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miss-tc-nova · 3 years

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Fools on the Dancefloor - Xehanort x Eraqus

So this was my first fic for the Checkmate zine before I settled on the piece that I did actually end up making. I hope you enjoy because I definitely enjoyed writing it.

Music Inspiration: Slow Dance cover by Ashestoashes

~~~~~

“Yo, Fleetfoot!”

When the pillow—his textbook—flies from beneath him, there’s a heavy THUNK and the boy in white jolts upright in shock. He finally comprehends the pair off to the side and gives his friends a cheesy smile.

“Hey guys. What’s up?” he greets, rubbing at the spot his head met the table.

Bragi snickers, but Vor is a little more serious. “You know Master Odin still expects you to know the stuff you sleep through.”

That goofy grin replies, “I haven’t flunked out yet.”

“You’ll be close if you keep drooling on your book.” Bragi’s upper lip curls back and he’s no longer keen on holding the text. “Gross! How can you catch up when you can’t even read the material anymore?”

“It’s a talent.”

“Whatever,” Bragi scoffs. Little Vor giggles behind her fist while the unimpressed boy throws his arms behind his head and leans his chair back on two legs.

“Are you guys ready for the banquet this weekend?” the girl asks.

“Not really,” Eraqus grumbles.

Bragi groans along with him. “Man, don’t we already do enough to celebrate the Scala founders? We already got the festival, the show, and the lantern thing. We really gotta add a bunch of dumb speeches and some hokey pokey? Why are we even going again?”

“Because Master Odin wants us there representing the future of keyblade wielders,” Vor sighs. “But I have to agree, it’s a little overkill on the celebrating.”

“Some representation we’ll be when only Fleetfoot has fancy feet,” the red-head huffs. “The rest of us’ll be out there steppin’ on toes and Xehanort will probably be flat on his face.”

Eraqus tilts his head. “You don’t think he can dance?”

“Era, not everyone has your prestigious upbringing,” Vor reminds firmly. “It’s a miracle the rest of us have some basic understanding of formal dancing, but Xehanort came from a world completely different than ours. And from the sounds of it, he wasn’t exactly popular there.”

The thought interests Eraqus; finding something Xehanort can’t do is pretty rare. “Yeah, but Xehanort learns pretty quick. We’ve spent most of our lives learning to use a keyblade but he caught up in less than a year.”

“That’s true,” Bragi agrees. “It’d probably take him less than an hour to master the waltz or somethin’.”

A hand slams down on the table, startling the boys enough that Bragi topples backwards. “That’s it! Eraqus, you should do a dance class,” Vor says excitedly.

“D-Dance class?” Eraqus stammers. Even Bragi, once he’s shoved himself off the floor, gives her a skeptical look.

“Yeah. Even if you try to help Xe, he’s not gonna accept it if he’s the only one. So what if we all went? Besides, I know I’m a little rusty.”

Granite eyes look to Bragi who shrugs. “I got the gist of it, but my folks never made me learn so I guess I’m in.”

Teaching Xehanort to dance—now that’s something Eraqus might enjoy. At first, his relation with the new-comer was adversarial, but as their competitions became more and more ridiculous, something stronger grew between them. There’s still a rivalry, but Eraqus began to notice a magnetism drawing him to his friend—a desire to be in his presence as often as possible. Outside that presence, he felt like he was lost in a fog. He spent his life navigating only what was right in front of him, but when Xehanort came into the picture, that smog rolled out and everything seemed clear. The pressure that comes with prestige fades, that outcast feeling he couldn’t shake slips away, and the jubilant act he used to put on becomes real—he’s truly happy when Xehanort is around.

Dragging him from his contemplations is the creaking door; in steps the very person that has no issue overriding Era’s thoughts.

“You guys do know class ended like thirty minutes ago, right?” he states, shifting the box under his arm.

Bragi rights his toppled chair. “Yeah, but we decided to hassle Sleepfoot here.”

“Guess what!” Vor shouts, hopping closer to Xe. “Eraqus is gonna teach us all to dance!”

Well, he hadn’t actually accepted yet, but he can only meet that inquisitive glance with a fool’s smile.

“You guys have fun with that.” The dismissal is so easy it pricks at Era’s ego.

“So then you don’t mind looking like a clown at the banquet?” Bragi says with his signature smarmy grin. Silver eyes narrow at the offender. “Unless you can actually dance—in which case, show me wha’chu got.”

Before Xehanort can retort, Vor tugs at his haori. “Come on! We’re all doing it. We’re supposed to be representing our school—we can’t be stumbling around.”

Once again, he looks to Eraqus as if he’ll get an answer but Era’s being dragged into this just as much as he is.

“Ugh. Fine.”

“Great! We’ll do it tomorrow night after dinner!” the girl announces. “Bragi, come with me! We gotta find the others!”

“Alright, alright.” There’s a clear difference in the enthusiasm and energy, but the two scurry off.

“Those two are up to something,” Xehanort murmurs, watching the door close.

“You think so?”

“Yeah…” The suspicion fades when the youth in black turns back to Eraqus. There’s something soft there that churns at Eraqus’s stomach. “Anyway, chess?” he offers, holding up the box.

“Oh, right!”

The boys settle into their window seat, basking in the sunlight and pushing pieces across the board. Eraqus’s game isn’t up to par—his mind distracted with tomorrow’s endeavor. It’s fleeting, but there’s also the thought of Xehanort looking down at him, smiling, slow dancing. There goes any productivity he had any hope of having today.

~~~~~

Class seems like an eternity and Eraqus can’t even nap through it this time. There’s a strange excitement concerning his dance class bubbling in his brain. He has a habit of half-assing things that involve effort—usually just getting by—but he’d actually spent time last night rehearsing what’s been drilled into his head since he was little. Even his daily chess game with Xehanort can barely distract him from his impatience, earning him a lecture from the boy who won’t accept an easy win—let alone two days in a row.

Eraqus has never been early in his life for anything, he was even born a week late, but today is different; today, Eraqus scarfs down dinner like a starving man and rushes back to the classroom lugging a record player he’d borrowed from the Master. His heart is only just starting to slow when the door opens.

“I told you guys he’d be here,” Vor says loudly.

Urd smirks. “Now if he could just be on time to class.”

Eraqus laughs. “I had to get the record player running.”

“Oh my gods, he’s even prepared,” she gasps. “Did Hermod hit you too hard in class today?”

Not thrilled with the subject, Hermod urges, “Alright, stop teasing him. The banquet is tomorrow so let’s get started.”

The shortest classmate hurries forward. “Psst, Xe’s been grumbling about this all day, so you gotta give him lots of encouragement,” she whispers louder than necessary.

“Okay?” Era agrees questionably. Standing straight, he notices how awkward Xehanort looks just being here, not even meeting anyone’s gaze. “Um, okay. Everyone partner up.”

Vor hops beside Bragi while Urd nudges Hermod with an elbow; that leaves Xehanort—the person who needs the most help—without a partner.

Eraqus glances around. “Wait, where’s Baldr?”

“Said he already had plans to hang out with his sister,” Bragi answers.

“Oh…” Well this un-evened the odds, granted they were already playing with some strange odds with four boys to two girls without the dance teacher, but at least even numbers made it possible to practice in pairs.

“Guess I’ll just sit this one out,” Xehanort says, not at all irritated with the situation.

Eraqus glances to Bragi and Vor who wave him on enthusiastically. While he may have been a bit enamored at the thought of dancing with Xehanort, he figured it would be in fleeting moments of demonstration, not being partnered for the whole thing.

“Uh, no. It’s okay…I’ll be your partner.”

The pair gives him thumbs up but Xehanort looks less amused. “Seriously?”

The teacher shakes the doubt from his head. “Yeah.” He motions for Xehanort to approach. “Come on. I’ll do the girl’s part.”

Cautiously, the boy in black comes closer. Trying to conceal his nerves, the expert props up his partner’s arms in the correct position and slides in to take the girl’s stance. As soon as Eraqus’s hand meets Xehanort’s bare arm, the latter recoils.

“Nope! No! Uh uh! I’m out!” Xehanort blurts out, attempting to flee the situation.

“Ah! Wait!” Eraqus snags a fistful of black fabric. “Come on. You didn’t even get to the first step. It’s really not that hard.”

“I think I’d rather just make a fool of myself.”

“You’d…rather be made fun of than dance with me?”

The response comes harshly. “That’s not what I said!”

The fabric creaks in Eraqus’s grasp while he lets his eyes plead for him. Somehow, in spite of Xehanort’s stubbornness, it works and the reluctant boy turns back with a sigh.

Surprisingly, the class moves forward quite smoothly. Having done this before, the others require only some refinement on their moves while Xehanort is quick to catch on as always. The muscles in Eraqus’s face begin to ache from his uncontainable grin. Even as he’s correcting minor mistakes, his thoughts are teeming with the moments he’s got Xehanort’s hands on him and the static that buzzes across his skin where contact is made

Currently, Eraqus is in the middle of teaching the pairs how to dip.

“The girls should have most of their weight on the outside foot but the guys should still be holding them up somewhat.” Just as Eraqus begins to lean back, he remembers something. “And the guys should never—”

The end of that sentence was ‘lean over their partner’ which is exactly what Xehanort does. This shift in weight unbalances the boys and down they go. Air promptly evacuates Era’s lungs as he’s squished between the floor and his partner.

“Are you okay?” Hot breath ghosts across Eraqus’s nose.

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly, the embers of a fire starting between his shoulder blades. Those silver eyes are so pretty up close, easily mesmerizing Eraqus.

Xehanort helps the boy back to his feet, but as he does, there’s a disturbance that tugs the teacher’s attention to the far side of the room.

“Shhh!” Vor hisses. She and Bragi are in the middle of harassing the other two, ushering the unwitting pair towards the door.

“Hey!” Eraqus exclaims, starting for their friends. “What are you guys—”

His steps halt when the grasp on his hand doesn’t release. With caution, he looks back at his fingers, still linked with Xehanort’s. His eyes trail up the opposite arm to the boy’s face, who refuses to make eye contact. Still, there’s the faintest dust of pink across his nose.

“Show me that one again,” he murmurs.

It doesn’t matter that Hermod and Urd are protesting or that Bragi and Vor are shushing them; absolutely nothing in this moment could tear Eraqus’s attention away from Xehanort. Without a word, he resets his stance, nudging Xehanort to take the lead.

It’s a little strange to be playing the girl’s part in such a formal dance—having been unwillingly taught to be a leader his whole life—but Eraqus ignores discipline. The lesson forsaken, he lets his body react to the signals Xehanort gives while his mind soaks in this little bit of bliss.

Having long forgotten their lesson, the pair slow dances for some time before Xehanort speaks with a crooked grin, “I told you they were up to something?”

Eraqus laughs in response. “Do you think we should tell them we’re already dating?”

“Nah, this is more entertaining. Besides, they deserve a little suffering for trying to meddle. Bunch of conniving foxes, all of them.”

“Us too?”

“Especially you.”

“Me?”

A spark shining in silver eyes expresses that adoration Eraqus used to confuse for less amorous feelings. Knowing what he does now, that look makes him feel so light.

“Hiding all your talent behind that clown mask.” Xehanort’s words hold insult on the surface, but beneath them, in that husky tone, is that admiration. “The skill, smarts, wit…all on top of just how damn gorgeous you are.”

Heat surges into Era’s ears. Afraid of turning into a real clown, he let’s his gaze fall to their feet. However, at the insistence of the hand at his back, the gap between them closes. His brain stutters briefly before the calm washes over him. The warmth against his cheek, the steady heartbeat against his ear—Eraqus soaks in this incredible comfort.

While the music floats through the air, the boys continue to softly sway. This would never fly at the banquet; they’re expected to be polite gentlemen and dance with all the girls—that and Eraqus’s parents would never condone this. He’s supposed to be a proper heir who will continue the family line. Xehanort though, he makes it so easy to forget those responsibilities. Besides, they’re perfectly alone right now, no prying eyes, no forbidding parents; the only thing Eraqus has to do right now is enjoy the moment.

“It’s getting late,” Eraqus murmurs, noting the moon lighting their tranquility. “I didn’t even get to teach you Scala’s traditional dance.”

“Now you decide to be responsible?” the other teases. “Why dance at the banquet tomorrow when we can dance here all night long?”

That brings a flutter to Era’s heart and, from the sounds of it, Xe’s too. “You know the Master is still gonna expect us to be there.”

“So what?”

This boy could make every one of Eraqus’s fake smiles real, all with very little effort. “For once I won’t be the biggest fool in the room, not when you don’t even know the basic step of the Choros Lucis.”

