo was so startled, his mind threw the ball away from him, out into the street. He stood, staring off into space with a wide-eyed expression of shock, when the androgynous being with two sets of eyes and two mouths spoke to him with two voices. “Apollo Allen, you may call me Gemini. I’ve chosen you to be my heir.”

The letter of acceptance to Augur University came the very next day. Apollo didn’t remember applying to a private university in Canada. Something about the letter felt... strangely purposeful. He never received any other acceptance letters. Determined to get out of his parent’s home in Manhattan and start proving himself as his own man, Apollo decided he would follow this insane path laid out before him. Impossible abilities, astrological beings, a school that didn’t show up on any map or web search, this was far more exciting than staying home and filling another book with miserable poetry. If something wanted to offer him power, so be it, but he wasn’t going to be what anyone else wanted him to be. He would see what the university had to offer, and he would take it or leave it. Apollo would always remain the champion of his own destiny.

#// bio //#// glory in his name //#holy hell that got long #tldr apollo is a soft emotional baby in an i don't care suit

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tumblunni · 7 years

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Man its so weird to think back and see how many signs there were that I was transgender long before I realized it. I was SO fucking oblivious, I had no clue that being nonbinary was even an option, all I knew was 'well I don't wanna be the opposite gender but I don't wanna be the one I was assigned at birth'. (Except obviously I didn't even know the correct words to describe it) And like... I bought into A LOT of horrible transphobic bullshit, cos I was raised with a biased view of what being transgender even is. 'Trans-sexual people are turned on by wearing women's clothes'. Ugh. And I was completely disgusted by it, since I'm a sex repulsed asexual and everything about foreplay or whatever disgusts me. My parents and pop culture and stuff all treated it like trans people were the equivelant of someone into BDSM wearing nipple clamps out in public or something. 'Well in theory I have nothing against them having that kink, but why do they have to show it in public?' Being trans was ALWAYS only shown as 'oo kinky I like to crossdress in the bedroom', as if it was a fucking sexuality, as if there was NO OTHER REASON why someone would wanna wear the 'wrong' clothes and use the 'wrong' pronouns. I felt viscerally disgusted at myself whenever I didn't want to wear my birth gender's cliche outfits, I denied absolutely everything cos I didn't want people to think I was a pervert. I didn't even know it was POSSIBLE to be transgender and asexual, or even that being transgender wasn't the same as being gay! I said SO MUCH fucking horrible transphobic and homophobic stuff as a kid, just parroting what I was told, and overcompensating for hating myself by making it clear I hated everyone remotely similar to me. While being in huge denial that they were similar to me! And I'm gonna carry these regrets forever and always worry that I stopped someone else from feeling comfortable about theirself and just... GAHH! And I did all the same too about parroting stereotypes of 'crazy people' and 'r*tards' before I learned that this big ol stereotype about autism was bullshit and real autistic people look EXACTLY LIKE MYSELF It just makes me think a lot about how many other people out there might be trans and not have the ability to find out because they've been buried so utterly in this false, bigoted image of what a trans person actually is. Tho also I hate the dumb stereotype that 'all homophobes are secretly gay', like seriously wtf why u wanna escape all responsibility for your actions and say the only problem is gay people systemically oppressing THEMSELVES... ANYWAY I went off on a sad train of thought there but back to the point! I'm just remembering this one part of a school trip that was like one of my most treasured memories for no logical reason until I realised I was trans. I met a new classmate and he mistook me for the opposite gender, and I was like 'HOLY SHIT WHY AM I HAPPY' until someone else 'corrected' him. I mean.. I knew I wasn't that gender either, but it felt like a weight off my shoulders to at least be misgendered the opposite way for once. I felt inexplicably happy that I was looking ambiguous enough to even be in question! And this was when I was like 11, I had no clue what word to even assign to these feelings... And I mean, it was SO DUMB that I never noticed these signs! This is what internalized transphobia does to you! Like 'hey there's probably no reason at all why I always play as a different gender ever time I buy a pokemon game, and get this self hatey feeling in my gut when both options have very stereotypically gendered costumes'. And 'wow there sure is no reason why I got inexplicably attached to this genderless character and can't stop thinking about ways to prove they aren't real'. Seriously all that debate about 'quina is really a girl/boy' with weird evidence in stat builds and equip items and stuff! I got REALLY into that transphobic bullshit cos it was something that shook up my perception of the world and I felt like if not being either gender was ACTUALLY AN OPTION then id have to address painful things about myself. If I knew I could be that, I couldn't keep lying to myself. So I went in aggressive denial mode and missed this chance to come out of the closet at like 9 years old and save myself a damn lot of trouble! And then I just went through the same bullshit at 14 with Chrona from Soul Eater, and could not explain why on earth I was so upset that the English dub assigned them a random gender instead of translating it properly... And OH MAN how fucking dysphoric I was about puberty even before I knew that dysphoria was a thing! It was like 'hey look you're growing up!' 