#it's very spur of the moment but he leaves for japan in like a week so this is the only time we can meet

[kikizoshi]

The issue I feel I always hit upon with Nikolai is the six months he spent as a secretary.

If he'd joined the DOA suddenly and, within a few weeks to two or three months, decided to kill himself like this and went through with it, that'd be one thing. But he spent at least six months before Sunday Tragedy as Tonan's secretary, doing God-knows what, which is a real sticking point for me.

I mean, really think about it. Nikolai's whole plan seems unhinged, and somewhat mirrors Gogol's death. But Gogol's death was sudden, with almost no time between talking to the priest and taking up his fast. There wasn't time for deliberation or second-guessing.

Nikolai's part in the DOA's plan, though, gave him more than plenty of time to think it through. He had so many nights after coming home from work. He had so many opportunities to leave. Over six months. It completely changes the context of his death. It's impossible for it to have been impulsive, or spur-of-the-moment. It was methodical, intentional, decisively decided upon.

And that's... really bad for me rn. Because it says something very fundamental about his character, that he was able and willing to spend six months as a Japanese secretary to a high-ranking official, and to stick to that plan the entire time (I'm ignoring Nikolai's whole wanting to kill Fyodor thing until I see evidence that it actually furthers his character).

No matter how I look at it, deciding to die in that way had to be an impulsive action, just as Gogol's death was, and yet according to the manga, it couldn't have been an impulsive action, at least not for so long. At first, sure, it could've been impulsive, but Nikolai had more than enough time to think about it and change his mind (and I believe he'd be able to back out regardless of what the DOA wanted, he's resourceful enough).

The only other explanation would be that Fyodor somehow manipulated Nikolai into wanting to the whole time, which... I guess could be said. But that sort of explanation just undermines the entirety of Nikolai's motivation imo.

So, that leaves me between a rock and a hard place. Because I don't want to change Nikolai's character so fundamentally by altering canon, but I also can't explain to myself how he could've gone through with this whole thing, if not on impulse.

The only reason I can think to explain why Nikolai would be a secretary is because Akaky Akakievich was a secretary. And, just like Akaky Akakievich, he dies after appealing to a superior and without his overcoat ("Save me, sir!" and, if you look at the panels where he's in the chainsaw chair, his cape is conspicuously missing). But making that parallel isn't enough justification for why my interpretation of Nikolai would do this. Even if he didn't want to stay behind in Russia while Fyodor went off to Japan to become a terrorist, I don't see why joining in said terrorism would be anything more than one of his frequent flights of fancy.

I'm not ignoring the fact that he wants to be free. I know that's why he does everything. It's the fact that this particular way of going about freedom is absolutely batshit insane and he had enough time as a secretary to reflect and realise that.

It's also just really difficult for me to make that freedom compelling... Gogol wanted to purify himself, and, presumably, that priest he spoke to at least suggested that an extreme fast would help. His morbid fear of death, hypochondria, religious extremism--all of these character traits help contribute to the relatability of his actions, paint a picture as to how he possibly could've ended up there. And we can feel the humanity in his actions. There's something innately human about fear of death and striving for purity.

But Nikolai's freedom... Try as I might, I can't find an angle that finds its roots in humanity. I try to relate him to Kirillov, but Kirillov looks ascance and tells me that their motivations aren't alike at all, which is certainly true. I try to relate him to Gogol, but my issues are mentioned above. In sheer desperation I try to relate him to Akaky Akakievich, but there's nothing there for it. I've even tried Nastasya Fillipovna, and while she was helpful in other ways, nothing could be found for his freedom.

As I understood it, Kirillov's whole thing was "If God doesn't exist, then I must be God, because my existence is the only one I can prove, so I must be God and not remember>death will free my soul and I'll become God again", and since he was going to die anyway, he figured he might as well accept and give his death to Verkhovensky. But it also seemed to me sometimes that he just wanted to die, and was coming up with excuses. Either way, even that sentiment of "if my existence is the only one I can prove, then am I God" is fairly relatable, I think, even if Kirillov as a whole isn't much.

But Nikolai's freedom... He feels that society is a cage, and wants to escape it. Which... sure, it makes sense, especially for an extreme and eccentric personality like him. That he can't ever truly seem to break free of his societal conditioning is relatable. But somehow, torturing eight people to death and sawing himself in half because he's upset that he can't overcome his conditioning somehow isn't all that relatable.

I feel like Gogol's death was, in its own way, a perfect literary conclusion to Gogol life (though very early and I dearly wish he'd lived far longer). It was foreshadowed and fit his personality completely, and as a story is deeply fascinating and moving.

But Nikolai's death... it was sudden and shocking, a bit intriguing, and that's about it. It certainly didn't relate to any deeply human struggles. People do kill themselves often because of societal rules and conditioning (and people's poor reactions to them when they don't fit those rules), but they don't typically methodically plan out violent acts of terrorism. And I don't find domestic terrorists who commit acts of extreme violence to be particularly relatable. Or redeemable.

I want to make it work so badly, but I fear I never will. My Nikolai might be able to do it if it was spur-of-the-moment, with no time to reflect, but as a secretary... Well, actually, it's even worse than that. Not only does he have time to reflect, but living as a secretary again when he hated it so much the first time would also give him insight into how his life was as an actor... Idk, it's just a mess.

#the absolute best argument I can make is that Chichikov also slowly destroyed himself #but Chichikov wasn't trying to destroy himself #not to mention that Nikolai's absolutely nothing like Chichikov and his Ability isn't Dead Souls #BSD #bsd nikolai #BSD Gogol

[virarosea]

Guess who got invited to go train with an Aikido master for a couple of days this week

I DID AND IM SJSDFKLJDHSDHJKL 🥺

#[ooc] #I don't even do Aikido but fuck I'm not turning the opportunity down #it's such an honor #so anyway I'll be absent a bit this week because he's in Texas and I'm NOT #so I'm gonna drive over and stay a couple of days which means I'll be away from my pc #I'll try to get my laptop functioning again but I can't promise anything #I'll leave monday and stay through tuesday then come back wednesday I think #it's very spur of the moment but he leaves for japan in like a week so this is the only time we can meet

[dudeandduchess]

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Gravitation (Angst + Fluff, Modern AU, SFW Scenario)

Summary: (Y/n) is a foreigner living in Japan, but she feels like she’s never fit in. So, that cements her decision to go back to her home country, in the hopes of finding what it is that’s making her want to go back there in the first place. All at the cost of her relationship with Kyōjurō. But true love prevails, and she finds herself gravitating back to him.

Note: This is another commission from @anpanbe​, and it’s so crazy that you commissioned me again, Bean. Thank you soooooooo much! I really, really appreciate you comissioning me so I can watch Mugen Train. 😭❤️

Warning: Angst with Happy Ending

***

The ring tucked away in Kyōjurō’s back pocket practically burned a hole where it was pressed up against the fabric of his pants. He was so extremely nervous about the date that he’d set with (Y/n), since he had gone all out with reserving the most romantic table at the restaurant where they’d had their first date.

It was a little bit of a splurge, but cost didn’t matter to him— because he wanted nothing more than to give his beloved the best of everything.

That, and he was planning to propose that night.

However, throughout the entire meal, she had been quiet. She would look up at him every once in a while, and then let her eyes flicker back down to her food— as if something was extremely wrong. He’d tried to ask once, but the waiter had arrived too soon with their appetizers— which had taken away his chance at asking.

Kyōjurō wasn’t dense, though; he could feel that something was weighing heavily on (Y/n)’s mind, and it was also evident in the way that she had only smiled once at him during their meal.

As they were taking idle sips of their wine, his gaze focused entirely on her beautiful face; admiring the warm lights illuminated her skin, giving it such an ethereal glow that had his heart skipping a beat.

She was as beautiful as she had been on the day that he’d met her; all because she’d gotten lost by the school he worked at, and had stopped him to ask for directions to the nearest train station.

It turned out that she didn’t live too far away from there, and they had constantly bumped into each other during the mornings. And their love story had started from there— going on almost a year at that point, which had him sure that she was the one that she wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

‘If you know, you just know that someone’s the one for you.’ The memory of him telling his younger brother those words had a smile tugging up at the corners of his lips, as he let go of his wine glass and slowly slid his hand on top of (Y/n)’s.

He then began caressing the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb, swallowing past the lump in his throat as he tilted his head a little to see her expression, as she looked out of the panoramic window and down at the city beneath them.

“(Y/n)? What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” Kyōjurō asked, with a playful smile lighting up his features.

When all he got was silence, however, his heart began to race even faster in his tight chest— all for the wrong reasons. Especially when (Y/n) curled her hand up into a fist and slowly retracted it from his touch.

“(Y/n)?”

A brief silence passed between the couple then, only to be cut off when the young woman sighed deeply— brokenly. And when she looked right at her lover, the unmistakable sight of tears glistening in her eyes had Kyōjurō’s heart breaking inside his chest.

It was as if he couldn’t breathe; and even when he tried to catch her hand before she pulled it to her lap, he had narrowly missed— brushing against her cold fingertips instead.

“I’m so sorry, Kyōjurō.” The use of his full name came as a shock to the young man. It hadn’t been said in her playful tone, nor was it said with anything other than sadness.

His heart broke even more, and he knew then and there… that it was over.

Tears pricked the backs of his eyes then, and a helpless huff of breath escaped his lips as he shook his head— partly in disbelief, and partly because he was at a complete loss for words. Not even trying to blink them away, nor pinching the bridge of his nose could get them to go away.

And before he knew it, the first tear had already rolled down his cheek— which was immediately followed by another, and another… until he was stuck biting down on his bottom lip to keep his sobs in, as he felt like his entire world was crumbling beneath his feet.

Finally though, he had found his voice— albeit hoarse and broken, “Did I do something wrong, (Y/n)? Was I… was I too much? I can-” Another breathy and tearful sigh passed his lips, but he pushed past the tightness in his chest as he added, “I can change, I promise. Just please… don’t leave me.”

Then, in a much quieter voice, the blond whispered, “I’ve already built my entire world around you. Please…”

(Y/n) couldn’t even look at him for longer than a few seconds, because the sight of him breaking down in tears was such a heartbreaking feat that it made her sick to her stomach; especially knowing that she had been the cause of it.

But she had to leave him— and Japan— behind; because she felt that she didn’t belong there. She missed her home so much, and it was as if there was some part of her that was yearning to go back to figure out what she wanted there first; to tie up loose ends, per se.

And since she had no idea how long that would take her, she didn’t want to keep him hanging on to her— in case it took her years to find whatever it was that still tethered her feelings to her old home.

“I have to do it… for myself. You’re perfect, Kyōjurō; you’re everything I’ve ever wanted and more, but I don’t want to hurt you if I never come back.” (Y/n) began softly, feeling her throat tighten up as she began to fidget with the fabric of her dress; twisting the material between her fingers— if only to have something to do as she poured her heart out to him.

And by the end of it, both of them were silently crying in their seats.

However, the young man still pushed himself to reach into his back pocket with a shaky hand, before sliding the ring that he’d gotten to propose to her with. “Keep this, so that you’ll remember that there was once a man named Rengoku Kyōjurō— who loved you more than anything in the world. And that he’ll always love you.”

***

Months had passed since that fateful night, yet there was never a moment when Kyōjurō didn’t cross (Y/n)’s mind. Not even keeping the ring tucked away in a drawer in her room had taken her mind off of him— and he was always in her dreams.

In every waking moment as well, she always felt so alone even when she was in the middle of a crowd. It was why she had a momentary lapse in judgment and had hung out with the wrong crowd; people whom had only used her for their gain.

When she had finally realized that coming back home was nothing but a mistake, she wanted nothing more than to turn back time and take back all of the things that she had told Kyōjurō.

She hadn’t needed to find herself at all; she was just homesick. There was nothing tying her down to her home country, but there was everything that was willing her to go back to Japan— both to pursue the life she’d always wanted, and to get the man that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

…if he would still have her.

So, on a leap of faith, she had saved up all that she could and packed her things; rented her old apartment near the academy again, and had put in an application to be one of the teachers there. She was there to stay, after all.

***

The flight had been long and filled with turbulence; (Y/n)’s eyes were so heavy with the need to sleep, and her jet lag was extremely weighing on her body. Still, she trudged through the streets with her nothing but her purse on her shoulder, and her carry-on luggage rolling beside her— as her other things would arrive in a week.

She wanted to sit down on the ground and just catch a short nap, but her racing heart kept pushing her to walk up to the Kimetsu Academy gates; the very place where she had first met the love of her life.

And, if fate was kind to her, he would still come at the same time that he always had so that she could see him first and foremost. That was the only thing that was spurring her tired body on.

Which had been so worth it. Because the sight of that vibrant red and blond hair walking towards her right by the school gates had her perking up; not even caring as she let go of her luggage and purse— before sprinting up to Kyōjurō so she could wrap her arms around him, like she’d been wanting to do for the past few months.

Thankfully, he had seen her at the last second and had opened his arms for her— before locking them around her middle and holding her as tight as he could without hurting her. “You’re home… you’re finally home. I knew you’d come back.”

That had (Y/n) pulling her face away from the crook of Kyōjurō’s neck; tears glistening in her eyes, as a look of confusion crossed her features. “You… knew?”

“Because you’re my soulmate, (Y/n); the one who was fated for me. I just had to believe that you’d come back,” The young man whispered, his own eyes getting glassy with tears, as he cupped his beloved’s face before leaning forward to press his lips flush against hers. “Welcome home, my love.”

#rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyoujurou #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojurou #rengoku kyojurou x reader #kyojurou rengoku x reader #kyojurou x reader #kyoujurou x reader #kyoujurou rengoku #rengoku x reader #rengoku kyōjurō #rengoku kyoujuro #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer imagines #kny imagines #jen writes

[shiberpostshere]

The Kiss Thief - Park Seonghwa Social Media AU

28. Chapter Twenty Four: Cinematic Parallels✨

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Masterlist of the AU✨

Word Count: 4.3 K 

Note: This contains suggestive content.

5:00 PM. The clock was ticking a little too slow for your liking. 

The second coffee cup of the day, now empty and sweating even in the air conditioned atmosphere of the cafe, accurately depicts your inner state minus the perspiration. 

You continue chewing on your bottom lip, a little expectant and a little hesitant. It has been difficult to pay attention to the book in your hands, you’re rather occupied with counting the seconds on the clock for the past excruciatingly long fifteen minutes. 

After testing out approximately millions of scenarios about what explanation Seonghwa is going to offer to put an end to your dilemma, the final one you kept arriving to is, ending things between you two. 

An end to a relationship you've never experienced before that merely began a few weeks ago. 

An end? 

The assumptions were eating you from within. It’s strange how worried you have been for the last few days but it's even more queer that your feelings for him are rigid and unfazed.

Why is your heart ready to forgive him even for the worst case scenario? 

All he had to say was, ‘Trust me’ and you did. 

Your head falls back with a slump of exhaustion. “Oh my god, why are feelings so complicated?” 

The intense war of dichotomy that's going on between your stubborn heart and persistent mind has been tiresome. It is a scenario where the brain is presenting blunt but logical ideas and the heart is deflecting those with its mellow and soothing sentiments. 

The mind prepared a list of “Possible Hindrances You Will Have to Deal with When Managing a Relationship with Park Seonghwa” and your heart fired back with a counter argument of “Times When Park Seonghwa Made You Feel Extremely Happy and Appreciated”. 

They are both correct in their respective standpoint. It is you who needs to settle on a conclusion which you cannot unless you learn Seonghwa’s perspective. 

Okay, (Y/N) stop the train of thoughts, let’s think after we talk, let’s consider things after we talk, let’s focus on this wonderful book for now. 

“Scoot over.” A heavy voice announces and you look up to register the undetected mischievous boy, standing in his tall glory, laptop held with care to his chest. 

You slide along with your belongings, studying Mingi as he settles down with concern written all over his features. 

“Okay.” The response comes out of you in an unexpectedly meek voice. 

“I know you weren’t expecting my company but at least don’t look so disappointed.” In surprisingly quick movements he begins to work, fingers furiously drumming on the keyboard with his brows furrowed to an intense depth. 

Indeed, you were not expecting his company but you didn’t want to openly broadcast the not-so-subtle disappointment. “What brings you here?” You ask, finally placing down the book whose title is already wiped clean out of your mind. 

The amount of concentration currently present in your mind, almost none, made the task of reading troublesome. You did not get past the first sentence. You don’t even remember the said first sentence you read, maybe almost a thousand times for the last fifteen minutes of waiting. 

The tall boy runs his fingers through his messy locks, disturbing them further. “Did you forget already?” His skeptical eyes meet your clueless ones. 

“Oh.” A thoughtless answer because you truly have no idea what he is implying. 

He leans lazily into the palm of his hand. “The pendrive, (Y/N)”. 

The pendrive? What pendrive?

You shuffle through your rack of memories for a plausible answer. “Oh, shit. Hongjoong’s pendrive?” 

He nods at your realization. 

The pen drive Hongjoong entrusted with you last Friday to copy the contents for backup purposes and it was to be delivered to Mingi right after you were done. 

He holds out his palm. “Give me it. I’ll be on my way, I don’t want to intrude.” A brief pause. "The talk, or whatever, um.." 

An awkward smile stretches onto your lips, right hand sheepishly reaching out to the back of your neck.

The pen drive Hongjoong entrusted with you last Friday is actually not in your possession. 

“What? Why are you making that weird face?” Don’t tell me--” He halts his rant, his suspicions getting confirmed as your awkward smile transforms into a rather skittish one. 

You shoot up from your seat. “I remember Hongjoong telling me it's in the first drawer of the second cabinet, I will be right back!” In a hurried motion, you jump out of the broad bench, ready to sprint to and from the studio. 

Mingi’s fingers catch a fistful of your coat before you can flee. “What am I supposed to tell Seonghwa when he arrives? I am not going to wait here in that kind of gloomy mood with him!” 

You try to untangle his heavy hold on your coat. “I promise I will be back in no time. I came fifteen minutes early to prepare myself to talk to him! He won’t be here for another five minutes.” 

He releases the hold, slightly shaking his head in disapproval. “Fine but be back as soon as possible.” His fingers shuffle inside his pants pockets to take out a small door key. “Take the key.” The studio key is tossed your way to catch. 

“Thanks!” Holding up two thumbs up in the spur of the moment, you curse internally for admitting your obvious desperation out loud.

The distance between the building that houses various types of studios for the artistic students of KQU and Cafe Utopia, a space mostly occupied by the music and dance majors to relax during their breaks is only five minutes apart. 

The ground is slippery and shifting under your heavy footsteps as you are trying to jump towards the studio. 

You have seen a late, panicked Wooyoung in action, grabbing a drink priorly prepared for him (he has charmed all the part timers of the cafe) and disappearing out of the cafe within the time span of sixty seconds. It’s truly a wondrous sight to see until you’re in the similar situation, (You have not charmed all the part timers, not even San) running towards your class with not a single drop of temporary energy in your vessels. 

The influence of the misunderstanding has clearly taken its toll on you. There have been a number of tasks you have forgotten or completed last minute due to your distracted mind since you learned the incomplete news. You were all over the place and you did not like it one bit. 

While you’re hastily climbing up the stairs to reach the studio used by the Dazzling Night crew, you’re thankful that it resides on the first floor instead of fifth as a numbness creeps up your legs. 

“Whoa! slow down.” A random boy comments as you dash by him, footsteps echoing through the corridor to reach the door at the very last.

“Sorry!” You shout, voice bouncing in the emptiness.

You halt with a screech in front of the locked door. 

The door opens with a soft click and you turn on the lights, the 181024 studio illuminating with a warm glow. Your movements are quick as you navigate through the familiar surroundings, reaching out for the drawer. 

A wave of relief washes over you when the blue pen drive with the owner’s initials is the first thing that comes into your vision after sliding the drawer open. 

“Is it still there?” A sudden, soft comment startles you in the silence, hands flying up, increasing the pre-existing panting. 

You turn around to address the unexpected guest and it is the last person you expected, quite contradictory, considering that you had been looking forward to his presence ever since today’s sun dawned in the sky. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Seonghwa’s eyes motion to the hand placed on your chest. 

You let it fall, your body leaning back into the cabinet with a slight stumble. “No, it’s okay.” Retrieving the pen drive, you close the drawer. “I was just about to return. Mingi is leaving for the dance club soon.” 

He studies the well accustomed surroundings, “I was thinking that maybe we can talk here instead?” You notice concealed bags underneath his weary eyes. 

There is an evident urgency to the way he speaks, worried glances directed throughout the room. 

For a brief moment you wish to wrap your arms around his warm and tall figure. To assure him and to be assured but you have to know what he has to say to control these storming feelings. 

“Okay, yeah, sure, let’s talk here.” The temperature is too toasty to keep the coat on, you remove it and settle down on the only couch present in the studio. 

Seonghwa closes the door behind him and takes a seat beside you, his fidgety fingers trying to keep themselves from reaching out to caress your face. 

You gulp, pushing back your hair that is sticking to the nape of your neck, eagerly awaiting for him to speak. “Hwa?” 

He looks up. “Yes?”  

You let out a big exhale. “Can I say something before we talk about the Japan situation?” The fingers of your left hand begin pulling the threads of your right sleeve. “I have been thinking about certain things. Mostly about what I’ve been feeling which I often don’t think about.” Unknowingly, a nervous chuckle slips out of you. 

He adjusts a little in his seat. “Yes, of course (Y/N). Tell me.” He is expecting to hear the conclusion he had been dreading. 

“You know, when I heard from Mingi that you are leaving for Japan, the first thought that crossed my mind was a selfish one.” You observe his expression before you continue. He offers you every grain of his attention. “Even though both of us are busy with our own studies, you still find time for me, look out for me and I don’t know, it just feels extremely comforting in your presence. It’s almost as if I don’t have to worry about anything when you’re around."  

That was not what he presumed you wanted to say to him. 

His expression softens. “(Y/N), you look out for me as well, I hope you know how much I value the time we spend.” 