“Oh you’re still a fool; you just happen to be a fool with fancy feet.”

“I guess that’ll make us just a couple of fools on the dancefloor, huh?”

“Sure, but probably not because of the dancing.”

Confused, Eraqus lifts his head. His question dies on his lips, sentenced by a simple kiss that awakens an avarice in the boy. His hands leave their positions, snagging silver hair and preventing any escape Xehanort may have considered. This is everything he’s ever wanted; his whole life, he’s been starved for this unconditional affection. It swells so strongly in his chest he might burst—with a scream, with tears, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s in love.

For a while, the taller boy indulges him, but does eventually manage to break away, smirking at the resulting pout.

“That’s why we’re fools.”

#eraqus #xehanort #young xehanort #young eraqus #xehaqus

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gumnut-logic · 4 years

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Fanfic Asks 2

This one is for @hedwigstalons who asked for A F L Q along with @fictivekaleidoscope , @willow-salix , @coffee-and-lenna and @janetm74 who all asked for Q. You guys are so kind to me ::hugs you lots::

-o-o-o-

A. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Star Trek: TOS…I’m a Trekkie from way back. Discovered it in 1986 through books in my school library (it wasn’t on TV and hadn’t been since 1975 of which I had the vaguest of memories…and yes, I’m old :P ). I wrote my first fanfic as a teenager, by hand in a notebook. It was submitted to the local club printed fanzine (which I still have lying around here somewhere along with a stack of classic printed zines). Looking back, it had a strong concept behind it, but it was horribly written. I do not have an electronic copy, though sometime ago I thought to re-write it, but never got around to it. You can find my second ever fanfic, written when I was eighteen on FF.net – Goodbye, Spock – it was a movie tag, written in early 1991.

F. How long have you been writing fanfic?

Hmm, I think I’ve given that massive number away in the last question :D Yeah, since I was about eighteen, possibly a little earlier. ::does the math:: Okay, that number is scary. Next year it will be thirty years since my first fanfic ::headdesk:: but having said that, I didn’t really start writing until the internet arrived with my first computer and maturity gave me the ability to finish things (sometimes). I really jumped in with Stargate SG-1 fandom in 2003. From that point on I wrote continuously until I had children in 2008. Then I stopped and didn’t really start up again until July 2018 when TAG hit me like a ton of bricks. The last two years have been amazing and I have learnt so much.

Oh, and if anyone ever says writing fanfic is wasting time or will never get you anywhere, writing fanfic and participating in fandom has done wonders for introvert little me:

Led to me getting my job – writing is a skill that can get you many places

Taught me how to blog and how to manage a blog – valuable skills in or out of business

Teaches you multiple online tools – chat, publishing and other multimedia applications – you’d be surprised how many people are not comfortable using many online tools. I use my experience every day on the library floor.

Allowed an introvert to reach out and learn how to converse and gain confidence in conversation – online interactions has many advantages

Is excellent for mental health…and equally unhealthy if you’re not careful – which leads to learning about yourself and managing conflict (unfortunately…which is why I have zero tolerance for fandom wank and will not participate in or create nastiness – I’m here for fun and to hopefully make things more fun, not miserable)

I’ve learnt to type. My first novel length fic was 75,000 words long and hand written before being typed into the computer – let’s just say that that three months back in 2003 finally enabled me to break the touch type barrier :D Which is a skill that I use every day.

If some one does say you’re wasting your time, they obviously have no idea what they are talking about – ignore them. As long as you’re balancing your fic writing with life in general, things are okay (I got addicted at one point and things were not okay, so don’t do that).

In summary, apparently I’m old, been writing forever and have found it a very valuable exercise which will no doubt lead me even further into interesting places.

L. What is your favorite fic idea that you don’t think you’ll ever write?

I tend to write most things or forget them. There was that random fanfic idea I posted a few days back. It’s a cool idea, but I don’t have time at the moment. ::opens ups fic planning book::

Ideas sitting, not yet started, but might be:

Eos gets hacked by the Hood and injures two brothers before John realises it and saves her.

Episode tag to 3.21 that explores the Mechanic

Alan’s Vlog: I have a note for the next story that I haven’t yet written.

The Kermadec sequel

A fic idea I had the other day inspired by a news article – that one might actually get written at some point.

A sequel to V. T. Green (which apparently is my most popular fic) – which I had a concept for, but haven’t written down, by the looks of it. Oops.

A sequel to Bo where Virg gets buried in an avalanche – this one was started.

Eh, I have lots of ideas, most get lost in the mess that exists in my head. Sometimes I write a note down, but then I forget what the note means. I usually have to grab the inspiration when it strikes.

Q. If you could pick one fic of yours to rewrite, which would it be?

Love and Sacrifice – I wrote that fic out of order and smushed it together and it shows. It is also full of technical holes. The plotline sucks because I wanted a certain scene and forced it. But it is such an integral piece of the series that I can’t alter it much. The whole of Warm Rain was written in bits. I usually write in order and that experiment shows that I’m not great at writing out of sequence. Most of the fics work okay, but Love and Sacrifice, while having some good scenes in it, is poorly constructed.

A Little Distraction and a Little Too Much Attention suffers from self-indulgence. Virgil wasn’t supposed to get hurt – I should have stopped at A Little Distraction, but apparently, I can’t help myself and the results weren’t great.

Two fics instead of one…there are more, but I’m not supposed to publicly criticise my fics – I do enough of that in my own head :D

-o-o-o-

EDIT: @weirdburketeer reminded me of something I meant to list but forgot regarding the above reasons why writing fanfic is not a waste of time.

The friendships! My goodness, how did I miss that? I flew to Sydney to meet a good fanfic writing friend in both 2004 and 2005, another friend flew all the way from Chicago (as part of a business trip) to Australia and made a special trip to Adelaide, just to meet up with me. It was frickin’ amazing!

And this fandom....I have met some absolutely amazing people here. You guys have influenced me like you wouldn’t believe. As I have said on many occasions, this fandom is just amazing ::drags you all into a massive group hug:: And yes, I have some fantastic friendships forming here ::loves you guys to bits::

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #star trek #writing #fanfiction

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memnonofarcadia · 3 years

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Remembering Joey Bruno

Originally published in the Sacramento Jazz & Blues Quarterly Bedtime is sometime around dawn. Dinner is usually whatever you want it to be. Shall we go to Iceland? Festivals, fliers, wristbands, Sharpies on skin, smoke, grass, hash, molasses, sky, blue, crisp, clear sky. And yet I’m still writing all this within a grey airport terminal, locked into some kind of strange Druid-esque ritual with pen and paper. Deadline is tomorrow, where were you when you were supposed to be working? Don’t have any answers for now, just that I need to write and get it out to my boss within the next day. Or two. It wouldn’t have been the first deadline blown. But think, distract myself with the McDonald’s coffee and keep putting down adjectives and phrases from places I’ve been, things I’d seen, dreams I’d never have again with people I’ve never met and music I had. 40 minutes till boarding starts, I’ll be last, of course. It pays enough to fly but not enough to enjoy it. Been getting harder and harder to deal with the travel, at any rate. Starting to notice the spell everyone is under, the sleepwalking nature of the corporate employee. It had only been noticeable after it had been broken, which I had no problem doing, ever. When your home is a hotel you take your shots however you can get them, besides it wasn’t like you have to live in any particular town past a few days at most. Half-heartedly started keeping a list of rejections and their professions, making sure to note that there was only one waitress on the list, most were from bookstores or places where there was an escape for all parties. Don’t need to make it more awkward than it has to be. Sorry, I didn’t mean, then the words fade off into the ocean. On the edge of nowhere, like a little seaside town. Maybe that’s where I’d like to end up, like a lifeguard in the post-apocalypse, no responsibilities, just looking cool for the seagulls. How many life guards had I asked out? Not many, either way. Concerts didn’t go well with water, not in my experience. Can’t seem to find a way to write about anything other than something on the present times, life and times. I struggle, already flipped through the notebooks to jog the memory with some tit and tat that had to be discarded for the sake of length from another article. Or two. Or four. Or 12. Throwing yourself to the wolves, towards and into the meat grinder that one might just pay the bills with the right amount of ink in the right places on a blank piece of paper. Who cares about music festivals and pop culture when there’s McDonald’s coffee and the cold inside of an airplane to look forward to? Four times I’d attempted to ask about an airline attendant’s relationship status, thrice I’d been rejected. Once she’d pretended not to hear me and instead moved to the opposite end of the plane for the remainder or the flight. Understandable, no harm done. No harm done. By anyone, right? Who said this was ever going to be a love story, you and I?

College had been a breeze, not that I’m bragging. State schools were like that, at least then, and Californ-I-A’s were no different. No doubt now there’s better options available for where I was at when I had to decide where to go to school, but there you are. A degree in journalism is a degree in journalism, and I had little else to go on other than my love of music, substances, travel, female company, and a shocking talent at being able to string together sentences. In a way it’s always given me a bit of a guilty feeling. I never sat down and really worked at learning or improving with regards to writing, I just sort of could do it. That’s the short version of how I found my niche of a career, one I thought I could exploit anyway. Turns out I was right, and in a way it was everything I could (and did!) hope for. Except everybody’s got to grow up sometimes, and I did, regrettably. There’s only so many hungover mornings a human being can take before they’re permanently reduced to a shambling, sickly mess of what used to be a humanoid organism, and I had certainly put myself on that path. Got off of it, thanks to the countless AA meetings I made myself go to, but I digress. That had been the first mark on the wall of things that I could no longer enjoy about the gig, the fact that now I had to do the whole thing sober. The hardest substance I have confidence I can enjoy responsibly now is coffee, and even then the ugly demon of acid reflux put me back in my place before too long. Suddenly all the kids were much more annoying than usual, the travel a hassle, the food revolting, and the music itself just kind of bad, which was the real heartbreaker. Some days before it had been all to keep me going, minus the women, which were always a constant. “Festival sluts” is the term you’ll want to Google (or DuckDuckGo) if you’re curious about what I mean, also colloquially known as upper middle class girls whose parents were too busy working to devote anything past a friendly “hullo” to their children, and thus succeeded in raising a bunch of hedonistic, attention-desperate, and morally naïve young people with excess income and too much time to spend it all in. Nasty ain’t it? But it kept me coming back for more, like the good-natured animal that I am. We all are. That’s the secret that I learned more than anything from the beat, we are all more simple and pleasure driven than we could ever articulate or realize. It’s what keeps the lights on at home, for everything and anything. Probably. Or maybe I’m just bitter. Most of the friends I made during college or were colleagues in my escapades writing about indie rock et al. around the globe are gone now. Burnt out, some burnt up, most just couldn’t hack it anymore and left to go get real jobs at real newspapers. The circus, or pirate ship, as is probably more accurate a nomer, is not for everyone, and rarely does it last forever. Bet you’re wondering where that leaves me. Still bitter, but still coming back for more, just like I was always going to. Always. So why don’t I quit? You tell me. Because I know why.