'NO IM NOT DEAR GOD NEVER SAY THAT AGAIN'. And that led to this stupid thing of me just saying 'well I have the mental age of a seven year old LOL' to excuse whenever I acted 'weird'. My forum avatar and stuff was a doodle of myself in chibi form, etc. (Even literally wearing chest binding... I only knee at the time that it was 'a martial arts thing' tho.) Like, I'd got all these messages that not wanting sex was 'childish' and not wanting my body to change was obviously 'immature', and when I was undiagnosed with mental illness and trying yo make up excuses for how I TOTALKY didn't have a mental illness, all I could say was 'ha ha I'm totally uhh... Doing it on purpose? Cos I'm so... Quirky?' I got obsessed with overacting as a class clown, cos I mean you can also excuse cross dressing as a thing that 'the comic relief character' does... And OH MAN, like my big Special Interest throughout all of high school was Norse myth, more specifically Loki. I was FASCINATED with the idea of a shape shifter who could be either gender, and was completely unashamed about it. And, of course, I used to play it off as 'ha ha isn't it so funny he turned into a girl', when I seriously did not have any clue WHY it was funny, I just thought I had to say it. It HAD to be the reason I was so sympathetic yo this character, right? Because he's A FUNNY JOKE?? And man then I got so obsessed with researching non gendered English pronouns from the 18th century and championing how they should totally come back into modern language and EVEN THEN I was in denial! It took until I played Magical Diary to realise 'well fuck I'm trans'. It took a game outright saying that these genderless pronouns arent just 'to be inclusive of both genders' but can be used for A THIRD GENDER, A GENDERLESS GENDER, A BOTH AND/OR NEITHER GENDER!! A game saying that this gender does exist in human beings, and EVEN THEN I took ages to be sure that it was really real and not just a fantasy thing that the game made up. I mean, quina was totally only genderless cos they're a magical creature, right? (Completely ignoring the fact that the other two members of that magical creature town are both male...) And just.... AAAAAAA I feel like I'm the human personification of that 'no Patrick, put it on the lid' meme No, you're trans. No, TRANS. Trans, bunni! TRANS!! This is what societal prejudices do to people. Even LGBTQ people usually grow up within homophobic, transphobic society, absorbing all the same messages. It destroys our ability to be okay with being ourselves... Its so fucking sad that this happened to me, and it hurts even more to think of all the times I said insensitive offensive stuff to other LGBTQ people back when I thought I was cis and straight... Gahhhh... ALSO, it makes me extra sad that Summon Night: Swordcraft Story 2 never got released in Europe. There's a character there called Arno who's NB and very out about it, and the English translators didn't make a mess of it, or anything. People actually call Arno 'they', and literally their catchphrase is 'Are you a boy or a girl?' 'I'm just a child of the wind~' Like seriously NO ambiguity, character actually getting to dish out sick burns when being misgendered, absolutely NO room for the ol 'well they just don't MENTION a gender, it doesn't mean they were intended to be nonbinary' excuse. Arno outright stating 'I am not a boy, and I an not a girl'. And your protagonist respecting it! Arno is still my absolute fave best handled nonbinary character in all of games. And the summon night series is very inclusive with a lot of gay romance options! Its a shame tho that the only other game with a nonbinary character was never dubbed even in america. But apparently the protags of previous games get a cameo in the upcoming Summon Night 6 which finally will be released in Europe! I just hope they handle Corlal's pronouns respectfully, considering how they managed to do it so well a decade ago with Arno. But then again the Swordcraft Story series is a spinoff so the main games might have different translators? Anyway, let me hug my tiny enby dragon child! Also I'm sad the cellphone app trading card game never got dubbed either, cos Corlal got some cute cards for the valentine's day event. All three dragon kids just got adorable scenes making platonic family chocolate for their siblings cos they're too young to really participate. And they thankfully got super cute totally non-lolicon maid and butler outfits like SERIOUSLY THANK GOD FOR THAT! Just cute ten year olds playing dressup like normal kids. Corlal got two cards for that one! Them being nonbinary continues to be 100% canon, they got a version with both a dress and a tuxedo. AND ITS SO FUCKING CUTE MY GOD ...man I'm sorry this just went off topic into how great that series is But anyway! If I've ever said anything that offends you, please message me about it! I'm still unlearning a lot of internalized prejudice. Also if you want a quality nonbinary werewolf in a cool side scrolling GBA jrpg, look for Arno! Im on mobile rite now so I can't send links n stuff, but as soon as I finish moving my PC desk to the other room I shall spam you all with my obscure fandom's!!!