A small sad smile appears on your lips. “It comes to naturally, I don’t know, I just feel like you’re always looking out for everyone but you’re a big baby yourself. You need someone to look out for you as well, dummy.” He opens his mouth to protest at your playful comment but you’re quick to continue. “It hasn’t been so long, maybe a few weeks but everything went so well. I looked forward to even the shortest amount of time we spent together. Even when you spontaneously appeared out of nowhere and accompanied me to the class.” You stop for a moment. “I’m not making much sense right now, am I?” 

He shakes his head, an expression of awe written all over his features. “No, I understood everything, it’s okay.” 

“But” You hesitate and his features shift into an anxious one. “But, I didn't consider the eventual obstacles we might face in the future, taking in account that you’re graduating next year and I am barely beginning my college life. I actually purposely didn’t think about it, I wanted to save it for later until--” 

“Until you learned that I am leaving for Japan.” He concludes the sentence in your stead. 

You nod. “I like you a lot, Seonghwa. My feelings are intense enough that I won’t be able to decide what I should be feeling next unless you tell me everything yourself.” You said it, you finally said it. 

“What?” He questions, a little taken aback. 

Oh no. Maybe, I shouldn’t have poured out everything at once. God, what have I done? 

The way he appears perplexed, he definitely was not expecting you to dump out your feelings on him when you said you wanted to talk. You are pretty sure he is feeling pressured by this revelation. 

“The important thing you wanted to tell me was not putting an end to us before it escalated further?” After hearing his question, it's your turn to be confused by his words. 

“What?” You push back the unruly hair falling in front of your face with both of your hands, unable to decide if he’s suggesting to end things. 

He moves a little closer. “You don’t want to end what we have, right?” 

“No! But that depends on whether you’re going or not. Wait, do you want to end...this?” 

“No!” He is extremely quick to answer. “(Y/N)?” 

“Yes?” You’re eager to hear what he has to say. The puzzling thoughts are clouding your mind. 

“I am not moving to Japan after graduation. I am simply accompanying Hongjoong for a month to help him settle, like a short vacation after three years of continuous college.” He finally admits the entire thing. The following sentence that truly makes or breaks the incomplete one you had heard before. The incomplete one you had heard before and especially not from him. 

“You’re not moving to Japan after graduation? You’re only going away for a month? Just a month?” You repeat to make sure that you heard it right even though he stated it with proper enunciation. 

In the span of twenty years of your life, you didn’t know that it was possible to feel embarrassed and relieved at the same time yet at this moment you’re experiencing both. 

You’re embarrassed because of the millions of possible negative scenarios you coddled in your mind, the time you spent brooding, the time your friends had to take measures to elevate your mood and relieved that hopefully nothing would change between you and Seonghwa, at least not in the way you had feared them to and despised every second of those intrusive thoughts.  

“Yes, I am only going away for a month after my graduation.” There is now a similar smile of relief on his lips. 

The edges of your shoulders droop. “If you can’t tell, I feel extremely stupid right now. I feel so stupid.” 

Seonghwa tilts his head, his movements relaxing for the first time since you started speaking. “Will it help if I told you that I assumed the same? I feel stupid for not telling you myself before you heard it from someone else and that’s what caused the misunderstanding in the first place, (Y/N). Their is no one at fault here, trust me.” 

“Are you disappointed?” The inquiry slips out of your subconscious. 

His hands take yours to securely enclose them in between his palms. “Not at all. There will be small misunderstandings, bad feelings, unintentional hurtful words and external factors that will stand as an obstacle in any relationship. Do you know how happy I am that you decided to hear me out instead of arriving at a conclusion of your own? I was worried, (Y/N).” His faltered gaze lingers on the entangled fingers. “I was worried that right when I started spending time with someone who understands me, who makes me smile, who relieves me from my troubles and brings out the good sides in me might end up leaving.” He bites back the urge to say, ‘again’. 

“Oh, Seonghwa.” 

Without further thought, you reach out to him and pull him close into you by clasping your arms firmly around his shoulders. He responds immediately as he wraps his arms around your waist to hold you even closer. He snuggles his face into the crevice of your neck, his gentle breaths causing a little tickling sensation. 

Out of all the times he has held you before, sometimes unintentionally when you’re with your friends, quite often after a long day when he falls into your embrace, and always before you leave for the night after the show, today you feel the utmost satisfaction and at ease. 

His hand is caressing your back in a serene motion to cast away the doubts created by the miscommunication. 

You remove your face from his homely shoulder, arms still intact around him as if he is the most precious being in this world. “Let’s talk, okay? Let’s give each other time in future so that we can solve things when we’re ready to talk. I know things will change, things are bound to change but let’s try to understand as we get through the most simplest or the most complicated situations.” 

He appears displeased that you disturbed him from the snugness of your neck that he had settled in to but delivers an instant agreement to your question along with a quick peck that he places to the closest cheek. “Yes, let’s.” 

Blood begins rushing to your face instantly due to his sweet gesture. 

“So, can we go back to the part when you said you like me a lot?” To your disappointment, he releases the hold around your waist but the disappointment is short-lived as the free hand of his travels to your thigh in an attempt to lift you onto his lap. 

The bold action of his catches you off guard, his other hand now bringing you closer to him with not even a centimeter of space left in between. The thumping of your heart is ringing in your ear as you feel his thighs you’ve been flopped onto, underneath.

You’re stunned with arms still locked around his shoulders. “Why do we have to go back to that part in particular?” The intimacy is making it difficult for you to maintain a constant eye contact with him. 

His eyes that hold an amused yet admiring gleam try to find yours but you’re dealing with a current little conflict of your own. The thoughts are flashing with intense hues in your mind due the fact that his hand is resting quite dangerously on your thigh and the other arm has you locked by the waist. 

You are not complaining but this outcome is not what you exactly prepared yourself for. This particular scenario did not even cross your mind for a nanosecond. How come this has never crossed your mind? He has nice thighs. 

He has nice thighs? Of course he has nice thighs! You have noticed how sturdy they are, especially when he’s wearing skinny jeans. Oh my god, did I ogle at Seonghwa’s thighs in public when he was wearing skinny jeans? What if he caught me ogling at him when he was wearing skinny jeans? IN PUBLIC? Not to forget the time you kept staring at the definitions of his arms that one blessing of a day when he wore a tank top due to the sweltering weather. But how can I not look at him when he looks THIS ATTRACTIVE? WHAT EXACTLY AM I SUPPOSED TO DO IN THIS SITUATION?

As you’re contemplating and battling with quite interesting thoughts, entranced in your own bubble, Seonghwa is observing you with a smirk that you have not noticed yet. 

“What are you thinking about? You’re stark red, baby.” He appears absolutely delighted, a kind of joy you’ve ever witnessed before. 

“Baby? Baby?” You repeat like a lust stricken puppet.

“Yes?” His hand trails from your neck to your waist in an excruciatingly slow pace. The temperature in the studio rising enough to convince you to discard your clothes.

Why did my mind even go to the thought of removing clothes? Shut up!

His hand settles on the nape of your neck, tugging you down to his forehead. “You don’t like this?” 

You part your lips to answer but your system fails to support you. 

His breath fans on your lips due to the proximity of your faces. “Can I kiss you?” His voice sounds heavy when he asks. A deep tone you’ve never heard him speak with. 

“What?” You’re flustered, heart thumping wildly in your ribcage, ready to burst out. Your gaze continues shifting back and forth between his beautiful, chestnut eyes and tender, pink, kissable lips. 

His finger gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can I kiss you, (Y/N)?” 

You unlock the clasp of your fingers from behind his neck to carefully hold his cheeks. “Oh. I mean, yes, of course--” 

Your lips collide. They meet with such haste as if he had been counting days just to have you to himself. The feeling of his plump lips against yours is unbelievable. Unbelievable enough for you to tilt your head for a deeper taste. He tastes like strawberries, extremely sweet and addicting. 

Your chests are pressed together, hearts beating frantically in a mismatched rhythm but sharing the fervour. You let one hand trail down to trace the unexplored areas you couldn’t dare to before. His entire body is blazing with a familiar passion that is swirling within you as well. He lets his hand perform smooth strokes around your neck with his dainty fingers supplying a tingling sensation all the way down to your core by the delicacy of the action. 

He kisses you. He drinks you in, again and again. You break apart for a mere second to take in a deep breath and connect your lips with such urgency, unable to get enough of each other. 

In the moment that is burning up with each and every second ticking by, actions are getting bolder. Seonghwa’s hands move up to your chest, to explore every inch of you and your fingers are roaming through his hair, kneading through the soft black locks. The dizzying movements intoxicating him further. 

He catches your lower lip in quick, needy pecks and proceeds with something you did not see coming. His teeth grasp it with a painfully long drawl, leaving you breathless. A swarm of butterflies are whirling in your stomach and your head leans back the moment he releases your lips to let the suppressed throaty moan finally escape. He takes the opportunity to pepper feathery kisses all the way around your collarbone, the plump lips connecting with warmth and leaving behind a chill that vibrates down your spine. 

Chests heaving up and down with exhilaration and shortness of breath, You grab his face and plant one long lasting peck. 

“OH MY GOD, NOT AGAIN!” A deafening, exasperated exclaim pierces your ears.

The shriek frightens you as you lose your balance and your forehead bumps against Seonghwa’s head with a loud thud causing you two to hiss and yelp at the impact.

There he stands by the door, Song Mingi, the requester of the pen drive that vanished magically out of your minds. His ears are boiling red, jaw hanging a little too low and eyes stretched to their maximum possible width. 

Mingi takes in every detail ruefully. Seonghwa’s hands messily entangled around your neck and waist while yours held his face. Your body cozy on his friend’s lap, hair disheveled, swollen red lips and loss of air depicts it crystal clear that PG-13 activities were surely going to lead up to Rated R. Mingi does not wish to know what happened before and he definitely does not wish to be aware of what was going to happen on the studio couch. The only couch in the studio to crash on, the couch he liked to roll on while Hongjoong worked and now it will be the couch he is never going to even lay one finger on. 

“Mingi, I--” Seonghwa opens his mouth to explain, maybe even apologise for the sight the boy has walked onto. 

Meanwhile, you’re occupied with examining the ceiling to its greatest details, unable to register Mingi’s presence due to the embarrassment. 

The tall boy holds up his hands. “You were here for the pen drive, the pen drive!” He mutters under his breath, snatching the blue device from the half open drawer with furious eyes. “What is with you guys kissing and me walking at the exact time? It was cringy back then, now it’s just, my god” You decide to answer but he silences you and continues, “You were supposed to talk! What happened to talking? Oh my god, leave me alone, please.” He shakes his shoulders and arms with a face of disgust. 

“We were talking.” You say in a timid tone. 

Seonghwa nods a little too enthusiastically. “We were talking.” 

Mingi rolls his eyes. “Clearly.” He stomps towards the door. “Clearly, you were talking and not sucking each other’s face in a public studio. Not in the studio, guys! God, whatever. I am leaving.” 

Yeosang’s warnings about funny business in the studio pops into your mind. 

“MINGI DON’T TELL YEOSANG, PLEASE!” You scream out a plea as Mingi walks out. 

He answers in his low voice already out of the studio. “STOP MAKING OUT IN PUBLIC STUDIOS!”

If it wasn’t for Seonghwa’s hands resting on your hips, keeping you settled, you’d leaped out behind Mingi.

He chuckles beneath you, thumbs tracing circles on your stomach. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll complain for a week and then forget about it.” 

The thought of flustered Mingi and irritated Yeosang is pushed far back into your mind the moment your eyes take in the bliss present on Seonghwa’s features. “You’ll silence them with that gentle glare of yours whereas they’ll bring it up every time I cause a minor inconvenience, we’re different, Hwa.” Even though you’re supposed to be complaining, you’re focused on fixing the strands of hair ruffling against his forehead. 

“I like it when you call me ‘Hwa’. God, what are you doing to me?” He leans upwards to place a soft peck on your jaw almost pulling you back into the extraordinary emotions you experienced a few minutes ago. “I like you a lot, (Y/N).” 

You release yourself from his hold and he displays extreme dismay at your actions. “You better or else the makeout session would make no sense if you didn’t.” 

He too, stands up and his arm sneaks around your waist. “I am feeling too good, nothing will get me riled up today.” His lips find your cheek again. He had been waiting for a while to shower you with affection and now that he has received the golden chance, he will not waste it. 

“Hongjoong and Yeosang will find out and scold you.” Your comment goes through his one ear and escapes through the other. He is elated and unbothered. 

“Mmmm, okay.” He responds lightheartedly with a shrug. 

The contentment he is displaying through gentle touches, adoring eyes and unfading smile, you’re capturing all those elements to cherish at present and in the uncertain but the coming future, with Seonghwa. The mere thought is giddying enough. 

You’re falling for this man and you’re falling hard but you’re unaware that so is he.

Pairing: (Business Management Major) College Student! Seonghwa x (Law Major) College Student! Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, A teeny tiny bit of smut with a pinch of angst

Synopsis: High school crushes are often silly and forgotten. However, you cannot forget the one senior, you “borrowed” once a kiss from. Years have passed and it’s a memory you laugh at but what will happen if you’re to encounter the same senior in a much different setting and situation? Especially during your first year of college.

A/N: Take a shot every time Mingi says “God, My god, Oh my god.” 

How are you guys doing? How did you like the chapter? do tell, do tell! Spare feedback please!

I attempted to write a steamy scene, did I do well? I am not quite experienced (nervous laughter) but I tried my best to relay what I wanted to. We’re SO close to the end. Earlier I was just thinking that my god, something I started is actually finishing, I can’t believe it. 

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! 

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@enigmaticsal @stardusthyuck @missiopk @preets-kpop-world @cloudsgathering @sanisms @jiyeons-closet @retrofuture-ism​ @hongjoongsnoona​ @ateezficz​ @veeeenus4​ @mochibabycakes​ @vhschs​ @choisaniskillingme​ @vantclavs​ @f-iyan​ @staywritten​ @baes-moon-scribbles​ @uppiespuppy​ @mingiflower​ @multiangell​

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#ateez #ateez social media au #ateez fluff #ateez fake texts #ateez text au #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateezsmau #ateez sm au #ateez social au #ateez au #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #jung yunho #kang yeosang #song mingi #choi san #jung wooyoung #choi jongho

[fishgoose]

2:54 AM

name: 2:54 AM rating: T + relationship: Genji/Mercy ( gency ) type: fluff, hurt/comfort warnings: loss of limbs, body horror, medical procedures, not beta read, my first fanfiction in like, 10 years. 

summary: They bring her Genji Shimada at 2:54 AM on a Wednesday. Or, how one minute in the morning became significant to Angela Ziegler and Genji Shimada.

AO3 Link

He’s brought to her at 2:54 AM on a Wednesday. 

She awoke from a light sleep in her quarters at a hurried knock on her door - a rapt pulsing of fist and a call of her name. Angela springs to full wakefulness on reflex, years of time spent in hospital on-call rooms keeping her trained to the art of ‘no sleep necessary.’ She answers with all the appearance of a woman having just rolled out of bed… but none of the grace. Baleful blues behold Captain Amari with no small hint of surprise. It’s not unusual for her to receive late night calls from her superiors - especially in the event of an emergency. But Ana Amari was, without a doubt, the firmest advocate for Angela Ziegler receiving a healthy amount of sleep. So for her to be here, disturbing the doctor from a much needed rest-

“We have an emergency.”

A nod is all Captain Amari receives, before she spins into action. She and the sniper rush towards the medbay - Angela half undressing/dressing on the walk there. It’s not an unfamiliar rhythm. Ana taking bits of her clothing while she shrugs on scrubs, a lab coat, even offers her a hair tie and speaks to her in rapid, hushed tones so as not to wake the quiet halls. She’s not sure why. Everybody in Overwatch is an insomniac anyway. Regardless it’s clear Ana had been braced for this… and that fills her with more dread than necessary. 

“Agent McCree and Commander Reyes have just returned from Hanamura. They have brought an individual back with them. Genji Shimada-” A holopad is passed to her fingers, and Angela does not think to ask why Jesse and Gabriel were in Hanamura, Japan - or why there is already a file on ‘Genji Shimada.’ That part of her brain shuts off - the suspicious, distrusting part - and instead, the doctor takes over. “He sustained multiple traumatic injuries after an altercation with his elder brother. Angela, it’s-”

                “Angie!”

Her gaze shoots up on reflex at the familiar nickname, the punctuation of a hurried drawl at the edge. Ana’s words die out as she catches sight of McCree - catches sight of the amount of blood saturating the black of his clothing, on his face, in his hair, his gloves… His spurs click as he covers the distance between them, not quite halting her but enough to slow her pace. She sees Reyes over his shoulder, bickering in front of a bed with Morrison. They’re like two snakes locked in a tangle, their gazes furious, McCree’s gaze filled with trepidation, and Ana is trying to say something but-             “Move.”

She speaks it to all of them, and surprisingly they obey - each conversation dying simultaneously, as if the music had been stopped. She moves through the medbay doors to the surrounded table, where a few of her specialists already fluttered about - speaking in even quieter tones, placing I.V.s, hooking up various beeping machines, and trying so damned hard to stop the continuous rain of blood that seemed to fall from the young man upon her operating table. 

Angela Ziegler is not unused to carnage. She is the best of the best. She has seen what violence and war does to other living beings, human and omnic and animal alike. As the best of the best, the most brutal of cases find her, and yet this… what had happened to the man before her… There is a squeezing in her chest, and she steps in closer… personnel parting like waves in a deep blue sea. 

               “Talk.” She commands, and it’s Reyes that fills her in. 

Hanzo Shimada, heir to the Shimada clan (a name she knew in passing, though she wished she did not) had cut down his younger brother at the behest of clan elders. Cut down was a bit of an understatement, in her opinion. Such brutality was not lost on her. This was not a systematic killing… It was violent and passionate. Blades and dragons, they’d told her - and while she had to question the last bit, the brutal cut to his chest, his legs, arms… everything was butchered in some way or another, and it’s only through years of schooling and training that she is able to shut off the bleeding heart part of her, and become the doctor. 

Angela does not question, again, why the hell Blackwatch was hanging around at this precisely fortuitous moment. She does not question, again, why it seemed everyone had been prepared for this except for her (and obviously, her patient). He finishes his words in under thirty seconds, and it takes ten more for her to banish everyone short of her and the necessary personnel from her lab and begin doing what is necessary to save a life… no matter the reason, and no matter the cost. 

She is in the process of setting up localized biotic fields while her assistants put a closer view of Genji’s injuries up upon the holo-vid. She is a professional, a woman of finesse. There are no moments of hesitation when she works - no pausing to make sure. This is her domain and there is a life to be saved, and so she would save it. By all conclusions, Genji Shimada should have long since been sedated - especially considering she was about to begin the most major surgeries of her life upon him. 

A shaky hand (his left, not his right) finds her gloved wrist, and Angela jolts with surprise. It leaves a trail of blood upon her - but her gaze instantly meets his own and what she sees makes her heart break. Fear and sadness, so prevalent in eyes that were once as warm as tilled earth - a handsome face, beneath his oxygen mask, and bloodied lips narrowed in agony. His grip is light, so terribly weak, but that does not stop her from covering his hand with her own, letting her hues lock with his, and saying low enough that only he could hear her…                       “I’ve got you.”

----------

It’s 8:32 PM when she thinks he’ll make it through the night.

Angela comes out of that operating room a different woman, and Genji will wake up a different man. 

It’s McCree that’s waiting for her, a cup of coffee in hand and a hot towel in the other. She wants to question if he’s been here the whole damn time, but judging by the fact he’s no longer covered in Genji’s blood, she assumes it’s safe to say no, he has not. Now it’s her turn, of course… to be covered in his blood, even if she’d stripped out of those scrubs and coat and mask, she still feels it on here, the weight of it, the weight of his life and how despite saving him, despite giving him a chance to live-

Perhaps he didn’t want to live this way. 

Jesse is smart enough to not say anything when she sits down on the sofa in her own office. He’s smart enough to not turn those amber eyes on her either, for fear of awakening the angry, questioning beast that roils beneath her skin. Instead, he lets her lean on him and rest her gaze. Her brief dreams are filled with visions of Genji - the horror in those darkened hues, and the sprays of blood from a blade as a faceless man cuts him down. 

------

It’s 11:27 PM when she rips Morrison and Reyes both new assholes. 

They’d been expecting it, of course - the way Angela (politely) demands to know what the fuck is going on, and then listening to them tell her - just exactly why - they had brought her Genji Shimada in the first place. An asset, they say, to Overwatch and Blackwatch - especially coming from a criminal family. They were lucky, in a way, that Angela had been so exhausted - otherwise, perhaps, she might have gone completely nuclear in Jack’s office, and subsequently destroyed two of S.E.Ps pride and joy. That does not stop her, however, from (again, politely) telling them how she felt about the situation, telling them both to seek her permission before seeing him (ranked be damned) and then to have a lovely evening, thank you very much.

She wished the doors weren’t sliding so she could slam them behind her. 

--------

It’s 2:54 AM on Thursday when he wakes up for a short time. 

Angela is there when he does - holopad in hand, documenting something. Genji sees her through a blurry lens… his gaze unfocused, not blind but just… lacking something. The dimmed lighting causes her hair to appear luminous around her pretty features, soft and serene and utterly angelic. Perhaps were he able to speak, and perhaps were he the Genji from not even a week ago… he would have made a comment on it, made a pass at her. Instead, he lets his fingers flex against the bed sheets… and she notices, because of course she does. 

Her face splits in surprise… so open, so lovely, and he finds it curious almost. She smiles at him in a way that is painfully tender (why? Does he deserve that?) and leans down to adjust a bit of wiring near the half of his body that he struggles to find any sensation on. His mind is addled by drugs, by the dull throb of pain manipulated by said drugs… and when she speaks, it sounds like it’s through a tube but… he wants to hear her say more.

“Hello, Mr. Shimada.” Warm. She was so warm in a sea of cold numbness. “You’re safe now.”

He knows he’s not, but the last thing he sees before falling asleep is her… and he finds it difficult to argue with that. 

-------- 

It’s 2:54 AM five months from the day he woke up that he’s able to stand on his own two feet again. 