The finest writer I ever met was a journalist by the name of Joey Bruno, a guy I came across one of the many late nights I spent at the pathetic office of my college’s newspaper. I was editing a freshman’s piece about how the White Album was actually really bad, sighing uncontrollably the whole time, when Mr. Bruno walked in and struck up a conversation with yours truly. I happily engaged, as any activity that didn’t involve that stupid piece of writing was fine by me. He explained that he was friends with the real Editor , who was at his parents’ in Wisconsin for the weekend, and would drop by periodically when he got off work to help out where he could. “Why spend your time working on bad writing by dumb college kids?” I’d asked him. “Free beer, plus it can be fun sometimes. There’s been plenty of stuff come through here that I rewrote beyond all recognition just for fun, and nine times out of ten the original author doesn’t even notice. Good times.” Maybe so, I’d thought. In any case every other Friday or thereabouts I’d get a late night revising buddy to help cull the newspaper’s intimidating stack of submissions. It was in those early morning hours that I came to the conclusion that I wanted to become a music journalist, mostly from talking to Mr. Bruno about his own adventures. But I don’t think I listened, not really. Maybe if I had I’d be off this conveyor belt by now, but then again maybe not. Maybe I’d never have started. One night in particular while we were enjoying our cigarettes, coffee, and beer (all courtesy of the newspaper of course), he retailed me with a story of his long lost love, a girl he’d known briefly in the California punk scene of the late 80s. I was instantly entranced. “It was a magical time,” he’d said to me while stroking his magnificent beard. “But I’m glad it’s over now. It was getting messy there at the end,” I brought up how those little parts of the world, at that time were being romanticized an awful lot in contemporary media then. “And for good reason, too.” He’d responded wistfully. “A lot of great things happened for a lot of good people. It was about as close to the 60s as anyone came since then, I think. That much hope,” And this is where he began to tell his story, the story of “the rebel known as ‘Justine,’” as he’d put it. However it had happened, the two had come into contact through the various zines they’d each produced and sent out to the other punks in town. The closest thing to an internet forum for back then was to just be louder than everyone else, apparently. That was the only real way to get heard, to start a dialogue of some kind. That or take your chances at the shows, which they did anyway, but there wasn’t much talking going on there. Joey had written to Justine complimenting her on “Pop!,” which was her way of pushing her radical politics and militant-feminist views out on to the unsuspecting public behind the thin-façade of a bubblegum periodical. The art had been good, and the writing made everyone Joe showed it to laugh out loud, so he made a point to let the author know, whoever they were. There was an address included in the back for people to write in, so he did just that. He also included a copy of his own creation, the somewhat popular (in those circles anyway) “Buzz ‘n’ Stuff.” “What was it about?” I asked as my friend rolled himself another cigarette. “Nothing really, I just sort of made stuff about interesting things I found at the library then slapped it together in that. It seemed to work. I remember the one I sent her had something about how to get popped bubblegum out of your hair without cutting it all off, so I think that’s what got her interested. There wasn’t anything of value or substance in there, let’s be real,” Joey took another swig of his beer and reached into the cooler below his desk for another, being sure to throw me one too like a sport. “Thanks, boss. But continue, you got me interested now,” So he did. It had started slowly, really, with the trading of zines and letters, the occasional patch or pin by mail too. Eventually after a lengthy correspondence they made a plan to meet up at a concert, The Vandals to be precise. Joey had taken painstaking measures to show up in the most hip clothing of the day, studded leather jacket, combat boots, the whole nine yards. “I looked like a freak,” he told me with a chuckle. “But then I saw her,” Justine had arrived looking like everything and nothing Joey had expected her to. She had the familiar punk gear, Doc Martins and an army jacket covered in patches and safety pins, but the rest of what she had on departed from the norm drastically. It had been some bizarre cross between a punk, hippy, and cult leader all in one, macabre golden jewelry offsetting the “meat is murder” t shirt underneath. “It was great,” said Joey. “People were afraid of her at that show. She looked really scary,” They hit it off and had a jolly old time watching The Vandals play, and later they found themselves alone on a hill overlooking the suburbs, talking about the issues and passing a joint back and forth. It was all music to my ears, as it would be for most any young person, I suspect. “Tell me more,” I’d implored. These were fantasies that I needed fulfilled. Joey paused and rocked back and forth in his chair contently for a few seconds before he complied. My heart sank before he spoke. “We were inseparable after that first time. It really was something. We could go anywhere, do anything, and we would always end up on the same page somehow. It was easily the deepest spiritual, emotional, whatever you want to call it connection I’ve ever had with another human being, let alone girlfriend. But then a year or two later her Mom moved her and her brother up to Connecticut to be closer to the rest of their family. Last I heard she went to school in Maine, but that was it as far as we were concerned. Finito,” He smiled through all this as though recalling some rosy-cheeked memory but I was aghast. “What do you mean that’s it? You didn’t try to follow her or anything?” Joey just laughed. “Yeah, that was really an option at 17 without a car or money. It was just something that happened when we were kids, nothing really. I’m glad it happened at all, now.” Well then. What do you make of that? The conversation drifted pretty heavily after that point, as it always did when Joey and I got to jabbering and drinking, and as usual it was stories of the times he’d been on tour years later with Ozzy Osbourne or The Stooges or someone, then got to interview them endlessly and write about it. The usual vices were there as well in his stories, the drugs, the travel, the women, the glamor, the romance. But it all left pretty quickly once the novelty wore off, hence why Joey had quit after a few years and moved back home to Sacramento. When I knew him at the college newspaper he was a jazz correspondent, if you can wrap your head around that, for several of the snootier publications in the area. “I skipped to the fun part,” he told me. “The shows never get old, now. Plus jazz cats have the best shit,” he said with a wink. I probably just laughed, I don’t know, maybe downed the rest of my beer. I’ll be bound to have another once I get on the plane, off to Finland this time. Apparently it’s festival season in Scandinavia and its surrounding territories. Guess I’ll be writing about that all then though, from a different airport terminal that looks just like this one, with coffee and food and cigarettes and beer that shortens the life as much as the ones that came before. I could go on, but I won’t, for both our sake. There’s no moral to be gleaned from all this just a simple explanation of the reality, and how I’m passing the time in the airport by writing this, because I said I would. I promised. It’s my group now, and I have to go.

#fiction #short story #romanticism #gonzo #melancholy #bittersweet #literature #writing #wattpad

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calucadu · 5 years

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The Camping Trip, a Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia One Shot.

This is my piece for the @summerexplosionzine! I love going camping and I couldn’t this year so at least I still got the chance to experience it by writing this. I had so much fun writing it and I'm actually really proud and happy with the result! I hope you like it too ❤ It's a free zine full of incredible content and vibrant colours and I really recommend downloading it!

Summary: Kirishima, Bakugou and Uraraka go on a camping trip together!

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou/Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, Kirishima Eijirou/Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki/Uraraka Ochako

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou, Uraraka Ochako.

Rating: Teen and up

Read on AO3

Or read below the cut

I feel like a little kid again as I kick my legs, enjoying being driven around. I’m in the back seat of Eijirou’s car, and he’s taking us to the campsite where we’re going to be spending the next day and night. We weren’t able to get more time off work, unfortunately, but I’m still looking forward to our small trip.

Since the redhead is driving, he has total control of the music being played. He brought a mixtape he’d made and is now blasting it at full volume while tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to the rhythm of the songs I know he picked for us. I know this because the first one that starts playing is Katsuki’s favourite.

The blond, who called shotgun weeks before our trip, gives an exasperated sigh as he looks at Eijirou before snorting and rolling his eyes. The redhead excitedly slaps his arm, trying to verbally encourage him to sing along with him. The other just looks away, hiding his mouth with his hand, which I know he’s doing because he’s trying to pretend he’s not actually smiling. I squeal, watching as his reflection blushes.

The next song that starts playing is a soft piano melody. The redhead adjusts his rear-view mirror to look at me cheekily before nudging Kat again.

“Hey, sing this one with me.”

“Hell no! This is one of those romantic slow ones. I ain’t singing shit.”

Ei chuckles, but clutches his heart dramatically, belting out the first few words of the lyrics. The blond groans audibly and shakes his head as he feigns having lost interest. The redhead persists, tilting his head towards Katsuki when traffic allows him to and singing romantically to our boyfriend.

“Shove off!” Comes his answer, pushing the other away gently.

Eijirou laughs just as the melody slows down again but continues intoning. “And you’re my sun and my moon, you’re my stars” I croon with it, since I know the song well. The redhead lifts his gaze and our eyes interlock through the reflection in the rear-view mirror. He smiles at me and I feel my heart swell in my chest.

The ballad ends with Katsuki threatening to go back home the moment we arrive if Eijirou plays another romantic song. The latter chuckles but puts another one of the blond’s favourites on to lighten the mood.

The rest of the drive goes by quickly enough. It’s not far anyway, and since it’s not a holiday there’s not much traffic. I spot the sign for the campsite when we’re still on the highway and I immediately start bouncing up and down in my seat excitedly. I’ve never been camping before, and if I recall correctly, neither has Eijirou. We both know Katsuki used to do it a lot with his parents when he was small, and when the redhead decided to surprise him with this nostalgia trip, neither of us missed the glint of happiness in the blond’s eyes. We knew just how important camping and hiking is for our little hothead, and how much he enjoys doing these sorts of things, so we planned this holiday for him. He helped us with the details of it, since he’s the one with experience, but now I’m as excited for the trip as he is. I know he worked hard on it so we could enjoy our first time and I’m very proud of him.

The campsite is gorgeous! The entrance is in the middle of the forest, but there’s a giant sign at the entryway, like in a film. I gape at the parked caravans in amazement as we drive by them. There are also cabins, but we drive past them as well, since we’re heading over to the area reserved for tents. They give you a spot in the middle of the woods and you can park your vehicle there. There are plenty of trees surrounding our section, isolating us from any potential neighbours – although they seem pretty far away so they won’t be much of a problem – and giving us a lot of shade.

The first thing Katsuki does when we arrive is set up his hammock. He lies on it as he watches us struggle to pitch the tent, smiling smugly and boasting about how easy his job was.

“You’re helping with this too!” Ei counters, going over the instructions again. He frowns as he reads. “After all, you’re supposed to be the one that’s good at this sort of thing.”

The canvas is a small four-person dome tent that was the Bakugous until their son decided to take off with it a couple years ago. It’s a bit battered and old because they used it a lot when Katsuki was younger and they took him on camping trips. It’s got a few holes here and there, but it still works perfectly. It’s not really visually appealing, since it’s a creamy sort of colour, but it’s supposed to be functional and practical, not pretty. It seems relatively easy to set up, even though both Eijirou and I are having trouble figuring it out.

Katsuki grumbles and hops off from the hammock, going over to us in two strides and extending his hand to ask for the instructions. The redhead clicks his tongue, frowning slightly as he gives them to him.

Turns out that even the blond finds setting the tent harder than he thought. He complains that it’s been a while since he last used it, and even then, he’d been a child and didn’t recall helping his parents, to which Eijirou remarks a low ‘what a surprise’ that Katsuki outright ignores. I manage to calm him down by pressing my lips lightly to his, and he immediately gets his act together, picking up the poles and instructing us on what to do.

We end up setting it up pretty quickly after that. It isn’t perfect – especially on my side, I don’t think I pulled the corner guyline as far as it could go, and I didn’t have enough force to put the pegs in properly – but it’ll do. Ei makes it steadier by hammering my loose pegs into the ground a bit better and then he smiles at me proudly.

“I knew we could do it!” He announces, tying the door flaps to the side neatly so the mesh entryway is open.

“Don’t do that, you’re going to let the bloody spiders in.” Katsuki scolds, coming over to quickly undo his knots.

Eijirou huffs, rolling his eyes lightly. “Whatever you say.”

“Of course it’s whatever I say. I’m the one with the experience.”

I stop their stupid bickering by asking them if they want to eat, which they gladly prefer to do. Lunch consists of the sandwiches we brought. We all made different types to share with each other, sort of like in a picnic. Katsuki eats his in his hammock, gently rocking himself in the shade. Ei tries to get him out of it – I suspect so he can have his turn – but the blond won’t budge. I eat my tuna fish, mayonnaise and sweetcorn sandwich sitting in the front seat of the car, fiddling with the radio while they’re distracted squabbling.

I feel so content just by listening to a low song play, the musical notes intermixing with the various sounds of nature. I can hear some insects buzzing in the background, and instead of finding it creepy or disgusting like always, I think it’s interesting. My eyes roam over the leaf shaped shades dancing on my legs as I dangle them out of the seat. Everything’s perfect.

We head out for our walk after lunch but not before Eijirou’s finished fussing about us. He always does this, and while I should probably be annoyed about it, it honestly makes my heart swell that he’s there to take care of us in his own way.

Kat and I are prone to getting sunburnt. Ei, on the other hand, easily tans. It’s only been half a day and he’s already a lovely brownish colour, his freckles showing thanks to the sun.

He’s overprotective of us, though, especially about this. He’s the one carrying the cream and applying coat after coat of it all over our skin, tenderly reminding us that it’s for our own good.

I don’t complain; it’s fun to watch Katsuki squirm as Eijirou rubs sun cream on his nose while saying “remember what happened last year?” until the blond finally gives in and stops struggling, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest.

And he got us hats for this trip too. Mine’s a pretty pastel pink sunhat and Katsuki’s is a rather tacky looking black cap, a skeleton on it probably with the only purpose of satisfying the blond. Ei insists we wear them before going on our walk and puts them on both of our heads after applying a generous amount of sun cream on us. He puts on his own ugly red cap and beams at us.

The redhead offers me his hand, which I of course take. He smiles at me as we stroll, watching as Katsuki quickly overtakes us, grumbling at us to hurry up.

The chirping of the birds mixed with the slight breeze rustling the leaves in the trees makes the walk all the nicer. It’s comforting to hear my other boyfriend treading hard in front of me. Kind of makes me feel like I’m not alone, that he’ll be there in case I need him. I know it’s stupid to think that, especially when I’m walking hand in hand with Ei, but I just feel complete when I’m with them.

I find that the trail is pretty simple. It’s not a long or hard walk by any means, so it’s a nice opportunity for us to relax as we enjoy nature. I amble at a leisurely pace and stop from time to time to have a better look at interesting insects and pretty plants. Eijirou sticks with me, maintaining an engaging conversation as Katsuki marches off on his own, glaring at us from time to time and complaining about how slow we are. I laugh it off because I know he’ll never really leave us behind.