#i wanna draw quina and arno meeting each other #tho the protag in corlal's game is a chef so it could be hilarious if theyre like 'mom what happened to your face'#and then protag and quina have a giant death spoons duel

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cupkayke · 7 years

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Cupkayke Rewatches/Liveblogs Boueibu!

Season 1, Episode 3

So I dropped off the face of Tumblr for awhile, sorry guys! I also rewatched the entirety of Yuri on Ice with my boyfriend and he now likes ice skating anime so that took some time lol But I am back JUST IN TIME FOR YUMOTO’S BIRTHDAY OMG HAPPY BIRTHDAY PRECIOUS CHILD. So, have a liveblog/collection of my stupid thoughts about one of the more ridiculous episodes! Yay!

Also, I apologize in advance- some of this episode’s subtext led to an impromptu dissection of the boys’ sexualities/orientations and there are some brief mentions of unsavory teachers (because what kind of teacher holds a pretty boy contest???) so if any of my terminology/speculation is incorrect or you find any of my discussions potentially triggering or in need of tags PLEASE inbox me and I will tag the post as such/correct any misinformation! I am a literature student- I like to analyze things. Sometimes I get carried away~

I SAW THE PREVIEW IMAGE FOR THIS EP ON CRUNCHYROLL AND IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT ‘HERE WE GO I REMEMBER THIS EPISODE IT’S GONNA BE A TRASH PARADE AND WTF CITY LET’S GO’

Okay- I always wondered about the pretty boy contest… like why? What purpose does it serve? Why are there posters put up in a fucking BATHHOUSE advertising the local boys’ high school’s PRETTY BOY CONTEST. .3 seconds into the episode and it’s ridiculous.

What do you mean ‘weight with the ladies’ c’mon man I have a hard time believing you care ANYTHING about ‘the ladies’ -eyebrow waggle-

He’s doing pirouettes in a towel… okay seriously bro I danced ballet for like 10 years and I never pirouetted in a towel OKAY THAT’S PROBABLY A LIE BUT YOU CAN’T PROVE IT OTHERWISE

"EWWWW TEACHER DICK”

Aww Yumoto. So innocent. So naive. So willing to point out he just saw his teacher’s penis-

...well that’s an odd question. Yumoto why would you ask-

Oh, shew, it’s because you’re not ashamed of bodies! How sweet and innocent and refreshi-

WAIT BACK UP NEVERMIND YUMOTO WTF THAT’S CALLED VOUYERISM

Those are the faces of some senpais that just came to the realization that their kouhai has probably been checking them out.

Well he got dressed fast.

How do you hire someone by accident?

Took the words right out of my mouth, Atsushi.