Five months, five long and grueling months that they had been through those surgeries. Amputations, synthetic manipulations, rerouting of organs, cybernetic enhancements… With each one that he would awaken from, Genji would thank her, but with each one - his gaze would grow more and more dull. Now, however, he looks brighter than she’s seen him in months… able to move, to take shaky, quiet steps about his room, Angela at his side but Genji still wholly... freely independent. It’s not lost on her that he refuses to demonstrate much of his progress in the presence of others, but that’d be their secret for awhile longer. This was his recovery, after all. 

They’d worked on his legs last, having started from top down, essentially. Countless sleepless nights spent awake, either by his side or in her quarters, puzzling out ways to make him more comfortable, more happy. It was not about brutal efficiency for her, not about the weaponry. But Genji wanted to be fast - wanted to be as fearsome as he had been… and so she obliged, with the assistance of others, and limb by limb, bit by bit, he was rebuilt. 

But she knew he hated it, when he thought she wasn’t looking. She knew it in the way he spoke as little as possible, how he refused to see himself in the mirror… She just knew. 

-------

It’s 7:00 AM, a year, 3 months, and 2 days from the day he was brought to her that he goes on his first mission with Blackwatch. 

Angela had never railed more loudly against something in her life. Was his body healed? Yes. Were his cybernetics perfect? Yes. But his mind? She saw the fracture of that psyche - saw the way it was still in pieces and breaking steadily. She had gone after both Morrison and Reyes like a woman possessed, quiet anger and determination that put the fear of god in most… but it was actually Genji that had told her to stand down. 

The conversation is like a fresh wound on her heart. 

“Leave it be, Dr. Ziegler. I will make myself useful.”

Humiliating and painful. Lovely. 

-------

It’s 6:31 PM 18 days after the departure for their mission that they return. 

Everything had gone smoothly. Genji had the highest kill count among them all, and had sustained only minor damage. 

Angela fixes him up without saying a word. 

-------

It’s 2:54 AM three months after that first mission that he shows up at her office with a cup of coffee. 

She stares at him like he’s grown three heads (or she’s hallucinating, perhaps) but takes the beverage anyway. Genji is not much of a conversationalist by nature but he goads her into speaking anyway much to her surprise - asking about her current research, what she was continuing to develop… and they fall back into an easy rhythm and a familiar pattern. He does not laugh, and he does not smile - but she does not need him to. Angela can see everything in those crimson eyes, computerized or not, that she needs to know. 

They flicker when she makes a particularly jovial comment about McCree. It’s his version of a laugh. 

They fall into a pattern after that… 2:54 AM, Genji was always there - either with coffee or to drink hers. On nights he was away on missions, she woke up at that time anyway, wondering why. 

------

It’s 1:17 AM in King’s Row, London a few years later that he catches her as she falls.

The swift response Valkyrie suit was not without its issues, but she was keen to assist in the field when necessary. Her own enhancements at her spine kept her maneuvering easily, light as a bird and quick in the air. It’s her own fault, really, sloppiness in her attempt to get to priority targets as quickly as possible. The pulse shot connects with her left wing and sends not only a lance of agony down her spine - but a burst of pressure and air as she begins plummeting towards earth. 

All she can hear is the rush of the wind by her ears, vision filled with city lights and stars and a strange sense of peace fills her… deliberate and quiet… 

Until crimson and black is in her gaze, and strong arms… one real, one cybernetic, embrace her frame. In her ear, a prayer:

                    “I’ve got you, Angela.”

Four hours later, back on the dropship, she’s staring at him with her mouth agape. 

                  “You called me Angela.”

------

It’s 2:52 AM three weeks later that he tries to kiss her for the first time. 

It comes as such a surprise that she nearly lets him - as she’s in the midst of adjusting his faceplate, bending out a bit of metal and reshaping to more snuggly fit. It would have happened - were she not quick on her feet. She’s leaned inwards, plating clutched in her hands and ready to click into place when he dips in - going for the plump swell of her peach tiers but… 

Two fingers meet him instead, and he is scowling.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, Genji?”

“...”

She realizes her mistake the second silence befalls them. Realizes the amount of courage it must have taken for him to even try at all. Their chemistry was undeniable… everyone could see it, and their attachment ran deep. But here was a man discomforted by his own existence, his appearance, and Angela had just rejected some amount of physical affection and-- she finishes snapping the bolt into place, and he looks ready to run. Angela does not respond with trepidation, but instead offers him a sweet sweet smile as she leans inwards, breath ghosting over his scarred lips.

“It’s not 2:54 AM.”

The emotions that cycle through Genji’s hues at her statement are almost tangible to her: questioning, confusion, awareness, understanding, irritation, then mirth. She wants to laugh but she doesn’t… instead her gaze dances with her delight, at 2:53 AM, and he thinks she’s the most beautiful thing in the world. They use that minute… just that minute, to drink one another in… 

At 2:54 AM they kiss for the first time.

#gency #genji shimada #angela ziegler #mercy #overwatch #mercy overwatch #gency overwatch #my writing #i..... did a thing #anyways thanks goodbye #i just love htem

[newstfionline]

Thursday, April 22, 2021

Arizona third-grader holds food drives to help in pandemic (AP) Neighbors walked by during their morning stroll, passing families waved from their bikes and drivers slowed down long enough to read the hand-drawn sign—“Dylan’s Food Drive.” The poster was taped to two PVC pipes that were stuck inside construction cones for support. It was a typical scene for 8-year-old Dylan Pfeifer, who has been staging food drives from his home in metro Phoenix in response to the pandemic. Each drive is the culmination of hours of work that involves drawing posters, going door-to-door to hand out flyers and working with his mother to post information on Facebook. Dylan has hosted three drives from his home in Chandler, about 20 miles (32 kilometers) southeast of Phoenix. He said he is planning his next one in June, when summer vacation begins. Dylan says he has collected more than 1,000 cans and boxes of nonperishable food and more than $900 in donations. On its website, St. Mary’s Food Bank in Phoenix says it can convert $1 into seven meals, meaning Dylan has been able to provide more than 6,500 meals on just monetary donations. “It’s rare that you see kids at Dylan’s age who have a handle on what the problem is in their community, the people around them who are affected by it, and have the courage to do something about it,” said Jerry Brown, director of media relations at St. Mary’s Food Bank Alliance. Erin Pfeifer said the best part for her, as his mother, has been watching Dylan grow.

Verdict heard around the world: Global reactions to the George Floyd case (Washington Post) The conviction of former Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin in the killing of George Floyd resonated globally, with foreign dignitaries and community leaders reacting to a verdict that revived calls for an international reckoning on racial inequality in justice systems around the world. Chauvin, who is White, was found guilty Tuesday of second-degree unintentional murder, third-degree murder and second-degree manslaughter in the death of Floyd, a Black man he pinned down outside a Minneapolis grocery store last year. Foreign media outlets ran live coverage, showing how the trial resonated far beyond its national context, and highlighting the outsized role the U.S. racial justice conversation plays internationally, as the rest of the world is forced to grapple with its own race relations. Floyd’s killing in May proved to be a moment of reckoning not only in the United States but also across the world, as protesters took to the streets calling for justice in his case and pointing to what they saw as parallels in their communities. In Japan, crowds last year gathered in Osaka holding signs that read “Black lives matter,” while in Germany, protesters took to the streets of Berlin holding placards that said “White silence is violence” and “I can’t breathe.” In Britain last year, they chanted for Mark Duggan, a 29-year-old who was shot by police during his attempted arrest in 2011. In France, they said the name Adama Traoré, a 24-year-old who died in police custody in 2016. In Australia, where Floyd’s death last year spurred a resurgence in activism over Indigenous people’s deaths in police custody, the guilty verdict led to fresh calls for authorities to scrutinize more than 400 Aboriginal deaths in custody.

Surveillance Nation (BuzzFeed News) A controversial facial recognition tool designed for policing has been quietly deployed across the country with little to no public oversight. According to reporting and data reviewed by BuzzFeed News, more than 7,000 individuals from nearly 2,000 public agencies nationwide have used Clearview AI to search through millions of Americans’ faces, looking for people, including Black Lives Matter protesters, Capitol insurrectionists, petty criminals, and their own friends and family members. BuzzFeed News has developed a searchable table of 1,803 publicly funded agencies whose employees are listed in the data as having used or tested the controversial policing tool before February 2020. These include local and state police, US Immigration and Customs Enforcement, the Air Force, state healthcare organizations, offices of state attorneys general, and even public schools. In many cases, leaders at these agencies were unaware that employees were using the tool. Such widespread use of Clearview means that facial recognition may have been used in your hometown with very few people knowing about it. The New York City–based startup claims to have amassed one of the largest-known repositories of pictures of people’s faces—a database of more than 3 billion images scraped without permission from places such as Facebook, Instagram, and LinkedIn. If you’ve posted images online, your social media profile picture, vacation snapshots, or family photos may well be part of a facial recognition dragnet that’s been tested or used by law enforcement agencies across the country.

Violence erupts as Mexico’s deadly gangs aim to cement power in largest ever elections (The Guardian) Violent clashes between rival Mexican criminal groups—and their alleged allies in the security forces—are escalating ahead of mid-term elections in June, triggering a string of political assassinations and the forced displacement of thousands. With more than 21,000 posts in local, state and national government up for election—including 15 state governorships—the 6 June polls are the largest in Mexico’s history, and criminal groups see the elections as an opportunity to further their interests. Much of the recent fighting has focused on the western state of Michoacán, where the Cartel Jalisco Nueva Generación (Jalisco New Generation cartel) has stepped up its conflict with an alliance of local groups calling themselves the United Cartels. The violence has forced more than a thousand people to flee the area, feeding the flow of migrants heading to the US to seek asylum. “They are leaving because they get caught in the crossfire, because their homes have been destroyed, [and] because the main roads into [the area] have been carved up to stop the advance of the Jaliscos,” said Gregorio López, a Catholic priest who has sheltered refuges in the nearby city of Apatzingán. The Jalisco cartel, Mexico’s fastest-expanding criminal network, considers Michoacán, rich in international trafficking routes and extortion markets, a key building block in its bid for national criminal hegemony. But its decade-long attempt to take over the region has so far been frustrated by the local opponents’ deep political and social roots. With neither side able to impose its designs on the other or willing to back down, more than 15,500 homicides have been recorded here from January 2011 to February this year.

In Putin’s Standoff With Navalny, Many Russians Put Faith in President (WSJ) Thousands of demonstrators are expected to take to the streets in many Russian cities Wednesday in support of Alexei Navalny, the jailed opposition leader who has galvanized popular discontent with the long rule of President Vladimir Putin. But even as the opposition leader stirs dissent, Mr. Putin can count on the support of many Russians who either trust in his leadership, fear the uncertainties of political change or disapprove of Mr. Navalny and his protest movement. “If it were up to me, Putin would stay another 20 years in power,” said fashion designer Irina Larkina from her home in a drab apartment block in this Russian city on the Baltic sea. “He’s the one who has boosted our living standards and given us respect for ourselves again.” Even amid falling living standards and Western sanctions, Mr. Putin continues to enjoy enviable approval ratings. Sociologists say while few may feel deep support for Mr. Putin, the Kremlin can continue to count on approval ratings of around 60%. “There’s a point at which popularity won’t fall any further,” said Lev Gudkov, head of independent polling organization Levada Center. “The country has fallen into two camps, but the Kremlin knows there is a wealth of support it can still draw from within the population, even though it’s fallen in recent years,” he added.

Indian hospitals buckle amid virus surge (AP) Seema Gandotra, sick with the coronavirus, gasped for breath in an ambulance for 10 hours as it tried unsuccessfully to find an open bed at six hospitals in India’s sprawling capital. By the time she was admitted, it was too late, and the 51-year-old died hours later. Rajiv Tiwari, whose oxygen levels began falling after he tested positive for the virus, has the opposite problem: He identified an open bed, but the resident of Lucknow in Uttar Pradesh can’t get to it. “There is no ambulance to take me to the hospital,” he said. These tragedies are now everyday occurrences in the vast country, which is seeing its largest surge of the pandemic so far and watching its chronically underfunded health system crumble. Tests are delayed. Medical oxygen is scarce. Hospitals are understaffed and overflowing. Intensive care units are full. Nearly all ventilators are in use, and the dead are piling up at crematoriums and graveyards. India recorded over 250,000 new infections and over 1,700 deaths in the past 24 hours alone, and the U.K. announced a travel ban on most visitors from the country this week. Overall, India has reported more than 15 million cases and some 180,000 deaths—and experts say these numbers are likely undercounted. “The surge in infections has come like a storm and a big battle lies ahead,” Prime Minister Narendra Modi said in an address to the nation Tuesday night.

Further evidence in case against Indian activists accused of terrorism was planted, new report says (Washington Post) An unknown hacker planted more than 30 documents that investigators deemed incriminating on a laptop belonging to an Indian activist accused of terrorism, a new forensic analysis finds, indicating a more extensive use of malicious software than previously revealed. The report will heighten concerns about the controversial prosecution of a group of government critics under Prime Minister Narendra Modi. Known as the Bhima Koregaon case, the prosecution is considered a bellwether for the rule of law in India. Human rights groups and legal experts view the case as an effort by the government to clamp down on critics. The space for dissent has diminished in Modi’s India, where journalists, activists and members of nongovernmental organizations have faced arrest and harassment. The activists accused in the case deny the charges against them. They include a prominent academic, a labor lawyer, a leftist poet, a Jesuit priest and two singers. All are advocates for the rights of the country’s most disadvantaged communities and vocal opponents of the ruling party. Many of them have been jailed for nearly three years as they await trial.

Community pantries offer reprieve from covid-19 hardships in the Philippines (Washington Post) They were of different ages, genders, and walks of life. Some had been there since sunrise. A number carried umbrellas and canvas bags. Hundreds stood in a line that stretched three blocks on Wednesday, all waiting for their turn to stock up on donated food. The community pantry, as it is known, bore a sign: Give what you can, take what you need. A week after the initiative began as a humble cart with free vegetables and canned goods, over 300 similar donation-driven efforts have popped up across the Philippines. The grass-roots action underlines the economic pain Filipinos are experiencing as they battle one of Southeast Asia’s worst coronavirus outbreaks and a harsh lockdown. The idea began when a small-business owner teamed up with local vegetable vendors and farmers who offered their produce to those in need. Within days, it grew into a multi-sector effort encompassing a variety of food and essential items—bread, eggs, fruit, rice, water, noodles—donated by rich and poor alike.

Iran Rattled as Israel Repeatedly Strikes Key Targets (NYT) In less than nine months, an assassin on a motorbike fatally shot an Al Qaeda commander given refuge in Tehran, Iran’s chief nuclear scientist was machine-gunned on a country road, and two separate, mysterious explosions rocked a key Iranian nuclear facility in the desert, striking the heart of the country’s efforts to enrich uranium. The steady drumbeat of attacks, which intelligence officials said were carried out by Israel, highlighted the seeming ease with which Israeli intelligence was able to reach deep inside Iran’s borders and repeatedly strike its most heavily guarded targets, often with the help of turncoat Iranians. The attacks, the latest wave in more than two decades of sabotage and assassinations, have exposed embarrassing security lapses. Most alarming for Iran, Iranian officials and analysts said, was that the attacks revealed that Israel had an effective network of collaborators inside Iran and that Iran’s intelligence services had failed to find them. “That the Israelis are effectively able to hit Iran inside in such a brazen way is hugely embarrassing and demonstrates a weakness that I think plays poorly inside Iran,” said Sanam Vakil, deputy director of the Middle East and North Africa Program at Chatham House.

With most adults now vaccinated, Israelis are busting loose (Washington Post) Israel is partying like it’s 2019. With most adults now vaccinated against the coronavirus and restrictions falling away—including the lifting this week of outdoor mask requirements—Israelis are joyously resuming routines that were disrupted more than a year ago and providing a glimpse of what the future could hold for other countries. Restaurants are booming outside and in. Concerts, bars and hotels are open to those who can flash their vaccine certificates. Classrooms are back to pre-covid capacity. The rate of new infections has plummeted—from a peak of almost 10,000 a day to about 140—and the number of serious coronavirus cases in many hospitals is down to single digits. The emergency covid-19 ward at Sheba Medical Center near Tel Aviv resumed duty as a parking garage, and waiting rooms are suddenly flooded with non-covid patients coming for long-deferred treatments.

Rebels threaten to march on capital as Chad reels from president’s battlefield death (Reuters) Rebel forces set their sights on Chad’s capital N’Djamena on Wednesday following the battlefield death of President Idriss Deby, threatening to bring more disruption to a country vital to international efforts to combat Islamist militants in Africa. Schools and some businesses were open in N’Djamena on Wednesday but many people had opted to stay home and the streets were quiet, a Reuters witness said.

#headlines #news

[personaconcept]

Persona 6 Concept Part 9

{First} {Previous}

We’re at the end of the line now, everyone. It’s been a wild ride. Thanks for coming along for it.

Plot/Playthrough

November 9: Sayaka goes to the hospital.

November 10: You try to get into Sayaka’s Palace, but fail.

November 11 - 16: More days of trying to get in, but failing. 

November 17: Sayaka disappears into her Palace. Only the MC is able to follow her. The MC is defeated by Sayaka’s Corrupted Imposter Syndrome.

November 18 - December 2: The days you have to save Sayaka.

December 5: Sayaka leaves the hospital. 

December 7: Sayaka’s release party at Masahiko’s house. 

Last time, we spoke of the betrayal. 

The betrayal does not come from any of your friends, any of your confidants. It does not come from Igor, or Gilbert. It will not come from anyone who surrounds the MC, but instead it will come from the MC themself. That’s right, the betrayer is the MC. 

We begin again on December 7, after the party. 

When the party is over, the MC will go back home and go to sleep.

They will enter a room through a dream. It will looks very similar to the Velvet Room in appearance, but it’s almost entirely black, with glowing green vines winding up the walls and going through the cracks in the walls. Where Igor usually sits will be The Plague.

He will talk to the MC, explain how crazily obsessed with them he is because they are immune and then he’ll offer them a deal. A new contract, different from Igor’s. Help him perfect the virus and find the flaw in it… then expand it beyond the town.

It will be as Igor says; it will spread to everyone in town, beyond its borders to all of Japan, to the whole world, and into every other world as well. But The Plague says this like it’s a good thing. He destroying Shadows, separating them from their mortal bodies, in an attempt to separate the Other Worlds from the real world. In this way, there will be no corrupting the other worlds. There will be no using them for evil, destructive purposes. Completely isolating them from one another will keep any evil locked away in one of the Other Worlds in that world, even if a seal is broken. Here, he will make mention of the protagonist from Persona 3 and the events of Persona 5. 

No more pain, no more hurt. The good of all, all at the price of a few. The town. After all, every medical cure once had rats to test it on. But the MC is the final ingredient. They can cure a Corruption, so it must stand that they can reverse a corruption as well. 

So the deal is offered, and one ending is available. 

If you’re done playing the game, you can end it here. You can refuse the deal, and The Plague will claim it to be a pity, but will tell you that the IV attached to you has been pumping the same thing into you that he used to corrupt Sayaka’s Persona and make it unusable. He will corrupt your core and kill you right then. The next scene will be Haruka coming to wake you in the morning, screaming about all the blood, Yuuki running into the room and becoming angry and terrified at your lack of a pulse. 

We’ll never see the MC’s body, but the last scene will be of Shinju’s face, realizing you are dead.

…So, you decided to take the deal. You have betrayed your friends. The Plague removed the IV from your arm, and your outfit transforms when you take his hand. Arm in arm, he leads the MC through a door on the other side of the room, and it closes shut with a loud bang.

Begin a series of cut scenes and plot!

The next morning, Haruka goes to wake the MC up, but they’re gone from their bed. Everyone searches everywhere, police get involved, but there’s no proof of foul play or you running away or anything.

You’re just… gone.

When your friends go to check behind the water fall, they find your key to the Velvet Room in the middle of the table.

So time passes, about a month or so. Everyone is getting sicker and sicker, people are dying from the virus extraordinary quickly. 

MC’s friends and gather and decide that they need to go through the black door, because they can’t stop all of these Corruptions, not without you. They have the keys to unlock the door, and they all know about The Plague’s creepy fascination with you. There’s a hunch in there that he’s kidnapped you or something and is doing something horrible to you. Why not take down the main perpetrator and fix everything all at once? It’s this thought that spurs them on to action, Sayaka taking the leadership role for now.

She leads them through the black door into the rotten, bleak wasteland from the beginning. And in the middle of it all is a crumbling hospital, exactly where they needed to go. They get to the hospital, and inside they find not The Plague or any Shadows waiting for them, but you. Well, The Plague comes out to monologue for you.

At the end of the monologue, you leap forward and corrupt Masahiko’s core. The defenceless navigator that he is is unable to do anything as his core changes from green to pitch black. He collapses on the ground, but as the others try to rush towards him, they’re all scattered by magic. 

Your dungeon crawl for this last door will not be done with your party, nor will you have Shadows to fight. But instead, it will be against your party. You must find each of them and defeat them, corrupting their core once you’ve won. This will take some of your life away, and by the end of all the battles, you will only have one hit point left. 

But don’t worry, The Plague won’t let you die. Not until you’ve reached the end. After you’ve defeated your final teammate, you’ll make your way out of the back of the hospital, your feet dragging on the ground. 

You’ll find yourself in the scene from the very beginning. Instead of waking up from this nightmare, the camera will pan out and expose your weakened and dying as we speak teammates. 

Between you and your teammates is a floating, glowing orb, swirling white, green, and black. It’s the Core of the People. If it’s fully corrupted, the virus will spread as The Plague says, and kill everyone infected by a fully corrupted core.

And it’s time for you to make your final decision as you approach the core, with The Plague ordering you to complete the process.

If you corrupt it, the reaction is immediate. You will watch as everyone who’s social link you raised to max collapses and dies. The MC will watch as all their teammates cry out in pain and despair as they die before you. And then, you’ll watch as the MC smiles, with a tear slipping down their cheek, and releasing a single tear while saying “I’m sorry.” Their core will completely blacken, and they too will succumb to the virus as the Core dissipates into smoke. The Other World collapses around your dying body, just as The Plague promised. Leaving nothing behind.

But if you don’t corrupt it, but instead heal it, the reaction is a little less immediate.