My feet are a little sore by the time we get back. It’s obvious I’m not used to my mountain boots, so it’s comes as a relief when the redhead suggests we play in the little stream near the campsite.

We change into our swimming gear quickly and head over there. Ei is wearing those ridiculous lime swim trunks he likes so much. They’re flashy and tacky, but at least it makes him easier to spot when at the beach. Kat’s are a dark red, a white pattern all over them; and I’m wearing the pink and purple bikini they got me as a present for my last birthday.

It isn’t a long walk to the river, but as we make our way towards it, we cross by friendly people who wave at us and wish as a pleasant day. Eijirou and I answer back cheerly while Katsuki mumbles out a curt hello when the redhead remembers to nudge him in the ribs.

The area we finally decide to relax at is mainly in the shade, and it’s littered with big rocks. We’re far away from the families with kids and couples being all affectionate in public, so we’re in a relatively peaceful spot. I make my way over to one of the boulders and sit myself on it, taking my flipflops off to soak my sore feet in the cool water. A relieved sigh escapes my lips as the cold temperature soothes them.

The stream is nice, and the water is so clear that I can see the little insects and fish that live there play around and do their things. Sadly, their peace is violently disturbed by Ei and Kat, who jump in and start splashing around.

I would normally be annoyed, but I care too much for them to find their shenanigans anything but adorable and charming. The redhead howls in laughter as he chases the other around, trying to get him wet, but the blond is agile even in water and manages to not get drenched.

He goes over to where I am and threatens to use me as a shield. I shriek, playing along, until I have to actually cover my face because the redhead has decided that I’m worth sacrificing for the greater good.

It’s cute how they have fun. I pretend I’m above their childish playing, but I indulge myself and splash them too, which spurs them on. The three of us end up turning it into a competition to see who can wet the others the most and we scream and giggle as we run around.

We play, splash and laugh for what seems like hours until we get tired and go back to sitting on a rock big enough for the three of us. Ei intertwines our hands together and kisses me on the cheek lovingly before rubbing our noses together cutely. Kat pretends to be jealous and starts splashing him again, but the redhead laughs and pecks me on my lips before asking us if we’ve had enough.

Since I can’t feel my feet because of how cold the water is and Kat seems to be getting tired, we get out of the river and dry ourselves before heading back to the campsite. Ei talks excitedly about how lovely the day’s been and how pretty the sun is now that it’s setting as we walk, towels wrapped around our necks.

Katsuki made our dinner at home, which is a relief since by the time we get to our car and tent, the sky’s already dark. When we’d been preparing the trip, we’d gone over the equipment we would need, and found his parent’s old camping stove. He had complained bitterly about how much of a safety hazard it seemed and had forbidden Ei from even coming close to him while he was using it, if he decided to use it. Instead he’d chosen to bring a nice pasta salad that we could enjoy cold.

We take turns to grab a plate and sit in a circle this time; the hammock completely forgotten at this point. The meal is really nice, and unlike Kat’s usual cooking, it isn’t spicy. We devour it quickly and in silence, tired from all the fun we’d had all day.

After we’ve eaten and we’ve cleared the plates up, Ei picks up his guitar and sits on the ground in front of the tent. He strums his instrument, humming lightly to himself. I turn my head to watch him just as his head drops back and his eyes glance at the sky, a smile forming on his lips. He agilely moves his fingers of his left hand to form the chords he needs for his song, and immediately starts playing. His voice starts off low as he glances nervously between me and Katsuki.

Surprisingly, the blond doesn’t even click his tongue. He sits down next to him, his eyes fixed on the ground as he starts to sing along with him. It’s a song I don’t recognise, but it sounds lovely. It’s not slow but it isn’t fast paced either; the rhythm is gentle and sweet.

There’s something about the melody that raises goose bumps all over my arms and legs. It’s not a sad song, but I feel myself being moved by it nonetheless. It looks like they’re both quite fond of it, too, especially since the blond is singing along. It feels powerful for some reason I don’t understand, and, for a moment, I feel left out.

Ei and Kat are glancing at each other. They share this song and whatever memories they formed while listening to it the first few times they did. I’ve never heard it before. I don’t know anything about it.

It’s true that they started dating before they included me in their special relationship, and, sometimes, more often than not, and despite how hard they try to not make me feel like this, I feel weird. I feel like a stranger in their love. Not because they don’t love me – they do, and I know, I can tell – but because of their history together. They did so many things before I arrived that it makes me feel insecure. Like I don’t belong with them, like they’re better off without me.

I try not to let the sadness overcome me as I sit myself on the redhead’s other side. Clenching my fists against my legs I force a smile on my face and wait until they’ve finished.

“Chako.” Ei mutters, his eyes never leaving his guitar. He’s still strumming it, his movements slower and less fluid than before. “That’s the song I wrote for Katsuki. I wanted to confess to him with it.”

“But you never did.” The blond whispers.

“But I never did.” He chuckles, but it sounds dejected and wrong, like he forced himself to do it.

“It’s only ‘cause I did it first, dummy. Don’t get all sad and nostalgic on us.” Katsuki berates him, but his voice lacks his usual gruff tone, and instead just seems tired.

“Yeah. He’s right. And I ended up singing it to him a lot anyway. I don’t want you to pull that face ever again, Chako.”

“Wh… what face?” I stammer, trying to laugh it off.

“I saw you. You looked sad. I’m going to play it again, so you can listen to the lyrics.”

“Ei…” Katsuki warns him, his voice softer than before.

“But it’s okay, I wrote a song for you too.” The redhead whispers, locking his eyes with mine. The melody starts again and they both start singing.

It is about Katsuki. It never says his name, but now that I know the meaning behind it, I can tell it’s about how brave and strong he is, how he looks like he’s hard and undefeated on the outside, but he’s actually as human as the rest of us are. It speaks of how soft he is with the people he loves and how he’ll do whatever he can to make them happy, in his own way. Every word in the lyrics is beautifully arranged to make the most perfect song to describe the most perfect blond I know. Speaking of, when I manage to peel my eyes off of Eijirou, I spot tears running down Katsuki’s cheeks. He wipes them away discreetly, but we’ve already noticed the song brings out an emotion he tries to keep locked away.

The song slowly dies down and the redhead clears his throat before he starts a new one. This new melody is much more upbeat, but the lyrics are no less deep. It’s about a pretty face that doesn’t try to deceive you, because she’s as sweet as she looks; cute, simple and strong in her own way. It tells a story of how she saved two boys and how she never knew just what she meant to them. It’s beautiful, too, far prettier than I expected anything sang for me could be. Tears are rolling down my cheeks by the time the song ends. Ei is looking at me expectantly while Kat is doing his best to avert his eyes.

“We kind of wrote it together.” The redhead mutters, a small smile on his face.

“He wrote it basically. It was also his idea. I just helped.”

“You called her pretty and insisted I added that into the song.” Ei teases him, nudgingly him gently in the ribs.

“Shut up!”

I can’t help myself and start laughing, closing my eyes to try and stop the emotions bubbling out of me. The tears can’t be halted at this point, but it’s okay, because I’m smiling despite them. Before I know it, I’m being pulled into a hug, and I feel overwhelmed by their warmth and love.

When I’ve finally calmed down enough, I ask them to let me go and they do, slowly releasing me from their embrace. Kat looks at me worriedly, but I reassure him that I’m fine with a sweet smile and he ruffles my hair lovingly. Ei picks the guitar again and positions himself once more to continue playing songs. This time he sings some classics and I try to keep up to him, but I can’t remember most of the lyrics, so I just hum along when I don’t. The blond sometimes sings too, but he prefers to look up at the sky and enjoy listening to us.

I mimic Katsuki and tilt my head up. The stars look lovely in the sky tonight. There’s just something in the atmosphere that makes me feel happy, blessed to be there with them and glad to be alive. The gentle music in the background, the lovely sparkling lights, the feeling of love and friendship and being with the people you can’t live without make me feel elated. I don’t want this to end.

“Do you think it’s going to be colder later tonight?” I ask a bit later, frowning as I gaze at the dark sky. I got lost in the songs and time flew by, and now it’s a little bit chilly.

Ei sets his guitar aside before moving closer to me and wrapping an arm over my shoulders. He pulls me in tightly, nuzzling me against his broad chest. “You’re not cold, are you?” He asks, worriedly.

I snuggle closer to him and shake my head. “I’m fine like this.”

“Good!” He hugs me closer to himself, and even invites Kat into the embrace as he whispers: “I’m having the best day!”

It doesn’t take us much longer to crawl into the tent. We’re tired and I can feel my own eyes closing. Once inside, we spread out our sleeping bags and mats, trying to decide how to lay them and where to sleep.

Katsu’s looking at his dark blue sleeping bag in disgust, pondering something. When he finally gives in to his thoughts, he sighs, letting it drop onto his lap.

“It’s going to be hot tonight. In the tent I mean.” He mutters, calmly.

Ei looks up at him, frowning. “So?”

“So, we won’t need these.” He answers back, sounding exasperated.

“What if it gets colder later on?” I ask, unzipping my red one.

The blond grumbles something under his breath before he picks his sleeping bag again and tosses it to me. I just look at him, watching as his eyebrows frown and his lip curls slightly.

“Just… fucking… understand me already or whatever.”

Ei laughs gently, crawling over to the other.

“You okay there, bud?”

“I… just… look. Let’s just sleep together.”

The redhead pulls away and looks at me with his ‘adoring Katsuki’ face. “He wants us to open the sleeping bags and use them like blankets.” He coos lovingly.

“Oh my god, that’s adorable! He’s so cute!”

“He is!”

“Shut up. I can hear you perfectly and it’s creepy.”

“You want to sleep with us so much, Katsuki?”

“Stop talking like that or I’ll change my mind!”

“Okay, okay!” I whisper, unzipping my sleeping bag completely and spreading it. “Let’s do it!”

“Alright!” Ei enthusiastically nearly yells as he forcefully unzips his. Kat does his very unenthusiastically, and still blushing. He avoids looking at us as he lies down next to me and spreads his sleeping bag over me.

“Wait.” I say, pulling his down a little bit and taking a closer look at it. “We could zip them together.”

“That’d be so cool! But is it possible with our sleeping bags?” Kiri asks, searching for his zipper.

It turns out it’s very possible and we link all of them together to form a blanket of sorts. Katsuki pushes me back so that I’m lying in the middle and tells Eijirou to hug me too. The redhead smiles and snuggles up to me, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me towards him just slightly. The other grunts as I’m taken away from him but gets up just slightly to kiss me on the mouth and wish me a good night. He presses his lips to Eijirou’s too and turns the light off before going back to my side, where his arm goes to join the redhead’s at my waist.

Honestly, I’ve never been happier.

#bakugou katsuki #uraraka ochako #Kirishima Eijirou #the camping trip #summer explosion zine #summer explosion #bnha #my writing #my fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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lynyrdwrites · 5 years

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Tempt My Trouble

More EraserMight! Because I want to be able to apply for that ‘zine, and the deadline is rapidly approaching. Title comes from the Bishop Briggs song, which is so EraserMight it hurts.

Can also be read on AO3.

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The thing is, All Might has something of a reputation to uphold.

Aizawa Shouta on the other hand… well, Shouta is sure he has a reputation. He just doesn’t particularly care about it. Hell, maybe that’s what his reputation is.

Not caring.

But All Might… All Might is the Symbol of Hope and Peace. He’s the hero’s hero. When everything seems lost, just call for All Might and he’ll save the day. For that reason, he has to belong to everyone and no one. Approachable, but just one step beyond touchable.

But Yagi Toshinori?

Toshinori is entirely too touchable.

It’s the dichotomy of the man. As All Might, he’s put on a pedestal, and even Shouta with his general disregard for what people actually think about him would have difficulty touching the man. But when he is Toshinori?

It’s with an almost vicious glee that Shouta likes to wreck Toshinori.

Like now, pressing the taller man’s hips into the bed as he rocks against them. Their pants are still on, but the friction is oh so sweet, and Shouta watches Toshinori avidly, as he closes his eyes and clutches the bedspread, as though he can somehow physically make himself hold on just a bit longer.

Well… that won’t do.

Shouta grasps at Toshinori’s hips and adjusts the angle of his hips as they grind together. Toshinori’s eyes flash open for a moment, and Shouta makes sure that he sees his smirk. That he knows exactly what comes next.

Then he bends his head down, and presses kiss along Toshinori’s neck, making sure that he feels his teeth along his collar bone. It will leave marks, and Shouta doesn’t care.