This is disturbing on several levels. Pedo Principal? -shudders-

FEET SHOULD NOT BEND THAT WAY

GUYS. GUYS. GUYS. AKOYA AS A BALLET DANCER OMG. IMAGINE. HAS THIS BEEN DRAWN? THIS NEEDS TO BE FANART SOMEWHERE. HE’D BE SO PRETTY JUST IMAGINE HIM IN TIGHTS BEING THE PRINCIPAL MALE LEAD IN SWAN LAKE OR FUCK EVEN IN A FUCKING TUTU BECAUSE HE’D BE GORGEOUS IN EITHER ROLE I CAN’T EVEN AWKEJFLASJFASLDJFOSIJFOAJ -Cupkayke Explodes-

Arima speaks truth

Io why do you have an exact copy of the calculator I use at work that’s terrifying.

RYUU YOU ARE LYING YOU GO TO AN ALL BOYS SCHOOL THAT IS APPROXIMATELY 0% WOMEN TRY AGAIN

Io looks so disappointed he can’t talk numbers with Ryuu

THEIR CHEESY CATCHPHRASE AGAIN

Side note I feel like the quirkiness of the school got toned down in later eps but perhaps that’s my faulty memory. Which is why I’m rewatching it lol.

Pretty and savage AF

PINK RIVALRY! I mean seriously, “you can’t seem to take your eyes off of me?” Maybe not even a rivalry but something else ohohohohohoh I’m alone on this ship

Okay this creepy teacher apparently calls all the boys ‘sweet honey’ which is disturbing on its own level but that got cranked up to 11 on the creep scale when he referred to YUMOTO as sweet honey.

Yumoto is a precious cinnamon roll you freak

Paper airplane contest lololol why do I feel like this happened at my school back in the day?

Wombat sounds like a jealous lover lolol

OH BOY! PUNS!

RYUU AND AKOYA TIED FOR THIRD???

HOW DOES AKOYA NOT WIN IN THE LINEUP OF THE SC???

LIKE SERIOUSLY KINSHIROU????

AKOYA IS TEN TIMES PRETTIER!

This school must have a thing for ice princes I s2g

En's boredom is dangerous. I mean... the face says it all.

Ryuu is all “this is NOT up my alley”

A bit slow on the uptake, Yumoto.

Io that’s so sweet... I guess? Well Ryuu seems to think it is- look at his face!

...nevermind. His expression is all “Thanks... I guess...”

Either Yumoto was hoping his senpais would teach him how to be popular with the ladies, or he’s just confused as to what in the hell it is that older boys want. This entire scene is just a clusterfuck of innuendo BUT I’M GONNA OVER ANALYZE IT ANYWAY.

The surface meaning of En and Atsushi’s statements here- or what the audience is supposed to get- is that being popular with girls will only get you so far. It may get you ‘love’ but having a girlfriend means jack squat if you don’t have guy friends (most likely to brag to).

It also could be taken that En at least would rather appreciate women than exert his energy into making them lust after him, which is rather sweet if you think about it.

Atsushi’s point also draws attention to the fact that stereotypical displays of machismo are much more well-received by other men than women- ie outward displays of strength, aggression, bragging about sexual encounters... er- yeah. No need to go on, there.

So. In order to be a well-rounded man, a man needs to be popular/be admired by other men! So you aren’t a lonely loser the rest of your days.

Buuut... because I’m me... LET’S LOOK AT THE SUBTEXT IN RELATIONSHIP TO THEIR SPECULATED SEXUALITIES 8D

En basically says straight up it’s more beneficial to be admired by men. Putting aside the above statements about admiring women... En’s likely gay. Fosho.

And the top screencap of Yumoto, instead of just clarifying his senpai’s intentions, that could mean that he’s more interested in girls. HOWEVER-

With a c: face, Yumoto admits his heart flutters watching rugged young men!

Bi Yumoto anyone? (He also unironically uses the word ‘flicks’ but that’s either a translator thing or another example of a mysterious dialect but ON TOPIC-)

At least within the context of this scene, Yumoto implies he’d be interested in being popular with girls and he is attracted to at very least a certain type of man. Buuut the rest of this episode (which I will get to later) potentially directly contradicts this implication as to Yumoto’s romantic and/or otherwise attraction.