Your health and SP are both fully restored. The corruption on you and all your teammates goes away. As the MC fights to control the corruption in the Core, you watch as all the confidants you’ve raised to max get better. You watch as their cores turn green, then to white. The Core that the MC is healing becomes brighter and brighter as the white overtakes the black, then the green, until all you can see is the blinding white of the Core. 

But they don’t stop there. They keep going, until the Core shatters, kind of blowing up, and spreading a great blast of wind and almost making the newly standing party fall back to the ground. 

The screen will go completely white and all sound will cut out, but the white will fade after a few moments, and when it’s back, the wasteland is still a waste land, but it’s better lit now. 

Your final battle will be against The Plague himself, and you must surely win. He will not be happy with you, but your teammates will all be glad to have you back, knowing you would never REALLY betray them. (Unless you did, and shame on you for it)

There may be a short monologue from the MC here about how there will ALWAYS be someone to rise again when their world is threatened. For every Other World, there will be a Savior, Trickster, Wild Card. As long as they’re needed, they’ll be there.

After The Plague’s defeat, everything will go black. MC and their teammates will eventually find their way and stumble out of the black door, finding themselves behind the waterfall. All the doors are open, but they all lead into their own small alcove.

Their Other World is gone.

There’s a lot of shouting and hugging and general worrying when MC finally returns home. A lecture is sure to be had. But it’s fine, because they’re finally home. 

That night, they go to bed, and wake up for the last time in the Velvet Room. This time, it’s not a hospital room, but the waiting room. And Baby Avis is there with them. Igor says he never should have doubted one of his Wild Cards, and Gilbert starts bawling because it’s a real fucking shame that in order to fool your enemies, you have to fool your friends first “AND WEREN’T WE FRIENDS!?”

This just really wraps everything up, and Baby Avis says she’s going to stay with Igor in the space of Other Worlds. She was not meant for the real world, and he’ll need a competent assistant since that cat left him. 

After a heartfelt goodbye, the dream will end.

So time passes. There won’t be any more time for leveling up social links, but instead cramming for the end of the year, spending Valentine’s Day with your lover(s), getting accepted into universities. And finally, graduation day. MC gets their diploma, lots of love everywhere. You’ll be able to see your confidants one last time, each of them coming to greet you and congratulate you on your graduation, and give you a gift to ‘help you through university.’ (These will be helpful items for the next playthrough if you wish to play again) Then Yuuki says they’ve really got to get going if they don’t want to miss the bus. (Yudai and Sayaka will leave in about a week, having been accepted into different schools)

And MC goes off to university!

Credits roll and all that stuff, and the epilogue shows the MC looking a little different. A little older. They wake up the same and watch the fields pass them by. The bus pulls up to the bus stop, their old team and their family all there, everyone looking just a little bit older.

“Quite the reunion you got there,” the bus driver says, and the MC smiles and says “Yeah.”

They disembark off the bus, and the last you see of it is a panning shot of the bus driving away as everyone hugs and jumps on the MC.

Final Thoughts

1 - Did you catch it? As the story went on, did you begin to understand? The Plague was the opposition of The Cure. The Cure is the MC. The Plague is the MC’s Corruption, and the black door is their Palace. Their dreams with The Plague was a visit to their Palace. It was the MC’s core they were corrupting to destroy the Other Worlds. 

The MC couldn’t have a Shadow, because they’d already awakened their Persona abilities, but The Plague was like a product of his own creation and tried his best to keep the MC from being fully cured, fought to kill them in his own way. 

It is this connection, I suppose, that makes the MC’s Arcana that of the World and not the Fool as many others. A thought I’d had right around Part 4 is all this is. An accidental, but wonderful, coincidence. 

2 - When I think of this would-be game, I think about the fact the previous installments had both an anime and manga rendition of it. And that they changed canon names for each. Well, seeing as there’s a male and female varient here, I think they’d just stick to changing the gender. (If they do like Persona 5 and have different short animes at different times, well, I wouldn’t be opposed to both genders being represented…)

Anyway, what I wanted to say was that I don’t think really changing the names would be a problem. The female would be Hikari Iyashi, and the male would be Hikaru Iyashi. If the manga portrays the MC as Hikari, then the anime would likely showcase the MC as male, and visa versa. Regardless, I’m pretty sure they’d both show up in the next Persona Q game, both chill about the fact the other isn’t dead. (“Ain’t you dead?” “Nah, bruh, different timeline.”)

3 - Well, this is the end of the timeline. But not the end of my work here! I mean, I made an entire new blog for this stuff, so I’ve gotta keep going, right? I’ve got more stuff in store for you here, just wait and see.

{First} {Previous}

#persona #persona series #persona 3 #persona 4 #persona 5 #persona 6

[trouvelle]

Emogust 16.08 — Murphy’s Law

A/N: Everything that could go wrong, will go wrong. Except in this fic everything doesn’t take place at once or in a day, so I don’t know if this qualifies. Idek what I was thinking. If it doesn’t, whooop well- @mintchocolateleaves @sup-poki

Kaito Kid's out to get the Great Detectives of the East and West.

The thing about it was that Conan had always known that Kaito Kid's would go after him sooner or later. It’s bound to happen.

The other thing about it was that Heiji never knew Kaito Kid was going to go after him as well. He hadn’t crossed paths with the said thief that much, so he really didn’t understand why he’s on the list as well. If anything, he was supposed to go after Kid, not the other way round. 

Kaito had been wanting to get rid of Kudo Shinichi, or rather Edogawa Conan, whom he had unluckily encountered more often than he liked to think. Hattori Heiji, on the other hand, was a more like a potential threat. Heiji might not have any grudge against him at the current moment, but who’s to say that he wouldn’t? If he’s going after the Detective of the East, why not go for the Detective of the West too? Those two seemed like they always had each other’s backs. Two birds, one stone. Besides, Kaito had this bugging feeling that Heiji didn’t particularly like him, considering what happened not long ago when he was trying to steal the biggest conch pearl in the world, the Fairy’s Lip.

He briefly thought about assassinating Makoto Kyogoku along with them. The guy was huge and ripped and possibly the most life-threatening, if he’s being honest. But keeping the karate champion alive was probably more beneficial for his sanity, if he’s taking the Suzuki heiress into consideration.

So it was settled.

His plan was to quickly shoot them from the back without them knowing, however tempting it might be for him to strike a conversation and smugly tell them that he’s the winner. Apparently Lady Luck was on their side for the night, because when Kaito pressed the trigger he found out he had no bullets. The timing was just really bad, because that’s the exact moment when his victims turned around and spotted him posing in action, wearing an unreadable face while looking at his handgun in disbelief.

The second time Kaito Kid set his plan in motion, he tried to look like an appropriate villain by dragging the machete (he stole this) along the floor of the rooftop, but it ended up wedged in one of the cracks on the dilapidated tiles. Exactly how old is this museum they’re in? he sighed inwardly. He had a few minutes before the police were supposed to get to the rooftop, so he went ahead and tried to wriggle his machete out. 

“Oi, ya need a hand?” He heard one of them say. He turned to look at them; the darker skinned lad was grinning and inching forward to him, the other tantei just standing there with his hands in his pockets. So he fled.

The two detectives caught onto his plan pretty quickly and mused that Kaito Kid was not much of a threat. Because in fact, there’s always some sort of obstacle with his assassination attempts.

Kaito decided that it’s time for a change of plans. Instead of targeting the both of them when they’re together, it might be easier to work his plan when they’re alone. 

Conan did tell Heiji to be careful, because between the two of them, he knew how to take care of himself better. They both had incredibly bad lucks, attracting dead bodies wherever they go. But the latter had a knack for getting into trouble way more often than he did. If anything, Conan’s not worried about his own safety at all. He didn’t even so much as flinch when he saw Kaito Kid standing at the side of his bed at night one time, gun in hand. Haibara was genuinely scarier, he told Heiji while recounting that time in the hospital when she did the same.

The day Kaito Kid forgot to bring the detonator to the explosives in Heiji’s room, the latter laughed and motioned for former to chat with him. "Ya might as well," he said, "It's 5a.m, no one else is awake, and I have about one and a half hour before I go to Kazuha’s to wake that ahou up."

Kaito did, and he chuckled awkwardly and rubbed his hands on his white pants. "Sure. Besides, I’m totally skipping school today. Be prepared though, next time, you're really going down."

Heiji barked a laugh. “Ya want some tea? My parents drink tea every morning.” He left his room and came back with two cups, offering one to the other boy. 

The thief shrugged. He eyed it suspiciously before taking it over from Heiji’s hand. “Is this poisoned?”

“Isn’t that what you’re out to do?” Heiji’s lips were back in his usual grin.

For someone he very nearly killed (and nearly kissed, but that was one time. ONE TIME, Kaito screamed at himself), Heiji sure was acting very casually as if nothing of that sort ever happened between them. Which spurred a thought into his mind.

"How are things between you and Kazuha-chan?”

Heiji’s cheeks exploded into a blush but he narrowed his eyes at the all-white-clad boy. “Why do you care? And who are you to call her Kazuha-chan?”

Kaito Kid calmly slurped his tea. “Please, I’m a professional. I make it a point to know everything about who I was or will disguise as, and I have to be updated about my victims. Also about Kazuha-chan, I even know her bra size, which I bet you don’t even have access to.”

“YA LITTLE—”

“How many times have you tried to confess?” he interrupted and casually raised one eyebrow.

“I don’t even know anymore,” Heiji groaned somberly. “There’s always something in the goddamn way. Crazy old lawyer lady, zombies, Japan Self-Defense Forces, SWAT team—I wouldn’t even be surprised if the Prime Minister shows up next.”

The other boy was amused and mostly surprised at how similar their situations were. However, he knew that this detective, as impulsive and reckless as he was, will keep trying to make his grand romantic confession no matter how many times he had failed and would probably continue to fail. He cleared his throat. “You know, I’m kind of in the same position right now.”

“Yeah,” Heiji nodded, “I noticed. Kudo and I both did. You’re good at stealing and escaping but not killing. In fact, you’re pretty lame.”

“Speaking of whom, I heard Kudo Shinichi confessed to Ran, who is now his girlfriend, in London and they kind of already had their first kiss. Unless you up your game, Hattori, you’re gonna die a sad virgin without ever confessing to Kazuha-chan.” 

Heiji gave him a glare and growled, “Shut up.”

“Besides, don’t you have anything better to do than going around stealing gems and trying to kill good people like us? Don’t you like, have a girlfriend or something?” asked Heiji incredulously. 

Kaito thought about it for a moment, cherishing the image of Aoko that popped into his mind. He should probably send her a text later to tell her that he’s getting to school late today, if he could get there at all. He knew for sure that it’s impossible for him to get to school all the way from Osaka before the morning bell rings. "She’s just a childhood friend," he said.

“Uhuh,” Heiji mocked in a singsongy tone, “That’s what we all said.”

Φ

The bell rang just a few minutes ago. Conan was on his way out of his school building when he saw a large shadow next to him and looked up just in time to see a piano fall and crash into the ground next to him.

"Tantei-san?" someone from above called, and Conan didn’t even need to look to see who was responsible for the death of their school’s piano. Hattori had told him about Kaito Kid’s nice little visit to his bedroom. To think that he would go all the way to Osaka before the sun was even up, Kid was really determined to do this, Conan thought. 

He used his hand to protect his eyes from the sunlight as he peered up into the fourth story window with half-moon eyes.

“And… you’re still alive.” Kaito Kid murmured. 

Conan set his backpack down on the grass and brushed some wooden chips off of his pants.

Kaito Kid sighed. "Oh, well. I should probably let you go home. Actually I had a back-up plan this time. If the piano missed you, I would go ahead and shoot you with my rifle. I left it at home though.”

"That's comforting to know," Conan called back. "Well, Hattori is coming to visit this afternoon."

There's a slight pause—Kaito Kid’s head and hat disappeared into the window and Conan waited patiently until a boy (who looked a lot like himself, Conan noted) walked out of the building. He's wearing a midnight blue gakuran, and Conan realized that Kaito Kid was either a high school student, or wanted to look like one. 

“Can’t walk around in my costume. But you sure this is a good idea?” Kaito asked as he stopped in front of the grade schooler.

"Probably not. But then again, neither is stealing, killing people, and destroying a perfectly good piano. Besides, Hattori said you’re not that bad of a person." 

"A perfectly good piano? It was out of tune.” came Kaito’s reply to defend himself.

Conan did not want to disclose the fact that many people might have accused him of being tone deaf.

Φ

The next time Kaito Kid tried was a week later when Conan was visiting Osaka. Both he and Heiji were taking the elevator to get to the seventh floor of the Osakan Police Headquarters building when the elevator jerked to a stop.

The elevator shook and the shockwave threw them to the ground, leaving them bewildered, except then the hatch at the top of the elevator opened, and someone in a white attire and familiar white cap jumped down. 

Kaito Kid stood up and cracked his neck before turning around to face two  detectives (looking relieved) sprawled on the floor of the elevator. He groaned. “Why do you guys just refuse to die, every single time. I cut off the cable wire, so the elevator fell and crashed at the bottom. I thought you were going down for sure."

"We were on the first floor."

Kaito Kid shrugged. "Okay. There's always next time."

"Guess so," Heiji agreed. A couple of seconds passed before Conan deadpanned, "We're stuck here, aren't we?"

"Yeah." Kaito Kid grinned. "The electricity is cut off, so you'll have to wait until they realize the elevators aren't working. See you next time, lads!"

“Oi, Kid.” Heiji called after him, just as his hands reached the top part of the elevator to leave. “Are you in a rush to go somewhere?”

Φ

Later that night in Heiji’s bedroom, while both of them were trying to sleep, they were rudely disturbed by a loud buzzing noise. They sat up to see Kaito Kid in the corner of the room, trying to get a weird-looking machine (presumably to assassinate us, Conan sighed) to work.

“Do you even know what time it is?” Heiji seethed.

"What I know is that now is the perfect time, but this damn thing..." mumbled Kid as he tried to get it to function properly, but it made several low groans and stopped working altogether.

Conan wondered whether it’s okay to laugh, and he snickered. “Hopeless, aren’t you?”

“Another day it is.” 

"I think we're getting too casual about this." Conan pointed out.

Heiji yawned and stretched, then switched the lights on. “All right who’s up for a sleepover?” P.S. I love these boys to death and I just want them to have normal teenage boy conversations and do teenage boy shit

#oh boy #as I said before #i dont even know what i was thinking #i hope its not too weird /gulps #I'd totally love to see HeiKaiShin have yknow regular boy talks #DCMKEmogust2019 #Detective Conan #DCMK #Kaito Kid #Kuroba Kaito #Kudo Shinichi #Hattori Heiji #hope yall like this #fic

[heyyyharry]

Do You Know?

(from the Flatmate Series)

...in which Harry’s sister comes to visit, but she’s not the only surprise.

wattpad link

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Most people would call Harry cold and vain, and maybe to some, that was completely true. His parents got divorced when he was seven, and he'd seen his mother cry too many times to still believe in romance. It was fun and games until one person left and the other suffered the aftermath of what had been 'forever'. So he had always told himself that, the only people he was allowed to love, was his mother, his sister, and himself, the rest of the world didn't matter.

Ever since he moved to London, he'd missed his family a lot. His sister, Gemma, was a travel photographer, but he could never get used to not seeing her around, and had to text and call her every day. Last night on the phone, Gemma had told him she was in Japan and they'd had a two-hour conversation about sushi and her learning Japanese. That was why he didn't expect her to show up at his door the next morning.

"You could've called me to pick you up at the airport," Harry said, beaming as he held the door open for his sister walk in.

"I wanted to surprise you. That's the best part!"

Gemma strutted around the living room and seated herself down on the sofa, scanning her eyes around the place. She knew about her brother living with a girl, but she had never met her yet, and to be honest, she was dying to. Harry had been talking about his flatmate nonstop lately. Sometimes he even ended the call early just to go watch a movie with Y/N. It was always "Y/N this", "Y/N that". Something seemed suspicious, and Gemma was here to find out.

"Why are you staying in a hotel when you can just stay here with us?" Harry brought his sister a glass of water and sat down next to her. "I'll sleep on the couch, and I'm sure Y/N won't mind either. She's very nice. I cannot wait for you to meet her."

"Where's she?"

"At the library, but she'll be home soon."

"Does she even know about me?"

"Of course she does," Harry answered with a smile. "I told her about you and mum all the time."

Gemma was a bit shocked to hear this. Her brother had never been the kind of person to talk about his personal life with just anyone. And that subconscious smile on his face when he mentioned Y/N didn't go unnoticed. Gemma wasn't only his sister, but also his best friend. She knew him even better than he did. Harry didn't like to show his true emotions, but whenever he felt so passionate about something, he couldn't hide it at all. This something, in this case, was someone.

"She seems special to you," the older sibling spoke after taking a sip of water, and Harry immediately responded with a warning glare.

"Don't even try."

"Try what?" She batted her eyelashes innocently at him.

"Your whole shipping game, Gem. You want me to say I have feelings for Y/N. It's not gonna happen."

Gemma raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Well, do you?"

"I don't," Harry straight off denied but his short hesitation gave himself away. Still, Gemma said nothing. He was already on the edge of his seat after seeing her cheeky grin.

"Gem, just please don't try to embarrass when Y/N comes home. I still have to live with her," he finally begged, looking almost miserable which Gemma found oddly hilarious.

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me." She giggled, locking her lips with an invisible key and tossing it over her shoulder. That was when Y/N's voice caused them both to turn to the door.

"Harry! I'm home!"

It nearly caused the boy to throw himself off the sofa. Ignoring his sister laughing at him, he got to his feet, just in time his flatmate walked in. The smile on her face dropped once she saw their unexpected guest, and Gemma quickly stood up and approached her with a friendly smile. "Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Gemma!"

It was only now that the younger girl finally recognized her flatmate's sister from a few tagged photos on Harry's Instagram, the latest one being at Gemma's graduation. The surprised look on Y/N's face instantly turned into a wide grin as she happily introduced herself.

"I've heard so much about you," said Y/N as she turned to look at Harry, who had been unusually quiet. "And your brother had a lot to say about my grilled cheese sandwiches. He said yours were much better."

"Well, I am the queen of grilled cheese sandwiches."

Harry immediately nodded. "Now Gem is here, I don't need you anymore."

Y/N gave his shoulder a playful nudge as she chuckled, and the enormous beam on his face afterward had revealed everything he'd been so desperate to hide. His mother and sister weren't the only people he loved after all.

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It took a lot of convincing for Gemma to agree to stay with them, so the couch was now Harry's temporary bed. He didn't mind though. He'd feared that his sister and flatmate wouldn't get along, but to his surprise, they really enjoyed each other's company. So he'd hoped to spend a lot of time with both of them during Gemma's stay. But now, here he was, watching a horror movie in his living room with Niall, while the girls were going shopping together. So much for inclusiveness.

"Why didn't you tell me your hot sister came to visit?!"

Harry instantly shot Niall a glare for making that inappropriate comment. "How many times do I have to tell you not to call my sister and mum hot?"

"But they are." Niall burst out laughing, patting his best friend on the leg. "So now she's like Y/N's best friend?"

"Apparently." Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. "She's only here for a week before flying to New York and she's spent her last four days with Y/N."

Though Harry liked the idea of his two favorite girls getting to know each other, he was also afraid because Gemma already knew too much. If Y/N got wind of anything she wasn't supposed to, he would have to change his name and move to another country. Well, maybe not that bad. But he might.

When the movie finally came to the rolling credits, Y/N and Gemma arrived home, carrying a bunch of shopping bags on their arms as they walked in.

"Can't believe you're turning Y/N into a shopaholic like you," Harry said as his flatmate struggled to bring her haul inside, his sister was following right after.

"She needs a break. Living with you is hard, you know."

Niall burst out laughing at Gemma's joke. But it was only then that she noticed him. "Oh, hey Niall, didn't see you there."

The boy's smile slipped as he watched her go to Harry's room, and this time, it was Harry who dissolved into laughter.

"Told ya you're invisible to her," he teased Niall, receiving a middle finger as a response.

Their laughter quickly died down, when Harry's phone buzzed and a new text from Gemma popped up on the screen, leaving him perplexed. Why did she need to text him when they were in the same flat?

"Gemma! Are you seriously texting me from my room?!" He shouted. But there was no reply, so he had to unlock the screen and read the message.

⌲ Gem: I'm sorry :'(

Now he was even more confused. He didn't know for sure what she was sorry for, yet he had a feeling it had something to do with his crush for Y/N. If she had said something while they were at the mall—Shit! That should've been his first guess when Y/N stepped in and didn't say a word to him.

Ignoring Niall, Harry flew out of the sofa and rushed to Y/N's room. He barged right in without knocking and immediately froze at the door at the sight of her getting dressed. Quickly, he covered his eyes, constantly mumbling "holy shit" and "I'm sorry" as if once wasn't sincere enough. He couldn't see her reaction at the moment, but she was chuckling instead of screaming at him to get out.

His flatmate was standing in front of her full-length mirror with her back turned to him. She was struggling with the zipper so only her bare back was showing, his reaction was therefore unnecessary. Still, he couldn't help it, blood was rushing all to his face.

"Harry, don't just stand there. I need help."

"Are you sure?" Harry peeked through the gap between his fingers, making Y/N laugh even harder.

"Yeah." She nodded. "Hurry."

The boy swallowed hard. Slowly, he approached her and reached for the zipper with his trembling hands. Even he couldn't explain why he was reacting this way, as if he'd never seen a girl's bare back before. Maybe it wasn't just because she was a girl. She was Y/N, the girl he loved.

All he wanted was to trace his fingertips across her skin as it looked so soft. But he knew he couldn't touch her. She wasn't his, nor she would ever be. Despite what he'd always told himself about loving someone else other than his family, he couldn't help but get flustered whenever she was around. He was weak, and for the first time in his life, the feeling of weakness was actually comforting.

"Done..." He released a heavy breath and looked up to meet her eyes in the mirror. When she gave him a smile, he immediately forgot why he'd come in here in the first place. On the spur of the moment, he blurted out, "you look so pretty", and only after did he realize he'd said his thought aloud. Now both of them were blushing.