He wants to leave marks. Maybe he can’t touch Toshinori when he is All Might, but he can leave a mark that will be carried beneath his costume; a secret kept hidden from the whole world, but one that they can both revel in.

“Shou…ta,” Toshinori groans, and Shouta wonders, if he knows how much he loves it – hearing his voice in exactly that tone of voice.

He hums against Toshinori’s skin, because it’s important to make sure that your lover knows what you enjoy. It’s one of the few things Nemuri’s said that Shouta has remembered, rather than blocking out of his memory.

Toshinori groans again, his hips arching against Shouta’s, and he pulls back, smirk still on his lips, to meet Toshinori’s semi-scowl. The blonde’s pants have gone dark over his groin, and Shouta chuckles as he pulls back, half reclining at the end of the bed as Toshinori pushes himself up on his elbows. He looks down at himself, shirtless and a mess in his pants, and makes a grimace of distaste.

“You could have at least let me get out of my clothes,” he points out, and there’s another thing that Toshinori does, that All Might never would. The pout is adorable, in its way.

Not that Shouta would ever admit that to anyone, even to Toshinori. He has some limits, after all. He just usually tosses them out the window in this bed.

“I could have,” Shouta agrees with a nod and a smile that means he’s feeling particularly disagreeable. They both know that, and Toshinori is already looking half exasperated, though there’s also a glint of affection. He always has that glint of affection; Toshinori is a very affectionate man – it makes it even more a pity that the public face he puts into the world has to hold such a carefully maintained distance. “But it’s not fun unless I could sell pictures of the end result for a small fortune.”

“No one would believe I was me anyway,” Toshinori replies. His voice has the usual self-deprecation, but there’s also a hint of pleasure there, as though he’s maybe starting to see what Shouta sees; that the muscles and the ridiculous smile aren’t what make him valuable. As if, maybe, he can find some amusement in the false picture the public has painted. “So no one would pay a fortune for anything.”

“I would,” Shouta replies, and then he moves so he’s on top of Toshinori again, before the other man can tease him for the uncharacteristically sappy remark. They both know that Toshinori loves it, on those rare occasions that Shouta is willing to show his softer side, but it inevitably leaves Shouta feeling so inexplicably bashful that he doesn’t like to give him the chance to react. Instead, he goes on the distraction offensive, easing Toshinori’s too-large pants off of his hips. His own soon join them.

He’ll wreck Toshinori again, before he lets the taller man switch their position, and let himself be wrecked as well.

They’ll fall asleep in each other’s arms, but Toshinori will be gone by the time the sun rises, and Shouta will be halfway to work, when he hears of All Might saving the day again.

And then he’ll worry. Because Toshinori can’t keep being All Might indefinitely – and perhaps there’s a part of him, that resents the Symbol of Hope and Peace, because All Might isn’t the one that Shouta loves. He loves Toshinori.

(Not that he’s said as much. Not that he will. That would be embarrassing.)

But he does. He loves Toshinori – and All Might is slowly killing him.

---

Toshinori has valued himself by his capabilities as All Might for so long that he had forgotten there was more to him than the smiling figure on magazine covers.

Shouta is the first time he’s ever felt as though the truth of him held as much value as the glittering lie. Sometimes, he worries that’s why he clings to the younger man so tightly, when he should be letting go. He has an expiration date these days, and living to see the one you care for die is no way to live at all.

Shouta is also the first time Toshinori has ever felt truly selfish. And for that reason, he stays.

But All Might is still a part of him, and as long as he is able, he will continue to do his part to save the day. Even when it means putting himself in danger.

Even when it means he awakes in the infirmary, the dark haired love of his life – not that Toshi would ever admit that aloud… not yet – sitting in the chair next to his bed, his feet propped up next to Toshi’s own while he balances a stack of essays on his knee, a coffee mug in his free hand.

“I don’t suppose you’d want to share that.”

Shouta looks up, and Toshi weakly points a finger at the mug. It’s obnoxiously bright, but there’s a cat on it, and he figures it must have been a gift from Midnight or Mic. They’ve made it their personal goal to bring more color into Shouta’s life, and everyone knows that the dark haired man is weak for cats.

He apparently isn’t feeling any of that weakness for Toshi, however, because instead of being a kind… well, Toshi isn’t entirely sure what he should call Shouta. Boyfriend seems so insignificant, and not at all accurate when most of their alone time is spent in Shouta’s cramped little apartment, and the few times they are together in public they have to pretend to be distant acquaintances.

But whatever he should call Shouta, it’s not kind. He stares Toshi straight in the eye as he tips his mug back, drinking the contents without ever once breaking eye contact.

“Did you bring that just so you could do that?” Toshi asks, when he sets aside the mug and looks back to his grading.

“I did,” Shouta replies, his tone entirely too agreeable. He only sounds agreeable when he’s about to be stubborn. That was one of the first thing Toshi had learned about him, back before they were ever Toshi-and-Shouta, were instead All Might and Eraserhead. “Recovery Girl has strict orders out. You don’t get caffeine until you’ve made a full recovery. Or anything else that might give you joy.”

There are, admittedly, a severe lack of foods that Toshi is allowed that do give him joy. His diet mostly consists of herbal tea and plain yogurt supplemented with far too many vitamins, and exactly one cup of coffee a day.

The only things that give him joy are the pudding and jello that Shouta keeps well stocked.

“Is that really Recovery Girl’s order?” Toshi asks, struggling to sit up. It takes one severe look from Shouta, and a hint of red in his eyes, for Toshi to sigh and slump back down, letting his head settle into his pillow. “Or are you just in a bad mood.”

Shouta doesn’t say anything, and for a while they let a companionable silence overcome them. Shouta continues to grade, and Toshi lets his eyes drift shut, the sound of the pen scratching on paper making him relax. The silence he can find in these situations is just another reason he continues to hold on, even though it’s selfish. He doesn’t get this kind of silence with anyone else, not when they all expect that All Might smile and words of encouragement.

“If you kill yourself prematurely,” Shouta says at last, his tone quiet, but his words still seeming to echo in the silence of the infirmary. “I will never forgive you. I realize you see your early end as being inevitable, but some of us would prefer you not help it along.”

Toshi opens an eye, but Shouta still isn’t looking at him. In fact, one could almost believe he hadn’t spoken at all, with the single-minded attention he seems to be giving the papers.

Toshi closes his eyes again, settles further into his pillow, and lets a small smile curve his lips.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” he says, using the same tone of voice that Shouta had, just to poke at him a little bit. There’s a huff of exasperation, and then a rustling, and Toshi’s smile widens when he feels Shouta run a hand over his head, and press a kiss to his forehead.

“See that you do.”

---

Of course, All Might isn’t the only hero in their relationship, and Eraserhead might not be as inclined to rush into the heat of things, but he still has his moments.

“And you say that I’m helping my death along,” Toshinori huffs when he lets himself into Shouta’s cramped apartment and sees the man himself standing at the stove. Shouta turns to look at him, and then sways, going suddenly pale, his hand clutching at his ribs. “Where is Mic?”

“I sent him home,” Shouta replies, and when Toshi steps up and lifts his shirt, his brow furrowing at the sight of the bandages there, there doesn’t argue, except to say, “it’s really not that bad.”

“You’re barely standing upright.” Toshi lets the shirt fall back down and then looks at him, his brow furrowed. The pot on the stove has chicken soup from a can, and he clicks his teeth in distaste. But he’s pretty sure today was supposed to be grocery day, which means that soup is probably all that’s edible in the apartment. “Go to bed.”

“I need to eat,” Shouta replies stiffly, crossing his arms and then immediately dropping them with a wince when that manages to somehow pull at his injured ribs. “Recovery Girl’s orders. And no, you can’t just order in takeout. I’m injured. Injured people eat soup.”

“It’s from a can,” Toshi replies, his voice rather dry. “I’m sure I can figure out how to heat up canned soup, Shouta. Go to bed.”

He fully intends to man handle the other man into the bedroom himself; if necessary, he’ll go full All Might. In fact, he kind of wants to, if for no other reason than it would irritate Shouta, and right now he deserves to be irritated.

Toshi is a little irritated himself, but he tries not to let it show as he helps Shouta into his bed, tsk-ing at the stiff way he moves, the way he winces as he gets into bed, sitting with the pillows fluffed behind his back. Toshi will accept it for now. He’ll have to sit up to eat anyways.

“You’re unhappy with me,” Shouta notes, and Toshi just hums. Shouta likes to say that he’s easy to read, so he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that his distaste for the situation is easy to detect.

“I’m proud of you,” Toshi counters, because that is also true. Eraserhead is as much a hero as All Might, and Shouta had saved lives by acting recklessly.

“I knew what I was doing,” Shouta points out after a moment. “I’m highly trained. They wouldn’t let me teach future heroes if I wasn’t.”

As far as jokes go, it’s a terrible attempt, and Toshi hopes the look he gives Shouta makes that clear. And his ribs must be truly painful if Shouta is trying to joke at all. He only has a sense of humor when he’s on pain medication.

“I know,” Toshi says at last. “I just… your early death isn’t inevitable. So I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t court it.”

Shouta quirks his head, looks ready to say something, and then stops, sniffing the air.

“I think the soup is burning,” he finally says, and Toshi curses, rushing out to the kitchen to take care of the situation.

The soup is beyond hope, so he heats up a new can. He chooses beef instead of chicken noodle, just so Shouta knows that he’s still not entirely happy. Shouta rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t complain, and he even lets Toshi join him in the bed as he eats, though he won’t let himself be hand fed. But he does twine their legs together.

It’s nice.

The whole thing is nice.

“I’ll take it under consideration,” Shouta says, once he’s set aside his empty bowl. It takes Toshi far too long to realize that it’s a response to his earlier words, and lets out a snort of laughter. Shouta lets him tuck him into a laying position, and he falls asleep, his side pressed to Toshi’s.

He could get used to this – perhaps he already has.

It might be worth avoiding an early death for.

#EraserMight #EraserMight fic #it's kinda sorta fluffy #also everyone should listen to Bishop Briggs #just go do it #you won't regret it

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kittymochi-art · 6 years

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Sup guys Im back with more todomomo fluff. I need to add more stuff for my portfolio for a todomomo zine Im gonna be applying for..!

It’s a chilly evening, and the students are getting more excited as the holidays grow near. It’s one of the few times of year that they get a break from school and get to spend it with their families. At least, it’s supposed to be spent with family. The closer the winter break gets, the more anxious Momo becomes. While yes, her parents said she can come home for the holidays, they’ll both be busy on business trips. There’s no point celebrating Christmas in an empty mansion, no matter how lavishly decorated it is. Momo lets out a sigh as she sits on the common room couch with her hand under cheek. She has her encyclopedias sprawled out on her lap and the remaining portions of the couch. Just because she won’t be celebrating Christmas this year doesn’t mean she should slack off on her studying. She may be the smartest in the class, but she worked hard to earn that spot. At least, that’s what everyone else says. Academically, Momo is unchallenged. When it comes to practical use of her quirk, that’s a different matter... It’s very frustrating not being able to use the full capabilities of her quirk because of her lack of knowledge. If she wants to create something, she needs to know every component that makes up the object. That is why she studies so hard. The more she studies, the more useful her quirk will become. She’s so absorbed in her book that the sound of her name makes her jump in her seat. A frightened squeal escapes her lips. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the deep voice says. Momo places a hand over her heart to compose herself after her fright. “It’s alright, Todoroki-san. I didn’t notice you approach.” The half-and-half boy eyes her stack of notes and encyclopedias scattered about and raises an eyebrow at her. “You know we have winter break in a few days, right?” “Well yes, but it’s unbecoming of me to slack off just because Christmas is almost here!” Shouto pauses at her statement. This is why he admires her so much. She’s constantly working hard at becoming a hero. Perhaps he should also put in some extra study time on his break. It’s not like he has anywhere to return to for Christmas. “Do you mind if I join you?” His question catches Momo off-guard. Does he actually want to study? She’s really only trying to distract herself from all the cheerfulness around her. Everyone else is enthusiastically buying presents and packing to go home for the holidays. If she recalls correctly, Shouto doesn’t have the best relationship with his father. Maybe he’s in a similar situation as her. “I was actually going to take a break, but you can still join me here,” Momo says with a friendly smile. She scoots her books out of the way so he can sit down. It’s a little awkward because the books act as a barrier between them, but Shouto doesn’t seem to care. “Are you excited about Christmas, Todoroki-san?” Momo asks to get rid of the awkward silence that fell over them. Shouto contemplates her question for a bit. He begins playing with the ends of his bangs which have gotten a little too long for his liking. “Honestly, not really.” Momo’s head lowers and her smile falters. “Yeah, I can understand that.” The change in her demeanor was very subtle, but Shouto was able to pick up on it. “Really? Aren’t you going back home?” “Well... My parents will both be away on a business trip so there’s really no point in me going back. When I was younger, Christmas was my favorite holiday because we always got to spend it together. As I’ve gotten older, however, they’ve been busier...” Momo realizes she’s rambling so she waves her hands in front of her frantically. “I-I mean, I understand they need to work! Being an adult means having responsibilities outside of your control sometimes.” Shouto looks at her curiously with his mismatched eyes. His expression changes to a more thoughtful one as he grasps everything she told him. For some reason, having him listen to her makes her feel very self-conscious. Momo can feel her cheeks begin to get warm. “The only time I liked Christmas was when my mom still lived at home. She’s been in the hospital for a long time now...and since I don’t like my father, it makes me want to avoid going home.” Momo listens to him intently. They really are stuck in a similar situation. It makes her realize that they should also be allowed to enjoy Christmas. Sure, it won’t be anything fancy, but they can still have a fun holiday break! Momo’s eyes begin to shine with excitement as she marvels at the possibilities. Shouto notices the change in her aura and eyes her curiously, wondering what she’s possibly thinking after he told her about his family situation. Momo balls her fists excitedly and smiles broadly at the boy sitting across from her. “Todoroki-san! We should celebrate our own Christmas here, together! If we’re going to be stuck here anyways, we should still make it fun and memorable.” Shouto watches her as she excitedly talks about possible things they can do. His arm is resting on the back of the couch and he rests his hand under his chin. A small smile spreads across his face and he doesn’t bother getting rid of it. “Yeah, I’d like that...” They sit and talk into the evening until Momo eventually falls asleep on the stack of books between them. Her head ends up resting on Shouto’s shoulder, and he doesn’t dare wake her up because it actually feels quite nice. He gazes at her sleeping form and notices how peaceful she looks… For some reason, his heartbeat quickens and he can feel the back of his neck get hot. After a while of being a human pillow, he allows himself to rest his eyes until he too falls asleep. He’s actually looking forward to Christmas this year.