It’s too bad that we don’t get Ryuu or Atsushi’s opinions on the matter- although Ryuu makes his attractions pretty clear just from his character (and then the subtext with Io). Atsushi is a bit of a mystery, for now.

As for Io, we get this exchange-

Le sigh. Io is moneysexual. Anyway...

Wombat so salty- I guess helping Ryuu win a contest is more entertaining than being superheroes.

Me about halfway through this post

En's expressions in this scene are great.

Tho does anyone else now headcanon En as really into athletics when he isn’t being lazy?

Like him really liking competition just fits so well but without a goal he’s just like ‘why bother’

Atsushi sounds so awkward calling him Yufuin

“I can’t just announce him as Enchan that’s weird but I don’t think I’ve ever said his last name ughhhhhhhhh”

Io is NOT playing by the unspoken one urinal in between rule

ALSO I JUST NOTICED YOU CAN SEE THE GUY ON THE LEFT ACTUALLY PEEING WTF

Water go swoosh swoosh

Also their bathrooms are fancy AF

GDI why does Io make the best seduction face

Even tho it’s more predatory here still...

THEY WERE REALLY HEAVY HANDED WITH THE INNUENDO IN S1

The triplets WHY ARE THEIR EYES SO WEIRD

WHAT IS IT WITH THIS SHOW AND SIDE CHARACTERS WITH WEIRD EYES

Ryuu so destructive lol

I TAKE BACK WHAT I SAID ABOUT EN BEING ATHLETIC RYUU DOES FUCKING KARATE

Sparkles

Ibushi is still savage AF

I had to giggle and cap his character card because the image of Atsushi doing gigantic jigsaw puzzles was adorable

YOU’RE A TEACHER WHY DO YOU WANT TO BE A PRETTY BOY?

LIKE SERIOUSLY WHY DO YOU WANT TO BE VALIDATED BY HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS

Did he get scorned and that’s why his self esteem is in the toilet???

1579th pretty boy contest??? Damn Pedo Principal is thirsty AF I am still shuddering at the implications

Tho seriously that’s -does math- ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY ONE YEARS OF PRETTY BOY CONTESTS WHAT THE FUCK

And that isn’t taking into account there would probably be a month or two where school isn’t in session on the 27th to have the pretty boy contest. Like December wouldn’t they be on break? And don’t they have a summer holiday at some point?

IT ISN’T JUST ONE PEDO PRINCIPAL IT’S A DYNASTY

EWWWWWWWWW.

YUMOTO AND RYUU BROTHER RELATIONSHIP I FRIENDSHIP IT LOOK RYUU IS BLUSHING

Yumoto knows he’s a lil shit

What the fuck kind of sound effect is swan swan???

I’m suddenly reminded of Kronk doing his own theme music-

Ryuu so salty he wanted to know the winner

Yumoto that writhing mob of students is pretty gross I agree

SO ZUNDAR WANTS THE ENTIRE WORLD TO BE GAY

THAT’S HIS EVIL PLAN TURN EVERYONE GAY

HE SOUNDS LIKE A SHITTY GROSS POLITICIAN

With that shot angle I was just waiting for him to lay a fucking egg but thankfully that didn’t happen

The subtitle is inaccurate- he actually said ‘GIMME HUG’ which is slightly more unsettling.

EN YOU WANT TO MARRY IT WTF

Yumoto still just like c: “I have no idea what’s going on”

I NOW PRESENT TO YOU THE BEST BOUEIBU SCREENCAPS IN THE HISTORY OF SCREENCAPS

ATSUSHI SO GRACEFUL

SO ROMANTIC

EN IS JEALOUS

THEY’RE ALL RIDICULOUS

Speaks for itself

And here is where Yumoto contradicts his earlier implications. Okay. 1) Writers make up your minds, although 2) ...shades of gray here.

Perhaps Kurotori’s feather spell represents sexual love (Eros for all you YOI fans~) and Yumoto is either a) too young/innocent to understand or b) somewhere on the ace spectrum. The others were affected because they are either simply older than Yumoto/past puberty or allosexual to the point where the spell could manipulate their feelings despite their existing attractions whatever those may be.