"Thanks," Y/N muttered shyly. "Gemma helped me pick out this dress. It's gorgeous, isn't it?"

Y/N could never take a compliment properly, she would direct it at someone or something else other than herself. He loved her humbleness, but he wished she would realize how amazing she was, and saw herself from his eyes. The beam on his face only grew bigger as he watched her doing a quick twirl in her new dress. Wasn't she the prettiest girl he'd ever seen?

"I thought it'd be too tacky to wear this on the first date but..."

That sentence pulled Harry's right out of his own head as every single fantasy of his was shattered right before his eyes.

"F-First date?" He struggled to repeat those words. If only Y/N could hear the sound of his heart cracking piece by piece right now.

She turned around to face him. "Yes," she mumbled. As soft as that word sounded coming from her lips, it was heavy enough to crush his meat and bones. "I met a friend of Gemma's today and we got on really well, at the end he asked to take me out to a movie and then dinner tomorrow night."

"That's..." Harry's brain did not function as he stuttered, trying to find a word and ended up saying "...wonderful..."

Definitely not, not at all, his inner voice grumbled. Putting on the fakest smile, he hoped she didn't notice. He should've seen this coming though, her finally meeting new people and going on dates and eventually becoming someone else's. His worst nightmare had officially come true.

"Really?" Y/N seemed uncertain. "You think I should go?"

Harry before falling in love with his flatmate would say no in an instant and wouldn't care about how she felt, but Harry now was a completely different person. Despite knowing what he said next would hurt him so badly, he still had to say it.

"Yes, you should definitely go."

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"You set the girl I like on a date with another guy?! Are you even my sister?" Harry knew he shouldn't raise his voice, but he was too upset to realize that he was. Fortunately, Y/N had gone to the library or else she would've heard their entire conversation about her.

Gemma stood with her back against the fridge, her face contorted as she explained, "I swear it was not intentional. You see, I was with Y/N when I ran into Peter at a bookstore..."

"Bookstore." He scoffed. "How romantic!"

"Lemme finish!" She smacked him on the arm so he would stop pacing back and forth and pay attention to her. "Okay, so we ran into him at a bookstore. He was my friend from uni. The three of us had a long conversation and went for a walk. Y/N and Peter got on so well that there was nothing I could do to separate them! Then when we said goodbye, he asked for her number and she gave it to him. I didn't encourage her to go out with him or anything, I would never do that to you, I swear!"

Harry put both hands on his hips, furrowing his eyebrows. "Do you think they really like each other?"

"It seemed so..." Gemma heaved a sigh.

Nodding his head, Harry said nothing more and walked out in silence.

He didn't know how to deal with this situation, sure he had been jealous in the past but this was different. It was the uncomfortable feeling of knowing you would lose someone forever and there was nothing you could do to change it, like an itch you couldn't scratch, a sickness without a cure. For the second time in his life, Harry felt like he'd lost control of his own emotions. Only Y/N could make him feel like this. The first was when he fell in love with her, now it was when he was about to lose her.

He sat on the couch, watching Y/N run around their flat to look for her other earring, so eager to go on this date with a guy he hadn't even met, and it broke him in every possible way. People said, "if you really love someone, you should be happy for them, even if their happiness doesn't include you." So did that mean he didn't love her? It couldn't be right, because he knew he did, a lot. But he wasn't happy thinking about her being happy with someone else. Maybe that saying was bullshit after all. How could someone be happy when they couldn't be with the one they loved?

"Do I look good?" Y/N asked as she stood in front of Harry and Gemma with both hands on her hips while beaming like a high school girl on her first date. Harry's eyes were on the floor, he couldn't even look at her right now.

"You look amazing! Tell her, Harry!" Gemma exclaimed as she gave him a nudge.

Harry looked up with a forceful smile. "You look amazing," he said in a monotone.

"Okay, I'm going to pretend you mean that." Y/N snorted. She was only joking but her easy words left him bruised. She then told them not to wait up because she would probably come back late. From the way she hurried to the door, Harry feared that he would receive even worse news when she returned, and he wasn't ready for that.

After Y/N had left, Gemma went to the grocery store, leaving Harry home alone. So he ended up calling Niall over again. He wasn't in the mood to hang out with anyone, but he reckoned it would be better than spending time alone. At least his best friend would distract him from thinking about Y/N.

"Mate, it's not the first time she's gone out with another guy!"

Apparently, he had concluded too soon.

"Yeah and that night she didn't come home. She slept with that asshole." Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, tossing his head back as he stared at the white ceiling.

"Right..." Niall pressed his lips together, thinking for a second. "But then she never sees him again."

"Because he was a dick to her, a cheating scumbag. This one's Gemma's friend. You do the math."

"Jeez, I hate math." Niall laughed and said something else which was muffled to Harry. The green-eyes boy could barely focus on anything else other than how his living room was spinning. Suddenly, he felt shivers surged down his spine, which he'd assumed was only his imagination. However, now that he was heavily sweating, he knew it was physical. He kept his head down with fingers in his hair, trying to breathe while his lungs felt like they were closing in.

"H, are you alright?" Niall reached out to touch Harry's forehead. "Hey, mate, you're burning up right now. I think you're sick."

Harry could only reply with a groan.

"Do you want me to call Gemma or Y/N?"

"Call Gem..." He murmured before collapsing on the couch, and Niall wasted no time to go get his phone.

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Y/N came back after her date to find Niall and Gemma sitting in the living room with no sight of her flatmate. The atmosphere was awful desolating, so she assumed something must have gone wrong. Before she could open her mouth to ask, Niall was quick to fill her in on what had happened.

"Harry's been worried sick about you," he said with a cheeky smile and Gemma smack him right on the arm for making that joke.

"He's in his room. He has a fever." She released a sigh, smiling faintly. "How was your date?"

"It was great," Y/N said but the worry on her face spoke otherwise. "I'm gonna go check on Harry."

Y/N didn't wait for them to say anything and just headed straight to Harry's room. Had he called her, she would've dropped everything and come back. But she couldn't be mad at him now. She was the one going out and having fun while he was sick.

Slowly, she pushed his door open to peek inside. Her flatmate was lying on the right side of his bed with his back facing her. He didn't move at all so she assumed he was asleep. Carefully, she shut the door and came to sit down on the mattress. She said his name in a whisper. There was no response, so she reached out to touch his arm. But right before Y/N could withdraw her hand, Harry grabbed it fast and turned to finally look at her.

"Did I wake you?" She pressed her lips into a gentle smile as he did the same.

"Wasn't sleeping," he said. Exhaustion was heavy in the sound of his voice. "How was your date?"

"It was...okay. Why didn't you call? I feel so bad for not being here for you."

Harry gently caressed the skin at the back of her hand with his thumb. A genuine smile displayed on his lips as he muttered, "I didn't want to ruin your night." She might not know this, but seeing her was the best medicine he could ever find.

"You wouldn't have ruined anything, stupid." She chuckled lightly, sucking in her bottom lip when he batted his eyelashes at her. He was struggling to keep his bloodshot eyes open to hold her gaze, and now her heart was pounding with anticipation. She couldn't guess what he was about to say next.

After a moment, he broke the silence between them. "Will there be a second date?"

"Peter was...really nice." She exhaled. "Tonight was better than I'd imagined."

"So I guess that's a yes for a second date?" He questioned with a disheartened smile.

"No," she said, to his surprise. "I turned him down."

His mouth fell open, and it took him a second to utter, "why? Didn't you say—"

"Because I have feelings for someone else."

Harry's entire body stiffened as he held his breath. He was speechless, so Y/N must continue. She knew if she kept on holding back, she would never have another chance to tell him the truth. "When I found out I was falling for this person, I was surprised, then I was scared. He's not the kind of guy that would like me back. I tried to stop it, but the more I tried, the harder I fell for him. So I expected this date to make me forget about him all at once because Peter was such an amazing guy. But when he asked for a second date, I hesitated and ended up saying no."

She paused to shake her head. Harry was still listening and hoping she couldn't hear how loud his heart was beating.

"You know," she began again. "I...um...sometimes I ask myself these questions. 'Does he know how I feel about him? Does he know how important he is to me? Does he know how I want him to look at me in a way that's different from how he looks at the other girls?', but I'm afraid to ask him, because once the words are finally said, you can't take them back...and...and I don't want to lose him as a friend."

When Y/N finished, they allowed the silence to sink back in. They had never held a stare for so long that it seemed like they were communicating through looks now. But unfortunately, they couldn't read each other's mind.

Harry knew who the 'he' in her story was, he wasn't a fool, and things would be much easier if he could just said 'yes, I love you, too'. It should be as easy as that, but it wasn't. He couldn't say it, not because he didn't love her enough, but because he believed he might change his heart one day, and then end up breaking hers. Though he wanted nothing more than to make her happy, it was himself that he couldn't trust.

"I think he does. I think he knows," he finally replied with a straight face.

Y/N looked at Harry silently for only two seconds, but to him, it almost seemed like an eternity.

"Then why doesn't he say anything?"

For this question, Harry remained quiet. And that was the answer Y/N needed to finally withdraw her hand from his. When she stood up, he almost begged her to stay, still his mouth stayed shut as he faced the bitter reality and accepted his failure.

"Goodnight, Harry. Get well soon." Just like that, she leaned down and laid a kiss on his burning forehead.

Watching her walk out, Harry's heart began to shrink until the inside of his chest felt hollow. And so he wondered to himself if that kiss was the last one he received from her, before she completely gave up on him.

#flatmate!harry #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanficitons #harry styles one shots #harry styles one shot #harry edward styles

[junkyardlynx]

Ch. 1

Looking back, my life has been pretty normal. I mean, my mom and dad love me, I have a good dog, my childhood friend makes me lunches for school a few times a week. I think she might even like me. We end up playing a lot of games. Everything in my daily life has been a mundane kind of blissful.

I came home from class late, the sun melting and dissolving into the purple ink of the night as I closed the door behind me. A thunderous ringing of steel vibrated in my ears from the basement as I crossed the threshold, followed by a hellish roar that would freeze the blood of any mortal man. Digging around lazily in the fridge I pawed at an apple and tugged it free of the bag. Checking my phone, I tugged the stem off absently and took a bite. Man, I love apples.

"Emirus! The vessel. Surrender it, and this world may survive the Opening of the Gates long enough to become something gran-HURK!“ 

he rumbling voice that was crushed earth and molten rock was cut off mid speech, a wet thud barely audible from far below the earth.

Well, this was troubling.

There was a brown spot on my apple.

Frowning, I narrowed my eyes, and a perfect cube of flesh disappeared from the fruit, excising the rot. Man, I really do love apples. A moment later, a slash and shimmer of purple like a hole cut from twilight appeared next to me. From it, a tall and imposing man stepped out, fixing the accents of his clothing before looking upon me. His hair was a pale, radiant blonde, the waves of which fell to his shoulders and his features were sharp but handsome, almost unnaturally so. They bordered on excessively sharp, really, like his existence held the world in contempt at the end of a blade. The man’s presence seemed to demand respect and fealty. Dressed in a swanky black suit with green accents along the breast pocket, cufflinks and button, his eyes blinked once before the smoldering emerald embers bored into me. Wordlessly, I produced another apple after a moment of groping into the fridge and handed it to him. His spare hand shot out, slicing through the air like a blur. Blood flicked off the pale skin, splashing in the sink before it landed softly on my head, stroking my hair with obvious affection.

“Jeal! Welcome home, son.” 

He took a bite of the apple I’d offered, closing his eyes in satisfaction for a long moment before he launched into a flurry of fatherly conversation. 

“Rather taken with apples, aren’t we? How was class, sweet child of mine? Did Sarisa make you lunch again? You can bring her over any time. Sharp as a tack, that girl. Always liked her. Even when she accidentally teleported you into a tar pit for laughing at her when she forgot her chemistry texts. I might have liked her more for that, now that I think about it. Oh, come on, my boy! I jest.“

As my scowl faded, my eyes wandered over dad’s clothes as he bombarded me with his melodic voice, my brow furrowing in concern at a blossoming red stain just above the green accent of his breast pocket. His white cheeks flushed red momentarily as he held one hand to his chest, just above the wound. My father did not get “hurt”. My father was practically invincible, and it wasn’t the idle boast of a dumb kid. My father could tear the heart out of a chimera with a glance. He had, actually. That’s...why I said it.

"Oh, this? Your old man won’t be put down by an enchanted blade or three. Seriously. They talk of “freeing” the Abaranthia soul-plains but conveniently ignore the fact that production of soul dust has increased and that the number of restless spirits is almost zero. Your lineage practices black magic and necromancy for a few millennia and suddenly you’re villains."

I let my father go on as I finished my apple, dropping the core in the trash. For the last week, he had seemed anxious and rushed, and our lessons dragged into the early morning, leaving me precious little time for sleep before class. Time seemed to stop as I considered my words in my head. I didn't really speak often, as people seemed to infer my mood and reactions from body language alone, but when I did...well, it seemed like the world gave me whatever time I needed to think.

I contemplated a moment more, close to finding my words, but not quite there. I told my dad about it once before and I remember the way his face was covered in an ashen pallor, but he waved one exquisitely manicured hand and postulated that it was my sorcerer’s mind simply kicking into overdrive, making the outside world appear to slow as my thoughts raced. We never talked about it again. With Emirus (who held such titles as Hawk of the Black Castle, Slayer of the Empyrean Sea, Lord of the Dead, Dad, Dr. Culaine and Pops) still warmly gazing at me, he brought the apple to his mouth. Finding my words, I puzzled out my thought.

"Well dad, if we’re villains, we’re villains of circumstance.” 

With an abnormally long canine tooth visible just before sinking into the blushing flesh of the apple, pride swelled on my father’s face, leaving me somewhat bewildered.

“Jeal, my beautiful lad boy! Dipping into your old man's albums again, I see. I think that'd make a wondrous family motto - quite a bit punchier than ‘abyssus abyssum invocat.’ You’re not only surpassing your old man in sorcery - but quotability! I’m so proud.” 

His strong, powerful hands fell on my shoulders. I averted my gaze slightly, embarrassed that he was praising my shitty reference. Well, if we can steal dead language and call it our own, why not a snippet of a song? His kind gaze fell on me again, a thin but warm smile on his sharp face. This was my favorite expression to see on my father’s face, so a natural smile found my own lips.

“Make no mistake, my apple of knowledge. You did not fall far from this magnificent tree. I’ve long thought about what you are - quiet, but kind. Silent, but bursting with expression. I do admit that once I had joked with your sweet mother with regards to whether you were really our son,” his tone took an apologetic turn as his thumbs massage my shoulders. I had thought the same myself, so I can’t find fault with him. My father, Emirus Culaine, was a man of many words. Given to bouts of soliloquy while fighting deadly foes, monologue while cooking dinner, and passionate singing in the shower, he had an exclamation for every event. Meanwhile, Jeal Culaine here said two words a month and kept everything inside that wasn’t words of world-shattering import or saucy quips. As my thoughts went on, I realized he had continued.

“But it could not be more apparent that you are. Beyond your immense talent for sorcery, sciences and warfare, the same beautiful artistic soul burns inside of you. Your power expresses itself in your very body language, and thus you waste no energy on words! At least, that's the explanation we shall go with henceforth. Truth be told, as long as you are happy, your proclivity for silence is unimportant."

Blood rushing to the tips of my ears alerted me to the fact that I was pleased at his compliments, much to my embarrassment. I mean, come on. Every kid wants to be praised by their dad, but when your dad is the kind of guy that gets hunted by "heroes" bent on justice and "righteousness", his praises about magic and warfare are…a little, you know, impressive. The fact that he always wins makes it doubly impressive. The redness of my ears spurred his smile into a passionate grin, and dad shook my shoulders a little.

“The time has been coming for a while now, and I’m sure you’re aware. I’ve lived quite a long time, and I don’t plan to retire from this life. Neither does your mother, so don’t give me that look.. She’s simply out getting stuff for dinner. Mmm, your mother’s biryani is….anyway. Sadly, my talent and powers are waning, and yours are growing by the hour. Right now, with these hands on your shoulders, I can say beyond a doubt that you could defeat me. A villain of circumstance could ask for no greater heir - and that’s not even touching on what a brilliant boy…no, a brilliant man you’ve become to your mother and father.” 

With his eyes shining, my own grew hot and wet. I swallowed hard, but dad’s hands didn’t leave my shoulders. He stroked them slowly with his thumbs. I idly noted how manicured his nails were, even with a bit of dried blood on them.

“I won’t do something so crass as tell my boy not to weep, but do dry those beautiful eyes. You got those wonderfully red and sharp things from your mother, and it’s quite like watching both of the most important people in my life cry at the same time.” 

The vexation in his voice was forced and humorous, so I laughed as the back of my hand cleared the tears from my eyes.

“At least you got my hair. Lucky you. I know it’s quite unrelated, but this,” Emirus shook his hair in his best attempt at a shampoo commercial as he spoke, “is what I got your mother with. I found her fighting off six meddlesome onmyouji in Japan and her first words after we felled them were ‘can I stroke your hair?' Turns out that no matter what, strangers in a strange land will always have their hair fawned over by pretty women.” 

I knew it wasn’t necessarily the time for family stories, but I let him continue. Something gnawed at the pit of my stomach - I was approaching the liminal border between this idyllic life and something altogether different. I felt as though I might never have a chance to hear this story, or any others, if I didn’t let my father continue.

“So of course, we sat there at the roadside for a few hours as she stroked my hair and talked. Their compatriots came, yelled passionately about ‘oni’, ‘yokai’ and ‘bakemono’ and I think there was some business with a Yatagarasu and a Kappa that they had ensnared - all very nasty things, but in the end, I toured the Japanese countryside for fifty years with your mother. Perhaps we’ll go back now.”

My face asked the question that almost left my lips.

“In your training, I detailed why the Culaine line has taken up sorcery and necromancy, no? We’ve taken the darkest arts into our hearts and been scorned for it. We’ve killed kings and common men to pursue our goals. More often than not, our enemies are those that society see as upstanding, righteous people, because we have no choice but to let their names remain pristine to hold this fragile world together. So why have we taken the untread path to prevail in the righteous deeds we need to do?”

I thought for a second before answering. Stupid things had popped into my head without reason, like “for fun?” and “because Jesus said it was cool?” and “free labor outside of government regulations?” but I waved them away. The fact that they seemed like serious choices to be selected from was slightly concerning, though. I was trying to downplay the fear growing in my heart.

"There's no other choice, really. There's things in the dark that don't bow to justice or conventional force. Things that corrupt men at the highest echelons of society. Things that shouldn't be. We do it to save the World."

"That's my boy."

My father’s face darkened as he slid his hand from my shoulders to cradle my face. It felt like a goodbye - like this is the last time I would gaze upon my family for a long time, if not forever. So, responding in kind, I placed my hands on Emirus Culaine’s strong, capable wrists, and held them gently. His eyes misted over, tears rushing out as he smiled bravely. This was tearing him apart, and so, it dug a dagger into my own breast.

“Save the World. Ironic that you say that, dear boy. When you were born, the Seal of the World broke. It was all chance, really. It could have been you, or it could have been someone ten thousand years down the family tree. It's something we've known about for the last five hundred years, but there was no way to...there was no way to know beforehand when someone like you would come into existence. You just…you just have so much potential, so much raw power that the First Layer of the World can’t suppress it’s existence, and so He shattered the Seal. From the Second Layer, demons have been appearing without a summoner for the last eighteen years. They’ve been trying to find you. I have not let them. I was determined to give you a normal childhood while preparing you, and I believe I’ve done it. But I made a mistake.”

My mind drifted back to the fight I had heard take place. Our “basement” was really my father’s magical Sanctum, warded from threats both terrestrial and spiritual. It was where our studies in combat and magic took place, and where I had spent most of my days lately. Then, the mistake…

“I left the wards down when we came back from Shanghai for an hour, as my energy was spent. I could have asked you to put them back up, but you were so focused on learning the Severing Way that I couldn’t bring myself to break your concentration. They found you. I am...sorry, child mine.” 

His words seemed strangely strangled in his throat as he fought to continue on. I'd never seen my father like this. My light. My hero. Consumed by fear and regret in this faltering moment.

"Soritoroth, King of Fire, and apparently the Master of the Second Layer. If he kills you and consumes your power, this world will be bathed in flame in the blink of an eye. If he doesn’t, well…” Dad’s faltering words indicated that the outcomes weren’t favorable if Soritoroth was allowed to roam free either way. The last week came together in my mind. My father’s grimories in various states of disarray. His behaviors. The constant nagging feeling, like something of vast importance being forgotten. His hands left my face and he straightened his verdant green tie, assuming that kingly air that threatened the world at the tip of a blade.

“Take Sarisa and go to the safehouse I showed you last month. Important things will be there. When you leave Sarisa’s, cast Xyrir into the earth. This will be the sign to your mother and I. We’ll finish our biryani and we’ll have a nice chat with the dreadful door-to-door salesmen that are demons of the Second Layer. We can buy the time necessary for you to bury your presence from His sight.” 

I nodded dumbly, even as my hand fished in the cool fridge for another apple. Placing it into his hand, I said what might be the last words to my father. My kind, cruel, brilliant, wicked, scheming, loving, circumstantial villain of a father. For the man who had become a demon to save the world by slaying an Archduke in late June of 1914, he seemed quite small. Human. I loved him more for it.

“I love you, dad. Tell mom I love her. Let’s have enchiladas when we come back. I'll cook this time.” 

This kind of banal exchange is one we had regularly. It was mundane. Painfully normal. I think both of us needed it, though. Emirus Culaine laughed heartily as he opened Wounds in the world, pulling grimories and weapons out and setting them on the kitchen island.

"Hah! I do love your cooking, my prodigal son. I love you too, Jeal. Now go, and slay that damnable Soritoroth for thinking he could lay one misbegotten finger on you! You are the only villain who can save this beautiful world!” 

My father’s laughter was full of mirth as he grasped an ornate flamberge from another dimension, leaning it against the counter. In his left hand was the apple I’d given him, half eaten. I saved this image in my mind, tracing every line of it.