#my fanfic #todomomo #bnha #bnha fanfic #todoroki shouto #momo yaoyorozu #also dont make fun of me for uploading a xmas fanfic right after a halloween one BOTH IN NOV lmao #I know Im a mess

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osokaraddict · 6 years

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Osokara Zine Entries + AN Notes

This is super late but who cares! I wrote for the first time and had lots of fun collaborating with Noriko in the Osokara Zine (please have a read here if you haven’t already!)

I did a total of four entries (ノ°▽°)ノ

But the Rose was Completely Unharmed Summary: AU - Magic Teacher x Magical Girl; Professor Osomatsu thinks his student is an idiot. His student begs to differ and calls himself the Guilto Warrior of Love™.

Earl Grey, with a Teaspoon of Blue Flowers Summary: AU - Teacup Spirit x Teru Teru Doll; a (not) lonely teacup spirit meets a white spirit by the window.

Rain, with Signs of Drowning Summary: R15 - NEETS; According to Osomatsu, humans are made out of 80 or 90 percent out of water; Karamatsu thinks his older brother should get his head checked by a doctor.

Matsuno Karamatsu’s Ingenious Plan Summary: R18 - NEETs; Karamatsu thinks he has a greatest plan in the world; Osomatsu’s head is hurting.

Nori and I also did a bonus entry that missed the deadline. Please have a read if you are interested! (۶•̀ᴗ•́)۶

Feast and Indulgence Summary: R18 - AU - Shuten Douji x Dark!Aoandon; The oni's nature is to pillage, indulge, and feast to their heart's content. This is no different.

And below the cut is author notes of each entries plus a related short snippets that might be fun if you wanted to know more about each world ✨ The author notes are filled with spoilers and mostly safe for work (and not proofread).

But the Rose was Completely Unharmed

I had the most fun writing this... just because I’m always biased to Magical Girl Kara 😳💦 I had problems thinking of Painful Lines of Magic but that’s when Tundrea popped in my head with sunglasses and I was filled with rage🔥 Getto out! I’m writing this with Noriko in mind! Not you!!!

Oso-sensei is seriously infatuated with his student but since he’s in adult, he thinks he needs to be proper. It’s hard not to ogle crossdressing student on all-fours on the floor with pretty blue hair everywhere. He desperately is trying to figure how to get Kara to graduate properly so he can put his hands on his student without guilt in his mind. Hence why this shitty teacher is even trying to teach properly! Amazing!

This story wasn’t actually written together with Nori’s art at all 😌 But when I saw it, I thought it’ll be nice to connect the two, hence the “I will protect you” line. Unfortunately, it made Osomatsu cooler and I’m forever regretting it as he’s just shitty shotacon... Like all mages, Osomatsu’s real age is unknown, though Kara thinks it’s not too far from his own.

Speaking of Nori’s comic, we had a conversation that went something like this:

K: Nori, those magic crystal thingys… will reflect? Right? N: Yeah they do. It's magic (??) K: THEN THEY WILL REFLECT KARA’S PANTIES AND SENSEI CAN SEE THEM ALL THE TIME! N: But Kara is wearing shorts 😂😂 K: ...KUSOOOOOOOOO ( ۶ ༎ຶД ༎ຶ) ۶ MY HOPES AND DREAMMMSSSS

Thus began Oso’s journey to melt the crystal trapping Kara and finally get to see the panties 😔

A back setting Karamatsu has is that his flooding magic is actually really weird in that there shouldn’t be fish and stuff in the water but there is. It’s not transportation magic so then Karamatsu is created them himself...? And maybe this leads to his fate later on...

Also, Karamatsu fell in love at first sight because Osomatsu resembled him, thus a dangerous guilty guy✨ Osomatsu’s real personality is just shitty, pathetic, clingy, and attention-hungry, so Karamatsu decided he will do the world a favour by looking after this useless teacher with immortal RABU. He sees Osomatsu clearly, but at the same time, kissing and even more is the last thing on his mind.

“Heh. I will exchange a hot, passionate baiser with you anytime you wish, my Dear Teacher!” The crossdresser said as he puckered up his lips with sparkling shitty looking eyes.

“Your teacher prefers not being thrown in jail so no thanks~” The teacher replies lazily, not looking up from his newspaper.

“WHY!? Such a handsome guy is offering this bountiful opportunity to you, and you refuse!?” Karamatsu looked at his teacher like his teacher was insane. And he thinks he’s probably right since all those gambling newspaper were probably bad for the brain. "There is no need to hold back. Come, MY DARLING!" He spread his arms with enough enthusiasm for the both of them.

The teacher had enough of his student's pestering and waved his wand to levitate an all-so-conveniently placed plushie to smack it right into the crossdresser's face.

"MUFH!?" A rather unladylike (gorilla-sounding, even) escaped Karamatsu's mouth before he pulled the said plushie off his face. It was kind of an ugly red thing. The crossdresser somewhat remembers this toy to be part of the 'Geruge' set with its oversized tongue and fluffiness. Still, it had a charm to it in that, the more you look at it, the more this red geruge thing start to look kind of cute. "Teacher, where did you get this from?" He couldn't help but ask since it was strange his teacher had this.

Osomatsu shrugged his shoulders. "It was the consolation prize they gave after I lost badly at magick pachinko~ I thought maybe it'll help me attract some boobs so I took it with me but it's too ugly." It did not come in a two-set. And there definitely wasn't a blue one he kept at home or anything. The series did actually have some strange popularity to it, so he didn't hide it until it was detention time or anything.

Really.

The unfair teacher opens his mouth to continue and says, "Go throw that in the garbage can for your teacher, okay? Thanks~"

"T-Throw!?" Karamatsu gasped dramatically like Osomatsu predicted. "How could you throw this Poor Innocent Sheep geruge Boy into the garbage can like that!?"

"Eh~ Cause it doesn't attract girls~" Osomatsu whined.

"And that is why you are the least popular professor here," Karamatsu deadpanned.

"So mean! I've just been hurt and insulted by my student! And the world is cruel 'cause teachers can't insult their students but the opposite can happen!"

Karamatsu didn't pay attention to his whining teacher and held up the red geruge in the air and twirled around. "Fufu~ Now that I look at you closer, you look at bit like Teacher," he laughs. "Since your Master doesn't want you, I shall take you home! Your name is Osogeruge from now on~!"

Osomatsu's heart skips a beat.

"Hey, could you not name that ugly thing after me~?"

"Hmm~? Don't worry, Teacher! I will make sunglasses and a leather jacket that will fit Osogeruge just right and he'll become a GUILTY GERUBOI in no time!"

"NO, PLEASE STOP!!!"

Osomatsu nursed his ribs that almost broke by imagining that red geruge in sunglasses and leather jacket (it was horrible).

"Teacher~" Karamatsu calls out, making Osomatsu looked out. He held the ugly red plushie in his hands before he dropped a kiss on it. "Since Teacher doesn't want my hot, passionate baiser, then I shall give it to this Karamatsu Boy instead!"

"...Okay, you are so getting a second detention and lines on the board! Get back here you shitty crossdresser!!!"

And a few weeks later when Osomatsu actually places a kiss on Karamatsu's forehead, his dumb student turned even redder than his Osogeruge plushie.

"...I think I saw a nostalgic dream," the teacher mumbles to himself. It seems he has fallen asleep even though that was the last thing he had time for.

When he looked up, it relieved him to see his student still there --- even if his student was captured inside crystals.

Shaking his head to clear away the fog in his tired mind, he forced his aching body up. "I'll be off. Be a good student and wait for your teacher until he comes back okay?" He places a smile on his face like nothing was wrong at all.

Tomorrow. The day after. Five years. A century.

In the end, it didn't matter how long it'll take for him. There was something much more important to him than time and his life itself.

"Please wait for me. Just a bit longer."

Earl Grey, with a Teaspoon of Blue Flowers

The ✨CUTEST✨ couple in the world, is thanks to Nori and her wonderful ideas. Incidentally, talking to her about it was enough to make the whole plot of this story, which is why this is the only story with an actual plot! Amazing Noriko power!

I wrote an outline of the story on piece of lined paper and the word limit of 5k was already making me sweat. Supposedly Teacup-kun was going to successfully bring Teru-chan outside and have a picnic. He was going to suffer having to hold hands with Teru-chan the whole time cause the white spirit was too curious of everything ("WHAT IS THAT!! AMAZING~ WOWOW~") and ignorant of all dangers in the world. On one hand, Teacup-kun gets to hold hands with Teru-chan; on the other hand, he was trying to make sure that Teru-chan doesn't get kidnapped by a bird or something 😂 The moment Teacup-kun loses sight of Teru-chan, Teru-chan comes back with the royal osokara round dogs he made friends with. Mini Oso and Kara on top of those round dogs are too cute... 😳

Speaking of this story, Nori and I had a conversation something like this:

N: I had to put fluff in Teru-chan's skirt because he will show his panties (??) K: NORI I THOUGHT WE HAD A DISCUSSION THAT TERU IS SUPPOSED TO HAVE NO PANTIESSSSS ( ۶ ༎ຶД ༎ຶ) ۶

But eventually it's been decided that Teru-chan needed panties or Teacup-kun would be distracted the whole time and wouldn't have been able to make a proper conversation ;つД｀) Damn you panties...

Incidentally, that royal prince and princess are together and they spend lots of time together... Lots of time. Enough that Teru-chan knows only all the things at night in the two weeks he was made and lived in the princess' room (making Teacup-kun a shotacon✨). The prince is also a shotacon✨ Which leads to Nori's art here of Teru-chan lifting his dress when Teacup-kun had steeled his heart to take it slow so that he doesn't scare his new wife~

It is thanks to the prince that Teru-chan knows the concept of marriage when he knows barely anything else. It is also thanks to the prince that Teru-chan has the 'wrong' image of marriage, so good luck Teacup-kun!

Their end is something like this. It comes unexpectedly, but at the same time no one was truly in the wrong. A nervous new maid, afraid of all the expensive things that surrounded her, felt like she was walking on top of needles. The moment she made a mistake, she was sure she would get fired and end up on the streets since she needed this job more than anything. With quivering fingers, she tried to wipe the multiple tea sets to the best of her ability.

Unluckily for her, the combination of this new environment, her anxiety, and her discomfort and inexperience in wearing her complex maid outfit, she accidentally knocked her one of the teapots and cups she was cleaning.

Even before she heard the sound of porcelain shattering on the wooden floor below, she paled. She panicked – what should she do? Clean up the mess? Where’s the broom? Or maybe they can be mended? She swallowed down the urge to scream as tears slipped her eyes.