Yumoto’s earlier comments, then, could be taken to mean simply romantic attraction, even though his wording of his “heart fluttering” thanks to Yakuza men is a bit misleading in that respect. (Disclaimer: I am not on the ace spectrum so perhaps I am misrepresenting/misinterpreting here- please correct me if I have made a mistake in my understanding of asexuality- I definitely do not want to offend anyone! Just analyzing~)

Though to play the other side, En’s comment about marriage, even though he’s under the influence of a spell, also indicates that the spell has romantic components as well as potentially sexual ones. If the spell plays to BOTH- wouldn’t Yumoto be affected as well, based on his earlier assertions?

OR PERHAPS- if it is both, Yumoto is ALSO potentially aromantic and his comments were purely of an aesthetic nature or self projection (that is, he wants to be a dashing Yakuza heartthrob, not necessarily date one). Or he was simply trying to relate to his senpais and was bluffing the entire time.

Damn, this episode can seem REALLY deep if you squint hard enough. Headcanons, abound!

Moving on- WHEN IN DOUBT, HUG THE ENEMY!

Now I’m starting to see some cleverness on the part of the writers- hear me out below- but first- MORE CUDDLES

With this, Yumoto can be read several different ways.

On the surface and probably most importantly, regardless of what Yumoto’s personal attraction/orientation is (if he’s even figured it out at this point), he knows love at its purest form. He loves his brother. He loves his senpais (even though at this point they barely know each other- Yumoto probably latches on quickly). But more importantly, he is so in tune with his own feelings he realizes that self love is at the core of any type of love. That if you aren’t secure in yourself, if you don’t care about yourself on some level, how can anyone else care about you either?

This is another reason why I love Yumoto even though he can get a bit heavy-handed at times and seem like a one-note character; HE ISN’T.

Yumoto is incredibly introspective and even though his senapis make comments about how he just kind of shoves everything together to fit the situation he really does understand the monster-ified characters’ insecurities.

(Which can lead to some sad headcanons about how Yumoto has probably felt all of these things at one point or another... oh no...)

But back to my over-analysis of Yumoto’s orientation- with this... it’s really up to interpretation.

He can be read as a young character who hasn’t figured things out yet, he can be read as interested in romantic relationships of any variety but not necessarily anything else, he can be read as only interested in platonic relationships- anything. And while the inconsistency in his portrayal can be a bit maddening- it’s GREAT headcanon opportunity.

Thus, unless s3 gives Yumoto a canon interest- he’s whatever you think he is. Which is AWESOME! DO YOU SEE WHY I LOVE THIS SMOL CINNAMON ROLL?

Aaaand some closing, not very deep thoughts to wrap up-

SO BLUSHY. MUCH ANGELIC. WOW.

En you’re always tired

Kinchan... why do you want people to grovel at your feet...?

That’s certainly a random question, En- but for shits and giggles; these are their responses if I’m hearing their voices right:

Atsushi - My neck, I guess?

Yumoto - My arms

Ryuu - Armpits

Io - The nape of the neck.

My brain hurts so I have NO idea what these could mean but I highly doubt they’re throwaway lines- SO YOU GUYS TELL ME. Over-analyze what parts they wash first LOL

OKAY WOW THAT WAS LONG AS FUCK AND I GOT TOO DEEP. Again, let me know if I fucked anything up or need to add tags~ And let me know what you think/what your headcanons are/if there’s something from another canon source that could add to this!

I’ll try to get ep 4 up today as well since it took me forever to get back to this but this shit takes longer than I thought. I watch the ep first and take notes, then go back and re-watch and screencap and take more notes, then copy/pasta everything into tumblr and add more thoughts and make it readable. Shew.

#cupkayke rewatches boueibu #cupkaykey rewatches boueibu #boueibu #boueibu meta #binan koukou chikyuu bouei bu love!#binan kōkō chikyū bōei bu love!#binan high school earth defense club love!#Binan Koukou Chikyuu Bouei-bu LOVE!#Cute High Earth Defense Club Love!#tw: pedophila mention #kinda?#sexuality discussion

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