Drawing a line in the air before me, the flesh of reality parted. My lines through this world were like my father’s, but every sorcerer’s magic was just a little different. Where his were like the fabric of night superimposed on reality, mine was significantly more…harsh. Rather than a glittery, glitzy purple stain, mine was a black wound on the skin of the world, edged in dark red. A void. This was the Severing Way - a Master level magic that allowed the caster to cut through the “distance” between themselves and their target. Their target could be anywhere - five feet away, or another dimension. Stepping through the void, I appeared in Sarisa’s room.

She screamed, of course. Well, more of an exclamation than a scream.

Her composure was regained amazingly quick after a mild verbal slap to my face for Severing my way into her room unannounced. Well, it was more for kinda…blowing her off for the last week to study with dad. I smiled, but she felt the anxiety in it, and nodded. She knew things about me, always knew. She knew the secrets I thought I locked away, and accepted them. So of course she’d pieced together that something was happening this week, and this was the culmination - me, showing off a Master level magic by Severing into her locked and warded room. I wouldn’t do that unless I had to, so she also made the logical leap that something was very, very wrong.

Sarisa was also a sorcerer - though her family wasn’t quite into the dark arts and spooky jookie like us. For the moment, Sarisa lived alone, as her family was out of town on what they referred to as “Magister Business.” Always hated that term. Magister. British sorcerers had to be so different. ‘Sorcerer is a term of antiquity,  a magister is someone who commands the proper respect from mastering magica-’ blah blah blah, oh my god, shut up. Also, this is just personal preference, but those that call themselves warlocks can get railed by a manticore. Either they’re actually a warlock and they’re summoning Second Layer beings, or they’re someone who wants to be different without understanding the nuances. Both are equally bad. Smiling again at these thoughts, I followed Sarisa into the walk-in closet.

Grabbing clothes from a set of hangers that dangled lazily, her red hair cascaded down her back in loose curls, ending at the small of her back. It bounced and swayed as she did the “pants shuffle”, rocking her hips side to side to tug the jeans up quickly, and indicated that I should sweep her hair up as she went to throw a crisp black button up over her white tanktop. My hands responded automatically, gathering her hair and sweeping it clean of the incoming shirt. We’d known each other since we were eating dirt, so neither of us had the idiocy to be hung up on things like seeing each other in our underwear or helping each other get dressed real quick. Slipping on her flats, she regarded me with a worried expression, her grey eyes keen and inquisitive.

“We have to go, don’t we?”

I nodded.

“Is it that safehouse you showed me a couple weeks ago? Yeah, guess it would be. Are you…you doing okay, Jeal?”

Another nod.

Sarisa’s soft hand slapped my cheek lightly in reproach. I faked injury, staring at her face with what I imagined was my best “wounded puppy” look. Speaking from a purely objective standpoint, Sarisa was ridiculously pretty. Her skin was fair, decorated with freckles, her grey eyes were stormy and easy to get lost in. Her nose was on the small side, with a gentle curve, and a small scar accented her left nostril. High cheekbones and a somewhat strong jawline gave her a severe profile that made her look regal and unapproachable, but undeniably gorgeous. Objectively. I’m not saying this as an option. I have no personal feelings on the matter. At all.

“Don’t lie to your friends, and especially not your elders. Dickhead.”

The voice was warm and kind despite the words. I wonder which part was directed at my nod and which was directed at the thoughts that came after, since she could always read me like an open book. Favoring her with a shy smile, I went to carve away at reality before stopping suddenly as I remembered the only real restriction of Severing.

You can’t bring another living, sentient being with you. Their body’s own, unique magical field would create oscillating instabilities that destroyed the Wound. A magical item’s magical field could be muted, but not a living being’s. It’s part of why every sorcerer’s “magic” was a little different. Like a fingerprint.

“Did you almost crush us to the size of an atom by forgetting something important?” 

Sarisa’s voice was playful and mocking. She knew the tenants as well as I did and wouldn’t have stepped in, but that didn’t mean she was above laughing at my mistakes. I cleared my throat and nodded at the doorway to her room.

“Come on, downstairs. Looks like we’re walking.” 

I followed Sarisa down the steps and out the front door, watching as she locked the house up. Lost in thought, I helped her apply runes of warding and misdirection. As that was finished, I dropped into a low stance, using my thumbnail to cut a deep gash my palm, freeing a smattering of blood that dripped steadily onto the ground.

With preternatural speed, I drew the rune for Xyrir in the asphalt of the road and slammed a wave of magical energy into it. It glowed in that curious black-ruby-void hue that was my magic for a moment before it crackled into life in an electric red. The asphalt swallowed the rune and a line of red electric fire arced towards my home, some few miles off. Xyrir was a Blood Rune designed by necromancers to expel all Second Layer phenomenon from an intended targeted space. The drawbacks were that the rune had to be absolutely perfect in shape and that the blood must be freshly spilled from the caster, making it nigh-impossible to cast in combat. Though the potency would be severely weakened by the miles separating Sarisa’s house and mine, I was glad to provide just a little help to my dad.

Finding that Sarisa’s hand had come to hold mine some time ago despite the blood, we set off down the road towards the safehouse. Thoughts whirled inside of my head, and went unvoiced as usual. Anxiety rose in my chest, but I pushed it down, attempting to lock it away. It wouldn’t help me now. I think she knew this - she always knew, after all - as she gripped my slippery fingers tightly in her own.

#writing #my writing #short story #modern fantasy #magic #fantasy #writing project #i need a title

[ummmhellobam]

24 and clueless

Hello World

I think I just needed to vent or release some of this pent-up depression or angry that is literally weighing me down. So, this month, I turned 24. I should have been excited, but honestly, I am miserable. So first, things were going well, I got a new second job, was able to save money, and was able to buy myself some much needed me stuff. But I think, well I know, the misery came from the fact that I am 24 and I still live at home, am single (currently, I’ll detail more) and childless. I literally cannot get on Facebook or Instagram without someone posting that their having a baby or THEIR SECOND CHILD or getting engaged or married. It’s like did I miss out on how to have your life together class. I was in a relationship, sort of, well I was made to believe I was. There was this guy who I have known for 7 years and he isn’t really Mr. Perfect, but he was Mr. Charming and Confident. When we met, it wasn’t love at first sight. He had a girlfriend, I had a boyfriend, my best friend liked him, that whole teen rom-com drama. I eventually got to know him and there was just something about him that made me feel alive or at least how you feel when your high, so I’ve been told. Anyway, we did a thing, not sex, and things changed. He stopped being that guy who made me feel so amazing about myself and became the sleazy slime ball he is (still and current). But still I wanted him. I took every chance I could to be next to him, like saving him a seat in class or on the bus, trying to wear nice clothes, makeup, perfumes, so he would notice and compliment me. I mean anything, just for him to smile that big goofy smile that made my heart melt time and time again. We would have our moments, things I will not discuss, but they were are intimate hideouts and feelings that I knew we shared and was just not imaging, like our first kiss. Still to this day it was the best kiss I had ever had and all other kiss since have been compared to that moment. Eventually he graduated and I was left all alone. No one made me feel the way he did. I tried dating, but I just wasn’t into any of the other guys. He would text me from time to time. I loved those moments. But then I saw that he had moved on and then so I did the same. He texted me prom night, mentioning that he wishes he could have been my date. TBH I wanted him to be. He also mentioned wanting to be my first. Again, TBH I wanted that to. But we were just too far and on two different paths. So, came the time to graduate. I had a boyfriend who I lost my v card to, but tbh the whole time I was thinking of him. About how he would be gentle, he would probably take his time and we kiss and he would hold me and ask me if I was okay. He would have been a gentleman. Time flew by, I was in and out of relationships for the next three years, and he would always manage to pop up at the wrong time, always wanted to “talk” and then proceed to ask for nudes. It got old real fast. At one point, and I guess I was going through one of my many break ups and I was still living in the moment of when I thought I had a pregnancy scare and he said that I could come stay with him and he would take care of me. Yes, he really said that, how can I not fall head over heels for a guy like that. Well I told him how I felt, because I was tired of his talk then nude’s conversation and I just wanted him. So, I told him that I like him and he simply said I have a girlfriend. In that very instant, I felt my heart break. It was like some was literally tearing my heart in half and setting them on fire. I cried so hard, and it’s funny because my lousy ex at the time was trying to get back with me for the 100th time. So here I am crying over someone who only wanted nudes and having to deal with an asshole who had a picture of the girl he cheated on me with on his wall. If you can’t guess from reading this, my love life is straight fucked up, and that isn’t even the worse part, which I won’t get into now, maybe another time. Anyway, so another year passes, its summer 2016, I am finally free from the mess of my ex and haven’t heard from him in 2 years. I am sitting in my room, enjoy my independence, when I get a message. Like any person who get a message from an unknown number I do not know, I reply Who dis? He replied and my heart began to jump up and down, like it was trying to escape the loveless prison I sent it to. But my eyes nearly rolled out of my skull with disgusted and anger. We talk for a bit, you know the whole, how are you? What have you been up to? Etc. etc. etc. So, then he goes, can I tell you something? And I say sure of course be honest with me. And he was. He sent me this long text about how he missed me and missed our friendship and missed the way things used to be between us. He also mentioned that he was going off to the army because school just wasn’t gong how he wanted. I was in shook. I honestly did not know how to reply to such an emotional text. I replied that I too missed talking to him, that I was proud of him for doing something so courageous and brave and that he shouldn’t give up on school. I ALSO MENTIONED THAT WE SHOULD JUST WORK ON OUR FRIENDSHIP UNTIL HE GOT BACK, BECAUSE PEOPLE USUALLY MEET OTHER PEOPLE WHEN THEIR IN THE ARMED SERVICES AND THAT WOULD LEAVE ME HURT. I typed that like that because it is the very key to these upcoming life events. Anyway, he totally agrees with me, but he keeps saying that he wants me to be the girl that is waiting for him back home. And in my mind, that just sounds so wonderful and romantic and as someone who has devoted her life to rom-com, everything I could have wished for. Well-off he went, and then soon came letters. Letters from basic training that were so sweet, loving, and just so romantic. I used to take those letters everywhere. Those letters are what got me through long miserable shift and I just had to read them every night before bed and every morning when I woke up. He eventually got his phone back and then the letters stopped. It was okay because he would text me every chance he got and I would call and leave vm for him to listen to and then we had like apps where we would set dates for in the future for when he would come home. It was perfect, but then life. He eventually became more distant. I honestly don’t know what triggered it. Was is because I missed his graduation or was it because he was trying to work on things with his ex. Well the day came and then went when he would promise he would be home and then we could talk and just be a couple. He texted me days later and I was upset because I had my hopes et really high. Instead of apologizing, he left me on read, to which I sent a very long reply about him getting my hope up only for me to be left alone. He never replied back and time went on. I eventually throw away the letters and blamed myself for not being able to keep a man. I wrote out this long desperate letter about how I missed him and didn’t expect him to feel the same and I didn’t want him to feel sorry for me, that mainly I just wanted a friend. I sent it in March, the month he told me he would be deployed. He replied in April. I was at work when I got the message and then I nearly cried and screamed in front of a lot of people. He had sent this long message about being in Japan and how he was sorry how things went, he never meant to hurt me, and that he was trying to fix things with his ex and he shouldn’t have led me on if he knew that was going to happen. I was upset about the whole ex thing, but some stupid part of me read only the part about him being in love me with me and let that go to my head. So of course, he adds me back on Facebook and I am scrolling through his page when I see two things. 1. He is ENGAGED and 2. He came home in January. My blood was hot and my heart was like the titanic, just sinking down into a dark abyss. I literally just started at those two posts for hours before I impulsive messaged him about it, it being the engagement, not the fact that he was home and never came to see me, idk why I didn’t bring that up. Anyway, He was so confused and didn’t understand where I was coming from. I ended things once and for all. I told him that if he couldn’t see that I still had feelings, then we don’t need to be friends, because I will not be your sidepiece. I blocked him and didn’t hear from him until about June. He messaged me on snapchat, an app that literally just sat on my phone. He sent me a picture of all my letters that I had sent him. I didn’t know if I should have been impressed or upset. I went with upset. I sent a picture telling him that I moved on and he should do the same, that he should throw them away because I sent those letters to someone who I thought loved me. I didn’t reply back. I, being the weak and gullible person that I am, sent him another long text the next day, saying that I was sorry for coming off as a bitch and that I just think its best for us to not talk and just go our separate ways. He sends this jumbo, super long text, tell me how he is still in love with me, how his engagement was just a spur of the moment and he didn’t think it would last (turns out she was moving to el Paso) and other romantic and heart felt emotional confession that I had wanted from him. Well we talk and talked for hours and he even video chatted with me the next day and it was perfect. For a week, then the next week came and we got into one disagreement and one argument. He broke up with me, saying that he only wanted to be friends. How does someone go from I just want to be with you to let’s just be friends? Well I backed off and then again, He got my hopes up and then crushed them again, this time it was on my birthday. He was out clubbing, posting on snapchat some girl dancing on a pole and then goes on Facebook and says he is a in a relationship with some girl. My heart breaks and I just can’t take the whole, one minute he is calling me every Sunday telling me he loves me and he likes our weekly calls and then the next him and some white trash bitch are in a relationship??? Like what the fuck? So, I call him out on it with a long message bout how I feel and how it’s not fair how he keeps leading me on. At this point, we spent so much time not talking I was just becoming more and more depressed and I felt like I was back in a relationship with my miserable ex who would do the same thing of ignore me and then popping back up when it was convenient for him, And I told him that that was a deal breaker for me. Like I get we can’t talk every day, but somethings are better than nothing. He sends back that he is sorry that he never meant to make me feel this way, that he is not going to let me go without a fight and I guess to me that made it all better for the time. HE went back to ignoring me and at this point I was just numb. I didn’t want to upset or make him leave so I just bit my tongue and just stayed waiting by the phone. The holidays rolled around. He was extra affectionate and adorable. But when they were over so were we. I had enough of the ignoring and when I throw shade via snapchat he replied that he needed space and felt like I was forcing this relationship on him. At that point I just said okay and let him leave. A few days latter came the accident and it just seemed like my life was really in the shit hole now.  He texted to make sure was alright, and then again, a few days later asking if I still loved him. I said that if he had to ask then I guess I was shoeing you just how much I loved you or that you just didn’t care or want to see. I also asked if he wanted to be with me and he flat out said no. So, I took that no and just came moving with my life. That was Feb 2018, we didn’t talk for the rest of the month or any of march or the beginning of April. At one point, I got a notification that he was trying to message me on snapchat back in march, when I got off work, but he didn’t send anything. I remember saying I am so done with that loser. April was a weird month because he started messaging me again, but I would ignore them, then eventually I would reply no picture just a simple hello, then I send one picture and the flood gates swing wide open. He starts messaging me about work and other like stuff and then he mentions about an army ball and just idle chit chat. Then one night he tells me that he misses me. I tell him that he is okay, and then we fight and it ends with him asking me to marry him. I say yes because…. tbh I don’t know why I said yes, maybe because I loved him, maybe because of the fear of dying alone, maybe because I wanted what everyone else had, I don’t know. And from April 2018 to Aug 2018, then were going fine, we talk almost every day, usually it was just a good morning beautiful message but I just remembered to bite my tongue and be a good fiancé. Eventually came his birthday, I wanted to send him a long heart felt message, but I kept it short and sweet. Then for my birthday I get a message from him that just says happy birthday. I cried. Here I was on my 24th birthday cry over a man who has put me through so much hell. So, I just ignore, I tell my self at least he sent something. I got another message from him a week later. It was a picture of him with the caption baby with heart eye emojis. I ignored it because I didn’t want to be left on read for a whole week. When I finally replied he left me on read. So, I messaged him if we were good. His reply, “Yes? I guess? I should mention that someone from the past has come back and things are going well for us… I wanted to smash my phone into a million pieces. I reply so there is no place for me then. And tbh I wanted to say way worse. I honestly don’t know what kept me from not finding out the girl and sending her all our messages. He then replies that.” There is always room for you, things just happen, I’m sorry” My heart was done, I was done, I had no words left. So, I wrote a quick message about being tired of constantly giving into him and him not understand that when you love someone you don’t hurt them and that I was never talking to him ever again. I also screen shot all out conversations about him always saying he loves me and how he was the one that asked me to marry him after I clearly said we need time apart. Then once he says the message I deleted me snapchat, unfriend him on Facebook and deleted my twitter (twitter is were I would also see his profile and back in august, one of his “friends” complain about her job and goes, Its life babe)

 So here I am two weeks post 2 year break up, no more him for good this time. I just miss being someone’s significant other. I miss being in love. I miss him. Well this kind of helped I started this at 10:20pm and it is now 12:11am. Times flies okay until next time peace and love

[pairofcosmos]

Lotus in the Sky

; an afrofuturist solarpunk piece

Kya’s eyes wandered to the glass beneath her toes, noting how the canopy of lush foliage shielded Lagos from flares of heat. From this height way above the ground, she could just barely catch the movement of cyclists navigating their respective ways throughout the city. Although l’appel du vide gripped her senses and her Gele was the only buffer against the sun beating down her back, she was mesmerized by the view of the world below that so little have seen.

It was only four days prior this day when Funere arrived outside of Kya’s botanical apartment with an apprenticeship offer on the Lotus. A well-respected and incredibly wise Lotus Guardian, Funere’s own family line had a long history working with this career path. When her vision began to deteriorate during her adolescence, Funere’s passion for horticulture remained constant all the years.

The time for Funere to begin passing down her knowledge approached and many were eager for a chance at a calling that was so widely dreamt about - much like the dreams of children long ago who imagined becoming astronauts. Kya’s own apprenticeship application was a shot in the dark fueled by wishful thinking, but to have actually been selected as one of six Lotus Guardians in training for this city was an incredibly rare opportunity that seemed far bigger than herself.

“Are you alright?”

Kya’s heart rate spiked at the sudden sound of Funere’s voice behind her. Funere’s guide dog, Shadow, wagged his tail and barked when Kya turned back to face her mentor.

“Sorry, I was distracted.” She walked forward until the feeling of cool glass against her feet was replaced by loam. “It won’t happen again.”

“There is no need. Although I can no longer see in detail what Lagos looks like, I can never forget the feeling I had when baba first let me come up here with him as a child. Your love for Mother Earth and this city will help guide you, as it did with me. Don’t be quick to rid your enchantment yet. It was why I chose you to help me open my Lotus to the public.”

“I’m not the only one who loves Mother Earth…”

“Of course.”

“So why me?”

“Sense and intuition. You have that, don’t you?”

She was about to counter a response (what for, she couldn’t tell) until a sudden flash of white light blinked above them. Shadow barked again, more alert this time, and sniffed the air. It took Kya only a second longer to realize the change in atmosphere. Fire.

“We need to leave now,” she gasped. Her mouth gaped in horror as she watched flames slowly envelop the glass lotus structure in the center of the ether park. Kya was spurred into action by Funere’s tug on her arm, but she continued to stare at the orange glow as if in a trance, even as the airship descended from the sky and brought her back to the ground.

* * *

“But it came out of nowhere,” Kya explained to her friend later that night.

Airships were able to put out the fire before any permanent damage took place, to her relief. The crowd of people who witnessed the fire were frantic with questions once the airship pulled them down from the sky. Kya had hoped to check in with Funere and talk about what occurred but the elder woman had been so inundated with questions that she had been out of reach since morning.

Busayo half listened, focusing more intently on the stained glass pattern she was sketching. While Kya was allowed a Lotus apprenticeship, Busayo apprenticed the leading production of solar stained glass panels in the world.

“A fire can’t just come out of nowhere.”

“You’re right. There was a flash of light, too.”

“A flash of light?”

“As if it were a blip in the galaxy…” She stepped closer to the window and craned her neck upward, almost able to make out the Lotus that she stood on that morning. “Clods.”

Busayo’s eyes widened and for once, put down her pencil upon hearing Kya utter the word.

“There’s no way. You don’t think… I mean, why would they?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

After a painful moment of silence, Kya decided she would contact a person she had met during her Roam in Osaka, Japan. If anyone could give her intel about developing clashes with Glaeba, it would be Midori.

“Hello Kya!” Midori greeted once the hologram appeared. Their warm smile dropped into an expression of concern upon seeing the evidently distraught Kya before them. Before they could ask, she was already speaking in Japanese.

“Is there anything you can tell me about Glaeba?”

“Glaeba? Certainly. Our relations with the planet is entirely nonexistent but what we can say about their composition-”

“No, I know. What I meant to say is do you know if Glaeba has done anything different?”

“Different…?”

“A fire erupted on Funere’s Lotus this morning and the cause is still unknown. Could it be possible that the Clods are responsible?”

“Chikushō!” Midori cursed at the idea. “Clods are as clueless as they are predictable. Their spies are identifiable and it is clear they know nothing of our planet now - but this is a development we were not expecting. I can’t answer your question now, but I’ll pass this concern onto my mentor. In the meantime, keep your attention focused. Be vigilant.”

* * *

Kya returned to the Lotus the next morning, extremely cognizant of everything within sight and hearing range. She took Midori’s advice to heart and couldn’t shake the suspicion of peculiarity in the air. Funere had left a hologram message in the communication panel for her when she arrived:

“I will not be able to meet with you today. You are welcome to clean the Lotus as you see fit, continue familiarizing yourself  with the space, or even take the day off if you wish. I am sure you are as restless as I am after the fire; I apologize for not being able to speak in person about the incident and what to expect from here forward, but be assured that there are already plans to rebuild the Lotus center within the next week.”

Kya stepped away from the panel and brought herself back to the glass floor to sit down on. While the prospect of exploring held intrigue, she was a person who encouraged stillness first and foremost. The illusion of weightlessness calmed her and again the direct heat against her skin wasn’t a deterrent, but like a flower, was welcome stimulant. In this way, she couldn’t wait for people to be given a chance to explore life from this altitude. She watched the airships float by and could see the blue waters of the ocean in the distance.

It took Kya thirty two seconds determine contamination. As their entire livelihoods revolved around Mother Earth, all children had learned and grown with nature in its purest form. The slightest change or abnormality in the atmosphere is easily detectable for that reason and being at this altitude meant that the shift in air quality was indisputable. Like clockwork, her watch buzzed and she answered the hologram. It was Midori.

“You smell that? I do.”