Before she realized it, she ran, trying to find her senior maid and ready to confess what she did.

In the next room, there was a white doll dangling by the window. It heard something shattered, and right away, it realized what happened.

He thought heard his husband scolding him to stay away but he didn’t listen at all. He floated down from the window and hurried as fast as his small body can take him. It took almost an eternity before he found the source of the sound – the sight of shattered porcelain. He called his husband’s name, begging for an answer. He knew he wouldn’t receive one, but he still held a small hope.

“Forever. Always.”

Surely that was the answer to everything, so the white doll roughly wiped his tears away. He held out his white dress and used it to collect every piece of the broken cup that made up his husband. Those uneven shards, small and big, eventually cut and tore the white doll’s body but he didn’t care.

He may not be able to hear his husband’s voice anymore but his husband was in these shards.

It hurt. It did hurt. His body cried in pain but his heart cried even more. Even then, despite that, the white doll tried to gather all those parts, almost breaking from the weight.

“…Forever… always,” the white doll whispers to himself. “…to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

But even if the vow they made was until death, the white doll knew he will be lonely in no time. No, he was already feeling so, so lonely like he was trapped in a drawer on that day long, long ago.

That is why, he was sure that his husband will scold him for following all the way to death to see him. Yet that husband of his was always so kind that the white doll was sure he’ll get a hug and a kiss after being lectured.

With such a dream in his mind, the white doll tied up his tattered dress with the shards of his most beloved and crossed his eyes to sleep.

They are later buried together in the garden at the royal family’s wish. It didn’t take long before flowers and mushrooms sprout at the very spot the family buried them. Everyone could take a deep breath of relief. Somehow, they could come to believe the teacup and the white doll will meet again but in a different shape and form.

Always. Forever.

With you.

Rain, with Signs of Drowning

The first proper fanfic I wrote. If you read the rest, you can tell because the mood is actually sombre and serious 😂 It helped that I was writing with Nogi in mind? Probably. Writing is hard desu.

This fanfic was written in Kara’s POV and thus he missed a lot of hints and doesn’t know how desperate Oso is actually is~ But Oso is unfair in that he always wants to be cooler and ‘win’ since he’s the big brother. He wants Kara to drown in him because he doesn’t want to admit he drowned in Kara waaay before. He hides his internal turmoil behind a cocky smile and strips Kara naked with his eyes. But Kara is an idiot and doesn’t think about sexual acts and instead thinks Oso is literally hungry and wants a bite of his flesh 😰 (Kissing and biting must be how Osomatsu endures with his cannibalism urges! And me who lets him... is the true duty of the second son. Bang!! 😎✨)

Oso’s goal is to make it so that Kara can’t live without him.

He’s the shitty type that pulls sweaty Kara dressed in a tank top, really short shorts from the floor in the summer on top of him.

The fan barely relieved the effects of the boiling summer’s heat on him, and now with the added weight on him, it was even more suffocating. Even as his brain shouted it was frying and his lungs only took in hot air to scorch his body, he pressed the body on top of him close so that their skin touched more.

Who knows. Maybe they can melt together and become one like this, he thought with blood rushing down his lower body.

“It’s hot,” Karamatsu complained shortly. No doubt the heat was making the second speak less and without painful words. His eyes said ‘let go of me’ but Osomatsu pretend he saw nothing.

“Then push me off the sofa,” Osomatsu instead pointed out. He knew giving a choice will make Karamatsu stop and use his empty brain to try and think. But that empty brain doesn’t work long and soon Karamatsu will reach a no-conclusion. It took too much to push Osomatsu off, and, at the same time, it took too much will and energy to think of another option. Thus Karamatsu did nothing but lie on top of his older brother with an unamused frown.

Osomatsu just laughed. It was the kind of ugly face Karamatsu had when he just wakes up. The kind of expression he wouldn’t make to his little brothers on purpose at all. It’s not like Osomatsu didn’t feel a hint of guilt; still, he will use whatever he could.

His cute, cute stupid little brother. Narcissistic, kind, painful, timid, slow, airhead, and dumb.

“Don’t change, Karamatsu.” Like a curse. Like a prayer.

Don’t ever bother notice the wrongness of this relationship that’s too immature and depraved to call ‘love’. However, if he had to, Osomatsu would use that cheap, clichéd word ‘love’ Karamatsu liked in place of ‘possessiveness’.

But he’ll only do that if Karamatsu realizes something was off. If that day never comes, he won’t even bother, especially since he didn’t want to give unnecessary information to Karamatsu at all.

‘You don’t have to think, and if someone has to weigh down by this forever then it can be me. ...Cause I’m your big bro.’

“It’s hot,” Osomatsu says instead with common and simple words that his stupid little brother’s brain can actually comprehend and get distracted.

Karamatsu commented back, “Yeah, it’s hot,” not realizing he said the same thing earlier. But before those gears in his head can click in place, Osomatsu slips his hand up Karamatsu’s tank top and shorts to enjoy the bare feel of his little brother’s skin.

This body he forcibly opened up to take him inside remembers his touch and shivers. A small gasp escaped from Karamatsu’s mouth, which Osomatsu stole away.

“It’s so hot that I’m going to die~” Osomatsu complains.

“Y-Yeah,” Karamatsu replies absentmindedly, out of reflex.

Osomatsu bites that tanned throat in front of his eyes and grinds his lust and heat mercilessly without hesitation.

Surely the cries of the cicadas will distract his little brother from remembering how to complain.

Matsuno Karamatsu’s Ingenious Plan

Essentially all the porn I read is Japanese porn, so this 'plot' isn't all that strange if it's in Japanese 😂 I have read some pretty dumb Karamatsu, but I'm sure canon Karamatsu is a bit smarter. I'm also sure my Karamatsu in this fanfic was merely distracted by wondering if he wanted a glow-in-the-dark d*ldo or one that played music (because Ozaki). He is really happy, enjoying the NEET life to the fullest that he won’t survive very long in the outside wrong.

Onii-chan is super worried you know, Kara-chun~?

Hence why Osomatsu did suffer lots through the ages from horror that he gets hardty at the sight of his little brother’s smile to beating up weird guys that ‘invite’ an oblivious Karamatsu to things. Him eating Karamatsu’s love letters like a goat in high school was inevitable as Osomatsu did his best to sabotage all romantic relationships from ever happening. Osomatsu was that annoying older brother that will pop out of nowhere and throw his arm around Karamatsu’s shoulder to interrupt conversations. Once in a while, Osomatsu’s hand drops down to rest down on Karamatsu’s hip in a very possessive way but Karamatsu doesn’t get a thing.

Osomatsu did try confessing his love several times but they all end in failure. One of the cases is: “I LOVE YOU!!” “Heh. I RABU you too, my first BURAZA~😎✨ I am such a sinful guy to be so LOVED by my siblings!! Wowowow~!”

Osomatsu cried.

He would also like to argue that anyone in his shoes would do the same thing if their cute, stupid, sexy little brother comes by with a ruler and asking for your size ‘cause he wants a toy exactly the same.

On the side note, I realize the awesomeness of art drawn by western fandom because of no need for censorship. I GOT NONCENSORED DIKKU AND PEACHES FROM NORIKO WOWOWOW!!!! \(°口°๑)/ \(°口°๑)/

Totty will have lots of fun getting Am*zon to stop showing all those ‘interesting’ recommendations due to his search history. In fact he went and half-killed Karamatsu and then killed Osomatsu because it’s always Osomatsu’s fault.

Osomatsu groaned. His whole body ached and he could have sworn he saw his whole life flashed before his eyes. Actually, it felt like his soul left his body for a moment there?

He turned just his eyes and spotted his little brother, half-beaten up. He wondered why he got mixed up in this mess when clearly it was this idiot narcissist's fault. At the very least, he argued in his mind, Karamatsu should have gotten as beaten up as he did! Except Karamatsu might cry so maybe he didn’t want his little brother as beaten up as he is.

He forced his hand just the tiny bit forward so he could touch his little brother’s hand. It twitched back, which made Osomatsu happy for some reason so he entwined their fingers together.

“Hey, Karamatsu~ Still alive?”

“Heh… I saw Lord Enma and came back,” the second boasted with a similarly tired tone in his voice.

“Really~? And what did he say?”

“He said I looked like his pet snake? And that his ribs might break?? So he sent me back,” Karamatsu answered with confusion.

“Ah, somehow, it feels like I can drink beer with that guy,” Osomatsu mused. Yet, at the same time, he didn’t feel like meeting this Lord Enma dude. There was this shitty vibe to this so-called king of hell even he has never met the guy. Maybe just the pet snake instead.

The first shook his head; he was going off-topic because of the pain when more important things were going on. Osomatsu gripped Karamatsu’s hand tighter, still remembering the feel of his little brother’s skin below him. He faked a cough when he felt heat rush to his face. His heart thumped loud – no matter how many fail tries he gone through, he always felt nervous.

“S-So, Karamatsu~” He almost squeaked.

“Hm~?” The second made no indication he knew what Osomatsu was trying to get.

“S-So… umm… errr… ahhh…”

“What is it, Osomatsu? Do you need to go to the washroom?”

“No, I don’t need to poop!”

“Forgive me. I thought you wanted a shoulder to the washroom…”

Osomatsu mentally banged his head against something. This idiot little brother is horrible at reading the atmosphere when it actually counts. No, he can’t give up like this. He already ate his little brother’s maidenhood, and he's going to take responsibility and get his dreamed lovey-dovey normie life with lots of kisses and sex!!!

“Karamatsu!!” He shouted loudly.

Karamatsu twitched at sudden volume and looked almost frightened. “W-What is wrong!? Are you pooping in your pants after all, Buraza!?”

“No!! The one that does all the pooping in public is Ichimatsu! Or Choromatsu’s head!!”

“Oh, Mistake!! Ichimatsu, just you wait! I will bring the Miracle Lovely Angelic Feather of Harmony for your buttocks right now! Choromatsu, wait for me as well!!” Yet, despite those gallant brave words, this shitty narcissist made no move to get up because he was tired.

Osomatsu swallowed the urge to shout again because he needed to get away from this topic of poop (for once in his life).

“K-K-K-Karamatsu.”

“Hm~?”

“…I stole Totty’s wallet while he was beating us up. Wanna go to pachinko with it?”

“Heh. You can count me in!!”

F-First is a pachinko date, Osomatsu said to himself with a tremble. Small steps at a time! He was a virgin after all! (Except not.)

Feast and Indulgence

The entry that didn’t end up in the zine for a couple of reasons 😂 Actually, to be honest, the whole author note is the after story. Since the deadline passed when I handed it to Nori, she suggested writing Karamatsu’s side when I telling her the backstory to this fanfic. I was like?? (°口°๑) OH YEAH. THERE’S NO WORD LIMIT NOW??? NORI IS GENIUS!

And so I wrote Karamatsu’s side that totally destroyed the mood in the first part (I regret nothing) and now it wouldn’t be complete with it 😂 I didn’t mean to write with a darker(?) tone but I did comedy three times (Rose, Earl Grey, and Ingenious Plan), so for balance, I needed something more serious. As for why it became Shuten Douji x Dark!Aoandon, I wanted it to have ties with all the other fanfiction and Aoandon is perfect as he is the ‘gathering of tales’. Also, I did R18 for NEET so I needed R18 for AU next haha!

Shuten Douji used to be an outcast human child that would later be sacrificed to appease ‘kami’. In their world, kami do exist but they probably don’t care for humans much. If they decided to help out of whim, Karamatsu went and burned down the whole village and surrounding area before they did anything. In fact, Karamatsu probably consumed the surrounding kami and took their power. Before Karamatsu was Aoandon, he was certainly an incarnation of ‘fear’.

Perhaps Osomatsu reincarnated to be an oni because in his mind, oni were strong, frightening and more real than kami. But above all, they can live long, so he can be with Karamatsu for as long as he wants. As Shuten Douji, he was always irritated, starving for something that he didn’t know what, and drowned himself in alcohol. His tough body didn’t let him die easily and he became the head of all oni and soon reunited with Karamatsu once again.

…Well, we all know how that reunion went 😂

In about a hundred years, they will become that calm, loving married couple you see in Shuao! Really!!

Though the day Osomatsu wakes up to the smell of breakfast and sees his wife without the braided blue rope on his horn, he freezes.

Karamatsu frowned, raising an eyebrow like he was daring the red oni to say something. “Sit down and close your mouth before you eat a fly, my dear lord.”

“Eh? But… but your braid,” Osomatsu says, hesitatingly. He looked almost lost like a small child.

The blue spirit merely sighed.

For someone who's always concerned about any past ex-lovers showing up or friends or anything that knew Karamatsu from before they ‘met’, Osomatsu was strangely fixed on that braided rope. In fact, it was the only thing that Osomatsu accepted of Karamatsu's past. The red oni would go on a rampage if Karamatsu suggested that he would go back to his ‘hometown’.

“Unfortunately, unlike a brute like you, a stylish man like myself must keep up with the trends,” Karamatsu said with smirk. “I cannot be wearing the same thing for centuries, you see~? Hm~?”

“Ehhh…” The red oni let out in a mixture of disappointment and disbelief.

To begin with, that braided rope was a gift given to him from his human child friend who passed away long ago. It was important, yes. It was a memento of a past long gone and would never come back.

‘I no longer require such a thing to tie myself to the living world.’

Karamatsu was in love with the present he had now. He loved the past just the same – neither of them were a colour fainter than the other and both were beautiful vivid shades of red. If he could, he would like to gaze those shades of red for eternity.

“If it bothers you this much, my dear lord, then go buy something new for me,” Karamatsu instead says coyly.

Shuten Douji’s eyes brightens and he runs for their closet to rummage for his wallet. “I haven’t used my allowance for this month! I’m going go buy something! Just wait here, Karamatsu!”

“You can have these onigiri on your way down the mountain.”

“Thanks, Karamatsu~!” The red oni munches onigiri in one hand and a spiked club in the other as he hurried down to find the nearest clothing store.

The blue spirit shook his head due to how simple-minded his husband was, but it can’t be helped.

It took a whole day before the red oni comes back, dirty and beaten-up in places, with a big grin. “Here you go, Karamatsu!” He gives his wife an ugly flower he plucked from the mountain on the way up and a ‘present’.

Karamatsu took the present and inspected it. It was a black collar which would be fastened by the long red braided ropes on each ends. “I would have preferred a skull but… I suppose it isn’t too bad when it comes to your fashion sense, my dear lord.”

Truthfully, it didn’t matter what his lord got him. Karamatsu was happy to get anything.

“It’s my colour this time,” Osomatsu boasts happily.

Karamatsu also came to realize this fact and laughed. “Then will you put it on for me, my dear lord?” He asks before handing the collar back and facing the garden.

Osomatsu took the collar and kneeled down on the ground. He secured the collar around Karamatsu’s neck before tying the red braided ropes into a clumsy bow. “W-What do you think? You don’t mind it right?” The red oni asks.

The blue spirit presses a hand against the black collar, feeling the weight. “Yes. This is mine and mine alone,” Karamatsu speaks with a heaviness that he was sure that Shuten Douji wouldn’t understand now.

“Huh?”

Karamatsu patted his lap and right away Osomatsu dropped on the ground to rest his head on his wife’s lap.

“And? Why did it take so long for you to come back, my dear lord?” The blue spirit asks closing his eyes as he caressed his husband’s hair

“That’s going to be a loooong story,” the red oni grumbles.

“We have all the time in the world, do we not? Tell me of your tale.”

“It won’t be a tale of love that you like but it’ll be a tale of how awesome your husband was!”

“I will keep my expectations low.”

“Hey! I was really awesome this time!!"

Thank you for reading! (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ ✨✨

#komo #osokara #osokara zine #fanfic

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blacksailszine · 2 years

Note

For the q&a: does writing fic or making art feel different when you do it for a communal project like a zine? Do you take inspiration from the same place as you would if you would just write by yourself?

creating for a group zine gave me a lot more motivation and incentive to see an artwork through to the end. for this reason, i decided to go way beyond my comfort zone and challenge myself with environments and rendering ! working to a set timeline also encouraged me to be more critical and methodical in my art process and i ended up doing a lot more detailed research and development than i normally would. it taught me a lot!

- Nohtora

I suppose outside of a project like this I would still just be writing these things in a twitter thread or in meta channels with other fans, simply needing to spill my thoughts out

- Leckie

I second nohtora's answer for this! Working with the timeline, and specifically submitting multiple check-ins, was the main difference for me and allowed me to work in a different way - more thorough in some aspects, and focusing on one part at a time - so I wanted to do something more elaborate that I might've not completed otherwise. It was also interesting to see the variety that's in the zine, and giving/receiving feedback was a nice part of the process!

- Maya

For me a big difference in feeling is that usually I feel like I create stuff for myself, while this really felt like a communal thing. I had a Responsibility with it and was doing this as a communal thing, with others, for others. It felt really official, which was really cool!!

- Anne

I usually push myself to be a lot more ambitious on a technical level than I normally would because I want to honour everyone else's hard work by doing the best I can, and in terms of subject I stick to what I know I really like drawing, so that if I get intimidated, I can feel reassured that I know what I'm doing and distract myself with the fun of exploring old favourites!

- Murphy

Oh very much! Unless a zine/group project aligns 100% with the usual artwork I create it will always feel atleast a bit different. It’s more of a performance for others then something I make for myself. But that’s not a bad thing! Because it forces me to push myself in ways I wouldn’t on my own time!

- HT

Send us an ask if you have any more questions for our contributors!

#contributor q&a

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dawnajaynes32 · 6 years

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OK Tarot: The Latest from Adam J. Kurtz

Need a distraction from the constant barrage of negative news at your finger tips daily? Looking for a way to bring more self-reflection into your life? Or maybe you just really need a new hobby? Adam J. Kurtz might have a suggestion—and if you’ve ever met him, or even just seen his Instagram, you know he gives sound advice.

Enter ADAMJK’s latest Kickstarter: OK Tarot—a perfectly pink set of tarot cards with all 78 major and minor arcana “as understood and interpreted by artist Adam J. Kurtz.” HOW had the chance to chat with Kurtz about the new project.

So, why a tarot deck?

Tarot is something that’s newer to my life, but beloved by people around me, including my husband. This deck actually started as a gift idea for him, something he could incorporate into his growing pile of books and decks (because you can never have too many decks).

But, and he and I have talked about this, tarot and astrology are huge trends right now. I think it comes down to a kind of spirituality that is missing in a lot of people’s lives. The world seems to be getting worse (mostly we’re just hearing about more injustices in real-time thanks to the internet—and it’s important that we be informed). People are looking for new ways to feel connected to that sort of intangible magic energy that makes being alive so special.

Did you work with any tarot pros during your creative process?

I consulted Mitchell’s books, especially Rachel Pollack’s Tarot Wisdom, which I had been previously ignoring on his nightstand for like probably two years. But I also reached out to my own networks. Facebook was a huge tool for me, and the members of my private “support group” proved invaluable. I was able to receive design feedback from an audience of people who both understand my whole deal and care deeply about the tarot.

Tell me about translating all of the typically detailed images of tarot into your classic style. Were there any challenges?

One amazing thing about tarot is the tremendous variance in decks. The most well-known might be the Rider Waite deck, which is richly detailed and layered with tons of meaning and symbolism. But it’s also chock-full of white dudes and religion (despite being illustrated by a woman, Pamela Colman Smith, who was hired by Arthur Edward Waite).

My primary goal was to strip that out so that the experience of using OK Tarot could be a personal one, devoid of the knee-jerk reaction and sentiment of these existing depictions. In some ways it resembles a Lenormand-style tarot, which is much more icon-driven.

Click to enlarge

Any significance to the color pink?

IT’S FUCKING CUTE AS HELL!!!!!!!!!! I just wanted to make something that could be fun to use and look cool sitting out. So many people I know have created these like, mini-shrines to self-care in their homes, whether it’s the top of a dresser, or a small corner of a vanity or desk. My husband Mitchell keeps all his colognes and moisturizers and shit on my dresser—his is reserved for incense, palo santo, a few crystals, and a bunch of plants. It’s a small space that allows us both to sort of check in each day and set our intention.

Do you have a favorite card based on the illustration? What about based on meaning?

My favorite card is The Fool (a sort of bookend to the major arcana that’s regarded as both #0 and #22 in the tarot). Before learning about the tarot, I didn’t really understand what this card was about. As I learned, I understood that The Fool is each of us, embarking on a journey through life as told through the cards. My own interpretation borrows a dunce cap—the classic uniform/punishment for idiots—and reimagines what ignorance can actually be. In my own life, I find that a certain amount of ignorance can be the key to self-preservation. We are inundated with information at a volume that can be debilitating. Sometimes I find that not-knowing everything can be the only way to get up in the morning.

The flower represents an admiration of beauty in the world, a foolish pursuit if it’s all one looks for, but also a wonderful quality. Stopping to smell the roses and appreciate the small things is one of the surest ways to find happiness in life.

Have you been getting good readings with the cards?

The very first reading with this deck was done on camera by Kelsey Anderson, of AmunarHealing. She’s a Brooklyn-based Spiritual Counselor, Lenormand Tarot and Palm Reader who had previously read Mitchell’s cards. Her reading is available to watch on the Kickstarter page, and really speaks to my own creative journey in making this deck. The initial idea, the doubt that kept me from executing it for TWO YEARS, and then the eventual continuation to trust my strengths and inspiration. If you have five minutes, it’s a really encouraging reading that speaks to a lot of us as artists and designers.

I have no idea how to read tarot. I had a deck that came with a tiny instructions booklet, but that didn’t help much. Any tips for getting started?

I find that the tiny instruction booklets that many decks come with are a nice little addition, but barely enough to go on. For this reason, the OK Tarot deck doesn’t even come with one. Instead I’m encouraging people to look to some amazing resourcest that already exist, from free guides on sites like Biddy Tarot, to incredible books such as Rachel Pollock’s (that I used for research), or the newer Modern Tarot by writer Michelle Tea.

Part of what I think can be so special is the solo journey of not just reading cards but also learning how to read, finding the deeper meanings, and spending time. It’s a process that invites us to sit down in a quiet space, without our phones, to learn something new every time. Learning new things daily is an important step in battling depressive tendencies and it’s also just exciting to be excited about things! A win-win.

Where can HOW readers grab their own OK Tarot deck?

The OK Tarot deck is available for pre-order on Kickstarter for $25, or in two other combinations with bonuses for those who want extras. It’s a great gift for someone who loves tarot already, but also for your one friend who you wish would GET INTO IT ALREADY.

Your Kickstarters have done really well. Any tips for illustrators looking to crowdfund their own projects?

I really identify as a designer first, and an illustrator second. Or third. Or not at all. As designers, we understand that you can’t start a project until you’ve considered the final product. We know that form must follow function. But often with illustration it can be a more expressive process first. I see a lot of illustrators who are brilliant artists but struggle with how to apply or produce work from that art.

When you launch a Kickstarter project, you’re asking strangers to not just trust that the product will be worth paying and waiting for, but also that you personally are trustworthy and will deliver. Kickstarter as a company doesn’t (and can’t) personally manage creators to ensure they meet their promises. So a simple campaign with clear objectives, detailed documentation, and true transparency is important.

I wrote a guide for the Kickstarter blog a few years ago that boils down everything I know into simple steps (and includes a printable zine version you can make and refer back to in your process). I also strongly encourage people to browse the website, look at other successful projects, and BACK OTHER CREATORS before launching. Kickstarter’s community of users love to dig through the website to find new stuff they can’t buy anywhere else. But when you see that a project creator has backed zero projects, that’s a red flag. It’s hard to show up brand new in a community and then ask for money.

youtube

What’s next for you? What’s definitely not next for you?

I’m currently working on my Unsolicited Advice planner for 2019 which will be out sometime in August—still self-published after 8 years! This year I’m switching up the format, the content, and the production process so it’s going to be less expensive and more accessible to people, especially internationally. I’m also quietly working on some other little bits and pieces, generally trying to take things slow and figure out who I want to be as I enter my 30s in October. No big deal!!!!!

What’s not next for me is a new “real” book with my publisher. Though I love working with Penguin Random House, I’m proud of the three books I’ve made, and feel like they deserve a chance to live on their own and find new audiences. I was supposed to have pitched a new concept in April 2017 and didn’t. I still haven’t. I think it’s really important as creatives to take stock of who were are, what we have to say, and who we want to be. If you aren’t sure, then you can’t confidently create and stand by your art.

Any speaking engagements or events coming up that you’d like to promote?

Speaking is becoming one of my favorite things! It was so weird to watch my own 99U lecture, Perfect Isn’t Better, and realize just how much I’ve made, done, and learned over the course of my 20s. My work has always been about the creative process and self-discovery, and speaking feels like such a natural, more immediate evolution of that. Also it’s fucking FUN. I’ll be a speaker and vendor at both Adobe MAX (Los Angeles) and Creative Works Conference (Memphis) this October.

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