“How can you also sense it?”

“Because you were on the right track. The Clods were responsible then and they are now. We received information from your city’s council and we are certain the Clods are planning something major.” In that moment, Kya’s attention was diverted by the blue waters turning darker.

“They’re sabotaging us.”

“At least they can try,” Kya snapped.

* * *

She had never seen her younger brother so out of character. A seasoned expert at keeping his emotions in check, Omololu was now signing with the most frantic and intense rage.

How dare they! Who do they think they are? Was leaving us behind not enough for those fucking Clods?

Kya signed an apology and drew her eyebrows together to express anguish.

People in power want to stay in power.

We’ve been fine without them!

It’s possibly what they can’t stand.

Unbelievable, he finished, storming off to his room. Their parents exhaled at the same time, realizing they had been holding their breath throughout the entire exchange. The news finally spread that Clod spies were most likely plotting to destroy them – a truly alien concept! Any semblance of the idea of war hadn’t been on their radar for centuries, especially against the people who made it very clear they wanted nothing to do with planet Earth anymore.

Still, Kya couldn’t say she was surprised, as did many others. When she passed through the Americas during her Roam, she came across groups of people who were more than prepared for an inevitable clash. It helped lessen the pressure on Lagos. Common sense said that their city, a hotbed of technological advancement and innovation, was always meant to be a target.

For the first time in four hundred years, the sun’s rays did not touch Nigeria. There was no rain, nor clouds. Instead, a sheet of metallic grey was pulled over the sky like a blanket. The starships signaled their return. The Clods were about to swarm.

#writingblr #writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #pris writes

[the-foxwolf]

Places to Go and Stories to Tell: The Wild West, Oceania, Feudal Japan, and Vikings

The Foxwolf is back! As an avid Vorthos and a natural storyteller, I’m excited to once again share my talents with you all. 

This article lists four places I think the Magic Story could go and the type of story I’d like to see in each of those worlds. This exercise would be a little dry if I just listed things out. I figured it would be more fun, and expressive, to give you all a short glimpse of what a story there might look like. This article is a little different than the kind I normally do. But I’m fairly confident that if you sit down to read it, you’ll find you enjoy it. Let me know what you think! And enjoy!

It’s good to be back. Writing. Sharing my love for story telling again. 

Gather `Round Everyone! It’s Story Telling Time!

(Omniscience: Magic 2013) (Art by Jason Chan)

Format

     As you read through you’ll see the header for a section with a setting and some defining characteristics of that setting. I’ll then move into describing what that world might look like, the characters it might have, the environment and conflicts within the world, and the potential storyline I could easily see happening in said environment. It’s an easy, fun read, that provides you my thoughts on what I see coming in Magic’s future.

Wild West: Spellslingers and Railroads

      Sheriff Chandra steps out of the saloon, appreciating how the rising sun paints the sky into a canvassed pastel orange. Chandra breathes in the dry desert air of this dusty Frontier town. She lets it out slowly, eyes closed, hands on her hips, the warmth of the sun caressing her face, and takes in the world around her with all her senses. The Frontier air is charged with sensations and emotions. She can taste the unbridled hope and opportunity the Frontier has to offer; her skin shivers at the feeling of the electric static of the thrill of discovery all around her; the lizards scuttle across the floorboards beneath her boots and the jackalopes scurry into the brush at the sound of her clinking spurs; the sweat of the hard working people doing their best every day to thrive in this harsh world; all these things flood her senses and for a brief moment, she is lost in the romanticism of it all.       But that moment quickly fades. She knows that the Frontier isn’t the romantic dream the East makes it out to be. The rolling tumbleweeds who witnessed the bloody fate of the evicted natives whose promises of peace were betrayed by greed, protest by clumsily beating around the town- uselessly silent. Eagles and vultures circling above the town screech, echoing the pain the land itself feels with each new drill the Aether Barons order constructed. The Rail Monger’s train tracks are greased with the sweat of the imported indentured goblins and the tears of the settlers who are extorted into poverty by the extreme shipping costs.      Chandra takes off her hat and presses it gently against her chest in a moment of respectful silence. She puts it back and taps the badge, the sigil of the Gatewatch, on her cowhide jacket twice, reminding herself of the oath she made just a few years ago:

“Every world has its tyrants, following their own desires with no concern for the people they step on. They’re no different from the Eldrazi....If it means that people can live in freedom, yeah, I’ll keep watch...” 

(Oath of Chandra: Oath of the Gatewatch) (Art by Wesley Burt)

     She whistles for Ashaya, the Sun Stallion and watches as a beam of sunlight materializes into the majestic, noble, horse Nissa had taught her to summon. Chandra mounts Ashaya and checks her Spell-Slinger Gauntlets. With a flex of her hand, a small mote of concentrated Red Mana puffs into existence at her fingertips and proceeds to start circling her extended index finger. This tiny mote of energy could burn through bone like a hot knife cuts through butter. With another flex of her hand, she extinguishes the mote.       Satisfied her equipment is in order, she taps on Ashaya’s neck, motioning him towards the plateau to the West, near where the Sun Foot Tribe was last seen. “My mom always believed that I could be a leader. I’m starting to believe she’s right. Let’s go make my mother proud, Ashaya.”

Oceania: Islands and Atlantis

     The salty sting of the sea air carried upon the cool breeze tickles Nissa’s nose as she sits quietly just within reach of the lapping ocean waves. In the distance she can hear the rhythmic drums and the upbeat flutes of the islanders as they celebrate their annual Fire God festival. The scent of roasted swine rises from the thin grey cooking fires at the center of the nearby village. Above, a sea gull screeches and below, the ocean once again rolls in around Nissa, playfully embracing her as she meditates. Searching the soul of the world, she senses the snuffing out of another island-searing lava scorching it down to the sands, leaving only obsidian behind. The second island, this week. The fifth this month.      Jace finalizes his inspection of the ship the islanders so happily helped him build. Though they have never built anything quite like it, Jace was able to telepathically share the shipbuilding skills and knowledge he learned on Ixalan. They have enough supplies to last them well over a month. He glances at Nissa and decides not to disturb her. Instead, he heads into his cabin and once again presses his palms against the table, already starting to wear in those places by the constant pressure and practice, and gazes upon the chart before him. Though it had required a lot of sailing in ships he was far less familiar piloting, he and Nissa had managed to visit enough islands for Jace to glean a fairly accurate map from the collected thoughts of the most experienced sailors of each village. But now they were ready. At every stop, Nissa spent most of her time meditating, searching the sea floor, communing with the world’s soul, seeking for the sunken city of Atlantis. Between all her hard work and all of Jace’s research, they are close to finding its exact position.   

(Island: Magic 2010) (Art by Fred Fields)

   But their time is running short. Volcanoes, both underwater and those above, that have been silent and slumbering for millennia are awakening with a tremendous violence. Entire islands have been washed away. Others have been buried beneath molten rock. If the stories sung in the songs of the Slumbering Fire God are true, then the only way to stop these devastating disasters is to find Atlantis and search the secrets therein for a way to calm the unruly world.      Of all the worlds Jace had ever learned about, of all the worlds Nissa had ever touched, this one was the most innocent. Yes, every village has its quarrels and grudges and power struggles. And on the rare occasion neighboring islands might even go to war against one another. But compared to many of the worlds the Gatewatch had operated in... well...saving this one had a personal stake for them.      Jace looks up toward the far end of the island and sees a boat, similar to his own, approaching. Finjamin! The merfolk biomancer who had gone to Ravnica to implore the Gatewatch for their help had gathered the bravest souls from the archipelago. Not one of them could possibly have been older than two dozen years. Yet they dared to brave the seas in search of the sunken city, from whence no explorer had ever returned from whence they had sought to find.      Nissa smiles, sensing the ship approaching before she sees it. She stands and dusts the sand from her skirt, saying, “See what we are here for, Jace. For the life of every plane, and every life it nurtures.”      The telepath nods and takes a moment to look beyond the mission, to see the world they were here to help save. He smiles. “For the people.” He says to himself, leaning on the rails. “Let‘s go find Atlantis, Nissa. Let’s save the world.”

Feudal Japan: Ninjas and Samurais 

     Liliana walks upon the wooden floor of her courtyard, along the coy ponds, and amidst the blooming Cherry Blossoms. The running water between the several ponds babbles a soft melody in the background. She reaches up and plucks a flower from a branch. The necromancer smells it and allows herself to smile for just a moment...before slowly proceeding to tear it apart, one petal at a time until at last she crumbles the remains in her black, silken, gloved hands, and scatters the remains in the gentle breeze. A soft, warm, orange from the setting sun colors the sky and graces her face as she heads back into her palace. The smell of incense greets her as she slides open the doors and walks in. Running her hand along the wooden walls, her mauve silken kimono’s skirts brushing gently against the floor, she heads to the shogun’s war room. She slides open the door and sees Gideon raptly paying attention to a demon masked messenger proclaiming nonsense about ‘the glory of Shogun Lix’ and ‘total surrender or total destruction’. Nothing important. Liliana watches Gideon miraculously keep a stoic face of seriousness throughout the entire speech. Gideon looks good with his long hair in a pony tail. But the hunk of meat is still the same man he’s always been. Stoic. Righteous. Selfless. Unyieldingly boring. But at the very least, pretty to look at. When the messenger concludes, Gideon politely dismisses him with the promise of a safe passage out of his realm.      Gideon turns to face her once they’re alone and says, “Have your ninjas found the Blade of Kings?”

(Tatsumasa, the Dragon’s Fang: Champions of Kamigawa)  (Art by Martina Pilcerova)      “They have. Shogun Fa has been hiding it this entire time. How much trouble we could have saved had we just gone and wiped them out earlier like I suggested.”      “You know that was never an option. The only reason we’ve fought the other Shoguns is because-”      Yeah, yeah. ‘It was an absolute necessity with no other possible solution‘.“ She quoted. “I’ve heard your speech. But you have yet to understand that when Ob Nixilis is the enemy, there are no neutral parties, soldier boy. In some form or other, everything that doesn’t directly stand against him is his pawn.“      Gideon furrows his brow but doesn’t disagree. Instead he turns around and leans on the table with his elbow. “This is the closest we’ve ever come to stopping him, Liliana. We’re so close. By all accounts, Ob Nixilis should have defeated us by now. He surpasses my tactical talents by miles. But with you reanimating every samurai that our forces lose or kill we’ve managed to keep the scales balanced. For now, at least..”      “Don‘t feel bad, Gid-boy. He‘s called you his arch-nemesis. Surely that counts for something.”      He scoffs but his mood lightens. “Has Narset discovered what the Blade of Kings is yet?”      “She mentioned something about it being able to sever mana lines and eradiate magic and other weapon-of-ultimate-power type of things. So serious that one... I don’t like her.”      “Narset is normally a very serious woman. And you know why she’s here. Jace can’t be everywhere at once and you chose to come here rather than to join him on Oceania. But that’s neither here nor there. Focus, Liliana. We can’t let a weapon so powerful fall into the wrong hands.“      “That happy little world was just a little too sunny for me... And personally, Gideon, I could care less if we, or anyone else really, get our hands on that weapon or not. I just want the satisfaction of having taken it from under Ob Nixilis’ pointy demonic nose.“

Nordic: Barbarians, Vikings, and the Norse Gods 

     Up in Valhalla the gods are faced with, for the first time, the fear of mortality. Ragnarok is coming. All the omens and portends prophesized by the oracles ages ago have begun to manifest. The Great Chill has lasted for nearly two years now. The Hell Hound raids have drastically increased in number and ferocity. The mountains rumble and groan and quake. Astrid of the Grey-Claw clan, daughter of the chieftain, humbled herself and came to Ravnica to plead for the Gatewatch’s help. Ajani sees in her what he saw in Elspeth. A warrior looking for a home to feel safe at. Young. Beautiful. But above all fierce and brave. He happily swore his service.       Ajani, Astrid, and her Relentless Crew board their longboats, sailing to the North, into the ever colder waters of the Poles. Even though the Great Chill has buried much of this world in snow, Ajani can see that this world was once beautiful. Yet the gods offer no help to save it. Instead, they bicker amongst themselves as they decide whether to fight against destiny or stand out of the way and hope that Ragnarok, whatever it may be, spares them. The gods are always useless.       In the few times they stop to rest, Ajani listens to The Relentless Crew sing songs of the world before it was covered in snow. They drink heavily, and they dance merrily, and they laugh heartily. Astrid enjoys the merry making as much as her loyal crew do. Seeing the vibrant life in their eyes, Ajani knows he can’t let this world down. He won’t watch another life as full and as rich as Astrid’s meet Elspeth’s fate. Ajani’s heart couldn’t take it.      They sing of their homeland: Beloved tundras, irritating rams, babbling creeks, tranquil lakes, lush green lands, glory, and joy, and love. The world is cold, but the love the people have for it make it warm. Whatever Ragnarok is, it’ll face the best this world has to offer. 

(Mountain: Khans of Tarkir Variant 2) (Art by Titus Lunter)

     Stirring beneath the mountains of the North are horrors that worship and praise the coming of the apocalypse. Ragnarok, Phyrexia’s greatest Dragon Engine, is almost done repairing itself. It was created to destroy Urza Planeswalker-- and it nearly succeeded had the planeswalker named Serra not intervened. When repairs finish, Ragnarok will destroy this icy world on which it was trapped for so long and then it will go find whatever remains of Phyrexia. With its Planar Matrix, it will warp itself between through the Blind Eternities until it finds whatever remains of its masters. Once reunited, Ragnarok will deliver the Glory of Phyrexia across the multiverse, unimpeded! RISE RAGNAROK! RISE!

Conclusion

That’s all I‘ve got for today, folk! Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think about this type of article. Don’t worry. My informative articles, opinion pieces, and essays will remain as they are. I just want to get a feel for how much my audience has patience for this type of stuff.

For more from me, at Story Telling Time, hit that “Follow“ button. If you enjoyed what you read, spread the world and hit that “Reblog“ button. Once again, thanks for reading. See ya next time!

#story telling time #storytellingtime #speculation #mtg #magic story #worlds to come

[lostinyourears]

Arena Mexico Gran Prix Report! 9/1/2017

WOW! What a card! I really loved the whole night. My only complaint would be that my boy Puma wasn’t on the card. Other than that, a great showcase of some of the best talents in the company and a loaded main event! I’m going to be sad to see Elgin and Juice leave CMLL, I’ll even be sad to see Taven and Kenny King leave, both of whom I’m less familiar with, but definitely made me a fan tonight. Gran Prix may not be the highest profile wrestling crossover of the year, but if they keep putting on great shows like tonight... it soon may become one of the best annual crossovers. 

Blue Panther, Blue Panther JR and The Panther vs Mascara Ano 2000, Sanson and El Cuatrero 

(Obviously I won’t have timestamps for this one since it’s iPPV and not on Youtube. Here is the link I am using from the VOD on internettv.tv)

Who’s who?

This one is pretty easy Blue Panther is father to Jr. and The Panther. He is maskless while his sons can be differentiated by one another by color. Blue Panther Jr in blue while The Panther is in all black.

While on the other side we have uncle Mascara Ano 2000 who has no mask and nephews Sanson, who has a lion on his forehead and El Cuatrero who has horse shoes on his pants and forehead with spur like eyeholes.  

How’s the match?

Great! You’ll probably get tired of me saying this by the end of this review, but really the card was good from start to bottom. This is in spite of the fact that it was pretty much a 1 match card with only the main event really getting much build. This doesn’t really need much build anyways as it’s dynasty vs dynasty. Nothing is really on the line, but that didn’t keep this match from being hot. 

I’ll admit a bias as I’m a huge fan of Panther Bros and they really can impress vs the right opponent and the list of who a right opponent is only seems to be growing. It helps that Sanson, El Cuatrero and  Forastero have been proving to be one of the best teams in the company. So Panther Bros had a great duo to work off of. 

I can’t help but to love Blue Panther Sr. he just looks like such wholesome middle aged man. He did a good job here, but the match noticeably slowed down in sections where he and Mascara 2000 were involved. It makes me wish Blue Panther and The Panther had a cousin like Sanson and El Cuatrero do. Black Warrior is actually their cousin, though he hasn’t been in CMLL since 2013 and is 48, so not that much younger than Blue Panther Sr. 

Amapola, Dalys, Zeuxis vs Marcela, Princesa Sugehit, Silueta

Who’s who?

Amapola is maskless in black, Zeuxis is in black as well, but has a mask while their third is blond and wearing blue/white/red.

Princesa Sugehit is the masked one on her side, a butterfly mask. Marcela in light blue while Silueta is wearing pink. 

How’s the match?

Pretty good, pretty much only Sugehit and Zeuxis were highlighted. It felt like all the other women were just there. It’s not really a compliant as I think that was the intended result. Those two are the ones having a mask vs mask in 2 weeks, while the other 4 likely won’t be on the card. The two really sold the fact they wanted one another's masks as both teams ripped the other’s captain's mask.

Cavernario, Felino, Negro Casas vs Carístico, Mistico, Soberano Jr.

Who’s who?

Cavernario is the young man of his team wearing a loincloth like singlet, Felino is wearing a cat tail and green pants, while Negro Casas is in plain black ring gear.

Soberano Jr. is wearing blue and silver like always while Caristico/Mistico are dressed very similarly, but like always Caristico has red eye detailing that tells him apart from his old mask and identity that Mistico took over years ago. 

How’s the match?

Great! It shouldn’t be too surprising as pretty much everyone in this match can work a great match. Mistico has never underperformed this year and he continues that streak by having some of the best moments in this big match. I know CMLL have always had a shine on him with the Trios belts on him for most of the last 5 years or so. 

I hope he gets a singles title soon, it’s also criminal CMLL has yet to have him win a betting match yet. Soberano Jr. continues to be one of the best young flyers in the business and Caristico/Negro/Felino all showed they can still hang with the kids who are all in their 20′s still. 

Negro Casas continues to tease the fans with whom he might work a singles match with next. Whoever he works against, he is going to pull a good/great match out of. He only has so many more left, one would assume as at 57 Negro Casas is one of the oldest workers in the world people are still eager to go see. 

Team Mexico (Diamante Azul, Dragón Lee, Euforia, Mephisto, Rush, Último Guerrero, Valiente, Volador Jr.) vs Team International (Johnny Idol, Juice Robinson, Kenny King, Kojima, Marco Corleone, Matt Taven, Michael Elgin, Sam Adonis) Gran Prix Torneo Cibernetico elimination match

Who’s who?

*Deep Breath*

Well on Team International we have :

Johnny Idol with purple trunks/gear and long dark hair, he is from New Zealand.

Juice Robinson has dreads and has multicolored tights is from the US.

Kenny King is the only black man in the match and is wearing red gear also from the US. 

Marco Corleone is wearing green/white/red not because he is a turncoat, but because he is billed from Italy... though is really from America.

Matt Taven is also in purple like Idol, but has light colored hair that isn’t as long representing the US.

Sam Adonis has airbrushed tights and wears his hair in a ponytail, representing Trump’s America.

Satoshi Kojima is the only Asian man in the match and is wearing his signature colors orange and black representing Japan. 

Michael Elgin is wearing his signature red singlet here for Canada.

While on Team Mexico we have :

Diamante Azul despite his blue name, he is wearing white pants and mask here with some light green/red touches for Mexican pride.

Dragón Lee also in white, but briefs instead of pants and has things hanging off the back of his mask. Probably the smallest member on his team.

Euforia is masked and wearing white and black.

Mephisto is  wearing a red/white mask with dark pants, he also has black threads hanging off the back of his mask.

Rush in white western boots and gear. He also has long black hair.

Último Guerrero in green and black, Ultimo is also one of the older men on the team. 

Valiente is in all white the stoutest member of the team and 1/3rd of sky team. 

Volador Jr. is also in all white, but has wrist tape, knee pads and no mask.

How was the match?

Great! Really the whole card was pretty much sold on this and if all Torneo Ciberneticos are this fun, it’s not hard to see why. I really don’t think anyone looked bad in the match and each elimination made the tension grow. It’s very much like CMLL’s version of Survivor Series, but with more national pride. 

The match had a nice singing of the Mexican National Anthem before the match started. It was a nice show of respect to the country CMLL has run out of since it’s inception 80+ years ago. 

Some people were eliminated quickly, but even those talents got to get a few good looking moves off. Johnny Idol was the first to bite the bullet, be before that happened he had a nice release suplex on Dragon Lee. The most forgettable talent in the match was probably Euforia, who didn’t even get his signature assisted splash off. CMLL I think did a great job of letting the outside talent look good and strong. Kojima/Elgin/Taven/Juice all being seen as the strongest/stronger members of Team International over CMLL regulars like Marco/Idol/Adonis.

Elgin by far was the best part of the match. CMLL is starting to make the people of Arena Mexico love Michael Elgin. I don’t think Elgin is ever going to come to CMLL full time, as I don’t think they pay as much as NJPW. If CMLL could get their hands on him for a longer stretch of time, I think Elgin would bring many new eyes to CMLL. Though as I said, I don’t see that ever happening... CMLL should have him in more if he is always going to give this much effort.

Though Elgin was more impressive, I think all the outsiders brought their A game. Matt Taven had a scary landing at the hands of Mephisto and also had some miscommunication on a lionsault. Still, despite those two missteps his performance was great. I hope his feud with Ultimo continues, though it felt like his elimination at the hands of Ultimo might be meant as a bookend for that feud. 

While some moves in this match hit less than perfectly, it doesn’t really hurt the match for me and should be expected with any match that bloats to 16 contenders. I don’t mean bloat in an awful way as the Royal Rumble is bloated with 30 contenders, but is often the most exciting multi-man match of WWE’s year. It’s just when you have 16-30 moving pieces, some of those moving pieces might not clash perfectly.  

A great first iPPV for me to watch from CMLL, I’ve been covering them since May/June, this was their first iPPV since March. I’ll say it and not feel too bad about it... this PPV is better overall than anything WWE has produced this year. 

It’s no G1 Climax Finals, but it’s also leagues more enjoyable than something like Backlash from this year. If you have some extra cash to spend I’d highly recommend buying this. 

Buy Link for just Gran Prix for 10$ USD or both Gran Prix and CMLL Anniversary for 20$ USD. You have to make an Internetv.tv account, which they will ask you to do at these links. The stream worked pretty perfectly all night, though had a short hiccup at the start of the main event after refreshing once or twice it picked back up where it had left off. 

Highlights :

Gran Prix 2017 Highlights

(Note I didn’t put finishes or most of the eliminations in this highlight album. I don’t want to give away their product, but still made highlights of the whole thing. Please buy the product and support it if you can. So the lack of falls or eliminations in the main event is purposeful. I think one or two might have slipped through, but for the most part I didn’t want them included, Buy the show, it was worth every Peso!) 

#CMLL #GranPrix #GranPrix2017 #Blue Panther Jr. #The Panther #Blue Panther #Sanson #Cuatrero #Mascara 2000 #Mistico #Caristico #Soberano Jr. #Cavernario #Felino #Negro Casas #Amapola #Dalys #Zeuxis #Marcela #Princesa Sugehit #Silueta #Micael Elgin #Kenny King #Juice Robinson #Johnny Idol #Matt Taven #Sam Adonis #Satoshi Kojima #Marco Corleone #Diamante Azul

[tomoyanosekai]

A Time to Walk Forward ~Naive Yearnings and the Future~

“Well… What do I do now? Where do I go now?”

First off, I want to wish you a Happy New Year! Thank you so much for following my life into 2019, and if you’re new here, welcome! This is the first post of 2019, and January has been quite the month, both an eventful start to the year, as well as an eventful start to the semester. There’s been a lot to take in as this year started, and as the curtain rises on what will hopefully be my final semester at Biola, I’m currently… In a conflicted state of thought. I will preface this post with this: I am going to be extremely raw with my thoughts, and will be purely writing in the state of where I am right now. This is not going to be one of the happiest posts. Where to begin though is the real question. Since I’m not quite sure where to start, I’ll start with the actual end of 2018.

When I wrote the last post, I was still on Winter Break. Honestly, Winter Break was pretty lonely, since I wasn’t able to spend time or chat with a lot of my friends from Biola and other areas in my life. Granted, there were times that I was able to catch up and hang out with friends, but ultimately: I was really lonely and sort of bored. If I wasn’t trying to talk with friends, I was trying to do homework. Yes, you read that right: I was trying to do homework. When last semester ended, I asked for a Report Delay, and ended the semester with four incomplete classes on my transcript. With a Report Delay, this meant I could catch up on the classes I was behind on, and I would be able to try and finish that missing work. What exactly happened after that? More on this in a moment.  

As I said in the last post, this year would be dedicated to trying to figure out “What exactly is my best life,” and what that’s supposed look like. “What am I called to do?” It’s this question that I’ve been mulling over, and I have been thinking of some things for my future. Something I definitely do know for the time being is that I don’t want to follow the steps of my parents and older brother; all I know is that if I were to become what they want me to become, I’d just suffocate under expectations and not be doing what I enjoy as a result. Nonetheless…

“Maybe I should become a teacher and teach English overseas in Japan, and eventually become some type of Japanese Teacher or College Professor in the future.”

or...

“Maybe I should become a Youth Pastor. I’ve got a heart for kids and wanting to see them grow and mature.”

or...

“Maybe I should become a student adviser and counselor. Or maybe I should just become some type of adviser or counselor; I don’t know. ”

Even with all of these thoughts in mind, I still don’t know what direction I should head in, and where my life will lead me. As the next semester at Biola began, I’ve been thinking about this question even more especially since people have been asking me about my Post-Grad plans. As I hear this question more and see a lot of my friends answer this, I can’t help but feel that they already have a solid plan, even if it sounds like they’re unsure. As I continued to mull over this during Winter Break, my time as a Biola Student would start once again.  

As the curtain rises once again, I was caught with a lot of turbulence, coming in the forms of external problems and feelings. So... Remember the classes I didn’t finish due to my Report Delays? Within my first week of coming back, I would’ve been forced to drop a certain amount of classes, mainly because I didn’t finish a certain amount of work from last semester by the time school started.  Even though I still haven’t finished, as of this writing, I’m still working on them, and am extremely close to finishing. I’ve had to fight the system at Biola, and because of my fighting, I think I might have won and obtained that extension (at the time of this writing.) Aside from that, as I returned, I couldn’t help but notice a certain emptiness that I was experiencing during my first week. A lot of people I care about and grew closer to were missing, and I couldn’t help but feel lonely. For those who graduated and left, I know they’ve got plans to keep going forward with their lives and do something amazing. However, as they’re gone, I couldn’t help but reflect on my time here, but think that I’ve been taking my time as a student for granted. Sure, lots of upperclassmen and good friends have come and gone, but in the end when it matters, I can’t help but think that I’ve taken advantage of my time here. I can’t help but naively think that my time as a student wouldn’t end, and my time with all of these fantastic people I’ve met wouldn’t come to an end.

However, looking at reality, even as many of my friends came and went, there are still many people that are still here. I know it will be time to move on soon, but I’m currently doing what I want to do with my last semester. Last month, I stated that my time as a club officer in Hope Rising ended for me. Without Hope Rising, I’ve had the chance to catch up with a lot of people in that first week alone, and I’m doing what I wanted to do: have more free time to spend with the people I’ve neglected. Although I’m surrounded by amazing people and am able to spend time with them, something I’m struggling with right now is whether or not I truly should get closer to all of them. A lot of me right now is feeling afraid to get closer to them, mainly because I know that I’m afraid of the eventual bittersweet ending that will come when we need to part ways after this four year journey I’ve been on. Obviously, I shouldn’t be afraid to get closer to them, since that will (hopefully) spur on a connection and desire to keep in touch, even after college. However, I know that I am still afraid of facing this fear when I need to. It will be bittersweet, and I know I will probably be crying.

I know that there are some things that I need to inevitably face. But what does it mean to face changes, and to an extension, endings as they are? Even if it’s bittersweet, I need to face the reality of life, and know that life will change again; just as it did and as it always has. All things come to an end. Whether that be the good times, or just groups of friends in general, everything  will have to eventually end. I know that I was feeling something similar, if not the same back when I was about to graduate from high school. However, I can safely say that these feelings are legitimate, mainly because I’ve taken steps to bond with everyone, and had them pour into me relationally. Knowing this simply shines brightly to me as a symbol of the friendships I’ve made here. It’s not like high school, and I don’t want it to end. Even though I still keep in touch with people, even after they’ve left, I personally feel and know that it will be very different after leaving college; there will be people I can’t keep in touch with, and people I will lose contact with, which is something I’m afraid of. I know I’m being naive and childish, but I know I need to trust in God with this, and know that I can continue to move on. As Jeremiah writes in Jeremiah 29:11:

““...For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future...””

Many of my friends have come and gone, and my official time in Hope Rising is over. Those times have ended, and lots of these moments will continue to come to an end, and live on as memories. I don’t know what the future holds for me, and that frankly worries me. I need to figure out what to do with my life, figure out what it means to live my “best life,” and do what I’m being called to do.

I need to grow up and mature even more.

It’s time to continue to walk forward.

Even though this journey’s ending, it doesn’t mean I can’t still enjoy the thrill of what God and life’s got in store in this final semester. It’s time to trust God with what he’s got in store for me as I grow up.

“From here on out, it’s my stage!!”

[wintercovers]

for @yanagay; tried to go for cute senior high with a dash of kin-chan and this is the result

“Hey,” Sakuno freezes, mid-conversation, mid-word, mid-breath. Ryoma’s voice is deep and too close to her ear and she needs warning for when he’s going to do such a thing. “Isn’t that my hoodie?”

Sakuno turns around, a no on her lips until she is able to note exactly how close Ryoma is to her. Too close for Sakuno to be the assertive girl she always wishes she could be. She swallows her no back down and has to turn back to the tennis court in order to answer him. She is meant to be better than this. This year, her newly seventeenth year, she was meant to change. It’s looking like it will take the year for her to change. “It’s Kin-kun’s,” Sakuno says.

And as if he could hear the conversation turning towards him Kintarou waves his racket in their direction from the court. “You promised, remember!”

Sakuno fists at the hem of the hoodie he loaned her. Tomoka elbows her in the side. Ryoma steps in to stand next to her at the fence and Sakuno can’t quite figure out if she’s uncomfortable because he’s too close or not close enough. Especially considering what it is she promised in exchange for the hoodie.

She takes a breath to compose herself. “Good luck Kin-kun!” She calls out, voice only wavering a little to betray the embarrassment she feels as people start turning in her direction. There are barely twenty people watching this spur of the moment pick-up game, but Sakuno feels like she’s under a spotlight when they all look her way. Four more well wishes to go.

She hopes Ryoma doesn’t get the wrong idea.

“How come you aren’t down there?” Tomoka cuts in front of Sakuno to talk to Ryoma, pointing down at the courts where a few other people are sitting around with rackets sitting between their knees. Sakuno wonders why she didn’t think the same thing when Ryoma first showed up. They’re only here because Tomoka heard about the pick-up games through someone in her Echizen Ryoma Fan Club group chat. Watching Ryoma play tennis was the only thing that got them out of their heated homes to brave to cold.

Tomoka promising to help Sakuno with the promise to herself to be assertive and brave is the entire reason Sakuno accepted Kintarou’s hoodie when he offered it to her because apparently, ‘just looking at you is making me cold’.

“I’m not allowed.”

Sakuno chuckles at Ryoma’s answer, the childishness in his tone enough to push her nerves to the side. She really needs to stop being nervous. She risks a peek because she can picture Ryoma’s face in her head but she wants to know if she’s right.

She is.

Sakuno has to cover a new bout of giggles with her hand. Ryoma frowns, his eyes seem to roam from where the sleeve of Kintarou’s hoodie drapes over the tips of her fingers then back up to her eyes, frown still in place. “I have a meeting next week and dad doesn’t want me injured before I go to it.”

Sakuno’s giddiness dims, her chuckles cease. “Good luck!” She calls out to Kintarou again, she doesn’t even know how he’s doing. She should care but she doesn’t. Meeting is what Ryoma called it, but Sakuno is fairly sure this is what her grandmother has been talking around for a few weeks now: Ryoma being offered a scholarship to an overseas university to play tennis. His needing to be uninjured for a meeting/, his actually following the advice… it has Sakuno thinking it’s the same thing.

This is why she needs to be brave, why she needs to be assertive. If she’s complacent in what she feels for too much longer Ryoma will be gone. Gone from her every day, gone from this city, gone from the very country in which she lives.

Sakuno shakes the thoughts away, the future is the future, now is now.

“Shame, Kin-kun would have liked to play you while he’s in town.” And it really is a shame, if Ryoma was on the court playing against Kintarou the game would be much better to watch. More entertaining. Some people enjoy a grossly one-sided match but Sakuno prefers the heart-stopping moments present only in a close game. Even when she’s the one playing she prefers it. Although, if Ryoma was down there playing Sakuno would feel a lot more conflicted about cheering for Kintarou.

Kintarou wins a point. It’s the first one Sakuno has really seen of this game, although it’s less Kintarou winning a point and more his opponent losing it. “This is easy Kin-kun, you’ve got this!” She almost feels bad for cheering, simply because it seems unnecessary. It takes a rare person to beat Kintarou in a match, and one of those rare people is standing next to her. “How come you came if you aren’t allowed to play?”

Ryoma looks at her, frowns at her— frowns down at the hoodie she’s wearing. Sakuno turns away, tugs at its hem, tries to pull it down although it doesn’t seem to want to stretch any further than halfway down her bare thighs. Her eyes track the wires of the wires of the fence but at the continued silence she casts her eyes back to Ryoma. Catches his eyes moving back up to her own. “Toyama wanted me to come. He said he had something for me.” Ryoma frowns again, this time at the embroidery across her left breast, then he turns away, seemingly lost in thoughts while following the ball down on the court. “I thought it was…” Ryoma trails off.

Sakuno chalks it up to him talking to himself but turns to Tomoka instead — her awkward, not quite wingman for the day — hoping for insight. Tomoka is usually her go-to when miracle of miracles she ends up messaging Ryoma. It’s harder to do the same thing in person and she might not have insight into Ryoma specifically but Tomoka’s far greater experience, with people in general, is what Sakuno is counting on to help.

Tomoka hunches her shoulders at Sakuno’s questioning look. Not much help at all in the end.

Sakuno wants to turn away, to give up for the day, to try something again on another day. Tomoka’s attempt to dress her to impress him have fallen to the wayside given the blustery cold and the subsequent wearing of Kintarou’s hoodie before she froze on the spot. Sakuno feels far more comfortable with the hoodie on than she felt earlier with half her body bared ‘to catch his attention’ with ‘something different’, but she also feels a little bad about how much time Tomoka spent planning the outfit for her — although Sakuno has to admit to herself that Tomoka’s clothing suggestions seemed a far better fit for a summer outing than one mid-January — and planning today for her.

Sakuno doesn’t think anything is going to come of it. It’s probably her fault. Her and Tomoka had been here first. Ryoma had approached them, approached her, chosen to watch the game by their side but then Sakuno is the one with no idea how to carry a conversation when nobody is aiding her and she hasn’t had adequate time to prepare herself in advance. Nothing of what they’ve barely talked about today has been a conversation she’s practiced in the dead of the night with Tomoka.

“He’s looking at you,” Sakuno looks to Ryoma who said it, who’s looking back but nods his head towards the court.

“Oh,” she says, “you’re amazing Kin-kun!” Kintarou stares a moment longer before serving. Yeah, even Sakuno can admit that one was weak. There’s nothing amazing about the way he’s playing in this match. If they were playing with different rules his opponent would have been chased from the court a while ago. As it is, it turns out this is the last point and Sakuno fell behind on cheering, fell through on her promise, Kintarou shakes his opponent’s hand and leaves the court stopping on the other side of the fence.

“Sorry,” Sakuno says when he stops in front of them.

Kintarou smiles, “I didn’t actually expect you to do it!” He laughs and Ryoma tenses beside her and Sakuno prepares for something to happen. Nothing does. “I’ll go get dressed and then we should get some food. If Koshimae’s not playing there’s not much point hanging around here longer.”

Kintarou runs back to the court side and Ryoma races around the fence to jump in and follow him. This is where something is going to happen, Sakuno is sure of it this time. She doesn’t get time to worry too much because Tomoka links their arms and walks them both to the court entrance as well. “We need to get a picture!” Tomoka says, “not everyone gets to hang out with Japan’s next best thing at the weekend. We could be famous, we’ll be in their biographies one day!” Sakuno ignores the words. Sure, a photo would be nice, but not necessarily for the reasons Tomoka is suggesting. Being president of Ryoma’s fan club for years on end with no end in sight is much more of a reason for Tomoka to be interviewed for his biography; if one were to even come.

Ryoma and Kintarou return. Arguing, as is usually the case. Sakuno doesn’t understand why when she thinks they have the potential to be actual good friends, but boys minds are not something she understands. She’s not sure anyone does.

“This one is mine!” Kintarou is saying, “see look at the size, it even has my name on the tag! That’s yours!” Kintarou points and in what seems to be slow motion Sakuno watches as both of them turn towards her. So slow is the motion, that she has time to see what they’re doing. Ryoma has Kintarou’s hoodie pulled down at the back collar, Kintarou’s hoodie, an exact replica it seems of the hoodie of Kintarou’s that she’s wearing now. In slow motion everything slides together: Ryoma frowning, the constant looks, of course they weren’t for her.

It had been so easy to believe the hoodie Kintarou had handed her was his own, the U-19 Japan stamped across her breast belonged only to him and a few others. What reasons would she have not to believe it was his own? He already has a boisterous personality, loud where Ryoma’s confidence is silent, she had thought his laughter at her sliding it over her head was because of the size, because he had convinced someone to cheer for him so he could look cool. No, no, no, all wrong. Kintarou had played her, had handed her Ryoma’s hoodie, to tease her, to annoy Ryoma, it doesn’t matter which.

Time speeds up and Sakuno’s face bursts into flame.

“It’s— I’m— Here!” She ends up on, none of her thoughts coming together into words. She can’t wear Ryoma’s hoodie. That’s too much, especially without his knowledge, without his permission. The thought of the warm embrace she’d been enjoying today coming from something of Ryoma’s is too much to handle without being prepared. She needs it gone.

Her hands pull up at the hem, her hair gets caught with it somewhere around her neck, the wind is catching at her skin and Sakuno wishes today had never happened. Why had she listened to Tomoka, why had she thought today might be different? At least at school, at tournaments, they have a set routine. This going out and dressing up — down? — specifically for Ryoma is where it had all gone bad. Pining is better than embarrassing herself in front of him by wearing his clothes.

“No!” Sakuno freezes, stops struggling to pull the hoodie from her tangled hair, stops contemplating ripping it out just to get this moment over with. “Keep it. It’s fine!” And in a turn of events completely unexpected, Ryoma pulls the hoodie back down slowly and even sets about trying to untangle her hair from the knot that’s formed. Tomoka probably has a brush on her, because she’s that type of person, but Sakuno would rather sit through Ryoma’s attempt to comb her hair back even if it’s still going to look like a mess afterwards.

Ryoma steps back, cheeks just a touch darker, from the cold or from her Sakuno will never know. She still feels like she’s on fire. Which is funny, now she has permission to wear the hoodie — Ryoma’s hoodie — she doesn’t even feel like she needs it.

“Keep it,” Ryoma says again. “For now, I’ll— I’ve been missing it for a few weeks now anyway,” he glares at Kintarou who only unleashes a smile warmer than the day, “a few more days is fine. I can pick it up some other time.”

Ryoma doesn’t glare this time, but he’s definitely looking at the hoodie again, his hoodie. He shakes his head and steps away, “I’m not going out to get food, though.”

“Koshimae!” Kintarou whines. “What’s the point of coming here if we don’t get to hang out and play!”

“You didn’t come here for me.” Ryoma answers. “I have things to do at home.” He continues walking.

Tomoka elbows Sakuno so hard in the ribs she winces and steps away from her. Sending a hurt look back at her friend Tomoka mouths an apology but points over her shoulder at Ryoma. “Follow him.” It’s said as whisper, but ends up harsh and loud and Kintarou laughs at it. Sakuno flushes even more because she didn’t need more people knowing about her hopeless crush and this is clearly more than enough for Kintarou to catch on.

“Yeah, go!” He laughs, “I think you wearing that had an effect!”

“Especially when it looks like you have nothing else on underneath!”

“That’s your fault!” Sakuno cries at her friend. “Who owns skirts this short? Who wears them in winter?” A silly question, because Tomoka, owner of skirts this short, is also a wearer of skirts this short in winter. “How are you not cold?”

“I can’t tell you,” Tomoka says, “that’s a part of the charm!” She winks and Kintarou laughs and Sakuno thinks only bad things can come from them being left alone together but she’s also been embarrassed enough for one day and staying with them is too much for her right now.

“I’ll bring your clothes to school tomorrow,” Sakuno says in farewell, rushing off immediately to chase after Ryoma before he gets too far away.

She does catch up, he offers her a silent greeting and they walk in silence. It could have been awkward, but compared to earlier, this is normal. Ryoma talks when he has something to say, and there’s not much for them to say now. In a couple of weeks there will be. Sakuno wants to know about his trial for university but she also knows it’s not meant to be public knowledge yet, she shouldn’t even know. 

Sakuno wants to know where it is he’s going, what he plans to do, she wants to know if there's anything she can do to follow him without it being just to follow him. She doesn’t want to be that type of girl but she does want to challenge herself and watching after Ryoma all these years, being inspired by him and falling a little bit more in love with him in every moment they spend together is a challenge. Taking up tennis, trying to be more confident, making a habit out of asking to walk home with him when their schedules allow…

Ryoma makes the turn for Sakuno’s house on his own and Sakuno steps into place alongside him. The walk is too short. It had taken longer to get to the courts from Tomoka’s house. Sakuno wishes she lived further so that the moment could last longer, but she doesn’t, it doesn’t.

Ryoma doesn’t step past the gate to her house, so Sakuno takes the plunge to reach out and drag him up at least to the door. “Just wait,” she says, “I’ll give this back now in case I forget.”

“You’ve never forgotten anything,” Ryoma says, and Sakuno flushes from the compliment, but that’s not what she means here. Owning something this warm, this nice, of Ryoma’s, it would be easy enough to convince herself to conveniently forget she’s meant to give it back. Taking it off now is easier. “Why are you…” Ryoma doesn’t finish, just waves his hand at Sakuno’s de-hoodied outfit.

“Ah,” she really should have changed in her room and then come back down rather than taking off the hoodie in the genkan. “I stayed at Tomoka’s last night and she let me borrow some clothes.” Clothes being an optimistic term for what she has on. A tiny cut off cardigan, a top that barely covers the roundness of her chest — she’s still convinced the lace of her bra is hanging out the bottom — a bare midriff and a scrap of material Sakuno definitely wouldn’t call a skirt but that’s what Tomoka had called it.

“Right,” Ryoma is definitely blushing now. Sakuno might have enjoyed it were it not for being so exposed; because this is something new, something she hasn’t seen before. Her own self, able to make Ryoma blush. It’s nice, could be nice, if she could achieve it without being undressed. She has never even rolled up the skirt of her uniform. Her parents would never have let her out of her own house wearing these clothes and Sakuno wouldn’t want them to. “I’m not at school next week, but I’ll see you around after that.”

He waves, awkwardly. This is the closest he’s ever been to coming into her home and it’s like they’ve both suddenly realised it. He steps back and he’s at the gate before Sakuno braces herself for one final cheer, she was meant to do it five times in exchange for the hoodie. The first four had apparently been to the wrong person but she can right that wrong here.

“Good luck next week, you’ll do great and I hope you get it.”

Ryoma stops in his tracks, looks back at her. “You know?” Sakuno nods, expecting to be told off but instead gets a smile. “Thanks,” he says, bowing his head, “that means a lot. I always do well when you’re the one cheering me on.”

It’s too much. Too honest with the way he won’t meet her eyes as he says it.

Sakuno slams the door on the moment and collapses against it. She needs warning for when he’s going to do something like that.

#ryosaku #rse2016 #yanagay #this should have been up ages ago but the storms keep knocking out the power and phone lines ;;;; #meliae.fic